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Marcus only vaguely remembered returning to Astari's prison. It was mostly a sense of profound exhaustion than physical pain. His haze was punctuated by the shattering of crystal, a warm blue glow, and a sense of soothing respite. The wolf took his first chance to collapse into a coin pile and let sleep overtake him.

Marcus was on the black lake. His feet were hovering inches above the water so that the surface remained undisturbed. Out of habit, Marcus closed his eyes, trying to enter The Way, but the gentle tone of the harp did not sound, and no droplets of water broke the sheen of the dark pool. When Marcus opened his eyes again, a single, gentle wave washed over his boots, yet his body was still dry.

A faint, girlish laugh echoed through Marcus' world. The wolf was suddenly on high alert, his ears perked and fur on end. He snapped his head left-right, searching for the source of the familiar sound. Out of reflex, Marcus clutched the silver-white dagger on his arm. "Priscilla? Priscilla!!" He turned around, and before him sat a short, pale mouse wreathed in shadow, her only defining features a gleaming white smile and icy blue eyes. She let out another lighthearted giggle before turning around with a flick of her tail.

The mouse ran across ran across the mirror lake, each step sending more ripples across the calm water. Her steps were much longer than her short stature would indicate, each footfall propelling her through the air, almost as if she were skipping. Marcus ran too, his legs pushing him in a determined, unrelenting charge. A pit formed in his stomach as he gave chase. Priscilla was always faster than him. Suddenly, she discorporated in with a gust of wind, and Marcus skidded to a stop, head whipping around to see where Priscilla had gone. Marcus saw the mouse out of the corner of his eye. Her mouth was pressed over her muzzle and shoulders were shaking with silent mirth. She disappeared again, and Marcus perked his ears to listen where she would appear.

Marcus turned around and began to sprint in the opposite direction, and by some providence he correctly predicted where Priscilla would appear next. But any ground he gained was lost as Priscilla skipped across the water. "Slow down," called Marcus. He was tiring faster than normal as he struggled to keep up. "Please... slow down...." The mouse girl giggled again. She continued to run, but the ripples left by her feet were changing. instead of the reflective yet dark sheen of the lake, the color of the waves grew lighter, brighter... redder... With a blast of wind, Priscilla disappeared again.

Marcus slid to a halt, frantically looking around for the slight figure of Priscilla. At first, Marcus overlooked her, but on his second look over the black lake the wolf spotted a small, slumped figure atop the mirror lake. Marcus sprinted across the water, skidding into a crouching halt. Priscilla lay prone on the ground. "Priscilla..." Marcus' voice was a croak. Slowly, he turned her over. The mouse' visage was disfigured by a look of shock, glassy eyes. Her face drained of the slight apple blush that glowed from beneath her white fur. Her chest was stained with the dark brownish red of coagulated blood, a great hole gouged out of her chest. The wound went so deep that Marcus could see out the other side.

Slowly, the black lake around the two brightened into a garish crimson that reached beyond the endless horizon. It seemed to glow brighter and brighter until Marcus' whole world was dyed crimson. Tears ran down his eyes as Marcus dropped Priscilla's body, turning his back on the dead woman and running as fast as he could. Marcus barely went ten steps before a pale white hand broke the surface of the bloody lake and clutched his ankle. With a grunt, Marcus fell hard against the lake's mirror surface, as if it were solid rock. Before Marcus could push himself up, a second white hand clutched at his chest and tugged with inhuman strength, and Marcus felt himself being pulled down...down... he tried to scream, but the taste of blood filled his mouth, rushing to fill his mouth, his throat, his lungs, and no sound escaped him as his world became nothing but red.

Marcus snapped awake with a scream that was much too high compared to his normal voice. His world was boiled down to raw, feral instinct. His hand reached for the white dagger at his shoulder, and the wolf leapt from his coin pile, rolled forward, and thrust the alabaster blade into... nothing. It took a full ten seconds before Marcus realized what had happened. It was then that he noticed a luminous, violet eye peering at him. The dragon's gaze was one of concern, with a hint of inquisitiveness. "Marcus... are you alright?"

The wolf only now realized he was panting. "I...I am now..." He felt his face coloring under his greying fur. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said the dragon. He laid down on the dais, stretching his neck to get a closer look at Marcus. The wolf had the unsettling sensation that the dragon was peering inside his whole self. "You were talking in your sleep." Astari chose and spoke his words carefully, as if he were walking on eggshells.

