Dame Althene Rhys strode slowly out of the cave. She needed her men outside to understand what had transpired within, to steady rumors before they could take root, and to begin questioning the now-released captives while memories were still sharp. The boy remained inside—for now. She intended to free him, but intent was not judgment, and judgment required certainty. His story had to be weighed against those of others who had shared that chamber, who had breathed the same stale air and viewed the situation firsthand.
On her expedition, she commanded thirteen knights—less than half the number of people she had been ordered to recover. Four remained at the village with the heroes, guarding them but also making certain they didn't disappear. Five had followed her into the cave. The remaining four had stayed outside, sweeping the surrounding ravines and treeline, cleansing what filth lingered.
The sun struck her face as she emerged, a clean brightness that felt almost intrusive after the red-lit gloom below. Several knights straightened at once. Others paused mid-task—binding wounds, stacking broken idols, burning goblin remains—waiting for her word.
"Captain Rhys," Sir Edric said, stepping forward with a firm salute, his fist clenching across his chest.
"At ease, Sir Edric. Tell me, are any of the captives up for a chat yet?" She asked, though it was not really a question. They would speak with her.
Sir Edric lowered his fist and nodded once. "A few," he said. "Most are shaken but coherent. We kept them separated as procedure dictates."
"Good," Althene replied. "Bring them to me one at a time. Start with the ones taken earliest."
Edric turned and barked quiet instructions. Knights moved with practiced efficiency, guiding the captives toward a small clearing just beyond the cave mouth where the light was steady and the ground relatively even. Althene remained where she was, letting the scene settle, letting the lingering fear wither away for these people.
The first to be brought forward was a woman wrapped in two cloaks despite the warmth of the sun. Her dark hair hung loose and tangled around a face drawn thin by hunger and fear. One hand rested unconsciously over the swell of her belly, fingers splayed as if shielding what lay beneath her skin.
Althene noted it at once.
The knights guided her gently, giving her space, and stepped back when Althene lifted her hand. The woman did not bow or curtsy as a commoner is mandated by law. She only looked at Althene with eyes dulled by exhaustion and something heavier still.
"Sit," Althene said softly, gesturing to a flat stone.
The woman lowered herself carefully, her breath catching just slightly as she did. Althene waited, allowing the silence to settle, then spoke.
"Your name?"
"…Iria," the woman said after a moment. She spoke with a thick accent although her voice was hoarse it came out steady.
"How long were you held here, Iria?"
Iria's gaze drifted toward the cave mouth. "Before the girl with the silver eyes," she said quietly. "Before most of them. B-but I'm not sure; it was hard to tell time, and I stopped counting... This isn't even my first child."
Althene inclined her head. That matched what she already suspected.
"I need you to tell me about the altar," Althene said. "And the boy chained to it."
Iria's hand tightened over her stomach.
"He was dragged in some time ago; at first no one paid much attention. They always drag in whoever they can catch. It was the same old," she said, her voice soft and quiet. "Bound, and already wounded. He looked like he was already dead, to be frank. I remember him because I couldn't help but think it a shame one so young and pretty was going to die in a place like this, but I guess that would have been all of our fates if not for him." She trailed off then, and Althene had to bring her back.
"What do you mean by that?" She pulled.
The woman's eyes flickered before she continued, "They killed him that day. Leaving his body to drain for hours before dragging it away like they do all the corpses. Then new people came. That's normal, but on the night they were to take another sacrifice, the boy miraculously came back. I mean, he was breathing, not a scratch on him. At first I didn't believe it. I thought I was hallucinating, but the others saw him too. The man managed to get away, but the boy, well, the same fate as before befell him..." She paused here as if remembering. "They dragged him away dead. I'm sure of it. I thought it was for good this time, but then just a day later they brought him back! They chained him to the altar, and—" her voice cracked, and she stood up abruptly, not bothering with etiquette.
—leaving the words unfinished between them.
For a moment no one moved.
