Chapter Text
Flins wasn't surprised when Rerir stopped attacking them as a group and started focusing solely on Nefer instead. Up until now, they had been lucky. Nefer and Columbina were their true Hail Marys of the fight, and the fact that Rerir had only now caught on was somewhat of a miracle.
Flins, Traveler, and Lauma had been designated to defend the other two because their plan would only succeed if both Columbina and Nefer were alive at the end. Initially, keeping Columbina and Nefer safe wasn't that hard of a task since Rerir was trying to attack them all at once. But now that he had caught on, this was where things were going to get difficult.
Almost immediately upon the dynamic of the battle shifting, Lauma was forced to defend against a brutal attack aimed at Nefer. The awkward angle at which Lauma was forced to defend sent Rerir's spear through her side, and blood flew everywhere as the Traveler was forced to catch her.
As the Traveler helped Lauma steady herself, that left Flins, if only for a few moments, to defend by himself. And Rerir took full advantage of that, switching his tactics once again, and directly attacking Flins instead of trying to get at the women behind him.
The first blow that Rerir struck after his change in strategy was aimed straight for Flins's throat. Flins, who was slicing at a tendril that had been trying to slip through and attack Nefer, off-guard. And though he was able to dodge to a certain degree, the strike still hit.
Rerir's spear pierced directly through Flins's shoulder, nearly taking his arm off with the momentum at which it had been thrust. And when Rerir jerked the blade back out, the serrated edges tore into his flesh even more. Luckily, the hit had been Flins's non-dominant arm, so he was able to block the next powerful attack with the shaft of his spear.
As a Fae, Flins didn't need his physical form. And although damage taken on his physical form was painful, it didn't truly do much to his true self. The damage still occurred, but it was mostly negligible. The kind of damage that he had sustained from the hit to his shoulder was akin to the cut of a kitchen knife, but the pain was still very real.
After he had been forced to defend against another brutal hit, Flins realized that Lauma may have been more injured than he had originally thought. It had only been about twenty seconds, but she had not yet been able to stand on her own, and the Traveler was still supporting her side. Flins would be defending alone for at least another thirty seconds.
Trying to heal his physical form while still defending was a waste of energy, so Flins refocused on making sure that no attacks got through to Nefer or Columbina. The two women had to focus, especially Nefer, at this stage of the plan.
Flins would be able to hold out for long enough to enact the second phase of their plan, about five minutes, if necessary. But the kind of energy that would be required for that would likely have him becoming useless afterwards, thus giving Traveler and Lauma a third person to defend.
He took another three hits before Lauma had healed herself enough to rejoin the battle. The Traveler had rejoined the battle as well, his first attack striking Rerir in the back, which gave Flins a moment to assess the damage he had attained.
His arm had been pretty much severed from its socket, with the bone having been cut cleanly. In addition, he had a large hole through his left side, a gash on one of his thighs, and a few broken ribs. The damage was more annoying than anything; the hindrance to his movement being the primary concern.
From there, everything went rather smoothly. Lauma and the Traveler both took a few minor hits, but Rerir seemed to be focusing more on breaking through Flins's defense than anything else. Likely because he had been injured the most, and was more likely to make a mistake first.
The fact that Flins was also doing the most damage to the sinner may have contributed as well. He was a light keeper after all, and he had been fighting beings of the abyss for longer than any of his comrades had been alive.
"We just need another minute. Just one more." Flins heard Nefer say, her voice tight and breathless.
Though that was a signal of hope, it also caused Rerir to attack with even more ferocity than he had been before. His attacks becoming more powerful, more wild, and teeming with even denser abyssal energy.
"I will not let you stop me." Rerir's voice said, sounding closer to a demon than anything even remotely human.
"We will stop you," The Traveler responded, slicing through the neck of a zombie that Rerir had summoned.
Flins ducked to avoid getting his head chopped off by Rerir's spear, but as he did so, the sickening sound of flesh being pierced echoed. Rerir did not give Flins even a moment to see which of his companions had been injured, though, and used the momentary distraction to his advantage.
In the split second that the sound had stolen Flins's attention, Rerir stuck. His spear sliced through Flins's previously unharmed side and severed the portion of his coat that his lantern was attached to.
Flins felt it throughout his entire being as his lantern hit the floor, but Rerir didn't give him a chance to retrieve it. Using the leverage of his abyss-soaked spear that was still lodged in Flins's side, the sinner smashed his fist against Flins's face. Then landed another strong hit to the side of his head as he tried to pull away from the spear, his flesh ripping as he did so.