Marcus just nodded curtly. "And what was I saying?" Both males knew the answer. Marcus didn't even know why he was asking.

"A name." said Astari. His voice was small, as close to a whisper that a beast the size of large house could muster. "Who is Priscilla?"

Marcus looked away. He couldn't stand that soul piercing gaze any more. "I can't talk about that right now. Please understand."

Astari exhaled an icy gust through his nose. "Can you tell me what you found downstairs?"

Marcus lept on the change of subject. "I found a circle. The beast came from this hallway that narrowed into something far too small to hold it. There was another passage that was wide enough to hold it, but it was caved in. I think the bull monster just patrolled through the chapel."

"That implies the minotaur was an undead construct," said Astari, his claws clacking on the stone. He was speaking much more animatedly now that both his foreclaws were freed from the crystal chains. He elaborated, seemingly out of habit. "You know, zombies and skeletons. Some undead are just bodies that are animated to do someone's bidding. They're basically golems that are really smelly."

"I know, Astari," said Marcus. "I've fought many, many monsters before finding myself here. I know more than you think I do."

"Sorry," said the dragon. Marcus wasn't sure, but he thought he saw the ridges above Astari's jaw glow a little. Did dragons blush in embarrassment? "Tell me more about what you found, please."

"Well, I found a lot of traps. Lots of pits, a crushing gate, and a room that flooded. That's where I found your seal. There was also this... slime thing It grew when exposed to water, and I almost got swallowed cutting it to pieces. And then I found this secret passage that wound its way back to the chapel."

"Well then, that explains a lot," said Astari. "There's a large chance that The Coffin is home to some lord or master. This passage implies that someone needs to navigate this place on a regular basis, and they need to navigate safely. This also means that every trap in this blasted place will be deadly to the point of excessiveness, although I am sure you've figured this out on your own. It also could imply that the more civilized parts of The Coffin have been retrofitted with deathtraps."

Marcus raised his eyebrows. "More civilized? What else is down here?"

Astari's chains clanked, and the great dragon's manner became almost shifty. "Well, you mentioned that chapel down below, and you also talked about tunnels both naturally formed and clearly constructed. We have secret passages and underground rivers. The Coffin is clearly not just a cave."

Marcus crossed his arms, giving Astari a piercing gaze of his own, as if the daggers coming from his eyes could peel apart the alabaster scales the size of bucklers. "Astari, what do you know about The Coffin? I need to know if I'm to keep searching for the seals. You still haven't told me how you even got down here."

Astari stared back at Marcus before sitting down with a thud and a clank of chains. "You're right. You need to know more about this place. But as for how I got down here... I must admit that I'm rather reluctant to talk of my past, as it seems you are too. So, I propose that you and I exchange a secret. Tell me about Priscilla, and I will explain how I got into The Coffin."

Marcus' face soured. "Why are you so intrigued about my old friend? What difference does it make down here? Why are you so invested?"

Astari extended his neck so that his snout was inches from Marcus. His voice was haughty, as if to provoke the wolf. "One: you're wielding a dagger that's named after this woman. I could infer that Priscilla the woman is just as important to you as the blade, which you diligently care for. Two: this Priscilla seemed to be a fixation of your recent nightmare, to the point that you woke up in a state to kill anything unfortunate enough to be nearby. Three: you're currently under significant amount of stress, probably caused by said nightmares, and if my one chance of escape, you, fails due to said mental stress, both our lives will be wasted down here. Four: to be blunt, I've suffered ages of tedium in this hole, and listening to something besides my own thoughts would be a refreshing change."

Marcus crossed his arms, his voice a dangerous growl. "So... you're either asking to pry into my past out of voyeuristic boredom, self-interest, or an attempt to be my head-healer. I frankly don't find any of those reasons compelling."

"If it will make you feel better, I'll share first," said Astari. "Come up to the dais so I can fix that arm of yours."

The wolf's face softened a little at the mention of his arm. He'd completely forgotten about it since his return, and the prospect of holding Nimbus in his hand calmed him a little. "No, I'll share first. I want you concentrating on fixing me properly."

Astari raised his eyebrows, teeth slightly parted as if preparing a retort, but then thinking the better of it. "That's fair. I've certainly had enough time to restore more of my spellpower. Can you remove your coat? I need to see you properly." The dragon's eyes glowed a deep crimson.

