Someone else did.

Audren took a moment to let those words sink in. Terry was right. Zavian wouldn't simply have fallen down; his face was too messed up and his family wouldn't have left his body here to rot. It was more likely someone had bashed his head in and threw him down the trapdoor. Audren glanced back through the crack in the wall, at the statue and the human bones scattered across the ground behind it.

"Maybe someone, or multiple someones, came to the Caves to find a safe place," he theorized. "Perhaps they found this secret passage somehow. If their intentions were less than pure and they made it to the house, Zavian may have tried to fight them off, and…"

He didn't finish the sentence. The thought of his old friend being killed while defending his home sickened him to the core. Audren was generally a patient man, doing his best to be both friendly and fair, but this angered him immensely. He counted to ten under his breath to keep himself in check, to avoid letting out a cry of rage.

"I suppose the end of the world brings out the worst in people," Terry commented, observing Zavian's corpse with something Audren would almost call fascination. There was no disgust in her gaze; she looked at the body as if a merchant had laid out his wares before her and she couldn't decide on what to buy. "Whoever did this… Do you think we can handle them ourselves or will we need help?"

"What kind of question is that?" Audren regretted how snappy the words sounded as they left his mouth, but he didn't have time for useless questions now. "There is no help here. It'll have to be the two of us. We'll have to be more careful if we're dealing with the living here, but we managed to defeat those Cursed. This is just another threat for us to deal with."

Terry held her hands up in defense, marching past him to the rope ladder. "No need to lash out, Lord Audren. I was simply asking." She began climbing the rope ladder at a steady pace. "In any case, the living present us with at least one advantage. They can be reasoned with."

Audren looked back at Zavian's corpse once more before following her. Reasoning with whoever had done that? He doubted it. Severely. But, he told himself, it was never good to lose hope. He climbed up the ladder, muscles straining, minding where he placed his feet. The last thing he wanted was to fall.

Soon, he and Terry found themselves in the relatively spacious storage room. It was dark, the door closed; the mage's flame was their only source of light once more. Audren moved towards the old but sturdy door and cracked it open. Thank the Gods it's not locked.

They had to be cautious. Audren surveyed the first-floor corridor, noticed it was empty. He saw beautifully-decorated doors, ominously closed, and large windows through which sunlight filtered in. No human shapes though, neither alive nor undead. And no more bodies for now. Perhaps they'd find those if they searched the rooms on this floor, but he did not necessarily wish to see more people he'd cared about dead.

"It's safe," he announced, slipping out of the room and walking to the right side of the corridor, careful not to stomp and make too much noise. Terry followed, catching up to him in seconds. Audren was impressed by how quietly she moved; she might as well have been floating, like a shadow or a ghost. Did the Institute for the Magical Arts also teach its students how to move?

Audren couldn't ponder this question for long. The closer they came to the staircase, the more he became aware of sound in the distance. Male voices, not ones he recognized, still far away, but getting closer with every step. Audren and Terry shared a glance.

"If we get a chance to slip past these men unseen, you won't take it, won't you?" Terry asked, tone an impressive neutral.

Audren shook his head. "I have to know if they killed my friend and his family."

Perhaps it was stupid, he thought to himself as they descended the stairs, but if the Gilvertos family had been murdered, he couldn't let it slide. A good lord didn't simply protect his people; he also aided his allies in need, whether they still lived or not. As Lord of the Mountains, he stood for justice, even in the lawless world humanity had been thrown into. What kind of lord, what kind of person would he be if he avoided a confrontation with those responsible for the deaths of people he'd laughed and lived with?

He followed the voices to the dining room, threw the door open and marched in with the most intimidating glare he possessed. For once, he was filled with confidence. Three men sat around the table, having themselves a meal that would've made Audren's mouth water if the circumstances had been different. The smell of roast chicken, buttered slices of warm bread and a variety of spices filled the room, creating the illusion of pleasantness. The men looked up from their hearty lunch immediately, wearing expressions of shock as they noticed their visitors; one even dropped the piece of bread that had been making its way to his mouth.

"You," Audren growled, reaching for his sword, "do not belong here."

These men, he realised, were not of the kind one could trust. They looked haggard, clothes dirty, faces scarred. Their sneaky eyes rested on Audren and Terry. The largest and burliest man of the lot, sporting a wild beard and an eyepatch, rose, holding the sharp knife he'd used to cut the chicken tight and pointing it at his uninvited guests. Audren was certain he'd seen this man's likeness before, when civilisation hadn't started to collapse yet.

The memory came back to him with force. It was the eyepatch that jogged his memory. He'd returned from visiting his aunt and uncle in Chekshaw, passed through a nugatory Chekshire village. The town crier had warned him not to fall into the hands of a group of bandits in the area, helpfully showing him a poster of what their leader reportedly looked like. The sketch of the criminal's face had looked remarkably like the man he saw in front of him now.

To make matters worse, the bandit leader's clothes were full of stains, dark red. Dried blood. As far as Audren was concerned, it was a confession of guilt.

"Neither do you, boy," the bandit leader barked at him. His one eye, a light shade of grey, flew to the mountain gold in Audren's ears. Greed must've clouded the man's vision right then and there. "A rich child coming to spoil our fun, aren't ya? What do we think of that, lads?"

One of Eyepatch's cronies grinned. "I say we don't accept that."

