As you continued to chat with Nii'Ma, you couldn't shake the anxiety of the situation.

"Do you fight other Branded Ones often Nii'Ma?" you ask. You sit on a solid bench constructed entirely out of the wood of the Titan Tree, it feels strangely alive and comfortable as you sit across from your new friend.

"Yes." She writes it down in her book. "I have killed too much." Her eyes are solemn and have a guilty dullness to them.

You furrow your brow as you lean forward, resting your chin on your palm. "Why do you keep fighting if it's bad?"

"Because we are forced to." she jots down, "Other factions want territory, resources, etc that we or others have."

You stare blankly at the page.

"I don't understand. Why do they want more when they already have what they need?"

Nii'Ma furrows her brow, looking at her page. "Human." She simply writes after a moment.

You didn't quite understand, but you stopped asking anyway.

You take your leave, happy to have made a new friend, and confront the thickening tension. You can't seem to find any of the other Ben'Marmenent as you stroll through the Eastern Limbs.

Soft music drifts on the breeze that ruffles the leaves of the Titan Tree. The music is airy, a flute, perhaps.

You listen as you walk, and the feeling of impending doom fades into the background.

As you wander, you come across the man who was playing the music. He sits on a bench with a few people around him as he plays his instrument with practiced care.

The opalescent tones and his poetic prose flow and weave a tale of wonder and magic.

"As the man crests the grassy hill, he spots the tower in the distance..." The man says, picking his flute back up. The music is now thick with anticipation. Unsure notes cross with fluttering, long tones.

The man pauses, "Our hero knows what is about to happen, but he does not know if he is ready to face his greatest adversary yet..."

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The tension in the music is at its max, notes refuse to resolve satisfyingly. The final note hangs in the air, then drops to nothing.

"The knight approaches the tower..."

A long, slurred note plays.

"He reaches for the giant door handle..."

A cascade of soft, fluttery notes.

You are practically leaning forward at this point, The flute player's eyes flick to you.

"Nova!" A familiar sound breaks the tension. You whip your head around to find L'Neeri floating over the abyss, his stark white hair and brown clothes undulating. "They are here."

People around you are confused, they murmur and whisper.

"Is this a part of the performance?"

"Isn't that L'Neeri?"

"Who is Nova?"

L'Neeri alights on the branch like a leaf on a pool of water, offering a hand to you.

"Come on, we need to get down to the others."

"Down?"

"Here, just trust me." L'Neeri smiles and grabs onto your wrist, pulling you along off the end of the branch.

Suddenly you are falling.

Everyone on the branch above, including you, screams in surprise as you and L'Neeri plummet down to Sa'Bel's domain.

The wind rushes by as the branches of the Titan Tree recede into the sky.

"L'Neeri? What are you doing?" You scream.

"Don't worry about it!" he replies with a smile.

"I am most definitely worrying about it!" You clutch your arms to your chest as you fall, screaming as the wind whips your body. You frantically look over at L'Neeri, who seems indifferent to the certain doom he has condemned you to. He falls in a completely controlled plummet with his eyes closed and hands behind his head. He doesn't even glance over at you.

Sereneness comes over you. Your mind has accepted that you were going to die.

Your home is now so very far away...

The clouds below draw nearer and nearer as L'Neeri reaches out and touches your wrist.

Your descent suddenly slows to a slow float, almost like how a leaf falls.

The clouds envelop the two of you softly, replacing the afternoon light with pure, wet, white. You could no longer see L'Neeri, nor tell up from down. You whip your head around, searching for some reference point to direct reality, until you suddenly burst from your moist containment into an overcast world.

Gargantuan tendrils of solid wood arc and snake through open air like titanic wingless dragons from the stories. Entangling themselves in an alien dance above the abyss whose sheer scale hurts your mind. A landscape too massive to comprehend all at once.

You gasp, trying to take it all in.

Underneath you are four pillars of effervescent color. The Ben'Marmenent.

You and L'Neeri alight on the gigantic root with the rest of them. You stumble, breathing hard.

"Vertigo, it is the most prevalent of the feelings felt when first beholding the Underworld. You will get used to it, in time, Nova." Dah'Grahs rumbles as you struggle to maintain your footing.

"Oh, your poor thing..." Sel'Ozsia murmurs as you gasp for breath.

"Thanks," you huff, rubbing your chest. "How far did we fall..."

"Three leagues," L'Neeri states simply. "We fell for five minutes."

You glance up, but the canopy is obscured by the heavy cloud layer. A feeling of insignificance overcomes you.

"Now, where are these Uyr'kiis..." Yyl curses, punching one hand into the other.

Nii'ma simply points.

There, some distance away, stands a group of 6 people.

The Accursed.