YUVEN

His crescent blade shone a muted gold among the tiniest pieces of grass in the estate's garden. On guard for any shift in the environment from his audacious return. Stalks of dead snowroses slumped into the tough layer of dirt above permafrost, where snow collected between the pebbles and infected the garden with its fatal cold. The spires of Irimount split apart in dread, frozen in time, with so few still standing from his tormented agony. Frayed flags fluttered on some of the peaks hanging precariously on other buildings, casting light shadows into the empty alleys, where the dead remained in their homes with no way of escape. Shattered windchimes which hung off of white roof trellis joined the cacophony of irritation and constant wailing ringing in his ears. Footsteps clamored and rushed for the edge of the city, and what awaited them was not the reprieve of the blizzard. He found the hilt of his blade when one draugr stumbled out of a distant house, only to come to a stop to stare at the wide building next to it, jaw agape to reveal chipped fangs.

Yuven lifted his hand back into his lap, among the dead of Irimount. Stagnation sent wisps of feeling into his feathers as he listened to the dead's last song. Those whose voices cried out for deliverance from his damnation. Rust spiked the back of his throat, and the weight in his shoulders forced them further down when the draugr ahead waddled into the building, hand outstretched with a distant, low wail, torn apart by their esophagus.

Against the edge of the huge cradle of Irimount, the largest spire, unbroken by his explosion. If we're to find a way out of this... It'll be in there. Memories flaked apart in crimson ash, and he tucked his hands deeper in his lap and listened to the off-kilter whispers of the ghosts unheard. A light snowfall fluttered against the claws of crags shielding the border of Irimount, with sections of the bridge long collapsed.

"Yuven?"

He turned at the call of his name reverberating through Irimount's fall. Adara hid underneath the small roof above the entrance into the villa, her hands clasped on the frame. "Yes?" Yuven hauled himself off the tough, stone ground of the garden. "What is it?"

"He finally fell asleep."

Ice crinkled into an echo of the mountain when he entered the villa and closed the double doors behind him to block out the worst of the elements. Fenrer remained where he set him, on the long lounge with his head in his arms, the auric blinder wrapped around his brow. Loose strands of brown hair fluttered with the wind which slipped through the broken cracks of the noble's estate. It's safer in here then out there for him. We need to come up with a plan. He checked on his web of wards, and found little barbs of flames stuck to them. "I see you reinforced them."

"Did I do it wrong?" Adara questioned. "I was hoping it'd warm the air, but—"

"I don't know about heating the air, but it will keep the cold out." Yuven knelt beside Fenrer's head, and listened to his soft, but no less shallow breathing from the infection embedded in his lungs. "As long as he gets sleep. I'm going to take another look around this place." On his feet, he glared at Adara. "I don't want us to get jumped by whatever he's sensing." He hooked his fingers into his belt, and swayed his neck from side to side to catch every piece of the fatal breeze in his feathers. "We are lucky this estate is barren of any dead, but I'm unsure of this area as a whole. Once I've confirmed things, we can start heading to the spire. Stay here with him, I am only going into the back area." He left through the second set of doors into the villa proper.

It branched into a connected circle. Several sofas wound around a white oval table, with small garden pots following the path of the outer rim. Frost lichen hung and overgrown onto the floor from lack of pruning. Chocoberries engorged and stuck themselves into the dirt once meant for other plants. Matted furs sprayed across the bed, and he took the step down into the pit. Stands overturned from someone's rush of escape, pottery broken into pieces when he knelt into the fragments, investigating the sharp edges with his finger. It slipped out of his hands and clattered among its brethren. Who met their ends trying to escape this house? Do they walk the streets with the others... trying to find an escape from their existence? He tucked his hand around his leather strap, and let out the tight sigh between his teeth before drawing across the villa's dining area, slapping the frost lichen out of his way to recheck one of the long corridors of painted marble. One door squeaked off its hinges, and he peeked inside.

A tall bookshelf took up a corner of the room, where a bedspread sat in a typical divot of fluffy mattresses and a multitude of pillows, and no one needed that many for a good night's rest. Beside the bookshelf, another door led into the small property of the estate, and he squinted at the bunker-esque door in the alley, sloped downwards. Yuven examined the room, then ran his fingers down the dresser, where scattered schoolwork fluttered underneath thick paperweights. Abandoned... or just never able to finish? He slipped over to the hangar, where a fur jacket with grey trimmings hung on it, and he held out one of the sleeves.

Not a big jacket. Yuven let it go and abandoned it for dead and left through the bedroom's glass panel. The howl roared over the mountain when he fought the current and reached the bunker doors. This can't be for Derelicts. He investigated the locks. No standard runes to block out magick— Tension cracked his feathers against his head at the soft sound of whimpering. Yuven drew out his blade and lifted the doors with an air glyph, setting them aside with a careful approach to not disturb what other piece of dead trapped inside the bunker. Every step taken with caution, his crescent blade at the ready, he reached the landing and whipped around the initial corner.

Empty.

Yuven followed the source of the noise.

Over a small crib, a mobile of glittered opals hummed with the wind — not the whimpering he heard. On wooden foundations, he inched closer to the crib for confirmation. One hand on a seax, he leaned over.

