We knelt in the dim halo of piteous, frail, fitful light that drifted in a thin disk of lavender from the bowed lamp of braided iron. Its melancholy light did little to elevate one's mood, yet I refused to allow the crippling depression to once more seize me. As Or'do rested, deeply drained by his use of the Dark, I examined the book I had woken with, a catalogue that detailed every item this world boasted. Ordinarily I would have sought only the weapons or armour, that which can protect through absorbing harm or dealing it, yet this day I lingered upon the antidotes. At first my interest was passing, then a startling revelation leaped from the ancient pages.

The Ashen Blood, mark of the Darkness was spoken of not as something that had always existed, but as a plague that had consumed the lands; a novelty, not the fixture I took it for. This place, I realized, was not the Dark's home. We had not found the city of our foes; we merely clawed at its outermost wall.

"Or'do." I raised my eyes from the weathered pages. "This place, it is not the Dark's home." He leaned forward, gazing upon the tome as I turned it, lifting it into the listless light to lay it bare for his inspection.

"What do you-" Or'do paused, realizing what I meant. "The Dark did not originate here, it merely invaded this place."

"Aye."

"Good!" He leaped to his feet, striding eagerly toward the elevator some three paces to our left. What I had thought would depress him, had only restored his vigor.

"Good?" I climbed to my feet and followed him, wincing at the speed with which we descended.

"Indeed. If we have not yet found their home, it means that we need only fight on, fight harder than before! These damned things can hardly hold us back; if this is their wall, then we shall sunder it apart!" He pumped a fist overhead, his features bright with that contagious grin.

Smiling, I followed him further into the depths. He was right, I realized. He as much as I craved purpose, and knowing that a greater distance stood between us and our foes only served as motivation to close it; the further our prey fled, the more ferociously we would pursue them. The Dark would fail, for where it struck with the shadows spite and bitterness, we struck back with hope's radiant flare, and that was perhaps the most powerful flame of all.