Sylvia Talgan's POV.

I stared listlessly at the dwindling flames of the fire. The underground cave never grew darker or lighter; it always stayed the same. Even the campfire did not need to be maintained, as it was neither too hot nor too cold. This left me little to do other than be stuck in my own head.

It's not that guard duty was particularly useless. It was true we could never be complacent. Just because the dungeon had not attacked us on this floor did not mean it couldn't or wouldn't. In truth, I should have been resting with the others, but my mind was a maelstrom of unease. Sleep would elude me if I tried, that much I was certain.

When the fire ceased entertaining me for the brief moments, my eyes naturally drifted beyond the orange barrier to the swords plunged into a circle, surrounded by fallen armor. And whenever I did, my heart only grew more weary. I was simply afraid.

The implications of that sword's presence brought nothing but a mixture of fear, excitement, and disquiet in my heart. The idea that the sword happened to be here by chance had long ceased to exist. It was undoubtedly my uncle's sword. The only question that remained was how.

How would my uncle's remnant act? Would it be like the first knight, slightly lucid, still possessing a fragment of its previous memories? Would my uncle's ghost have hopes? Dreams? Desires? Or would it be like the second, the hunter who seemed to be long gone, nothing more than a fragment of the past?

I wasn't sure what I wanted more. The former meant that my uncle's soul would have been alone in this dungeon for hundreds of years, maybe even a millennium. Shackled to some unknown being against his will, as his sense of self slowly disappeared into a mindless abomination along with his hopes... perhaps his hope of ever being rescued. Or maybe he was just like me; instead of waking up a few years ago in relative safety, he ended up like this.

The latter was just as bad. It meant that my uncle was gone. Perhaps my last blood-related family in the world. I would never get to hear his soft, gentle voice again. And with his departure came any answers to the questions of the past. And I would be forced to slay the echo of his soul to put him to rest or die by his hand.

What a truly awful place this is. I feel sick to my stomach just thinking about it.

And as if fate wasn't cruel enough, my worries hardly mattered. It didn't change that I needed to be the one to face my uncle and kill him. If my uncle even possessed a sliver of his original power in Blood Sorcery, everyone but me would perish at the slightest mistake. And even my safety was not guaranteed.

I had no way of knowing how powerful my uncle was in life…or his death. I had never seen him enjoy a light spar with someone, let alone fight to the death. Uncle Aster was just….Uncle Aster to me. Not the son of the Bloody Emperor. There was a chance that his Blood Sorcery was far beyond mine…no, it was guaranteed, as he must have had years to learn and practice.

Master Keldrag once said I would be even stronger than my mother, and my cool-headed Dragon teacher would not have said such things lightly, even to cheer me up. I also had no way to compare him to my mother. Even so, that statement was only predicated on whether I continued being taught Blood Sorcery, which I had not. My knowledge of the power my lineage had was limited to what little my mother had taught me, and I was painfully aware that it was but a drop in a massive ocean of knowledge.

Actually, it was so insignificant that I had powers that I didn't even know how to wield consciously, and my fight with Cerila was proof of that. Even now, I was unaware of what I had done. I somehow had the ability to affect someone's memories, my own included, as I had long since thrown away the notion that a simple injury caused our memory loss, and it was highly unlikely Cerila possessed such power.

Which means I'm capable of so much more. Yet I don't even know where to start.

All I could do was sigh bitterly. "Damn this place."

My eyes drifted back to camp as my mood soured further. I admittedly felt a little better as my eyes fell on Kaladin's sleeping form. Knowing that he was here…that I wasn't actually alone put me at ease.

I'm rather hopeless…huh?

But that feeling suddenly vanished, replaced with a brief moment of dread. I shifted in the makeshift stone chair, knelt forward, and narrowed my eyes. I swore I saw something vague move across my vision, yet there was nothing at all.

"Sylvia? Is something wrong?" Ms. Tarus asked.

