《Underland》


 Chapter 1: Beneath the Earth

    Chapter 1: Beneath the Earth

    <em> 2021 Maxime Julien Durand / Void Herald</em>

    <em>All rights reserved. Maxime J. Durand is the exclusive owner of this book ''Undend''. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher. For permissions contact, send a mail at: [emailprotected]</em>

    <em>Any perceived slights to specific people or organizations are unintentional.</em>

    Valdemar was raising the dead in the barns basement when the knights broke down the door.

    He knew they were knights because of their metal footsteps above his head, and because his protective wards hadnt alerted him to their approach. This implied the presence of at least one magician, and local militias couldnt employ spellcasters.

    The Dark Lords would never allow it. Just as they didnt allow Valdemar to practice magic in peace.

    Unfortunately, though he was no stranger to escaping from thew, the necromancer didnt have time to flee these imperialp dogs. He had already started the ritual and wouldnt back down.

    Valdemar had invested too much in this project to stop <em>now</em>. He had spent years of his life fruitlessly trying to decode his grandfathers journal, consorting with criminals to get his hands on banned ult texts, studying Derro technology to fill the gaps in his spell he knew it would work, if only people would just let him <em>work in peace</em>!

    An otherworldly crimson light illuminated the dark basement, as the young warlocks blood circle radiated with necromantic energy. A pyramidal, ox-sized machine of Valdemars design stood at its center, a pedestal of metal tes and pipes holding a triangr ss container. Histe grandfathers old, ck journal rested inside it, working as a focus to summon what remained of the owners soul.

    Or at least, that was the idea, but the spell demanded more. More power, more <em>life</em>.

    So Valdemar, who had already lightly cut his thumb open to draw the circle, dragged an athame dagger from under his ck robes and shed his left palm open. Blood poured down his pale skin, and he applied it to the circle. The magical symbol hungrily drank on his life fluid, while the machines pipes let out crimson steam. The knights had moved right above his head, the wooden nks creaking below their feet as they moved towards the basements trapdoor.

    Stop this foul sorcery at once! One of them called from above, but Valdemar ignored the order.

    A translucent, greenish ectosm had started to form inside the ss and above the journal. The ghostly matter rushed through multiple shapes in quick session as it gained strength, its surface so smooth and polished that Valdemar could see his own gaunt reflection on it. The necromancers short, messy white hair bristled from the ambient magic, and his ghost grey eyes had turned bloody red.

    I was right! Valdemar grinned, as the ectosm coalesced into the shape of a skull. My ritual works!

    Every illegal spellcaster Valdemar had met had told him that it was impossible, and yet here he had proved them all wrong! He had pushed beyond the boundaries of magic!

    The sorcerer heard the trap door shatter behind him, and looked over his shoulder asnterns cast light into the basement. A warrior in te armor took a step down the stairs, the conical-shape of his helmet and the golden links around his neck identifying him as a Knight of the Chain. He carried a bluentern in his left hand, and a sword in the right.

    Valdemar Verney, the knight uttered with a deep, bellowing voice. Cease this spell at once!

    Dont go down the stairs! Valdemar warned him. Though he disliked knights, he didnt want them to die either. I trapped them so as not to get interrupted! If you trigger my spell, I cant stop

    Unfortunately, the hotblooded inquisitor ignored the warlock, and identally activated the hidden summoning array hidden beneath the steps.

    A sh of violet light erupted from beneath the wooden stairs, and green tentacles surged from beneath them. They caught the knights legs by surprise and mmed the surprised warrior against the basements wall. The beast had fallen upon him before he could even raise his sword, and hisntern shattered on the ground, the ghostly fire within extinguished.

    You fool! Valdemar angrily scolded the knights. I cant control it after its summoned!

    The monster that emerged from beneath the stairs wasrger than a beast of burden, a writhing mass of tentacles with a single, loathsome red-rimmed eye at its center. Lamprey-like mouths opened all over the eldritch beings limbs and attempted to reach the knights flesh beneath his armor.

    A Gnawer! Hes a summoner! The captive knight shouted, before letting out a scream. A tentacle had twisted his sword-arm, and another violently struck his helmet. Gnawers were the weakest and stupidest of the Qlippoth extra-dimensional entities, but still far stronger than any normal human.

    Unfortunately, these monsters only sought to feed after being called to the material world. The best Valdemar could do was to exclude himself from the menu when he set the summoning array.

    Release him! Valdemar ordered just in case, but his summoned attack dog summarily ignored the order. <em>Oh well, I tried,</em> the sorcerer thought as he focused back on his ritual.

    He could always interrupt his ritual and magically dismiss the Qlippoth back to its home dimension, but that meant a quick arrest and the destruction of his machine. Valdemar didnt wish to add the maiming or death of a knight to his already existing list of crimes but his work was too important.

    Besides, he was already bound for prison, what was one more crime? In the end, his sess would excuse everything.

    While the knight struggled against the Qlippoth, the ectosmic skull beneath the ss started to grow ethereal skin and hair. At longst, Valdemar recognized the old, wizened face of his maternal grandfather.

    Grandpa, its me, Val, the warlock whispered. Come back to us

    Two more knights jumped into the basement to help their strugglingrade; another Knight of the Chain, and a figure wearing the purple pointy hat and cloak of the Knights of the Tome over their armor. Thetter didnt carry either a weapon or antern, and didnt need them.

    Begone, monster! The Knight of the Tome shouted at the Gnawer with a high-pitched female voice, her hands shining with a crimson light. The sh forced the eldritch monster to release its prey, allowing the two Knights of the Chain to hack its tentacles with their sharp des. <em>Begone</em>!

