Home is but a bitter fantasy here. In its stead, we descended to a familiar haunt. We must not lose ourselves in this reverie of times long past.

Upon giving the rogues that fell here a more proper burial, we slumbered for spell in the light of the flickering flames. Abhaya has not spoken in days, but I can sense that within her mind is a chamber filled with madness.

Face to face with corruption once again, we battled. I still remember the echoes of this dark rogue's screams from long ago.

A quick death will release you from your suffering once again. Even I, with my limited acumen, can see she wishes it in haste. Abhaya cut the corpses from the tree and burned them, eyes glistening in the fire's merciful light.

We need rest, but these tombs must first be emptied. The stench of old deaths is ever present. Great warriors have fallen into ruin here.

There was little to be said down in these depths. We made camp in one alcove and shuddered through the night. For the first time in what seems as many moons past, Abhaya let herself rest at my side. I can offer but little reprieve from grief; but the blood still running through my veins can offer warmth.

The morn met us, as most days, with more fury. Creatures such as this should never have been given life.

We have taken the field. Twas much ado about matters that seem of little import.

However, the modest quarters found along the way will serve us well. Some alchemist's tomes within seem to have lifted Abhaya's spirit. As I placed the emerald into her palm, it appeared in some way to capture the hue in her eyes. They have been witness to many horrors and yet retain their light.

Madness indeed consumes us both, for it was time to leave the light once more.

A descent to dark unknowns,
Where minds dissolve away,
'Tis where all toils lay,
And why a blade is hone.

Old monuments of stone arise,
When idle hands seek pride.
But pierce the darkness only once,
And vanish will they fore one's eyes.

--Letters to Abhaya

While dreams do not come to us in this new void readily, it appears that new crafts still may. I have thus begun to study many spoils of battle anew. We will have to leverage all that this new darkness has neglected to deny us.

Though weakened, Abhaya remains resolute in the face of fear.

It was not until I saw this gnarled tree once again that I remebered about the old man. This realm plays on one's fears and memories. My studies have led me to believe that truly only those who have bled, smiled, and wept in battle along your side can be trusted.

Abhaya, let us retrieve this old soul once more. He may yet posses matters of import.

Really enjoying this WT, love the narrative.