My body seemed wrought of solid iron, each step weighing twice so much as the last. Using the Cinder had drained me, and to flare it again, I suspected, would slay me. As I shambled toward the lavender radiance of the wilting lamp, I heard again the Keeper's words: Have no fear, Ashen One. I shan't let you fall.

What she meant by that, I could not say, only that it gave me the strength I lacked. It was therefore, more her strength than mine that sent me stumbling down the dimly lit corridor, my stake-driver's rugged tip glimmering softly in the shivering torchlight.

Your foes grow close, Ashen One she whispered, and I felt her invisible hand upon my shoulder, steadying me. Strike quickly. We have not time to waste.

With this sentiment I agreed, nodding as I turned, raising my burdened right arm and with a gesture primed its keen edged spear. I was dying. The Flame and Shadow clashed inside my body, and their furious struggle would tear me asunder. Yet I swore all the same: if I was to perish, it would be at my comrade's side, not here, not in the filth and mire of this befouled place. It was this thought that frightened me, yet all the same lent steel to my trembling limbs, and calmed my labored heart.