    To Valdemars horror, the light of her spell started interfering with his ritual as well. His grandfathers ectosm flickered, the machines pipes thrummed like a beating metal heart.

    Stop! he shouted at the inquisitors, as the ectosmic face beneath the ss started degrading back into a skull. Your spell interferes with mine!

    As his blood fueled the circle, Valdemar raised his free hand and dagger at the Knight of the Tome. He sensed her magical defenses re to life, as he attempted to establish a mental connection with the blood flowing beneath her skin. Fortunately, she was a middling spellcaster and too busy focusing on her own spell.

    You are strong in the Blood, Verney, but you cannot hope The Knight of the Tome never finished her sentence, as Valdemar telekically mmed her against a wall. This disrupted her magic, but not quickly enough to save the Gnawer from a sword strike in the eye. The monster dissipated into eldritch smoke, and the remaining knights immediately charged at Valdemar.

    They tackled him against his machine before he could retaliate with a spell, and forced his bloody hand away from the summoning circle. The necromancers shoulder hit a metal pipe, while his magical symbol shrank into nothingness. The absence of a blood source disrupted the spell.

    My ecto-catcher! Valdemar panicked in despair while one of the knights twisted his dagger out of his hand and another mmed his face against the machinery. No!

    But the damage was done. The ss container cracked while the ectosmic skull within screeched, its ghostly substance evaporating.

    Within seconds, the blood circle vanished and the ectosm dissipated into green smoke.

    Years of efforts and sacrifices, gone!

    Valdemar let out a roar of despair and fury, as a Knight of the Chain put fanged shackles around his hands. The warlock sensed sharp teeth digging into his flesh and sucking his blood like leeches. He tried to telekically toss his attackers backward, but as more of his already depleted life fluid abandoned him, so did his magical might.

    Fucking cultist, one of the Knights of the Chain said while hauling Valdemar away from his device. When will your kind learn?

    Im not a cultist, you judgmental moron, Valdemar protested. In response, the knight pointed at his ck robes and the bloody dagger on the floor, to the warlocks annoyance. I was so close to bringing him <em>back</em>! You ruined everything!

    The Knight of the Tome had recovered her bearings by then, her eyes peering at the prisoner from beneath her helmet. Valdemar Verney, you are under arrest for the importation of Derro technology, unlicensed necromancy, Qlippoth summoning, grave robbing, worshipping the Strangers, possession of forbidden texts, wounding a member of the Knightly Orders, resisting arrest, and forgery. What do you plead?

    I dont worship the Strangers! Valdemar protested. First rule of summoning, never summon something stronger than you. And I didnt rob any graves!

    You illegally reanimated the Hermitage familys patriarch as a Mindless, the Knight of the Tome replied.

    Was that how they tracked him down? I received authorization from the Hermitage family to animate their patriarch as a zombie, so he could keep working on their mushroom farm!

    Most necromancers usually asked for a cut of the zombies production as payment, while Valdemar had only wanted a quiet space for his summoning experiments, far away from civilization.

    An honest family whom you deceived, when you pretended to have a necromancer license, said the armored witch. Youll go straight to Spellbane for this.

    And the book? One of her Knight of the Chainrades asked, ncing at the journal. Probably some forbidden magical text. We better burn it.

    Valdemars eyes almost bulged out of his skull. Its my grandfathers journal! the warlock shouted, his voice heavy with panic. You mustnt destroy it! Theres nothing magical about it, and the knowledge inside

    One of his captors backhanded Valdemar in the face before he could finish, his left cheek and jaw feeling sore from the blow. The necromancers vision whited out for a second, and he could hear his own heartbeat slow down to a crawl.

    I will ship this document to Paraplex for study, the Knight of the Tome replied as she smashed the ss container with her gauntlet, and greedily seized the journal inside. Alongside your device and whatever notes well find in that rat nest of yours.

    You dont know what you''re do The Knight of the Tome raised her hand before Valdemar could finish, his lips snapping shut on their own. Mmm!

    The Knights hauled him outside the barn like a sack of flour, Valdemars eyes blurring as they set upon the Hermitage farm. Rows of tall blue mushroom trees stood around them, surrounded by green moss grass. The ce looked so quiet, so peaceful, that the warlock almost considered falling asleep. The blood loss had exhausted him.

    The ck guard hounds protecting the barn watched Valdemar without a word, their will subsumed by a spell. The undead Roger Hermitage, a cadaverous corpse raised and animated by the necromancer himself, cut a purple mushroom without paying any attention to the group. His scythe was sharp, his eyes white and soulless. He would tirelessly work in death as he did in life, cutting crops to feed the living.

    Valdemars eyes looked up to the dark rock ceiling three hundred meters above his head. Strains of luminescent lichen covered the stone, providing a dim faint light for the caverns inhabitants. This roof was the Empire of Ants skies, the frontier of their civilization.

    Only a frozen wastnd and an endless night awaited them on the surface, condemning mankind to eternal darkness.

    <em>I just wanted to see the sun</em>, Valdemar thought darkly.

    Valdemar spent the next few days in a daze.

    Or were they weeks? Years? He couldnt tell. The knights had strapped their naked prisoner to a wheel-shaped device inside a lightless cell, unable to move, unable to sleep. An iron mask covered his jaw, preventing him from speaking a word. Metal tubes imnted into his veins and linked to the machine drained him of his blood, recing it with nutrients and chemicals. The potions kept the necromancer awake, but too weak to do anything but think.

    Smart. For all the knights knew, Valdemar might have been an oneiromancer too, more dangerous asleep than awake.

    But the wait slowly drove him mad. The prisoner tried to kill time by imagining new rituals or pondering ways to escape, but he struggled to focus for a long period of time due to the sleeplessness. The chilling cold didnt help either, and the silence...

