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Alessio touched Nithel’s arm and stared up at Nithel, face concerned, confused.

Nithel pressed his lips together, meeting his friend’s gaze. Nithel’s eyes are pained more than anything else, and disapointed. He just… Nithel looks down, biting his lips, and chest aching for the man. Was he dead? Had he… Nithel cleared his throat and glanced up again.

Are you okay? The question in his friend’s eyes almost made him smile, almost.

No. I’m not. Nithel’s met Alessio’s eyes, showing what was in him, open with his friend.

Nithel’s eyes then jerk toward the door. It opened on its own, disappearing into a red haze. Egad, what have we done?

Nithel takes a step back, face tightening with concern. Chills go up and down his arms as the walls evaporate into nothingness, and leave a void. Nothing but orange-red mist, a hot vapor that made it hard to breathe.

The corners of Nithel’s eyes wrinkle, and he feels a physical pain in his chest. He looks over to Alessio, confusion, and fear.

“So…this was a great idea.” Alessio stared at the void around them for a time, then looked up to meet Nithel’s eyes.

A fear and strength, then anger as he looked away.

“Alessio…” Nithel more mouthed than said it. Everything was not alright. Anger might be warranted. But–

Fire appeared again, lacing along Alessio’s fingers. Nithel’s chest tightened, his face and eyes even more serious.

It was in the youth’s hair, going up his arm.

Nithel felt some fear, and he straightened, eyes stuck. Then the concern was on for Alessio. His friend was tense, panicking almost. He doesn’t want it. Nithel’s didn’t know what to do. Alessio tried to wipe the flames off his skin. It didn’t work.

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, all the fire vanished. Alessio froze.

Nithel stands stunned a moment as well, not moving. Then he takes a step nearer, almost with his chest against Allesio’s side. Nithel glanced at those around them, and if people are staring, he meets their eyes with a serious stare, but saying nothing but loyalty with the look.

Nithel then jumped, eyes bounding toward the edge of the floor. Plates of floor, the color of fresh blood, descended into the orange mist. The farther down they went, the darker the red… the dryer the blood. It would take legs like a gazelle to reach each of them safely.

“That looks…welcoming. Very homey.” Alessio spoke.

A jest. The youth was jesting again. Nithel’s chest trembled, and tightened. He stared at the path, his face becoming serious as death. Alessio almost bumped into him, taking a step back, away from the new apparition.

Dark eyes flashed back to Nithel, afraid. His stomach swirled. Nithel wanted to offer encouragement, but all would feel like a lie.

“So…what’s the plan, sir?”

Nithel didn’t know if Alessio was speaking to him or Isaac. But he was not the leader, and none had ever called him sir, so it was Isaac. Nithel’s pale brown eyes looked toward the man, front teeth pressing against each other, waiting.

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