Marcus obliged, sitting down and resting his elbow on a knee. "It took a good deal of stress during my last foray. Has it sustained any more damage?"

"Nothing unfixable," mumbled Astari, drawing a claw across the wolf's arm, tracing the corded lines of the powerful limb. "You start talking, and I'll start healing."

Marcus felt like Astari was asking a lot. His relationship with Priscilla was history, a relic of a previous chapter in his sorry life. Astari knew something about The Coffin, and the fact that he wasn't sharing every scrap of information wasn't just suspicious, it was dangerous. He held out his arm mutely, but Astari simply stared. He didn't want to do this... He didn't want to do this... He didn't want to do this. It didn't help that Astari was holding his sword arm hostage.

"Priscilla the dagger belonged to Priscilla the woman. She was... unique. She was a woman who was caring, sweet, and kind, almost to the point of naive generosity. She was also incredibly dangerous. She could cook a meal for kings and brew a poison that could slay a troll at the same time." Marcus twirled the elegant white blade in his left hand, his thumb playing across the slender hand guard. Now that he was talking it was getting a little easier.

"With such varied talents she seems almost like a walking contradiction," mused Astari. His fingers were clacking and twirling, conjuring warm, twisting lines of light that coiled like snakes.

"She was happiest in a crowd of people and was the life of a party, but she was as soft and undetectable as a new moon. She could find the silver lining in the bleakest of times and had the resolve to keep us all moving." Marcus didn't notice the lines on his face were softening as he talked.

"Us?" inquired Astari. His attention was on Marcus. He drew glowing red lines across his arm with a swipe of his long claws.

"You're going to need to share more than one secret to learn more," said Marcus darkly. "One for one is fair."

Astari frowned. "You're right. Keep talking about Priscilla."

"She was probably the deadliest warrior I knew, and I've known a lot of people who made the art of combat their life's work."

The ridges around Astari's eyes rose. "Are you counting yourself in that number?"

"Of course I am," said Marcus. "I'm even counting Ismaira. I'm a fearsome fighter, but I'm straightforward. I'm like an avalanche. I can be tenacious, next to unstoppable, but I'm also only able to go one direction. Ismaira always berated me for lacking tact in a fight."

"Tact? Since when was fighting about tact?"

"Fighting is always about tact," said Marcus. "Well, Ismaira's definition of tact probably isn't yours. What she called tact was that sense of unpredictability or precognition that true masters of the art of war have attained, the ability to be know what your opponent knows, and know that he knows that you know and act accordingly."

"I get the idea," said Astari, smiling.

Marcus was smiling too, not his normal wry grimace but a broad, genuine grin."Priscilla. Now she was the master of tact. You've seen me after a fight. I'm bruises and battered, I'm only alive because I hit back harder than the thing that hit me. Priscilla danced her way through battles, and I can't remember the last time she got seriously injured. And she always knew the perfect place to strike. If she couldn't slay a foe in one hit, she found a way to cripple it so that it wasn't a threat."

"How'd you think she'd slay me?" asked Astari, playfully. "A mighty dragon the size of a house?"

Marcus watched Astari's ministrations for a moment. He flexed his arm experimentally under the light of the magic, peering at the dragon intently. "Well... what Priscilla would do... She'd start by getting real close to you, enticing you to use your claws, your teeth She'd dodge and duck her way back, keeping herself perpetually out of your reach by a hair's breadth... and then... " Marcus stood up with Priscilla in his hand. "Do me a favor. Can you exhibit your frost breath?"

Astari seemed a little bemused at the change of subject. "Any reason? This had best be short, your recovery isn't over."

"Just do it."

Turning his head, Astari opened his fathomless jaws and released an icy cyclone. Even though Marcus was several feet away from the blast, the currents of cold air still rippled his fur. The frosty tempest lingered long after Astari finished, but ice crystals six inches tall remained on the stone dais. A cool mist hissed faintly. As Astari began to close his jaws, Marcus slipped his arm between them, the tip of his silvery dagger touching the roof of the dragon's mouth.

"There. That's how she'd get you." Marcus locked eyes with Astari. "She would've dove right inside your mouth and tickled your brain with this dagger." The wolf was surprised at how much he was talking. He really hadn't planned to go into this much detail, but it felt... good was the only word. Having such an attentive audience didn't hurt either. "Especially because he doesn't know who I am," thought Marcus.

