Ythoelle switched her gaze to Arian. The wry humour that had been upon her fled, and for a moment she was lost for words. What could she say of Argetlam? That he was slain by the treachery of mon'keigh, and that, instead of retribution, they had allied themselves with his killers. She had not the heart to tell the tale in full, but she could at least give some closure.
"Then I fear your cousin fell on that forsaken world, my lady," Ythoelle said. "Though his death came from betrayal and intolerance, and it was not at the hands of our true foes, he died as a warrior should. I hope that gives you some comfort."
Ythoelle slipped the leather cord from her neck and removed one of the soul stones that hung there. Stepped forward, she pressed it into Arian's palm, folding the Aspect Warrior's fingers around the polished gem. Unlike its cracked, empty partner, still around Ythoelle's throat, this one had a warmth to it that had never diminished in the centuries she carried it.
"This was his. I bore it with me, so that he would not pass alone and forgotten," she stepped back. "I think he will rest easier with you."
"As to what we will face on the surface of that place, I cannot say for sure. Two centuries ago, we battled Ynigr, the Necrontyr, when they rose from their slumber. If they still reside there, or some other foul thing has taken their place in that time, I do not know."
"What I do know is that my companions, including Arian's cousin and a Farseer named Landari, all died there," her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "And I fled."