Eniurias pressed his palm to the wall. Iusta couldn't say for certain, but his labored breath and unfocused gaze hinted at the true severity of his wounds. Behind him, Magorus' blade sliced Rakdos flesh, drawing lines of blood across the stone as he parried their blows. They had been ambushed by a band of at least a dozen cultists while patrolling the Eighth district. She had never seen them attack with so little regard for personal safety, charging through Nelev's barrier spells like the Demon himself were chasing them. Three were felled by Anthus and Aethon's combat spells, but they kept coming. Now Iusta's company was backed in an alleyway between what looked like a butcher's shop and a run-down apartment.

A ragged cry signaled the death of another cultist, but the remaining few showed no signs of relenting. They gave no thought to the corpses of their counterparts as they ran over them. A burly man covered in scars and wielding a spiked chain lunged for Iusta with a howl, and she allowed her training to take over. Iusta felt the resistance against the blade as it speared a cultist's chest, her body working on a near subconscious level and barely registering each movement she made. She stopped only when her swing met open air, panting with exhaustion.  Little time was given for her to collect her thoughts, as the sounds of sparking steel and bloodthirsty cries heralded the imminent approach of more Rakdos. She doubted they would survive a second attack.

She heard Magorus shout out a command, but it seemed unintelligible to her. The rest of her comrades were heading behind him into the abandoned apartment, so she joined him. With any luck the Rakdos would pass them by. Her eyes squinted as the evening light was suddenly withdrawn by the ancient walls of the building. Eniurias had fallen to the dusty floor, but at least he was still breathing. Aethon hadn't fared so well. She lay on her back against an old carton, a shard of metal sticking out of her abdomen and several red gashes around it. The others seemed well enough, but the sounds of shouting and hooting drew nearer. Iusta ducked into the nearest doorway to try and find another way out - the alleyway was already littered with Rakdos dead.

The air was clearer in the room, which gave way to an overlook on the basement level below. There were voices, not those of her company. Had the Rakdos already entered the building? Her head hurt, as if her helmet were ringing against her ears. Stumbling feet brought her to the railing, and she gripped it tightly as though to calm her unquiet stomach. The voices grew louder, and Iusta put aside her churning gut to peer over the side down below. Two humans were walking through the sublevel. No, a human and a gorgon. Iusta crouched low as they passed, the gorgon's snakelike tendrils whipping about behind her head. Clearly she was displeased with something. 

The other man wore gaudy gold and black robes, and was trailed by a small retinue of grey-skinned thrulls. An Orzhov — apparently a rather important one, to be holding audience with a Gorgon. She tried to make out what they were saying, but her pounding head and the hushed voices made any discernment impossible. Her foot knocked over a rusted iron bar, clanging against the railing and alerting the two below to her presence. Her breath caught and she ducked down, praying that they hadn't seen her. Nelev had heard her, though, and she heard him enter the room as her mind lurched. Her vision grayed, and she passed out.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Iusta awoke with a gasp, pushing aside the blanket over her and startling Cevraya from her own slumber. Her exposed skin was slick with sweat despite the cold cavern air, and her mind was racing. "Ugh, what's going on?" Cevraya snorted, still half-asleep "You have a bad dream or something?"  Iusta sat up, facing away from the elf. "I.. sort of. We need to talk."

Cevraya's soup boiled in the pot as Iusta recounted her dream. It wasn't like her usual dreams, it had been a lot clearer. She felt as though she'd had it before. Cevraya listened with apparent interest, saying nothing and pausing only to take a sip of her broth. "That's all I remember," Iusta finished her recollection "but I know it happened, it was just a month ago!" 
"Did you hear anything they said?" Cevraya asked.
"I didn't catch any of it, but they looked like I'd heard something I shouldn't have."

Cevraya leaned back, looking over to the assassin's corpse. "Well, the Orzhov aren't known to spread their secrets lightly."

Iusta caught her gaze, and an expression of fear ran over her face. "Krokt, is that what he came after me for? I-if I'm in danger, then you're in danger as long as I'm here!" Her eyes grew watery, and she trembled on the verge of tears. Cevraya held her hands and did her best attempt at a consoling look. "You're not going anywhere. I'm not having you go out there on your own for my sake." She rose from the table and pulled up Iusta, drawing her into a hug. "Besides, we're better off together." She kept a comforting tone, but let some of her own worry creep into her voice.

Iusta returned the embrace, tears falling softly on Cevraya's shoulder. The elf said nothing, stroking Iusta's hair in a protective manner. Finally, Iusta grew quiet. She couldn't have left if she wanted to.