Astari retracted his head, rearing his head up and laughing so hard the coins nearest the dais jangled. "She has some nerve, then. To dive into the jaws of the beast for a killing blow! Such daring tickles me!"

Marcus shrugged, half a smile playing across his lips. "Regardless, Priscilla's true passion was not alchemy nor swordplay nor cuisine. Her true passion was machines. I don't know where she picked up her prodigious skill with mechanisms, but she could disable any lock as though by magic. If I didn't know better I'd swear she could do it without any tools. But she her abilities to construct rivaled her ability to disable. She loved clockwork especially. And every spare minute of time we had was spent working on some contraption. She loved to make birds. You'd just wind them up and they'd flutter around the room."

"A watchmaker, hrm? I never had the patience to do anything with clockwork traditionally. I must admit that if presented with the task of constructing a clockwork device I would wave my hands and magic it all together."

Marcus' ears perked at the use of the word 'hands,' but he wasn't sure why. "Do you ever think that you rely too much on your magic?"

"Says the wolf who's currently undergoing magical surgery to fix his damaged arm," chuckled Astari.

Marcus sighed in exasperation. "You know what I mean. You can wave your claws and construct a watch, but have you ever thought there's a passion, an art, to constructing it by hand? There's a process you go through as you construct it piece by piece. It's hard to explain properly. You need to experience it."

"I know better than you think, Marcus," said Astari. "I do the same thing with magic. There's more to spellcraft than memorizing a list of incantations and executing them, like a child trying to remember their letters. Magic is this... raw energy within yourself, and within the inner seams of the world itself. I don't just cast spells, I invent them. Their function can range from the mundane to the mystic. I have made the world shake, slowed time to a crawl, traversed the breadth of the world in a single step, and crafted things from the very essence that makes up the lifeblood of your universe. Essentially, magic is my clockwork craft..." Astari paused, his enraptured expression sharpening into a glare of deepest concentration, apparently needing all of his attention to mend Marcus' arm. "This may sound a little conceited, but when one grasps the very fabric of the living world, the rest seems... too mundane to notice."

Marcus let out a low laugh. "I guess I'll never understand it, really. Maybe I'm too simple... It was sort of a running joke among us. I was the only one who had no understanding of spells. Priscilla wasn't much of a spellcaster either, but she studied spells diligently and then tried to craft non-magical ways to replicate them. She knew every plant that grew in this world, and her mastery of alchemy tricked many people into thinking she was actually a magician. Her specialty was this dust that she kept in a sort of smoke bomb. She could disappear in a puff of smoke and reappear with a blade in her enemy's heart."

"And you said that your dagger was once Priscilla's?"

"Yes... she gave it to me when she no longer needed it. I keep it with me, and I use it when I can." Marcus' voice grew quiet. "It helps me keep her memory alive." Marcus looked away from Astari. His arm was throbbing again, but it felt different. Maybe he was just imagining it because he knew he was getting better. The wolf shivered, wanting his coat back. "Almost done?"

"I think so," said Astari. "Swing Nimbus around for me, I want to make sure you can use it without hurting yourself."

Maybe it was stupid, but the thought of having Nimbus back in his hand made the side of his muzzle twitch. He stretched, and walked to the edge of the dais where Astari was keeping Nimbus. It felt heavier in his hands, maybe because he hadn't been using the blade or a while. He hefted it and shrugged his shoulders before adopting a wide, defensive stance. The leather wrapped hilt in his fingers felt like greeting an old friend.

With a low growl, he whipped the blade across his field of vision. As the tip of the blade threatened to scrape against the ground, Marcus wrenched his arms up and around, twirling the blade and twisting the body in an elegant, deadly dance: a waltz of wind and steel. The sword seemed to cleave the very air, each swing followed by a low vwoosh. Marcus' muzzle was stretched in a feral grin now. His voice was a low growl, but colored with confidence and power. "I wish that bull was back. I'd bring him to the ground in three swings!"

Astari watched the whole display intently, but his draconic visage was cracked into an unmistakable smile. "I must admit, you're fearsome with that sword. I see why it's called Nimbus. Did Ismaira name it?"

Marcus nodded. "That she did. I appreciate the compliments, but I'm not letting you get off the hook. You owe me a secret."

Astari nodded. "Fair is fair. What do you wish to know."

"How long have you been here, and how have you survived so long in this pit?"