As Flins tried to escape, to reclaim his lantern, he realized that it had been kicked away. He desperately wanted to regain possession of his lantern before Rerir realized how important it was, but he couldn't abandon his role to protect Nefer.
The panic that set in from being separated from his lantern was momentary, but Rerir got the opportunity he needed. He took that moment of panic to launch his spear towards Nefer, severing it from his body and sending it flying straight for her head.
Rerir watched as Flins's eyes tracked the trajectory of the blade, and a smile rose to the sinner's face as the Ratniki dissolved into blue flames, only to reappear in front of the half-kneeling woman. If he had been half a second later, the spear would have found its target.
The impact of the abyss-soaked weapon was worse than Flins had thought it would be. He felt it before he had even fully returned to his physical form. The sound of the blade punching straight through ribs and lodging in his chest echoed in his head as hot blood seeped from his mouth.
The worst part of the impact wasn't the physical damage, but the feeling of the abyss spreading inside him. Like a poison that was determined to find his soul and extinguish it. If only he had his lantern.
If he were able to reach his lantern, he would be able to fight off the abyssal energy that was trying to corrupt him. This amount of energy would be easy to fight off if only he could retreat inside the lantern for a brief moment.
"Columbina now!" He heard Nefer's voice, but it was far away. His vision was rimmed with the blackness of the abyss, seeping into him from Rerir's spear. It was eating away at him, sucking away at his life energy. Dimming his flame.
He didn't register it when he collapsed to his knees.
=_=
They had done it. Rerir was gone for good.
Columbina and the Traveler were supporting each other. The Traveler had been injured, and Columbina felt as if she were about to collapse from exhaustion. Lauma was supporting Nefer, who had lost consciousness, her face covered in blood. Aino was there too, having been occupied with zombies all night. They were all exhausted and injured, but happy enough to keep moving.
The joy of victory was quickly replaced when the Traveler realized that Flins was missing.
"When was the last time someone saw Flins?" He asked, watching as the parties' faces all turned varying degrees of pale. The battle had migrated from the original confrontation site, and there was no sign of the Ratniki.
As a group, they hobbled down the beach, back towards where phase two of the battle had taken place. The beach was dark, the moon covered by clouds, but the abyss energy had mostly faded, leaving the sand its usual calm gold.
When they finally spotted the collapsed figure of their comrade, he was on his knees, slumped forward. The only thing that supported him from falling fully forward was the spear that had been stuck through him, which was still staining the surroundings with thick abyssal energy. The sand surrounding Flins had been stained black with a mixture of blood and the abyss.
The Traveler scrambled from Columbina's side to the still form of the light keeper, searching for any signs of life. Fae had no pulse nor a need to breathe, so he wasn't truly sure what he was looking for.
"Is he...?" Aino's small voice said from behind him, and the Traveler looked back to see tears welling in her eyes.
"I don't... I don't know." He said, not sure what he could do to even check. Having the spear still stabbed through him couldn't be good, but he was terrified that pulling it out would do more damage.
"His lantern." Columbina said quietly, "Where is it?" She asked, and the Traveler scrambled up to help search.
When they found it, it was over thirty feet away. The glass, which usually showed a brilliant blue flame, was clouded with the dark energy of the abyss. He couldn't tell if there was a flame.
"Over here!" He called, and Columbina came over as quickly as she could. She took the lantern from him and held it gingerly in her hands for a moment.
"He's alive, though barely." She said, handing the lantern back.
"We need to get back to camp immediately, then. I'll carry him." The Traveler said, rushing back over to Flins's body.
Carrying a man larger than himself, and with a large spear stuck through him, wasn't comfortable, but the Traveler didn't realize how much pain he was in until they had made it back to camp and the adrenaline had worn off.
As soon as they made it to the knight's camp, because it was the closest to where the battle had taken place, the Traveler handed Flins off to a medic and went to collapse into a cot himself. He saw Lauma help Nefer into the medic's tent, and Aino running off before passing out.
=_=
Varka was surprised when one of his healers came running into his office, saying that she needed desperate help with a patient. He had heard of the battle happening nearby and had been ready to assist anyone who walked away from it. But to be personally called to the medical tent was something he had not anticipated.
When he made it down to the infirmary alongside the healer, though, he immediately understood why they had to get him specifically. The room was flooded with abyssal energy, all stemming from a spear that was currently stabbed through a man's chest.
Varka had seen the man a few times in passing before. He was a Ratniki, and he often patrolled the forests outside the knights' camp. Varka's knights had mentioned running into him a few times as well, but they had never spoken.
