We die of darkness, not of cold.

Caligari’s breath came out in great clouds as she spoke and indeed each of their bodies was letting off vapor or steam in the icy land of in-between.

“Two-faced Craven, you will take point. Please give us warning of confrontation or when you are about to abandon us again to our own fate. However, I should warn you; our fates are tied together for the next hour. If we perish so shall you. Friendly Giant, you possess the sword still? Good. You must carry that burden a short time more. Its weight and hardship will swell as we approach the Mirrored Sepulcher.”

Cali reached down and grabbed one of Jorrik’s arms, giving him a heave to which his body barely moved. “I need help relocating my Champion to the Warrior’s Helm.” She looked to the others who were of varying strength. She hated to drag the body, but it may be what had to happen. She refused to make eye contact with Tiella.

“Try not to think of him as dead. Where we are going even the dead live on. And try to elevate his head lest he bleed all over you.”

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