The cold in this necropolis has slowly crept into my bones. Or maybe it’s the remnants of the terror instilled by the harpies. Or maybe, despite what the stories tell you about the cursed races, I still hold on to so much of my humanity and right now I just am just afraid. Of whatever traps and monsters lurk within these tombs, of what awaits us if we make it alive out of here, of a future similar to that of Damon, of one where we have, just like the dragonlords of old, become corrupted by power or, maybe, by the very quest we are on. Shivers run down my spine. And the goosebumps only fade as the monstrous minotaur takes a swipe and all fades into blackness.
I wake with Helikaon above me, protecting me. Just like Calliope lent over minutes later to save me from the mimic. A mimic, stupid, stupid Alke… should have known better. But maybe the fear has altered my senses. I just want to find the weapons and get out of here as soon as possible. Because slowly this fear is eating away at me. I feel weak, desperate, I’m not sure I am thinking straight and despite Braz confidently leading the way I am convinced I am lost. Both in this maze and in the midst of my own fear. I am, at this point, a liability. Yet, my friends are leaning in to protect me...