Zareth's slight smile faded. His gaze flicked between Kain and Serena, noting the way they'd both gone rigid. "...What?"
Serena was the one who spoke, her voice colder than the relic's deepest chambers.
"Idrias is dead."
The words landed like a hammer blow.
Zareth's face drained of colour. The others, particularly the remaining two pathfinders of their group, exclaimed in disbelief, their expressions shifting from weary hope to something far heavier.
"How?" Zareth's voice was barely above a whisper.
Kain hesitated, then reached into his coat. He pulled out the ring—Idrias' ring—and held it up. The metal gleamed dully in the firelight.
"He gave this to Malzahir before he died. Told him to find us."
Zareth stared at the ring like it was a ghost. Then his hands slowly curled into fists. "Sonny and Elfie are gone. Idrias is gone." His voice hardened. "Who else?"
