Kellta gestured broadly to the cluttered cabin.
"Welcome to my palace!"
Palace, huh…
After introducing themselves briefly, Elion took a deep breath and forced a polite smile.
"Thank you for saving our friend, but if I may ask, what exactly did you do?"
She glanced at Farha's unconscious form, the rune on her neck still shimmering faintly.
"I didn't save her," she said quietly. "I only delayed the inevitable."
Elion's heart sank. He struggled to keep his composure.
"What do you mean?" he asked, tension bleeding into his voice.
"Well, as much as I pride myself on my sorcery, I'm nowhere near competent enough to remove a Kral. I merely sealed it, bought her some time."
"Do you… do you know any way to remove it?"
Her expression soured slightly.
"You'll need to take her to the village. Only the shaman is skilled enough to remove a parasite like that."
She hesitated, eyes flicking toward the fire.
"But there's no rush, right? The seal should last a couple of days. And… would you guys mind staying? Just for one day? It… has been so long since I talked to anyone…"
She caught herself.
"No. I can't ask that. The situation's still urgent. I shouldn't keep you here."
Elion saw the flicker of loneliness behind her words. There was so much he wanted to ask—but Farha came first.
"How far is the village?"
"Two days' walk, if things go smoothly," she answered, locking her violet eyes onto him.
Elion turned to Eshrod, who was still favoring her side from the earlier battle against the possessed gremlin. She met his gaze and nodded.
"If it's not too much trouble," Elion said gently, "we could stay and rest for the night, then leave tomorrow."
Kellta's eyes lit up. She clapped her hands.
"Really?!" She quickly cleared her throat. "Ahem—yes. That's fine."
She turned, scanning the room thoughtfully.
"I'll make something good for us to eat. To celebrate new friends."
Friends, huh…
Making sure she couldn't hear, Elion leaned toward Eshrod and whispered,
"Don't you think she's a little off?"
"Not really," Eshrod replied. "She seems kind to me."
Of course she doesn't seem odd to you. You're both lunatics… why do I even bother?
Eshrod wandered off to tend to her injuries. Elion walked over to where Kellta was crouched by the fireplace, carefully roasting a slab of meat over a controlled crimson flame.
So she can conjure fire. Is she an Unlocked? She looks a bit older than eighteen. Maybe it's something else.
"What are you making?" he asked tentatively.
Kellta didn't turn. Her gaze remained fixed on the sizzling meat.
"Something my mother used to make. Don't worry—it's delicious."
I'm not worried about the taste. Wait, what is that herb you're adding?
Elion frowned.
Am I being too paranoid?
"Why are you living out here alone if there's a village nearby?" he asked, gently probing.
She finally turned from the fire, her expression darkening.
"I'm… not really welcome there anymore. They say I'm the reincarnation of the Pale Witch, cursed to bring disaster."
Her tone was calm, but a sadness clung to every word.
"They don't hate me, not exactly. They're just afraid. And I can't blame them."
"Who's the Pale Witch?" Elion asked, intrigued.
She blinked at him like he'd just asked what two plus two was.
"Aren't you a Light-Walker? You're supposed to know this." She clicked her tongue. "I guess my father didn't."
Kellta watched him for a moment, then sighed.
"She was a legend among the Dwellers of the Depths. A queen who ushered in an age of prosperity—almost as revered as the God of Entropy himself… until she betrayed her people."
God of Entropy? must be their name for the Earth God.
Elion nodded, prompting her to continue.
"When the Great War broke out, she sided with the Light-Walkers. That betrayal carved a scar so deep, it's still felt to this day."
"What does she have to do with you?" he asked.
Kellta held out her hand. A crimson flame sparked to life in her palm.
"She fought with fire like this. I somehow inherited the same gift… or curse."
"They banished you for that?"
"You have to understand the trauma her betrayal caused. Even now, her legacy poisons everything she touched, almost nine centuries later."
Third Age, Elion realized. That would place the Pale Witch in the Third Age, during the Great Holy War—the one that was erased from historical records.
Excitement surged in his chest.
"What else do you know about her?"
Kellta raised an eyebrow.
"You're curious about her legacy too?"
"She sounds like a figure worth remembering."