Now, lying on his side on a surgery table, he looked completely dead. If Varka hadn't trusted his healer's judgment, he might have questioned if the man was even still alive.
"We can't do anything until the weapon is removed, but it tries to corrupt anything that touches it." The healer said, and Varka just nodded.
"What do I need to do?" It was more of an order than a question. Even if the man wasn't dead yet, he would be soon.
"The weapon needs to be removed. But the damage to his body needs to be kept to a minimum if possible." The healer responded, gesturing to the other wounds littering his body already.
The spear was close to six feet in length, with a thick shaft and a long, serrated tip. It had fully pierced through the man's body, leaving a ragged and bloody hole in his clothes. Though Varka could not see his skin, he was sure that it had been dyed black from the abyssal energy.
An assistant hurried into the room after a moment, wearing some sort of enchanted gloves, and the healer nodded at Varka.
"Let's begin, quickly." She said, and Varka only nodded.
He positioned himself so he could grasp the spear at the bottom of the tip, and began pulling it out slowly. Immediately, the abyss energy began attacking him, and he had to fight it off before he continued pulling.
As he pulled, the two healers were desperately using healing spells on the man, but black blood continued oozing out of the wound. Even after Varka had managed to get the spear out, the wound did not close, and the abyssal energy fought every bit of healing.
When the healer didn't give him any further directives, he left the room with the spear. Quickly locating Albedo and passing the corrupted spear to him. Varka had faith that Albedo would be able to deal with it.
Once that was dealt with, he returned to the room just in time to watch the assistant crumple to the ground unconscious.
"Healing magic isn't working at all. The abyss is sapping our mana." The healer said, jerking her head and gesturing for Varka to come over. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, and Varka could tell that she was also quickly running out of mana.
He immediately placed a hand on her shoulder and began supplying her with mana.
"It will be more effective if you give it to him directly." She said quickly, and Varka followed the direction, placing his hand on the man's back. Even through his clothes, Varka could feel that he was cold. Colder than any human should ever be.
"I can't use healing magic," Varka said, and the healer gave a small, strained smile.
"We aren't healing her directly. We can't." She took in a long, shaky breath. "I don't know what he is, but he's not of a species that I've seen before. He's just taking in the mana; the healing aspect does not affect him." She explained, and Varka took a good, long look at the man.
If he ignored the pale, cold skin, the lack of a heartbeat, and the fact that supposedly he was still alive even with all of his injuries, the man looked human. He had no noticeable inhuman features that Varka could pinpoint, but he didn't question the healer.
Varka had a very large mana pool, even as vision owners were concerned. But after almost half an hour, he began to feel like he needed to stop. The healer had long since tapped out, disappearing when someone had come in frantically searching for her.
He tried to give a little bit more, but felt a slight wave of dizziness, so he tried to remove his hand from the man's body. But there was some kind of invisible resistance to his departure. He struggled against it, but the last of his energy was being sapped, and he was already tired. He couldn't even stop the flow of his energy anymore. He could only hope that he could escape before he lost consciousness.
=_=
When Varka regained consciousness, he was in a chair off to the side of the room. He didn't remember how he got there.
There was another chair next to him, which held cut scraps of the Ratniki's clothing and a lantern that glowed a cloudy purple. He had a vague thought that the lantern was important, but he dismissed it quickly. He had never seen the lantern before.
Three people were standing above the Ratniki, passing energy to him. Alongside the Traveler was Albedo, and surprisingly, on the other side of the table was Nefer. Varka wasn't used to seeing her help people in such a personal way, and he wondered if maybe she and the Ratniki were close.
The healer had also returned, although she was only standing to the side, monitoring the situation. When she saw that Varka had woken up, she hurried over.
"Grand Master," She said, voice holding a polite tone that had been absent before.
"How is everything going?" He asked, and her face fell a bit.
"I am honestly not sure." She admitted. "His body seems to be an infinite black hole. Since you fell asleep, I've had a constant rotation of vision-users in here supplying energy. This is their third rotation." She said, gesturing to the three standing around the table.
"The third? How long have I been out?" He asked, and she stifled a laugh.
"Almost two full days. Complete energy exhaustion will do that." She glanced back at the table again before continuing. "Luckily, he's the only one who is still injured."
"Have you been able to find out why healing doesn't work on him?" Varka asked, and she shook her head.
