Before anyone could say another word, the tall double doors at the far end of the hall swung open, and a servant stepped inside, dressed in a mixture of black and white. He was a well-groomed man who seemed to have passed middle age long ago, with age having left its mark upon his features.
Gray had spread through his hair and even seemed to have settled into the lines of his face. He quickly straightened his posture and bowed slightly, placing a hand against his chest.
"Commander…" The servant hesitated for a moment before lowering his head. "The man… You need to come and see him."
Alistair understood immediately. Without asking another question, he moved toward the doors. When he reached them, he grasped both sides and looked back at Sikakama, his eyes devoid of emotion. "Mirelle can show you the way out. Leave the sword and go as though none of this ever happened."
The double doors slammed shut with a heavy echo, and the hall sank into silence once more. Sikakama remained standing where she was. In truth, her grip around the sword had only tightened. She had never imagined that something so powerful could simply be taken away from her, not after everything she had gone through to obtain it.
Then Mirelle's warm voice broke through the silence, carrying a note of sympathy in her eyes. "Sir Alistair wasn't always this distant, but after his mentor left, he's been doing everything he can to manage this place, so… please try to understand him."
Sikakama said nothing. She merely looked at Mirelle as the young woman approached and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, offering what little comfort she could.
"You don't have to leave just yet, You've only just recovered, and we should have your wound examined again before you go. So There's no need to leave right now."
---
Alistair walked in silence, his light footsteps echoing along the old stone walls. The passage grew older as they descended the stairs, becoming narrower and darker with every step. Oil lamps had been fixed to the stone walls in metal brackets, their flames casting an amber glow tinged with the dull yellow of aged brass. The weak light clung to the nearby stone surfaces, but it could not penetrate the deep darkness that consumed the rest of the passage, making each lamp appear like an isolated island of light.
As Alistair moved swiftly through the corridor, his cloack trailing behind him, the small flames trembled and swayed lazily with every passing current of air. It made the light seem almost as though it were breathing against the cold stone walls. Sharp, distorted shadows stretched across the floor, and Alistair's own shadow moved with them, taking on the unsettling appearance of something alive following silently at his heels.
The room at the end of the passage was small and almost completely bare. When Alistair entered, he found a man and a woman standing before the scene. A single lantern hung from the ceiling, its weak flame trembling above the man in the center of the room. He had been bound tightly to a wooden chair, his arms secured against either side while his body hung forward without movement. His clothes were torn and stained, and the hood still concealed his face, leaving his features hidden.
The three of them stood several steps away from the body, with the servant lingering behind them. All of them stared at the man in silence. Despite the cloak covering his body, a spreading blackness could be seen beneath the exposed portions of his skin, something dark and rotten that seemed to have crawled beneath the flesh itself.
"What do we do now?" the woman asked.
Alistair's face remained frozen, almost entirely devoid of emotion as his gaze settled upon one of the man's restrained hands. Beneath the spreading black rot, the faint remains of a strange symbol could be seen—a serpent curled into a perfect circle, its mouth clamped around its own tail, though much of the mark had already disappeared beneath the corrupted flesh.
The amber light caught on the lens of his monocle, briefly obscuring his eye."I'm afraid there is nothing we can do now," Alistair replied, his voice quiet and grim. "His soul has already been devoured."
They stared at the corpse once more, and for several moments, no one spoke. The room seemed to grow even colder as the silence closed around them.
Then something moved beneath the man's hood.
A small worm slowly emerged from beneath the edge of the fabric and began to crawl outward.
—
Sikakama was in the room where she had first awakened, sitting on the edge of the window as she gazed up at the sky. Its blue was reflected in her eyes, while beyond the window stretched a pleasant view of greenery, filled with flowers and trees. She thought about what Mirelle had told her—"The Raven Tower." The place truly had a garden, as well as rooms and a large hall, and there were undoubtedly other parts of the building she had yet to see. It was larger and more expansive than she had initially imagined.
She still had no idea what the purpose of a place like this was, and after Alistair's rather dry treatment of her, she found herself overcome by a strange feeling. Perhaps it was loneliness. Perhaps it was simply the feeling of being an outsider, born from the cold treatment she had grown accustomed to, the constant moving from one place to another, and the endless emptiness that always seemed to follow her.
Could it really have been nothing more than a coincidence?
For the first time, doubt crept into her mind, and it was all because of what Alistair had said—the words that had now changed the course of her thoughts.
Sikakama lowered her head as a gentle breeze drifted through the open window, brushing against her hair. She closed her eyes for a moment, but she could not simply pretend that nothing had happened. Whatever had occurred was far too significant for her to simply move on as though it meant nothing.
Yet despite all those thoughts, she opened her eyes again when she heard the flutter of wings, followed by the faint scrape of claws landing upon the windowsill.
A small black crow had perched there.
She recognized it almost immediately. It was the same crow she had seen before, the one that had once been sticking its head into a cup. The bird tilted its head to one side, as though examining her.
"Thank you," Sikakama said with a small smile. "They say a crow's cry is an omen of misfortune, but you were the one who guided me."
The crow continued to hold its head at an angle. Sikakama tilted hers in imitation, quietly amused by the strange little creature.
Then, without warning, a face appeared in front of the window.
"Boo."
Sikakama recoiled so violently that she stumbled backward and fell onto the floor.
The face was familiar.
A body hung upside down outside the window, white hair dangling toward the ground.
It was Sian.
Sian caught hold of the upper frame of the window and smoothly pulled himself upright before climbing inside. His feet touched the floor with surprising lightness, while Sikakama remained on the ground for a moment, staring at him in bewilderment.
Sian raised a finger and pointed toward her shirt. "Could you be a little more careful? That's my favorite shirt."
Sikakama looked down at the shirt, then slowly got to her feet as the realization finally struck her.
So it had belonged to him.
Sian leaned back against the window, crossing his arms as he shifted his gaze toward the view outside.
"Looks like you really did find it in the end."
"You're one of them too," Sikakama said.
Sian straightened and walked toward the door without hurry. "I only came to make sure you were all right, and it looks like you are. I'll go see Alistair."
He left the room, and once he reached the hallway, he muttered under his breath, placing a hand against the back of his neck.
"Looks like Alistair is going to be very angry."
A few minutes later, Sikakama followed after him. She stepped into the hallway, but it was empty, so she took what she believed was the same route Sian had taken. Before long, however, she realized she was lost.