Only the fire kept her sane. Ser Dalius was unaffected, but he was pleased just to have Cara for company.

“Should we sing, or talk this morning?”

“No. Let’s just—keep going.”

Cara muttered. Her body ached from the hard floor, and try as she might, she couldn’t be properly civil to him. She looked around—then put down the last half-eaten mouse and began to walk forwards.

The [Knight] floated off after Cara as she stalked away into the darkness, looking concerned. They were going the same way. Always, the same way. He claimed they were making progress and that the entrance of the crypts lay ahead.

But today, Cara stared at the unending rows of evenly-spaced graves. The relentless darkness, lit only by Dalius’ form. And she couldn’t take it.

“Dalius. Tell me more about levels. The Skills I got. How does it all work?”

The cheerful dead knight didn’t notice the edge of desperation in her tone. He smiled and spoke.

“Ah, as I told you last night—leveling is a hallmark of all sapient species. We all level, but not at the same pace. Only greater deeds allow one to level.”

“I’m already Level 7. Is that…fast?”

“Exceedingly so. But then—you have been singing to survive. All by yourself, in the darkness? I have known stories of those who leveled just as quickly as you.”

“Really?”

The young woman focused on Dalius. He nodded.

“Oh, desperate battles wherein brave souls withstood monsters or sieges—one practically jumps in level under the most duress. As well as ability! The first ten levels come quickly to you, Miss Cara, because of your talent. Indeed, had you grown up in this world you should surely be at least Level 20. But you will slow. For now—your Skills are humble. But they will grow stronger. Like your [Melody of Sparks]. You see? In time, it might become far more powerful.”

Cara nodded. She closed her eyes and hummed something. Just for a second.

A few sparks lit up the air around her. Ser Dalius smiled. So did Cara—but as soon as she stopped humming to watch, the brief, firefly-esque motes of light winked out. And it made the darkness worse.

She could call sparks forth. Dancing bits of fire. They lit the campfire and cooked the mice, but they were just bits of fire.

“I knew a [Bard] who could sing fire into fireplaces, a merry blaze. And he was just a performer on the road. Songs have power, Miss Cara.”

“They shouldn’t. You can’t solve anything with a song and dance. I’m an entertainer, not a magician.”

The [Knight] laughed at this.

“But songs are magical. As magical as a spell! Why would it not be—”

“Because it’s not, alright? It’s not!”

Cara turned and shouted at Ser Dalius. Her voice rang in the tomb. He paused, affronted. Cara’s eyes were open, wild. She looked around.