"This is a safe place," the other grumbled, rising from his seat and taking up the crossbow he'd kept close to him. "Has food and drink, and the doors have been boarded up proper. We ain't giving it up and we ain't sharing."

"You can keep your food," Terry announced, looking entirely unintimidated. Audren wondered if anything had ever impressed her in her life. "If you killed the mayor and his family for food and shelter from the Cursed… Why would you? Those people didn't need to die."

The bandit leader laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls and the wood covering the dining room's windows. "Would you look at that, lads? The rich boy's little whore wants to say something too." A wicked grin spread across his face. "If the mayor would even have agreed to letting us stay, it would've meant we'd need to share all the goods in his food supply. I'd much rather share with my men alone."

Until there's not enough left, Audren thought to himself. How long will it take before you do to them what you did to Zavian? He spotted a mace strapped to Eyepatch's belt. The weapon must've been used to bludgeon his friend to death. Was this what the world had become? A wasteland of death and destruction, hostility and evil wherever you looked?

He wanted to move and attack, neutralize the men at the very least, but his body wouldn't listen. It would be a bad idea to show sudden movements, anyway; the bandit with the crossbow could lodge a bolt in his eye within seconds if he did. He was in no position to go on the offensive now. But next to him, he heard Terry mumble words; a spell he now recognised as the water spell she claimed to be getting better at.

But there's no water here.

"Speak up, girl," Eyepatch ordered, amused. "I can't hear you say how badly you want me-"

His sentence faded quickly as the man let out a pained shriek, his companions following suit. It happened so fast Audren couldn't decide what to focus on: the rapid, elaborate movements of Terry's hands; the men's weapons clattering to the ground as their hands bent in ways he could only describe as unnatural; the bandits sinking to their knees, writhing, faces contorted in pain.

What in the name of the Gods had just happened?

"It really is a versatile spell," Terry announced drily, glaring at the killers who'd been feasting without a care in the world mere moments ago. "Truly remarkable. Did anyone ever tell you there's water in blood, Lord Audren? It's something I consider common knowledge, but it's surprising how few people seem to be aware of it. I suppose you do learn something new every day."

Water in blood? If Audren had ever heard about that before, he certainly couldn't recall it now. All he could do was stare in awe and horror. He'd heard Terry was good and she had claimed she'd worked to achieve 'pure academic excellence', but he hadn't been able to gauge just how skilled she was based on that alone. She'd struggled to get the water spell down this very morning and now she controlled it so well she could manipulate men's blood with it?

Somehow, Audren felt he was missing something. A crucial bit of information. "How are you doing this?" he asked, frowning and in shock. It didn't add up. There was no way a human being could perfect their use of a spell so fast.

"Applying techniques from my own field to this spell," Terry answered with a nonchalant shrug. "What I do requires a good understanding of the human body and how to manipulate parts of it. This is kind of new to me, but not that far of a stretch. It's the water spell combined with a focus on blood and the hand movements to control that blood are… practically the same as I'd normally use for another spell?"

Audren found it rather vague, but he recalled his theory that she was into healing magic. That did, indeed, sound like it required good knowledge of the body and its manipulation. He was about to ask more when the bandit leader forced out a sentence in his gruff voice, tone one of panic and hurt: "Unhand us, you evil bitch!"

"I wouldn't insult the person controlling my blood," Terry informed him. "You never know which organs might explode if you do." She turned to Audren, a serious expression on her face. "These men killed your friends, Lord Audren. They're not going anywhere. Do whatever you want to them. The choice should be yours."

Audren stared at the three men on the floor, unable to move as they pleased, biting back their pain. His sword felt heavy in his hands. These men had killed the Gilvertos family, driven by survival instincts and sheer greed. They deserved punishment at the very least. They were with three and had killed three, maybe more. Who knew what other crimes they'd committed in their pathetic lives?

It would be easy to behead them like he'd done to the Cursed. Too easy. They wouldn't struggle as long as Terry held them down. Perhaps such a death would be fair. Some might even have called it just.

But these men were alive. Hadn't too many lives been lost already with the advent of the Cursed? Regardless of whether these men deserved it or not, did Audren truly want to contribute to the further demise of the human race? He thought about the Cursed, how their undead faces would undoubtedly haunt him in his sleep. If he killed these men in cold blood, sought retribution, wouldn't he see their faces too? Wouldn't killing them make him as bad as them?

He lowered his sword.

"I am Lord of the Mountains, not Lord of the Free City. You three killed the leaders of the Free City's people. It is ultimately up to them to decide what fate they want you to meet." Audren looked into the Bandit Leader's one eye directly. "The mage and I have come here to try and break the curse. I want to lock you up in the cellar, where the food supply is kept. Once the curse is broken, the survivors of the Free City will almost certainly find you. I'll have left a note for them, detailing what you've done, and they will do to you as they see fit."

"Break the curse?" The bandit who'd held the crossbow sounded incredulous. "You'll never succeed. Nobody will find us. What do we do when we run out of food and drink?"

Audren's expression hardened. "Then you'll have received everything you wanted, haven't you?" Shelter and food to last until the end of your lives." He turned to Terry. "Please keep them from going anywhere while I look for keys and supplies to write my note."

"They won't move a muscle unless I want them to."

"Good." Audren moved past her, towards the doors out of the room. "And prepare yourself mentally. The Pantheon awaits."