"You're stretching things," teased Astari, his face forming what was unmistakably a pout. In an abstract way, it amused Marcus to see such a magnificent creature experiencing the same petty emotions of lesser beings. "But considering you shared so much about Priscilla, I'll answer both questions. Also, the first answer will leave you incredibly unsatisfied, and that is because I have no idea. I've been stuck in a cave for eons. I've no idea how I could tell the time here. I don't even remember what the sun looks like anymore. I only remember the sky is blue because I remind myself of that fact every time I wake up from a doze so I don't go insane. If I were to be honest with you, I think that you falling down that waterfall rescued me from the brink of madness."

Marcus' face darkened as he pulled his coat back on, slipping his ears into the slats in the hood. "Solitude can do that to a person."

Astari nodded his great head, as if in solidarity. "As for how I've been stuck down here for so long, the answer is before you." The dragon filled the room with an echous clatter as he shook his crystalline bonds. "You know already that these tacky bindings lock away my magic, but they seemed to have an unintended side effect. They keep me in a sort of... stasis I suppose. I don't really need to eat, sleep, or drink. If I don't do those things, I feel the effects of starvation, thirst, and exhaustion, but I never succumb to them."

Marcus' eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell me about that?! I could've offered you... well, not much, but something. I could've given you water."

The great white dragon smiled, sitting down again with clatter. "I doubt an apple or hard tack would've done much to help something as big as me, eh? But you actually did a lot of good by breaking that first seal. By returning my ability to levitate small objects, I could bring water from the stream, I was able to sit down again, and I could get myself something to eat."

"Something to eat?" asked Marcus incredulously. "There's nothing here but gold!"

"Haven't you ever wondered why dragons are known for hoarding treasure?" Astari was grinning now. It was hard to tell, but the dragon looked almost mischievous. "Dragons have a chronic weakness for beautiful things, and are loath to consume their treasure if there's more... fleshy prey nearby. Unfortunately it's mostly gold in here. Gold suits dragons who breathe fire, and they claim they melt it in their bellies to make their flames burn hotter. But gold gives me terrible indigestion. Frostkin like myself are more suited to precious gems, but there aren't enough gems in here to sustain someone of my size for long. An old friend of mine also introduced me to the delicacy of pearls, but I can't find any in the blasted cave."

"That's uh... never crossed my mind," said Marcus, unsure if Astari was pulling his leg or not. Dragons ate their gold?! "I've met exactly four adult dragons in my life, and three of them tried to eat me."

Astari let out a low chuckle that made the nearby coins rattle. "and let me guess, three of those four dragons have their heads mounted on your mantle?"

Marcus frowned. "I found the idea of trophy hunting rather garish. But you have the right idea."

"Tis a mighty feat to slay a dragon. Proverbial hats off to you, to fell such a foe."

"It helps... it helps to have friends," whispered Marcus. In a louder voice, "Aren't you mad that I killed your kin?"

"Not particularly. Dragons are solitary creatures for a reason," said Astari. "And frankly, many of us have a vicious streak. We have a bad reputation because the more active members of our species have a habit of wreaking terror and havoc on lesser creatures, and those of us without such tendencies tend to be hermits who use their extended lifespans to ponder the mysteries of the universe. Considering the fact that said dragons were going at you with lethal intentions, I'd say they deserved it."

"We've done a lot of talking," said Marcus gruffly. "We need to find the next seal. The faster we leave here the better. Do you have an idea of where the next seal is?"

Astari's face fell into a frown. "I did try to extend my consciousness into The Coffin, but I didn't have much luck. We seem to have only one way forward right now, and that's back towards that chapel. That blocked passageway intrigues me, and I might have a solution. But I'll need paper. Is there any paper in this gilded hole?"

Marcus took Nimbus, which was held at rest at his side, and slid it into the bandoleer built into his coat. The keen edge slid into the harness with a soft schnick. The added weight felt comfortable and familiar rather than burdensome. "Paper? Will that tapestry work?" He indicated the pile of crumpled silk he'd used as a blanket a few days ago.

The dragon nodded, eagerly. "Excellent! Bring it here, bring it here!" Marcus obliged, and the dragon picked it up with two long claws. "I always thought this was rather gaudy anyway," mumbled the dragon as he split it into five equal parts. One of his foreclaws glowed with a greenish light, and Astari started drawing upon the silk. "I learned this spell from an old friend of mine. An old codger of a wizard who was rather insistent that prying eyes never wandered into his spellbooks." Astari folded the five strips of cloth and slid them along the dais towards Marcus. "Listen to me. Do. Not. Read. The runes. Do not read the runes."