I shook my head to clear my vision and narrowed my eyes again. But…there was nothing.

"I thought I saw something," I said.

Ms. Taurus, who was on guard duty with me and watching over the professor and Lord Vasquez, scanned the camp. Her eyes turned to me with a worried expression.

"Perhaps…you are just tired? Would you like to rest a little? I can watch the camp by myself," she asked.

I put a hand to my head in confusion. How could I have thought I'd seen something yet didn't hear anything? And how would something have snuck up on not only me but a War God?

Maybe the stress is finally getting to me. We've been in this forsaken place for far too long.

"No, it's nothing…" I mumbled.

I sat back in the chair with a sigh. Ms. Taurus's worried eyes left me and went back to the fire. However, before I could get comfortable again I swallowed the saliva in my throat as my eyes widened. The flash of dread pressed on me. I felt an intense gaze bore into the back of my head.

I wanted to yell, but I held my breath. It felt like something was stalking me and was considering whether to rip my head off or watch me suffer in the painful silence. My heart thumped in my chest, and I steadied my nerves before slowly turning around.

There was nothing behind me.

It felt as if, since I had not seen it, that feeling vanished, as if I had been imagining it all along. When I turned back around, a shadow was looming over me, and a beautiful pair of multicolored eyes looked down at me.

"What did you see?" Kaladin asked softly.

It didn't surprise me that Kaladin woke up. He was…rather sensitive when sleeping, and I'm sure I had made a noise or done something to alert him. Even Ms. Taurus had stood, her spear in her hand, gazing out into the stone cavern.

"I—I didn't see anything," I said honestly.

"But something scared you. It's written on your face, like you saw a ghost," Kaladin said firmly.

"It was just a feeling," I answered weakly.

The slit on Kaladin's left eye narrowed as a faint glow ignited in its amethyst depths. He slowly looked around, but the light faded away as the spear in his hand disappeared.

"I don't see anything either," he said after a moment.

His body relaxed slightly as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes—it was nothing, really. I think I was just imagining it," I said.

I mean, what was I supposed to say? I looked at him and went from feeling at peace to suddenly being deathly afraid of his sleeping body. Surely that would go over well…I'm sure he would be ecstatic to hear that.

"Doubtful. It wouldn't be the first time a dungeon played with our minds. And sudden, unexplainable feelings are hardly a novelty either," he said grimly.

Kaladin leaned my head into his chest and said, "Even if it was nothing, I'll stay awake with you. It won't be long until everyone else is up."

"Oh…okay."

—

The rest of the…night? If there was even a night in this place, it was spent peacefully. That feeling of being watched and of dread never returned, and I was able to spend it comfortably side by side with Kaladin until everyone stirred awake.

A final meal was prepared, and even though I didn't need to eat, I still picked a few things off his plate. It's not that I felt hungry or even full after eating, but the warmth of the food did make me feel better. And I did enjoy the taste, even if it was a little too salty.

It is just good for the soul, I guess.

With the camp packed up, everyone stood around each other as I walked toward the circle. Any wishes of luck or encouragement had already been given. And there was little to plan for as we had no idea what would happen if I won. No.

When I won.

I exhaled deeply and thrust my sword into the stone. The blade easily sank into the rocky surface, and the orange barrier wobbled as it moved to swallow me. Before I knew it, I was already on the other side of it.

And across the chasm of ruined stone, the circle came to life. But the difference was immediate. A sinister aura slithered into reality. The blue color that both the previous souls had was not present. Instead, an ominous black cloud floated from the circle.

The fallen armor rose up into the air and formed around the grim darkness into the shape of a slender man. His shoulders were small, and his height was barely considered average. Even the lusterless black armor looked unremarkable when compared to the other ghosts.

Even so, the sinister power radiating out from the smaller armored frame was far more harrowing than that of the previous ghosts. Once the helmet sat on the head, a pair of glowing red orbs appeared in the vast, ominous darkness, staring out with deep malice. Dark chains crossed its body, wrapped themselves tightly around the arms and legs, and dangled from the gauntleted hands.