    Sometimes, Valdemar could hear the sound of crashing waves beyond the cells barred window. The prison of Spellbane had been built in the middle of ake inside the vast Domain of Alogi.

    When the seven Dark Lords had wrested control of the empire, they carved out its vast caverns between themselves and called them Domains. Alogis ruler Ophiel was by far the most unstable of these godly sorcerers, an immortal body-snatcher. She raised a new fortress every few years in an attempt to create the perfect pce, but never felt satisfied with the end result. Spellbane had been one of her many abandoned projects, repurposed into a prison for spellcasters.

    Valdemar knew it would be a temporary stay. The knights would torture the necromancer until they learned everything he knew, and then they would either execute or condemn him to the mines. In both cases, they would reanimate his rotting corpse for undeadbor.

    The Empire of Ant didnt waste resources.

    Valdemars eyelids slowly rose, as they noticed a glow in the dark. Metallic footsteps echoed in the corridor leading to his cell.

    Finally by now, the promise of a sharp questioning sounded almost like a relief. Anything but the <em>wait</em>.

    His cells door opened, a Knight of the Chain with a torch walking first into the dark, wet chamber. The multiple chains around his neck, each forged from a different metal, identified him as the prisons guardian. Valdemar had learned that the hard way, when the man had strapped him to the wheel. A Knight of the Tome followed him, and a slender woman closed the march.

    Unlike the two others, this one didnt look like a knight. She wore a conservative outfit made of a dark red leather trench coat, a ck shirt underneath, pants, and boots. Her face was the fairest Valdemar had seen yet, with pale blue eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and short, pale blonde hair. Her expression was as nk and unreadable as any mask though, and Valdemar noticed the sharp rapier and pistol around her belt.

    Her visage looked familiar to the sorcerer, but he couldnt put a name on her.

    Thats barbaric, the woman said with a hint of reproach, her voice sounding as clear as water. By the Light, Valdemar would kill for a drink. Youre killing him.

    I wish, Mdy, the warden replied. Never seen someone with a metabolism like his. We had to triple the usual doses to keep him docile, and hes already building up a tolerance.

    Hes probably a mutant of some kind, the Knight of the Tome added, Valdemar recognizing her voice. She was the same witch who caught him at the barn. Maybe even a biomancer who self-modified his own body.

    The blonde woman examined Valdemar with a quizzical look. The warlock held her gaze, his grey eyes cold and hateful.

    What can you tell me about his abilities? the woman asked the inquisitors. If she could order them around, she was probably an agent of the Dark Lords, or maybe the Church of the Light.

    Both spelt bad news.

    Besides, the fact the knights called her Mdy also meant she was a noble of the Oldblood and thus probably a spellcaster.

    He has very little training, Mdy, the Knight of the Tome said. When he psychically struck me, he was all strength without precision. But the fact he could still maintain his ritual <em>and </em>attack me at the same time implies a tremendous natural talent. We didnt take any risks.

    So hes an autodidact? the noblewoman asked.

    The warden nodded in response. Any surviving Verney was banned from practicing magic after Her Imperial Majesty ordered their purge, as per the anti-cultist protocols. This degenerate probably self-taught himself from whatever wretched grimoires he could find.

    That wasnt entirely true. The downfall of Valdemars paternal family had barred him from practicing magic <em>unless </em>he joined the Church of the Light or the Knights of the Shroud. In the first case, he would have spent the rest of his life in a monastery, forbidden from delving into the higher mysteries of the cosmic; and in thetter, he would have been ritually in, raised as an undead warrior, and sent to perish again against the Derro Kingdoms golem armies.

    Obviously, neither option had sat well with Valdemar. He had inherited his grandfathers dream, and sworn to fulfill it no matter the cost. Even if it meant viting imperialw.

    Why was he spared? the noblewoman asked with clear curiosity.

    Hes a bastard, and only the main Verney line was wiped out, the warden said. Other branches had their assets confiscated and were subjected to heavy restrictions. We hoped to <em>question </em>him and learn more about his ult contacts, or have the Knights of the Mind open his skull.

    The prospect of torturing Valdemar certainly seemed to excite the inquisitor.

    The noblewomans lips twisted in clear distaste. I will have no torture on my watch, she said. Remove the mask.

    The Knight of the Tome slipped a key into the device, allowing Valdemar to move his jaw. He breathed through his mouth for the first time in what felt like years.

    The blonde woman observed him for a few seconds, before politely introducing herself. I am Marianne Reynard. I represent Lord Och, the Dark Lord of Paraplex.

    Lord Och. The oldest magician in the Empire, the third most powerful, and the supreme master of the Knights of the Tome. Wonderful. Valdemar wondered if this woman hade to order his execution in person on behalf of her dark master, or to send him to the mines.

    How did you Valdemars throat felt sore, and he struggled to articte words. The chemicals in his body made him tired, so very tired. Catch me?

    The warden snorted. Were the ones asking the questions here, mongrel.

    How did you catch him? Lady Marianne asked softly, to the knights puzzlement.

    We caught his Derro tech supplier, Armand of Mantebois, the warden said with a shrug. He sold out all his customers for a lighter sentence.

    Did you kill him? The prisoner rasped, the knight shaking his head in response. Good, that meant Valdemar could murder that traitor himself if he ever managed to get out of here. If Armands betrayed associates didnt get to him first.

    I have questions for you, Mr. Verney, said Lady Marianne.

    You already took everything from me... even my notes. Even his grandpas journal. What more do you need?

    rifications, the woman replied, moving her gloved hands behind her back. Our researchers have studied your device, and from what they gathered, you were trying to revive a lost soul using a ritual of your own creation.

