The voice echoing through the hall nearly caused Liirah to jump out of her skin. She leaped to her feet, almost kicking her meager campfire in the process, staring down the hallway with the wild-eyed look of a cornered animal. She hefted her crossbow with shaking hands, attempting to aim the gleaming bolt in the direction the voice had come from. As it spoke again, however, it seemed to echo from an entirely different direction, and she spun about, trying and failing to pin the source. It spoke with a cold, calculating tone, as if it was picking her apart, and she gulped, taking a step backwards so that her back was pressed against the door with the fire between her and the darkness.<br/><br/>Panic was pressing down on her, but she forced it away, taking a deep breath and letting her eyes unfocus as she scanned the cloying darkness for any sign of movement. At the voice's eerily-accurate guess, however, she felt a cold knot of fear settle in her stomach, her blood turning to ice. Somehow, it knew. Did that mean her mentor had been here? She didn't dare consider the possibility that seemed to be staring her in the face: that her mentor had attempted to hunt whatever lurked in this castle and failed. If that was the case, though, then she had a job to do here, a duty to see his body recovered and laid to rest in a proper hunter's rite.<b> "I didn't come here looking for a fight,"</b>she began. Her voice carried a quaver of fear, but as she continued to speak, she seemed to calm herself, slipping into the cold mask of professionalism that hunters were often forced to adopt, lest the things they saw and did break their minds<b>. "I'm searching for my mentor, Ignatius Blackward, a veteran hunter. I was told he may have come here." </b>She seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if steeling herself before speaking again.<b>"If that's true, and...and you...defeated him, then I request that I be allowed to recover his remains so he can be given a proper burial."</b>