death only knocks once

Sarya had always been more comfortable in the dark than anywhere else. The shadows cloaked her, embraced her, caressed her, inviting her to slip deeper within their grasp and be hidden from the world. Darkness had provided her sanctuary as a young girl hiding from the leers of her mother's patrons, had protected her from the wary eyes of her marks, had hidden her from the guards searching for her after one of her many hits. Darkness, to Sarya, was an old friend, and it was to the shadows that she now went, slipping away from the people gathered around the Spire and escaping into a blissful silence. Here, she could breathe. Here, she could think. Where was here exactly? Well... truth be told, she wasn't sure. She had wandered away from the people and into the ruins, eventually finding herself alone at the mouth of some kind of cave, or tunnel, or something that descended into the ground. For a few moments, she had paused, unsure if she should explore the underground that stretched before her. But then she had shrugged off her worries and stepped confidently forward into the shadows. They had been her protectors back home; why would the same not be true here? And so she descended, twisting and turning through the darkness. When it became so dark that she could no longer see, she stopped to light an old torch that she'd found in her wanderings from the Spire and carried on. The light from the torch flickered dimly against the pressing shadows, doing little to drive the darkness away. That was fine by Sarya. After all, if she could magically see in the dark without the use of a torch, she'd be even happier for it. But alas, her eyes were those of any average human, so for now, she would simply carry on with her tiny flame. She wasn't exactly sure what purpose the tunnel-cave had once served. She wandered aimlessly, her fingers trailing along the damp walls of stone that led her further and further underground. She wondered if, perhaps, this had once been a mine of some sort. What other purpose it might have served, she couldn't say for sure.  She travelled on, carefully following the wall to her right. Even if her torch went out, she could find her way out by touch if she stayed near the wall. "talk" s a r y a If I were dead I wouldn't be sad I wouldn't be glad Because I wouldn't be