    Valdemar kept quiet, which the noblewoman took as an invitation to carry on with her bbering.

    What bothers our spellcasters, however, is that your spell contains no sign of necromantic magic, she said. You used conjuration instead. A summoning circle. It is well-known that all attempts at summoning souls from the afterlife have ended in disastrous failure, and yet witnesses affirm that you sessfully called an ectosm of some kind.

    I wasnt trying to summon my grandfathers soul. Valdemars own experimentations had shown that if there was a way to break the Veil between Undend and the afterlife, it would need far more blood and resources than he would ever get his hands on. I was trying to create an... echo.

    His interrogator frowned in confusion. An echo?

    Valdemar was sorely tempted to stay quiet and let her figure it out by herself, before deciding otherwise. If these people truly wanted an answer, they would have the Knights of the Mind steal it from his brain.

    Besides, maybe a far-sighted mage could use the knowledge to pick up where Valdemar left off. The prisoner doubted it, but hope was all he had left at this point.

    Souls leave a psychic imprint where they go... especially in their most precious earthly possessions, he exined. The journal had been his grandfathers lifework, his constantpanion since he mysteriouslynded in Undend. My n was to gather that that remnant of psychic energy into an artificial ectosmic body... the way some extra-dimensional creatures manifest one to interact with our reality.

    So you tried to create an artificial ghost? Lady Marianne asked, the captive warlock nodding in confirmation. To her credit, she seemed to grasp the concept. I see. You used your own blood as its anchor to the material ne, since you were the deceasedsst living rtive.

    Yes. My ecto-catcher device would have prevented the specter from dissipating. Valdemar would have crafted a golem to house his grandsires replica if he could, but the material had proven too expensive. I knew the construct wouldnt have been my grandfathers soul but an echo but I hoped that he would remember some things from his past life.

    For what purpose?

    <em>Because I wanted to see my family again, what else?</em> Valdemar thought. <em>And because I couldnt fully decode the journal on my own. </em>I had... questions about his home.

    The more he spoke, the deeper Lady Mariannes frown. His home?

    Valdemar sneered. You wont believe me... youll call me mad.

    Nobody believed him. At best, open-minded people entertained the truth without truly epting it. At worst theyughed, or used him of being a cultist. By now, Valdemar knew better than to open his mouth.

    I cant believe your words if I dont hear them first, Lady Marianne argued, trying to put him at ease. Valdemar couldnt figure her out for the life of him. I will not judge.

    She would. But in the end What did Valdemar have to lose? He was already doomed.

    My grandfather is not of this world. He came from another ce. Another world that still has a sun in the skies. And he had spent the rest of his life trying to go home, without ever seeding. On his deathbed, Valdemar had promised to pick up where he had left. I wanted more information about it. To open a portal.

    Lady Mariannes expression turned into a nk, unreadable mask, while the knights behind her exchanged a nce. What was that worlds name? the warden asked.

    Earth, Valdemar replied.

    A short silence followed.

    And then the knights burst outughing, to Valdemars silent rage. Only Lady Marianne remained serious, her gaze thoughtful.

    Earth, like the dirt? the warden asked with a mocking chuckle. You cultists couldnt find a better name for your pipe paradise?

    Earth exists, you close-minded moron, Valdemar said angrily, when he couldnt take theughter anymore. Somehow the rage made him stronger, dissipating the chemical-induced haze. And one day I will find it. And with a clear blue sky and where the sun

    Still shines, yes Ive heard those words before, the warden cut him off dismissively. Youll prove nothing, you madman. If youre lucky youll spend the rest of your life and undeath toiling in the mines. Or maybe well burn you. Its been a while since we put oil on the pyre, and the kids love the fireworks.

    No, Lady Marianne said softly. Release him.

    The knights stopped chuckling, while Valdemar blinked in surprise. Mdy? the warden asked in confusion.

    Release him, Lady Marianne ordered, this time more firmly. Hes going to the Domain of Paraplex with me.

    Mdy, you cannot be serious? This time, the warden didnt bother to hide his displeasure. Hes a cultists spawn, a bastard brood, and a criminal. You heard him, hes deluded.

    These are Lord Ochs orders, Lady Marianne replied, her words sending chills down Valdemars spine. The Dark Lord wants to interrogate him personally.

    <em>He has read the journal, </em>the prisoner realized, half with hope and half with dread. <em>And if he believed even half of it...</em>

    Maybe Valdemar would get to see the sun one day after all...

 Chapter 2: The Dark Lord

    Chapter 2: The Dark Lord

    The ebony carriage rode through the tunnels, pulled by a giant cave beetle.

    The coachman hadnt spoken a word since they left the prison, and Lady Marianne had proven to be no chattier. She had spent hours looking through the window, and at the ghostlynterns illuminating the road.

    <em>At least she gave me food and clothing, if not a conversation, </em>Valdemar thought, his teeth sinking into a piece of fungus bread. The carriage wasrge enough to house a small table, allowing the prisoner to feast on a te of mole cheese, badger steak, and spicy mushrooms. A simple linen tunic covered the scars left by the knights blood-draining wheel, though they had already started to heal.

    He had noticed that Lady Marianne paid a lot of interest to his bruises when she wasnt looking through the window. She shifted on her leather seat, and eventually couldnt suppress her curiosity. Are you a biomancer? she asked Valdemar.

    No, I am not, the prisoner replied. Valdemar had made forays into the field of biomancy, but decided to focus on necromancy and summoning. Not yet.

    A mutant then?

    Maybe. I do not know. Whenever he had asked the same question to his family, his poor mother answered with tears and his grandfather with silence. Ive always healed fast, and its possible that my father experimented on me while in the womb. I heard the Verney did that to their children, to make them healthier.