Marcus nodded. "I will not read the runes. Why?"

Astari was unable to resist smiling. "Because they will explode, and it will hurt. I thought they might be useful for blasting your way past that cave in. All you need to do to trigger them is unfold the cloth with the rune lying against what you want to destroy, and recite these words: 'Illiteracy is my only defence.'"

"What?"

"Illiteracy-"

"I heard what you said," chuckled the wolf. "It just seems a rather preposterous phrase."

"Well, there's some truth to it. You have to read what the runes say for them to explode, and if you can't read..." Astari laughed. "Also, if it's a preposterous phrase, you're not likely to detonate them by accident. Don't use them all at once, or you'll risk caving the whole thing in."

"Makes sense." said Marcus. "Astari, can I ask you to do something for me?"

"Of course, within reason."

"Can you make rope? It would've come in handy last time I foraged into The Coffin."

Astari frowned. "Rope...rope... I can't conjure anything from thin air right now, at least nothing that'd last more than an hour or so. I could transmute something, but there isn't much fabric or similar material right now... But what I could do..." The dragon was lost in his own ponderings. Marcus just waited patiently for Astari to finish. Suddenly, the dragon snapped back into reality. "Can you bring me coins? Lots of them!"

"Gold? Alright, I guess." Marcus lept off the dais and started sweeping handfuls of coins into his arms. He tossed them helter-skelter on the pedestal, more concerned with quantity than neatness. He continued sweeping up the treasure until Astari called out to say it was enough. Marcus returned to the dais and began sweeping the gold into a neater pile.

"Not necessary," said Astari, waving his claws. "But let me tell you a fun fact about magic. In the countless centuries mages have studied their craft, the secret of gold has eluded us. No wizard has ever managed to make gold, either by transmuting other metals or conjuring it from nothingness. Ironically, some sorcerers have learned to work with silver, which is significantly more useful than gold." As the dragon lectured, the coins around him rose into the air before gathering in front of Astari's snout. The cave was then filled with an intense heat as the coins began to glow red hot, melting around each other until they formed a tiny sun before Marcus.

Marcus raised an eyebrow as he watched the process. "What's so great about silver?"

"Silver has numerous properties that make it more useful than gold. While gold is pretty, silver knives used when practicing alchemy can release hitherto unknown properties in certain ingredients. Silver when treated with certain herbs can be aversive to undead, and when forged with steel and sorcery, it can make potent blades. I believe that Priscilla did something to her blade to give it that unearthly sheen, and I'd wager that fine edge contains a large amount of silver." Astari touched the red hot metal with a claw before pulling the digit away. As he did so, a fine, scarlet cord followed, and the burning sun became a long silver chain, fine as twine. It wouldn't have looked out of place around a pendant.

Marcus reached out to touch the chain, finding it cool in his hands. It looked so delicate. "Will it hold my weight?"

"I fail to see why it shouldn't, unless you're questioning my craftsmanship" said Astari. "I needed to make something light enough that it wouldn't hinder a bow. That way you could attach it to an arrow if you needed an impromptu grappling hook."

Marcus nodded. It made sense. He fished in his bag for his last ration of tack. "I hope the fourth seal lets you make food, because I can't eat gold like you."

Astari nodded gravely before asking, "Are you already set to go? You weren't asleep for very long."

Marcus took the silvery chain and wrapped it around his wrist like a manchette. "I don't need sleep, but a few more moments of peace might do me well." Marcus jumped down from the stone dais with a soft clink of coins. He laid his back against the pedestal and slid down, eyes closed, breathing slow. He was tired, but he didn't want to sleep again. He couldn't risk dreaming right now. He was still holding Priscilla, and he unconsciously pressed the keen silver edge against his left wrist, where the he'd wrapped the chains.

Astari's voice broke the silence. "Marcus. When you spoke of Priscilla... you spoke of her as if she were dead."

Water dripped somewhere in the cave. Marcus hadn't noticed it before. He sat in the near silence. "That's... that's going to cost you another secret." Neither spoke for a long time. It felt like, and might have even been, hours. The subtle feeling of elation he'd felt earlier was replaced by a cold, black pit in his stomach. Finally Marcus stood, drawing Nimbus as he did, and made his way to the staircase. Without a word between either of them, Astari watched Marcus disappear into the gloom.