"No, without knowing what species he belongs to, it is impossible to know." She said, wringing her gloved hands together. "Now that you're awake, I need you to swap in for this group as soon as they are done. They all still need to rest as much as possible."
Before Varka got a chance to respond, she was hurrying out of the room as someone had called for her again. He watched the group for a little while longer before Albedo was the first to stop. He didn't seem to have any trouble removing his hand.
When the other two also tapped out, Varka stepped in immediately. He felt the same pulling sensation as he had before. When he tried to retract his energy, he simply couldn't. He had never felt an inability to control his own mana like that, and it made him nervous.
The camp outside was quiet, too quiet for it to be waking hours. Varka had hoped that someone would come in to relieve him from his post, but as the time passed, no one did.
He was getting close to halfway empty when a sudden tremor ran through the man's body. It startled Varka so bad that he stepped back, his hand now moving away from the body easily.
A second jolt ran through the Ratniki before he was suddenly coughing, his eyes shooting wide open to reveal a startling pupilless yellow. The coughing quickly turned into what sounded like choking, and a black liquid began pouring from the man's mouth, nose, and eyes. The liquid reeked of death and burned into the table where it fell. The smoke that rose from it held the innate feeling of the abyss.
Varka didn't really know what to do as he watched the man convulsing on the table. He was now coughing up what looked like chunks of flesh and mangled organs that were all soaked in the energy of the abyss.
"Are you-" Varka started to say something, but stopped when the yellow eyes snapped unnaturally far over to lock on him. A sound somewhere between a gurgle and another cough came out of his throat, and Varka vaguely made out words in a language that he didn't know.
"I can't understand you." He said, and the man just coughed up more black goo, burning a larger hole in the table. It took a few more minutes, but eventually, the coughing seemed to subside slightly, and Varka found himself looking back into the muted yellow of his eyes.
"My- my lantern." The man gasped out, his voice raw and his eyes unfocused.
Varka didn't question the demand, retrieving the lantern from where it had been set on the chair. Its color was significantly more blue than it had been before, and he could actually see the faint flickering of a flame inside it.
When he turned back to hand over the lantern, the Ratniki was struggling to sit up. His body was still peppered with holes, not to mention the massive chest wound and mostly detached arm.
"I'm not sure if it's a good idea to sit up yet," Varka said, holding the lantern out as he spoke. The man didn't seem to hear him, and the lantern removed itself from his fingers to travel over to the lightkeeper by itself.
As soon as his good hand closed around the handle, his body erupted into bright blue flames. Not even a second later, it was gone altogether. Leaving only the lantern floating above the table with a very pale blue flame burning in it.
Unsure what to do now, Varka just stood there for a while inspecting the lantern and the black ooze that was leaking abyss energy into the floor. The ooze was slightly concerning, but it seemed to be losing energy quickly, so Varka left the tent for a few minutes to grab a bite to eat.
When he came back, having inhaled a bowl of soup, he found the Ratniki halfway out the door. He was limping slightly, but Varka couldn't tell if his injuries had healed or not. He was still incredibly pale, though, and the way he walked made it clear that he was still in pain.
"Sickbed patients aren't really supposed to be going out on walks," Varka said, and the man regarded him with tired eyes.
"I cannot properly heal here." He said in reply, his voice clear and unbothered. It was not the voice of someone who was in excruciating pain. Or who had supposedly been dying less than an hour ago.
"Practically everyone in camp has been pouring energy into you since you were brought back here. You sure seem better." Varka countered, inspecting him for any hidden signs of injury.
"The energy that humans obtain through visions cannot truly heal me. It is but an assist in purging the abyssal energy from my physical manifestation. I will likely begin to deteriorate again within a fortnight if I do not heal properly." He said, and Varka felt his eyebrows rise. He rarely heard anyone talk like that outside of Eula and her family.
"Well, I can't let you go on your own," Varka said, "The medics would kill me if they found I just let a patient leave."
"You are welcome to accompany me, though I do not see the need for you to do so. It will be an uneventful trip to the cemetery, and then a wait of an undetermined amount of time before I am healed properly." He replied without any fight, moving to walk past Varka and towards the exit of the building.
"I'm not busy," Varka said, catching up with him quickly.
"Are you not the Grand Master of the knights of Favonius? I cannot imagine that someone of your status is lacking in tasks that must be done." He said, and Varka just shrugged.
"I have enough time tonight." He replied, and the look that was directed his way suggested that the Ratniki doubted that. "So, where are we going? You mentioned a cemetery?"
"Yes. I live at the Final Night Cemetery across the water." He replied, and Varka knew he had heard the name somewhere, but couldn't place it.