    Did you know him? Marianne asked. Valdemar couldnt tell if she was being sincerely curious, or just interrogating him. Your father?

    No. The Verney purge happened while he was a child learning to walk. All Valdemar had was a name, Isaac Verney, and whatever tidbits of information that he had managed to piece together. Why these questions?

    I am curious, she admitted. A normal human would have died from all the blood loss and the treatment you suffered, but one meal and you fully recovered within hours.

    Shouldnt that concern you? I am almost back at full strength. The Blood was tied to willpower and health, as it was the very essence of life and death. Valdemar had sensed his power return as he recovered from the blood loss and drugs.

    Lady Marianne responded with a soft, amused smile.

    You think you can take me on alone, if needed, Valdemar said. He had wondered why the carriage traveled without an escort, and why she didnt put shackles on him.

    I do not think that I can, Lady Marianne corrected him. I know that I will.

    Truthfully, Valdemar believed her. She directly answered to a Dark Lord, and thus probably wielded great power of her own.

    Will you try to escape? Lady Marianne asked with a raised eyebrow.

    Spellbanes warden took samples of my blood during my capture, and the knights can track me down anywhere with it, Valdemar replied with a shrug, as he finished his te. Besides, at least <em>you </em>arent strapping me to a torture device.

    She scowled in genuine disgust. That kind of treatment is unbing of true knights, the noblewoman said. We be no better than the Derros by sinking to this level of inhumanity.

    Valdemar observed her, and to his surprise, she seemed to earnestly believe in her own words. She struck the sorcerer as strangely candid. You are a noblewoman of the Oldblood, no? he asked.

    I am, Lady Marianne confirmed, before looking away. I was.

    Disgraced? Valdemar asked, highly curious. He had heard Oldblood rivalries and feuds could get quite lethal.

    Yes. She responded with an embarrassed smile. Its a long story. Perhaps I will tell you one day.

    Valdemar took the hint, and didnt press the matter further.

    The carriage approached one of the Earthmouths portals linking the Dark Lords domains together. The construction appeared at the end of the tunnel, a foreboding archway of pulsating flesh and hungry jaws whose gullet led inside a crimson fog. This device had been a human being once, a martyr who willingly sacrificed his life for the sake of knitting the empiresnds together.

    A group of Knights of the Gate protected the pathway, their armor ck as night with the white eye of the empress painted on their chest and shoulders. They checked the coachmans documentation, and let them pass through the crimson mist. The world turned red for a moment as the coach crossed the portal, Valdemars body shuddering as it traveled from one point in space to another.

    What should have taken months of harrowing tribtions through caves and tunnelssted only an instant. The carriage emerged through another Earthmouth Gate, one that led into the quiet streets of Pleroma, Paraplexs only city.

    Valdemar had already visited it in the past, back when he still held on to the dream he could pursue a career in sorcery. He had likened it to a maze of stone, itsbyrinthine alleys threatening to devour the unwary or hiding the unsavory from sight.

    Pleroma had been built on a teau overseeing the toxic marshes making up most of the cavern, and theck of space had forced architects to raise everrger buildings to amodate the growing poption. Lanterns illuminated narrow streets trapped between looming rows of brick houses as tall as watchtowers, penned in by colossal ded walls.

    Some buildings were in the process of being demolished to raise taller structures in their ce, while others had their facade repaired by tireless undead workers. Only a third of the houses showed a light at this hour, making the streets appear empty and gloomy. If not for the veins of shining, purple crystal growing on the caverns sky-high ceiling and the pyres of the Church of the Lights cathedrals, Pleroma would have been cast in darkness.

    The carriage passed by less than twenty people as it started ascending on a steep, lonely road towards the Dark Lords seat of power. Valdemar had never visited this part of the city,rgely because he could never get past the numerous patrols of undead warriors and gatekeepers.

    On one side of the road, he could see the purple bogs and marshes surrounding the city, and on the other, a gargantuan fortress of ck oily stone. Monstrous gargoyles oversaw its walls, while its watchtowers looked like the fangs of some wicked beast. Dark knights patrolled the skies on the back of mighty dragobats, those ck-scaled giant bats which biomancers created from the blood of subterranean dragons.

    A ck pir stood at the fortresss center, covered in arcane symbols and connecting to the caverns ceiling. This was the abode of the Dark Lord Och, the supreme master of the entire cavern.

    Valdemar remained silent as the carriage crossed the only bridge linking Pleroma to the fortress, a narrow passage more than three hundred meters long. Anyone falling over would make a deadly fall into a rift so deep that nobody could see the bottom. The warlock could only marvel at this wonder of engineering.

    Why didnt you try to join the Pleroma Institute? Lady Marianne asked upon noticing Valdemars awed silence. Lord Och is not as <em>rigid </em>as the other Dark Lords.

    I did try to join, twice. Once under my own name, and another under a false one. It had been the first time he forged official documents, but not thest. I sent hundreds of letters to Lord Och to plead my cause, and I never received an answer.

    Lady Marianne nodded. I suppose that makes sense. Lord Ochs staff is very mindful about security. Your letters probably never reached him. If they had, he would have granted you a fair hearing.

    What is he like? Valdemar asked, trying to suppress his anxiety. Lord Och was the most elusive of the Dark Lords, and extremely mindful of his privacy. Valdemar knew only a few things for certain about this man; that he had trained two other Dark Lords, the fearsome Vr Bethor and Phaleg the Binder, thetter of which became his bitter rival; that he only left his fortress to attend the yearly Sabbath with his co-rulers; and that he was an undead necromancer of tremendous power.

