Iseldis laughed nervously, trying to keep the volume of it down. "That makes one of us, I guess." Still, they weren't finished yet, and had even won a small victory here. She took a moment to extend the staff to its full length, letting the white light within it bathe the room. Its weight was familiar and comfortable in her hands, enough to give her a little more courage. The staff folded back down, and she returned it to her belt, taking a deep breath.

"This way." She pushed open the door leading them upstairs, watching the way up carefully while still moving with a balance of speed and caution. She had to hope that this would lead somewhere useful. Ever the optimist. The torchlight on each of the stair landings provided little visibility, but not once did she lose her balance.

"Don't know how they stand it down here," she murmured. "Feels like the walls are suffocating me." Every room they'd been in was so small, cramped, but she supposed that was only natural in an underground network like this.

When the stairs could take them no higher, Iseldis carefully opened the door before her. Her breath left her when she did. They discovered a laboratory of some sort, though it looked to double as a surgeon's room. Slabs of rock were used as tables here and there, and the room was a nightmare of organization, crates and barrels everywhere, magical oddities and ingredients or tools here and there. There was a foul aura in the air of some kind, and only a few breaths of it left Iseldis feeling sick to her stomach.

But in the center of the room was a long table to which a human man was strapped down, his ankles and wrists restrained by glowing purple magical tethers that crackled softly. The dull magical light floating above him near the ceiling was clearly focused on him. He was at least a decade older than either Iseldis or Roland, left shirtless on the table, most of his clothes and gear dumped on the floor nearby. He was a soldier, clearly, perhaps captured on a patrol. And he still lived.

"Goddess," Iseldis breathed, picking up the pace and rushing to the side of the table. He'd been experimented on, it seemed, with strange burns and marks branded onto his chest and abdomen. Iseldis recognized none of it. He was pale and weak, likely having gone without food or water for some time, but soon enough he woke from his dazed slumber, his eyes recognizing that the two near him were not his captors.

"By the..." his voice was hoarse and weak, and he soon cleared it. "How are you here? What's happening?"

"We escaped," Iseldis explained quickly. "An elf witch captured us, but we freed ourselves. Do you know if there's a way out?"

He blinked, struggling to understand. "Y-yes, it's not far, at least I think. Through the door behind me, it should be a straight shot, but there are draugr."

"Draugr we can handle," she answered, confidently for once. "We'll get you free, and clear the way for you." She called magic to her fingers, summoning a small and thin knife, which she lowered to slice through his bonds. He uttered a warning, but she failed to heed it before her blade touched the magic chains.

A loud spark of magic angrily attacked her weapon, dissolving it into dust and sending a painful jolt up her arms. She shook it out, looking to the prisoner for some explanation, some way to help him.

"No!" he managed, grimacing. "She'll have felt that, the witch. She will come here at any moment, she'll kill you both. You have to run, now! It's too late for me."

[i]No, no, no.[/i] Iseldis cursed herself for acting too quickly. But she couldn't panic now, couldn't make the same mistake twice. Some part of her wanted another chance to fight the witch, despite the resounding failures of her last few attempts, but at the same time, the wiser thing might be to live to fight another day, and give herself a better chance in the future. That would mean leaving this man to his fate, however.

"What's your name?" she asked him.

"Gareth," he answered. "You should be running, there are worse things than the witch even, you cannot stay here, you-"

She heard it then, footsteps approaching up the stairs they'd just come from. They had to make a decision. Iseldis looked to Roland, uncertain.

"If this is a fight we can win, we need to stay, right?" Gareth was already telling them how it couldn't be done, not in their state, but Iseldis hadn't asked him. Roland's was the only opinion that mattered to her in that moment.
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