They walked in silence for a long time. It was late at night, and the forest was quiet as they traveled through it towards the beach that held a small dock. There were always a few personal boats there, though Varka had never been fully sure of where they came from.
"Would you be so kind as to paddle?" The man asked as they approached the dock, and Varka smiled.
"Of course. Your arm shouldn't be used for anything anytime soon." He agreed easily, stepping into one of the boats and steadying himself as it rocked under his weight. The lightkeeper only nodded before stepping into the other side of the boat.
The boat ride was silent apart from the water licking at the boat. Varka had thought a few times that the Ratniki had maybe fallen asleep, as his eyes had closed as soon as he was sure that Varka knew where he was going. His eyes didn't open again until the boat dragged on the rocky beach of the cemetery island.
The island was quite creepy under the moonlight, with the dark lighthouse seemingly stretching endlessly into the sky and casting a monstrous shadow over the rest of the island. There was also something about the air that seemed different than normal. Like, there was some ancient energy lurking about.
As the Ratniki led him up the island, Varka noticed more and more that seemed off. Flowers were growing that he hadn't seen anywhere else before. They glowed a pale blue and gave off a feeling that reminded Varka too closely of death and Kuuvahki. Many of the graves were so old that their inscriptions were completely worn away.
There was only one rocky path, and it led straight from the beach to the lighthouse. The crunching of the pebbles seemed to be muted by whatever energy was living on the island.
"What is this place?" Varka asked about halfway up the path, watching as the Ratniki pulled out his lantern and illuminated the nearby graves.
"This is the resting place of the final night. The light keepers' graveyard. People call it many things, but it is my home. I am tasked with maintaining the graves and the lighthouse." He replied, voice smooth and quiet. "Do not mind the ghosts. They are curious, but not hostile." He added, and Varka immediately felt like he was being watched from every angle.
"Ghosts?" He asked, and the lightkeeper nodded.
"Yes, many live here." He responded, continuing up the path with his lantern held out in front of him. As if it were guiding his steps.
When they walked up the steps of the lighthouse, Varka realized just how shabby it was in comparison to the daunting appearance it had from further away. But at the same time, it was also impressively massive. It truly did tower over the rest of the island, and its shadow seemed to stretch infinitely over the dark water.
The Ratniki had to pull on the door quite violently before it finally popped open, dust raining from the doorframe. As if no one had been inside in a decade.
"I apologize if the lighthouse is not up to your standards. I do not require any kind of housing, so I have not truly utilized its services." He said as he stepped through the door, his boots kicking up more dust. "I will rest here. You are welcome to stay or head back to Nod-Krai at any time." He continued, and Varka followed him inside the dark building. Closing the door behind him.
The ceiling of the space was low enough that Varka ran face-first into a hanging lantern that had been hidden by the stale darkness.
"Ow." He muttered, taking a step back towards the door, and a light flickered into existence as he rubbed his nose. The lantern in front of him lit up as well, a sudden spark turning to a soft blue flame.
The interior of the lighthouse was rather bland. There was a small living area with a kitchenette, a small metal table with two chairs, and an empty bookcase next to a fireplace. There was only a single window, next to the shabby stairs that led to the second floor, but it was covered with a wooden shade.
Everything was covered with a layer of dust more than an inch thick, and Varka kicked up large puffs of it with every movement. He felt a bit as though he should cover his nose and mouth with a cloth.
"Thank you for accompanying me back, Grand Master Varka." The Ratniki said, halfway up the stairs to the second floor. Varka only had time to flash him a smile before he had disappeared.
Varka, now left completely alone, wasn't sure what to do. He was still in his armor, his swords strapped to his sides. And he felt incredibly out of place. As if he had intruded on the territory of a great beast.
The stale air grated on his lungs as he stood there in silence, so eventually he decided that the Ratniki may also appreciate some fresh air. His first mission would be to get the window open.
It proved a more difficult task than he had first thought, as the wooden shade was heavy and mostly rotten. Its hinges had fully rusted, and it seemed to splinter into mushy pieces before he had even touched it. Eventually, the thing gave up and crumbled off its hinges and into pieces on the floor.
Varka gathered all of the rotten wood, including the bits still attached to the window, and threw it all into the fireplace. It was quite cold inside the lighthouse, but he hesitated to start a fire. Instead, he left the wood scraps to sit.
Luckily, now that the cover had come off, the window opened rather easily after Varka managed to force its locking pin out. The window itself was made of heavy bolted metal and thick glass, and was rather large, but its hinges seemed unbothered by the salty air.