    Wise, and patient, Lady Marianne replied. He is older than the empire, and as such his approach to time differs from ours. He cares more about memories than life. Thetter always ends, but the former canst forever.

    That does not reassure me. Valdemar would rather avoid ending up as a brain in a jar, or bound to a Soulstone,pelled to answer a necromancers questions for all eternity.

    I believe you will findmon ground. Lord Och was very interested in your notes.

    The carriage reached the end of the bridge and passed beneath a gatehouse. Valdemar immediately shuddered as he sensed an invisible force weighing down on his soul.

    <em>There are spells woven in these old stones, </em>the sorcerer thought, as the carriage stopped.

    We are here, mdy, said the coachman, his voice coarse and dry. The man moved to open the carriages door, his pale, predatory grey eyes gazing at Valdemar with suspicion. The prisoner sensed a psychic force probing him, ready to strike at the first sign of hostility.

    <em>Hes a sorcerer too, </em>Valdemar thought, as he examined the coachman. He looked unassuming with his short ck hair and leather coat, but the way he stood reminded the prisoner of a cave lion. <em>Theyre all sorcerers within these walls.</em>

    Thank you, Bertrand, Lady Marianne said, as the coachman helped her step out of the carriage. Valdemar didnt receive any such courtesy, and had to make his way outside on his own. Mr. Verney, wee to the Pleroma Institute of Sorcery.

    Valdemar took a deep breath, and watched.

    The carriage had parked in a colossal courtyard shielded by the ck, oily curtain walls and watchtowers. All the guards manning them either belonged to the Knights of the Tome sworn to Lord Och, or well-preserved undead. Thetters shining eyes betrayed the presence of a soul animating the remains.

    The ck Pir upied the center of the fortress, a stone sun around which everything revolved. To Valdemars puzzlement, it had stained ss windows shaped like eyes, but no doors.

    The more Valdemars eyes wandered around, the more amazed he grew at theplexs true size. Everywhere he could see the shadows of barracks and stone halls, even the shining mes of a cathedral of the Light. Not everything was made from stone, however. The locals had raised vast and beautiful gardens of mushrooms and alien nts, catered to by steel golems and animated statues. The Institute even had a hedge maze, made of strange thorny ck nts and blooming crimson flowers.

    And what his sight couldnt see, the Blood did. Valdemar closed his eyes, and let his arcane senses expand.

    This ce was unbelievably ancient, and the pir moreso. It was here when the humans descended into Undend, to flee the chilling cold; the new inhabitants had raised quarters and gardens over the ruins of a far older civilization. He sensed the presence of life below ground, an ant farm of humans toiling in underground vaults.

    And the deeper he looked, the more Valdemar trembled. A dark force slept deep beneath the stone, and stirred in its slumber.

    This ce was <em>thin </em>the very fabric of space and time had weakened, one spell at a time. The wall between realities had turned from strong stone to soft mud, making it easier for the nes of existence to align.

    The Pleroma Institute was the foremost center of knowledge in all of Ant, even more famous than the Academy of Sas, where nobles sent their whelps to study. But it was also far more secretive and restrictive. Only schrs hand-picked by Och himself could enter its halls. And clearly, they had called upon forces that would make imperial citizens shudder in their sleep.

    You can wander around the fortress freely for now, but neither leave it nor ess restricted areas, Lady Mariannes voice said, returning Valdemar to reality and making him snap his eyes open. I must bid you goodbye for now. Other duties await me.

    You will not escort me to Och? Valdemar asked.

    <em>Lord</em> Och will summon you soon, she replied. I can tell he is already watching.

    The noblewoman left after giving her guest a respectful nod, the coachman following her shadow. Only then did Valdemar notice that Lady Marianne made no sound when she walked.

    After waiting a moment to confirm that yes, he had been left to his own devices, Valdemar started carefully exploring the Institute. Knights of the Tome observed him from afar, and moved in front of the barracks doors when the warlock approached. It appeared he was restricted to the outside areas until the Dark Lord granted him an audience.

    Valdemar noticed stairs leading underground as he snooped around, and animal life inhabiting the shadows. The sorcerer sensed rats crawling inside the walls, flocks of vampire bats resting beneath roofs, and pet badgers running around. Arge stable housed giant beetle mounts, dragobats, and other mutated warbeasts best left undisturbed. At one point, Valdemar walked by a hooded man near the gardens, only to see a swarm of flies and maggots underneath the tattered rags.

    And the walls Some walls had human faces carved into the stone, their lifeless eyes following him as he walked.

    Everywhere, <em>someone </em>or <em>something </em>was watching Valdemar.

    The only part of theplex which he found halfwayforting was a thorny cathedral dedicated to the Light, one that rested on a stone tform threatening to fall into the rift around the fortress. Pyres burnt on its roof and beacon tower, their glows warm and soothing.

    A part of Valdemar wanted to examine the ck Pir in detail, but he let his arcane sight guide him southeast of theplex instead. Having trained half his life in the field of summoning, the warlock was highly attuned to the fabric of space, and he had noticed an anomaly.

    His quest led him to a deep, circr pool of clear water, located right outside a vast greenhouse heated by steam machinery. Valdemar approached the banks and peered into the liquid.

    The water reservoir was so deep that the warlock couldnt see the bottom with his human eyes. His arcane sight, however, wandered into its depths, sensing the rift at the bottom. A wound into the very fabric of space.

    <em>This is how they produce the water needed for the gardens,</em> Valdemar thought. He couldnt help but respect the sheer beauty of this magical wonder. <em>Crafty.</em>

    Interesting, a voice said.

    Valdemar almost jumped back, as an old man appeared to his left, gazing at the pond with curious blue eyes. He had appeared out of thin air, and Valdemar hadnt even <em>sensed </em>him.