Althene did not rise, did not call her back, and did not soften the truth Iria had torn open. She simply lifted her hand again, palm outward. The nearest knight hesitated, then guided Iria away toward the healers without a word. The woman did not look back.
Althene remained seated, eyes fixed on the cave mouth, replaying the testimony in precise order. Death. Return. Repetition. What the woman had said made no sense, but trauma could make people believe crazy things.
"Next," she said, quietly telling her knights.
Another woman was brought forward.
She was thinner than Iria, her cheeks hollow, eyes too bright in a way that spoke of long hunger and longer fear. She carried no bundle now, but her arms were held as if they expected weight—curved protectively around nothing. Dried blood stained the hem of her borrowed cloak.
Althene rose this time, just enough to meet her eye level.
"Sit," she said again, in the same tone, with the same measured calm.
The woman obeyed. Her hands trembled when she folded them in her lap.
"Your name," Althene prompted.
"…Lysa," she said. Her voice cracked immediately, then steadied through force alone.
"Can you tell me everything that's happened since you arrived?" Althene said. Her voice remained even, deliberately gentle. "From the beginning. Do not spare me details."
Lysa did just that, basically word for word what the last woman had said transpired, and when she got to the part about the boy being chained to the altar, Althene couldn't help but lean in close. She needed to know what happened. Every detail.
She listened to the woman spilling even more nonsense than the previous one, and she had to admit that she was starting to feel slightly frustrated from the line of conversation. She was even wondering if they had all been put under an influence spell.
'Should she cast a purification spell?' She wondered.
She simply could not believe that there was a person... she wasn't convinced he was one, that could be brought to the brink of death over and over again without dying and even bounce back. They said he died, but that can't be true. It just wasn't possible.
Althene dismissed Lysa with the same measured gesture she had used before.
The woman was guided away, shoulders hunched, eyes darting as if expecting the cave itself to reach out and reclaim her. The knights said nothing. Neither did Althene.
She remained standing now, sunlight warming one side of her face while the other stayed cold, shadowed by the cave mouth behind her. Two testimonies. Separate captives. Same story.
Death.
Return.
Death again.
And again.
It was impossible.
And yet.
She turned her gaze inward, cataloguing what she knew. No spell she had ever studied or sanctioned by the Order allowed for repeated resurrection without catastrophic cost. Even the highest miracles—those granted by the Light itself—left scars. Physical. Spiritual. Something always broke.
A flicker of unease crept beneath her ribs, unwelcome and sharp. Althene pushed it down at once. Fear had no place here. Wonder even less. The Order dealt in facts, not superstition whispered by the starving and traumatized.
Still…
Her eyes drifted, unbidden, back to the cave and to the darkness where the altar lay broken. Where chains still clung to stone. Where a boy who may not be a boy waited.
"Captain?" Sir Edric said quietly, approaching just close enough to be heard. "Shall we continue questioning the others?"
Althene did not answer at once.
Her fingers flexed at her side, brushing the hilt of her sword—not for reassurance, but habit. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady, composed, and unmistakably hers.
"No," she said. "That will be enough for now."
Edric blinked. "Enough, my lady?"
"For today." She turned to face him fully. "Have the remaining captives seen to. Fed. Rested. No further questioning until morning."
He hesitated, then nodded. "And the boy?"
Althene's gaze returned to the cave one last time.
"We record what we have," she said. "We pray for clarity. And we do nothing hastily."
The Light demanded truth—but it also demanded restraint.
"Keep him guarded," she continued. "No harm. No interrogation. No priestly rites without my express order."
"Yes, Captain."
As Edric stepped away, Althene remained where she was, watching smoke rise from burning goblin remains, listening to the low murmur of knights and healers, and feeling—against all reason—the quiet pressure of a question she could not yet ask.
If the women were right…
Then whatever sat chained beneath that mountain was not merely a victim but a walking miracle.
She turned away from the cave at last. She needed to sleep on it.