Immediately after the window swung all the way open, a cool, fresh breeze wafted into the space. It seemed to wipe away much of the room's gloom, disturbing the years of dust.
It took only a few minutes, using his vision, to sweep away all of the dust in the room and send it out the window. Though Varka hadn't used his vision for something like that in the past, it worked well.
After that, he decided to go to work on starting a fire with the rotten wood. Using a mix of a lantern and his vision, he eventually got a decent fire going. He managed to smoke out the room only twice.
When he was done with that, he dragged one of the chairs closer to the fireplace and sat down. He stared at the small fire for a while, wondering if the upstairs was as decrepit as the main living area.
He hoped that the Ratniki hadn't just gone upstairs to die.
=_=
Varka didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, there was warm light on his face. He had slept well and woke up somewhat disoriented. It took him a bit to realize where he was. Sitting in a chair that was too small for him, in front of a fireplace that was burning blue, in a dingy lighthouse out in the middle of the ocean.
Looking around, the only sign of the lightkeeper was that the door to the lighthouse was slightly ajar. Soft morning light was streaming in through the crack in the door, and the salty smell of the sea was kinder than it had been the previous night.
When Varka made his way outside, he took in the sight of the island in the light. It was less intimidating now, with the graves leaving long shadows across the grass. The sun had only risen slightly above the water, and the air was still cold enough for Varka's breath to come out white.
The lightkeeper was not far from the entrance of the lighthouse. He was sitting on the steps that led up to the door, staring out at the water. His torn and bloodied clothing from the night before had been replaced with what Varka somewhat recognized as his normal attire. His skin seemed almost translucent in the early morning light, and his hair seemed pale. As if lacking pigment.
"How long have you been sitting here?" Varka asked, unsure whether to stand awkwardly behind him or join him on the steps.
"Two hours, nineteen minutes, and fifty-six seconds." He responded, and Varka decided not to question the statement's accuracy. He already had so many questions about this man, none of which Varka planned to ask. He sat down.
"My name is Kyryll."
"What?"
"We have never been formally introduced. Though I know you, as you are the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, there has been no reason for you to know me until now." Kyryll explained, and Varka supposed that was true.
"Well, Kyryll, my name is Varka. It's nice to formally meet you." Varka said in response, trying not to make the name sound awkward on his tongue. It wasn't a name he had ever heard before, and it was likely from a language that he did not speak. He stuck out his hand to Kyryll, more out of habit than anything else.
Kyryll took his hand without hesitation. His grip was firm, with the telltale power of someone who had extensively trained their body. There were subtle calluses on the pads of his fingers, but it was nothing like the rough hands of a warrior that Varka was accustomed to. His skin was also oddly cold. Not cold like ice, but cold like moonlight.
"It is a pleasure, Grand Master." He said, his voice holding a similar moonlit chill as his hands.
They sat in silence, watching the sun rise, for a good while after that. Varka kept thinking about how cold Kyryll's skin was.
"Are you all healed now?" He eventually asked, looking over at the other man. He wondered how long the bags under his eyes had existed.
"Yes. And no. My physical manifestation is healed. The injuries that I accumulated fighting the Rächer of Solarni are healed. The remaining damage is what was inflicted by the abyss. But that will be a slower recovery. Much akin to a mental wound inflicted on a human." Kyryll explained, and Varka thought he understood. The spear he had taken had been created from pure concentrated abyssal energy after all.
"You aren't human. But you aren't anything that I'm familiar with either." Varka finally decided to say, wishing to at least satisfy that curiosity. A small smile rose to Kyryll's face, but it was not a happy one.
"I am a Snowland Fae from Snezhnaya. Likely the last of my kind, so there is no surprise that you would not know of us. We are often referred to as Lantern Fae." He said, and Varka wasn't really sure how to respond. He had heard of Fae, but had never met one before. They were mainly just a one-off mention in legends.
"If you're from Snezhnaya, how'd you end up in a place like this?" He asked, gesturing to the graveyard and then to the faint silhouette of Nod-Krai over the water.
"That is a long, solemn story. I do not think you would enjoy hearing it." Kyryll replied, his eyes reflecting the rising sun, his skin appearing to glow softly. There was something ethereal about him, something that didn't seem to belong to this world.
Varka didn't push. He was aware enough to realize when someone didn't want to talk about a sensitive topic. So he stayed quiet, and so did Kyryll, who just kept staring towards the sun, unmoving.