I should have shrunk under that gaze, but the only feeling that came to me was a deep sadness. The dark shadow had no defining features, just like the others. Even so…I felt like I could still see him: the long golden locks, the beautiful pale skin, the soft red eyes, and the kind smile that reached his ears that always greeted me.

"Uncle Aster…" I muttered.

Headless to my words, the shadowy wraith freed its blades from the ground and swung them around with a rotation of its wrists as if it were simply just a natural habit.

I gripped the blade of my sword as my blood boiled in my body. Sadness would not help me. And it would not save him from his shackles either.

I began to step forward, ready to explode toward him, but before the sole of my foot even touched the shattered stone, I blinked in confusion. My body moved on its own. I brought the flat of my blade up as tremendous force impacted me. My bones rattled, cracked, and broke as two blades, one pristine and the other rusty, hit my sword.

And I wasn't even spared a second to think as I felt the air leave my lungs as an armored boot was planted into my chest. My vision went dark, and my senses left me as well. I was spared the realization that I had been forced into the barrier, my body broken. When pain returned to me, my body rapidly healing, I swung my sword at the blur, still reeling from the first attack.

I knew I needed to use my blood, but the sudden pain shattered my concentration. Even so, I managed to block the first strike of the rusty blade. The second came down regardless. Pain flashed in my skull, and I knew I had lost my hand. I could only watch as my sword clattered to the ground in a spray of crimson.

Even so my blood still responded to me even through the pain. The crimson liquid wobbled, forming around me like a blanket, and the rest exploded violently in every direction. I had to separate myself; I had to get away to heal even if it was just for a second.

And I did feel my blood hit something. But that was it—just a tap. And the next thing I knew, light peeked into the crimson shield, and more pain followed as I felt the left side of my ribs shatter. The wraith had simply kicked through my blood barrier and my attack with a single strike.

My vision swam, and I was sent end over end. I blacked out again as well. But I was jolted awake by the searing pain. My body was already repairing itself. I reached my mind into my ring and pulled out the only other meaningful weapon I had. The silver short sword appeared in my hand, crimson lines running down its blade as the handguard appeared like a flower.

I gripped the blade and, with my broken body, I swung. Once again, I deflected the first strike, but it was meaningless. I looked up and felt my arm twist and break. The bloodied warrior looked down at me with cold, ominous crimson blobs from its helmet. It dropped the rusty blade, ripped my sword from my hand, and raised it to strike me.

I already knew what would happen. Even though my blood moved to protect me the blade would sink into my heart regardless. My shattered body wouldn't be able to heal fast enough for me to dodge. And once my heart was pierced, the second blade would sever my neck.

But I still couldn't close my eyes and accept my fate. I looked up through the pain at the wraith, and for a moment, time stopped. No, it wasn't time. It was the creature. The arm holding the sword twisted, bent, and if it had any bones, it would have broken. The armor around the joints shattered and at an unnatural angle, the wraith thrust the blade not into my chest, but into its own.

For a moment shock won over the pain. I blinked the blood free from my eyes as the crimson droplets splattered across the wraith's armor, trembled, condensed, and then bloomed into beautiful red flowers. And from the center of those flowers came the sound of metal being rent.

Crimson spikes sprouted across the wraith, shattering its armor and turning it into an oddly grotesque yet beautiful scene. As if rose bushes had sprouted vines and consumed the creature. The monster fell to its knees, and I blinked a few times. With my arms healed, I wiped the blood from my face. I stared at the wraith in silence as its head slowly raised itself, those crimson orbs looking at me not with malice, but with what I swore was a hint of recognition in their darkness.

"Uncle…Aster?" I coughed.

At first, there was no response, but after a dreadfully long bout of silence, I heard a hoarse sigh.

"Ah…you've blossomed into a beautiful flower since I last saw you, Syl."