    Usually visitors pay more attention to the ck Tower than the well, the man said with a kind, fatherly voice. His face was wrinkled by age and wisdom, his hair white as milk. He looked unassuming, and he wore modest brown robes. The former was there long before we raised the fortress, and thetter rtively recent.

    I find this well a more impressive disy of magic, Valdemar said as he gazed at the bottom. He tried to suppress his uneasiness. It is a permanent portal to the Elemental ne of Water, isnt it?

    Not quite. The old man put his hands behind his back, his gaze as blue and clear as the pond. Paraplex is poor in drinkable water, and most wells ran out long ago. But extradimensional water extracted directly from the source of all sources? How could this well ever dry up? Unfortunately, we havent yet figured out a way to create a truly stable portal to another ne, so one of our schrs, young Poingcarr, suggested a new solution. Do you know how an Earthmouth works?

    Valdemar instantly caught on. You tried to turn a summoned water elemental into a portal?

    That was the n, but unfortunately it didnt work as expected. The elemental instead kept summoning water into our reality, and the experience drove it mad. We bound it at the bottom of the pool, where it kindly solves our agricultural problem. I often shed a tear at its silent suffering, but such is the cost of scientific progress.

    He sounded almost sincere too, but Valdemar knew better. His sadness was a mask, just like the face and the flesh.

    Whats the matter? the old man asked with false concern, clearly delighting in Valdemars uneasiness. Am I scaring you?

    A little, Valdemar admitted, clearing his throat. He had to choose his words carefully. You are Lord Och, arent you?

    What makes you think so? the mysterious individuals lips smiled, but his eyes remained cold and unblinking.

    Your magical defenses are too perfect, Valdemar replied, having psychically probed them.

    The Knight of the Tomes magical protection had been a wall, but this mans was a deep, imprable fog. There was nothing to grasp, no hint about what sinister thing hid beneath the mist. You could break a shield, or bypass it, but how did you fight a fog?

    Oh? The Dark Lord chuckled. And here I thought I cloaked my armor behind a veil of harmlessness.

    You can hide your smell from a bloodhound with a great amount of perfume, Valdemar said, but he will find it suspicious in itself.

    Do you consider yourself a hound? You seem more like a caterpir to me. Bound to the earth at your young age, but with the potential to fly when you grow old.

    Am I a moth, or a butterfly?

    A moth. They always strive to reach the candles me, even when it burns them.

    Valdemar hesitated before asking his question, wondering what game the Dark Lord was ying. And <em>what </em>are you?

    Why, what else but an old man?

    For a moment, the old mans illusion faltered to reveal a ghastly ck skull beneath the kind face, its eyes twin blue stars shining in the dark. Two blue abysses calling Valdemars soul, telling him to sleep forever.

    The younger warlock instinctively strengthened his defenses to protect himself, but they could have been made of paper. Chilly ghostly fingers shattered his psychic shield and grabbed his soul with surgical precision, threatening to extract it the same way a dentist would do so with a tooth. Valdemars blood became as cold as ice, his breath a white mist.

    The momentsted only a second before the undead put his mask of life back on. The Dark Lord let Valdemars soul go, and the young warlock fell to his knees, gasping for air.

    For a brief instant, he had peered at Lord Ochs true form, an ancient horror beyond the reach of death and time.

    A lich.

    You built a wooden house on strong foundations, young man, Lord Och said, before offering his hand to Valdemar. One that can resist the wind, but which will fall to mes and fold before a battering ram.

    Valdemar nced at the hand with fear. The fingers looked so weak, and yet they hid savage ws.

    I can snuff your life out with a thought, the Dark Lord said, why would I need a hand?

    Valdemar clenched his teeth, and epted the help. Lord Ochs fingers felt warm to the touch, the mour so perfect that it fooled all of the weaker warlocks senses.

    And yet, this creature had shed his humanity long ago. The Dark Lord could kill Valdemar in a heartbeat, and he wouldnt feel anything about it.

    You never practiced with another sorcerer, Lord Och observed, Not for long anyway. Or else you would have better defenses.

    No, Your Dark Majesty. Valdemar could never find an official mentor, and illegal sorcerers frequenting ck markets demanded high payments for training especially onbat-rted matters.

    Majesty? I do not call myself an emperor, unlike a certain arrogant colleague of mine. Lord Och will do for now, young Valdemar. The old man searched for something beneath his robes, and brought out a ck, nk book. This is yours, I believe.

    The books pages were yellowed by age and dust, its cover made of simple leather. It looked like any diary, and yet Valdemar could recognize it anywhere. Suppressing his urge to immediately grab it, the young warlock nced at a smiling Och, and then carefully took his heirloom out of the undeads hands.

    How good it felt for his fingers to brush against the old leather. Valdemar checked the pages, gazing at walls of texts handwritten in a foreign tongue no one in Undend could speak, at the drawings of a pointy tower of steel and of flying balloons crossing an endless sea.

    I did not recognize the mainnguage used when I read this book, which drew my curiosity, Lord Och admitted. I thought it was a code at first, but I know enough about linguistics to recognize a foreign tongue. Thankfully, you added tranted notes in themon tongue.

    My grandfather called it French, Valdemar said, clearing his throat. His homndsnguage. He taught it to me.

    Lord Och raised an eyebrow. I thought his homnd was called Earth?

    He had clearly done his research. Earth was his homeworld, Valdemar exined, France his country.

    Here, at Plemora, we research interdimensional travel too. Partly out of intellectual curiosity, partially because of the potential applications of this magic... and mostly for the purpose of future colonization. It may have been centuries since we retreated here underground, but our people will never stop dreaming of seeing the sun again.

