Ren barely had time to enjoy the moment of not being throttled by royalty before someone new decided to join his suffering.
A gentle voice floated in from the side, soft as smoke over still water.
"Excuse me," the elf said.
She was tall, robed in soft green and gold, and carried herself like she'd won a staring contest with the moon. Her hair shimmered faintly, like sunlight through leaves — and her eyes? Flat silver. Not like mirrors. Like reflections of things that weren't there anymore.
"Do you... also carry a Crestflare?"
Ren and Veyrix answered at the exact same time, voices overlapping in perfect, annoyed harmony.
Ren & Veyrix (in sync):
"Do you make it a habit to ask strangers about ancient death artifacts?!"
They both stopped. Looked at each other. Then immediately scowled.
Ren:
"Okay, that was disturbing."
Veyrix:
"If we speak in unison again, I'm biting my own tongue off."
The elf didn't flinch. She just stared at them, silver eyes unblinking, face carved from calm disapproval.
Then she reached for the rune-sigil at her hip, slow and deliberate — like she'd done it before, and regretted none of the consequences.
"Do not touch me," she said sharply, before either of them even realized they were unconsciously stepping closer.
Ren had one foot forward, halfway into his default charm-the-weird-stranger stance.
Veyrix's fingers were twitching toward a ring that usually meant scan for threat.
They both froze.
Ren (hands up):
"Right. No touching. Got it. Loud and magically threatening."
Veyrix:
"I wasn't going to touch her."
Ren:
"You always say that before touching something cursed."
She narrowed her eyes.
"I'm cursed," she said flatly.
"If you touch me, you lose something. It might be memory. Might be magic. Might be something you didn't know you had until it's gone."
Ren:
"...So like dating, but with immediate consequences."
Veyrix (dry):
"She's cursed. We're cursed for meeting her. Fantastic."
Before anyone could fire off another sarcastic missile, a new voice slid in like silk over glass.
"You're all loud," came the calm, quiet murmur. "And incredibly obvious."
They turned.
Thenaia stood beneath the arch of a flowering root-bridge, the light of Cael'Nareth's canopy catching in her silver-traced robes. Her eyes were soft, but unreadable. As always.
She stepped forward, gaze moving first to the elf, then Ren, then Veyrix — who visibly tensed.
Thenaia:
"I arrived three hours ago. The trees speak slower here."
Ren (blinking):
"Wait, you're the priest?"
Thenaia:
"I'm a priestess. Technically. But don't let that distract you from the sealed dungeon under our feet."
Veyrix:
"Of course there's a dungeon."
Thenaia (ignoring him):
"Elsera was meant to guide you. Carefully. But you're both impossible to guide."
She turned slightly to Elsera, voice lower.
"Did they try to touch you?"
Elsera nodded once. Thenaia sighed.
Ren:
"Hey. That's unfair. I only moved forward out of reflex. Maybe curiosity. Maybe—"
Veyrix:
"—Desperation. You're bleeding confusion like perfume."
Ren:
"And you're bleeding superiority like a passive-aggressive waterfall."
Thenaia raised a hand. The forest quieted.
Thenaia:
"There's something beneath the Temple of Echoing Bloom. Something that trembles when Crestflare holders get too close. If Ashrunner is moving... this may be his next step."
Elsera stayed silent beside her, gaze heavy with warning.
Thenaia (to them both):
"If you want to survive this, don't just watch your backs. Watch your thoughts."
She stepped past them toward the edge of the descent.
Thenaia:
"Because this dungeon listens."
And with that, the cursed elf, the vampire king, the sarcasm-sodden traveler, and the priestess of broken souls began their descent.
Where secrets rot.
And curses bloom.
And the dark knows your name.