Soft blankets covered the crib's swaddled cradle, and the music from the mobile near his head echoed throughout the bunker. He hooked his fingers over the tiny blankets and pulled them over the small bumps. He found a small shaker, prodding the sphere full of tiny bells, scoffing at the sounds meant for soothing babes. Must be the servant's quarters... His thought drifted off at the largest lump tucked deeper. He found the offending squishy material, and gently tugged it free.

Wings sprouted with carefully constructed fluff, where the stuffy sat in the palm of his hand, where its limbs flopped between his long fingers. The mobile continued to wedge its song into his ears when he set the other side of the stuffy in his other palm, staring into the shiny pupils of the wyvern. Air caught in his lungs with his faltered, dying heartbeat when he found himself hypnotized by his own reflection within the false orbs. He shifted on his heel, where a small kitchen sat and filled with dust and haphazard pots and pans. The spice rack wilted with frost lichen slipping through the sliced cracks along the wall. A small bathhouse dug itself into the other corner, the faucet rusted on the rim. Toys scattered around the crib, webbed by snow. Blood filled his nostrils when he rubbed his fingers across the length of the wyvern's wings, and he let it fall into the crib and return the lost innocence once swaddled within.

Ice tickled his fingertips and drove him out of the bunker and into the freedom of death. He made haste for the other two through the estate, where Adara sat on the chair across from Fenrer, who rubbed the side of his head.

"Welcome back," Yuven dragged through his teeth. "Do you feel better?"

"Thank you." Fenrer tugged off the auric blinder, and gave him a weary blink. "I feel..." His gaze drew past Yuven.

"Are you sensing any spirits in here?"

Fenrer shook his head. "No, it's just..." He got off the lounge, though Yuven cupped his elbow when his knees shook. "Where are we?"

"In a typical Naveeran noble's estate, about as inflated with extra room than they need," Yuven grunted, then hugged himself to chase away the chill the wyvern stuffy left him. "It's not like they're here to complain anymore about us mere peasants using it..."

"But you're not—"

"Don't finish that sentence, Adara, I'm just starting to tolerate you." Yuven clapped Fenrer's shoulder. "As long as you're not being assailed by spirits who don't know when to move on from their problems, then..."

Fenrer's attention drew back into the heart of the estate. "I just... thought I sensed something more familiar when I first came to," he admitted. "Though I guess the auric flow here is so... shattered and split that maybe I'm just confused trying to sort through incomplete remnants."

"Can you describe the feeling?" Yuven pressed for further information on what they faced.

Fenrer swayed in whatever flow wrapped around him, then lifted his hand to something unseen.. "Sapphires. Warm ones. A hearth in the winter."

"Sapphires? Hearths?" Yuven scoffed. "What does that mean? That's not a feeling."

Fenrer's brow scrunched in irritated dismay. "It's hard to explain, then."

"Well, what about that ominously infernal presence from before?" Yuven asked.

Fenrer's gaze darted from side to side. "I can still... sense some sort of pressure I suppose is the best word for it, but being here mutes it." He pinched his chin in thought.

"Is that good?" Adara asked, voice full of hopefulness.

"Not necessarily," Yuven hissed. "Fenrer, can you give us further details?"

Fenrer released a frustrated huff. "No, I don't know how to describe it to a Non-Aurus," he said and released his face, but then stared at him with silent eeriness. "I think I can pinpoint the direction it's wafting from."

"Wafting?" Yuven narrowed his eyes, but at Fenrer's terse silence, he opened the front door.

"What's going on?" Adara questioned.

"Sh," Yuven instructed.

Out of the estate, Fenrer wandered out of the confines of the property and stood out in the middle of the street. He looked around, the spirals of Auric power intensifying around his pupils, until he closed them and breathed deep concentration before turning his face to the marble paths below. He glanced at them, then pointed down in silence.

Beneath us? Yuven mouthed.

Fenrer nodded, then followed an invisible trail to the spire. "There's a concentration of energy escaping from there," he whispered and gave another point. "An entrance-way? Whatever it is, Yuven... it's very deep underneath the multiple layers of permafrost, I almost couldn't... see the trail it left." He drew up his shoulders, then frowned. "It's so... pressurized, pure darkness."

"What does that mean?" Adara asked.

Yuven scowled. "A Derelict."

"No." Fenrer's rejection threw him off. "No... well, not quite... this feels... much worse. More..." His voice faltered with a soft breath. He winced and squished his chin again.

"Fenrer."

"That's all I can give you from here, I'd have to get closer to gauge the intention and aura," Fenrer admitted and the spirals stiffened, but he smiled at him, bright, but haunted. "I'm sorry."

Yuven released his frustration, then shook his head. "It's fine. All the more reason to find a crystal and get out of here through the Umbral Gate. We are going into the spire, so maybe you will have a better idea there. Though disturbing whatever is below Irimount is not on my list."

"I understand. I'll tell you if I have a better idea," Fenrer said, and Yuven frowned when he clasped his shoulder. "I'm feeling alright." He frowned. "Are you feeling alright?"

"... fine," Yuven grumbled. "Let's get started, then."

"I'm following you, Yuv."

I can only hope I don't lead you both into an early grave with me.