The fire-wielding imp's face lit up like a child seeing her favorite treat.
"Oh boy, she was." She gestured to the piles of dusty tomes and artifacts. "I accumulated everything I could about her—every record, every scrap that might have the slightest connection to her."
She took a deep breath and continued, occasionally throwing a furtive glance at the sizzling food over the crimson flames.
"She invented the golden runes—her work was so brilliant, people based their entire written language off her designs."
Elion's eyes widened.
That explains it—the difference between the boat runes and the ruins. The golden runes must be some kind of enchantment, just like the ones on my forearm.
"Can you read them?" Elion asked, letting some of his overwhelming lust for knowledge creep through his voice.
"Just the language. The meanings of the golden runes were lost over time. We copy them now without fully understanding." Her tone was slightly bitter.
"There are patterns, though. I can sometimes infer meaning."
Ah, of course, nothing can be that easy. At least it's still a massive step in the right direction.
"Could you teach me? The runes derived from her sorcery?"
Kellta tilted her head, scrutinizing him.
"I could… but there's not enough time."
"…Right. Maybe we could return someday. No—we're on a timer."
"On a timer?"
"We're searching for the First Finger. If we don't find it in time, our souls will start unraveling. We'll be forced to… kill the living."
Her brow furrowed.
"The First Finger?"
She seemed to consider something, calculating for a while in her mind before saying:
"You… you guys have to kill too?"
Wait, she really was an Unlocked? How? Dwellers of the Depths aren't supposed to be able to be Unlocked.
Well, they were also supposed to be a hostile bunch of savages, but here we are…
"…Yes. That's what it means to be Unlocked."
Kellta went quiet for a moment.
"I've heard my father say that word before. Unlocked. Is that concept important to Light-Walkers?"
"Of course! It's the foundation of our society as we know it!"
She scratched her chin.
"My father was a Light-Walker. He used to tell me stories about his homeland. I remember him saying that word… like it mattered, but I never understood why."
That explained it—why she was Unlocked despite being a Dweller of the Depths.
It might also explain why she knew she had to kill things to avoid unraveling. He might have warned her knowing full well she could be an Unlocked.
"He never brought you to his home?" Elion asked tentatively, hoping to not reopen deep wounds since he seemed like an important figure to her.
"No. He said the Light-Walkers' lands had rotted from within. After meeting my mother, he swore never to return." She clenched her fists. "Maybe he should've. He might still be alive."
Kellta raised her head.
"But enough about my sob story. What exactly is the First Finger?"
Right, this might actually be a good opportunity. If I can convince her to come with us, she'll have time to teach me the runes… and her fire is too useful to waste.
Elion took a breath, slipping into his shady salesman mode.
"It's a powerful artifact. It prevents the soul from unraveling. Lets Unlocked like us live without having to kill. And it grants great power."
She was listening closely.
"That's why we came down here. We were… knocked off-course, but the goal still remains."
"Such a thing really exists?" she gazed at her hands, her nails were as black as the void above. "Something to lift my curse…"
That's what I thought. Her village wouldn't banish her for a similar ability to the Pale Witch, or maybe they would… but if she was forced to kill living things, that might have solidified their beliefs of a curse, prompting them to abandon her.
Kellta pulled the meat from the fire. It actually looked decent—well-cooked, tender, and oddly fragrant. Elion had never smelled those spices before, but his stomach growled.
Right on cue, Eshrod appeared in the doorway, drawn by the scent, like a moth to flame.
"Hmm! I think Eli's got some competition for best cook!" she said, barging in, her wounds seemingly taken care of.
"I don't think you're qualified to give a deep culinary critique," Elion said flatly.
"Hey!!! I know a lot about food! I'm quite the gourmet I'll have you know," she replied, almost offended.
"Right, says the one that called the cafeteria slop 'Good food.' Quite the gourmet, huh…"
Kellta laughed at the interaction, pulling the two from their feud.
She placed a serving of meat and vegetables onto a single polished wooden plate—then paused.
"Right… I only have one plate. Never thought I'd need more…"
"No need," Eshrod said, grabbing the steaming meat with her bare hand, ignoring the heat.
Elion used a stick to take his share, carefully. He watched it suspiciously before taking a tentative bite.
Hmm… not too bad.