Bright Battle Academy's infirmary was a clean, purposeful sort of place. The floors were smooth stone with drains strategically dotted around, the walls painted a businesslike grey-blue, and the solid, no-nonsense furnishings were universally enchanted to resist liquids and stains. This often came in handy.

Upon one of these solid, no-nonsense furnishings (allegedly a bed) lay Nala Greyward. She was staring up at her left hand, at the BrightCircle tattooed upon it, wondering what the tiny dark-glowing purple butterfly fluttering around it meant. After a minute both butterfly and BrightCircle faded, and Nala lowered her hand.

Eventually she pushed herself up and slid off the bed. There was a dull stiffness to her neck and her arm itched, but she felt no pain. There was a mirror in the room; Nala padded towards it. She could see the blood on her undyed tunic, could see the tear where the axe had bit, but beneath, on her dark skin, there was little more than a smooth line to mark the injury. Her arm, too, there was a hole through both the front and back of her rough sleeve but she could barely see where the arrow had punched through her flesh. She raised her fingers to her cheek, felt the dried blood flake away, but beneath there was just smooth skin, not even a hint of the graze she'd suffered.

Nala lowered her hand, staring at herself in the mirror, at her narrow grey eyes, at her short brown hair, at her uninspiring face.

"Up already? Goodness, you took to it well. Get into a spot of trouble, did you?"

Nala turned and was smacked in the forehead—she reached for her knife but it wasn't there.

"Don't bother, you couldn't hit back anyway," said the human woman who had hit her. "Just doing a follow-up, making sure you don't have any nasty status effects still lurking around—seems to check out. Your knife's over by your bed if you really want it. I don't know if you should even bother, an iron knife in this place? We'll be seeing you back in here soon enough!"

"Wait," Nala said, as the woman went to leave. "Explain to me. I was attacked—"

"Attacked, defeated, your safehold shard stopped you from dying and brought you here for us to fix you up. Seen a wee butterfly above your BrightCircle? That's your first demerit. Four of those and you're done."

"Dead?"

"No, no, expelled! Sent back to wherever it was you came from. Couldn't imagine where that'd be, in your case!"

The woman laughed as she walked out, leaving Nala to stare down at her BrightCircle, at the butterfly flitting about above it.

"Four," she murmured. Four demerits, and I go back to where I came from. The woman was wrong; I was right. That is not expulsion.

"—maybe in this room, that healer said—Nala! Nala, we are alive!"

"Debatable," Amanda muttered, as Tzugakk ran forward to clutch at Nala's sleeve. Nala absently patted his hand, then looked at Amanda. Her clothing was more ragged than ever, filled with dozens of small holes from the arrows that had 'killed' her.

"Your speaking has improved," Nala said.

"Because there's a necromancer near!" Tzugakk said, as the zombie girl gave a stiff shrug. "The healers told us, if there is a necromancer near, Amanda can speak and move and think. We need to recruit him! For her sake!"

"Gakk told me about the whole party thing," Amanda said. "Guess I'm in with you guuuys." She cleared her throat. "You guys."

Nala nodded. "Then we need to find this necromancer."