    How far are you into these research efforts? Valdemar couldnt help but ask. If they already had portals...

    We are early pioneers, Im afraid, and our efforts are fraught with failures and dangers. But perhaps your help will prove a decisive push in the right direction.

    Valdemars fingers clenched around the journal, as hope filled his heart. You believe me?

    I do not believe, I think, Lord Och replied. The paper used for this journal is unlike anything I have seen in Undend, and this does add credibility to your tale. However, if your grandsire taught you his native tongue, why would you need his postmortem guidance?

    Some parts of the journal were written in a second tongue that I couldnt identify, Valdemar admitted. His grandfather had clearly feared that some people would read his innermost secrets, and encrypted them. Ive tried for years to decode it, and failed.

    And you found it easier to create an artificial ghost than to trante a few chapters? Then again, Ive met very few youngsters capable of binding a Gnawer at your age.

    Valdemars chest swelled with pride. I can summon more than a Gnawer, Lord Och.

    Oh? We shall put that boast to the test soon. The lich swept some dust off his robes. There are thousands of tales like your grandfathers, though most are simply the result of feverish imagination or madness. Hence, while I heard rumors about your family, I disregarded them. It may have been a mistake on my part, but there is time to correct it.

    Valdemar cleared his throat, unsure what to make of this ancient archmages words. What do you want with me, Lord Och?

    I want the same thing as you, young Valdemar. I want to confirm whether or not this Earth ne exists, and if it does, how to reach it.

    Earth exists, Valdemar insisted, his faith unshakable.

    Maybe your grandfather was mad, or maybe he came from another world. We will check, and see which option is true.

    We? Valdemar closed the journal and held it close to his chest. And what will you do with me, my Lord?

    You are a criminal, and as such forbidden to leave Pleroma without my express authorization, Lord Och replied. If you try, I will eat your soul, spit it out, and throw your hollowed body into the abyss outside my walls. We have taken samples of your blood during your imprisonment, so tracking you down will be childs y. Consider your stay here a chance at rehabilitation.

    He said that with the same passion as someone discussing the daily humidity.

    This did not sit well with Valdemar. <em>He just needs me to trante the journal, </em>the warlock thought. <em>He will kill me right afterward.</em>

    I could easily extract that knowledge from your mind, mortal, the lich said. But why would I? People are like nts. For them to be beautiful, you must water them down and let them grow. I would rather add a flower to my garden, than eat a seed.

    Could he read Valdemars mind? So I traded one cell for another?

    A cell? The Dark Lord let out a deep, cavernousugh. Would you consider a workshop and a furnishedb a cell? You wanted to join our Institute once, and you shall. You will only have limited resources until I have ascertained the true depths of your magical talent, but I shall reward loyalty and hard work. You will also run errands for me on asions.

    Lord Ochs smile turned predatory.

    On <em>any </em>asion I choose, he said, his voice as sharp and delicate as an assassins knife.

    Valdemar squinted, trying to think this through carefully. I may keep the journal, and work in peace? he asked.

    Yes, the Dark Lord answered.

    And I dont have the option to refuse, I suppose?

    I can send you back to Spellbane, if you prefer, Lord Och said with false kindness. From what I heard, the warden kept your cell intact. He misses you greatly, and believes you wille back soon.

    Alright, alright, Valdemar sighed. He had no desire to get strapped on a wheel again, and although doing research under a Dark Lords thumb made him uneasy, it still beat the alternative.

    Do not make that face, young Valdemar, Lord Och replied with a chuckle. We willplete your magical education, and maybe one day I will grant you an official pardon. Do you have a hobby? I personally like to go fishing, but if you have another passion, I can amodate it.

    I paint, Valdemar admitted. And draw.

    Oh, you will get along with young Hermann then. I will be sure to introduce the two of you, but for now

    The lich put a hand on Valdemars shoulder, his fingers turning into ws of ck bone.

    Let us see what you can do, Lord Och said with a wicked grin.

 Chapter 3: Marianne

    Chapter 3: Marianne

    The longsword lunged for Mariannes head, and she unsheathed her rapier. The des shed, the song of their steel echoing through the room.

    As befitting of her status, Mariannes apartment included a small training hall, one that she had decorated with weapons and coats of arms belonging to Oldblood families. The Reynard familys white fox banner stood next to wolves and other extinct surface creatures, while Will OWisps imprisoned insidemps illuminated the chamber.

    Fighting with her left hand behind her back, Marianne adopted a defensive fighting style and focused on dodging her training partners swings. Her retainer Bertrand was a powerful foe, though he favored a longsword over a rapier. His ded thrusts were as powerful as Marianne''s were quick, and unlike her, he never tired nor needed to catch his breath. Each blow was as powerful as the first.

    Only the living could suffer from exhaustion.

    His first blow would have probably shattered Mariannes rapier if it hadnt been a Soulbound weapon. The founder of the Reynard line, Lucien, had been a famed swordsman. When he perished, he asked to have his soul infused into his favorite sword so he could help his descendants. Only the strongest of magics could destroy this weapon, and Marianne often felt her ancestors spirit stir whenever the de tasted blood.

    Marianne waited for Bertrand to lunge forward and open himself to attack, but her retainer didnt give her any opportunity. His pale eyes turned red, his movements quickened, and she couldnt find any w in his offense. He unleashed a swing so swift that Marianne could barely see iting.

    Realizing that parrying again would end up with her thrown against a wall at best, Marianne called upon the power of the Blood to help her. She strengthened her legs, and jumped before Bertrands steel could cut her wide open.

    She leaped over her retainer, and thrust her rapier at him in midair while above his shoulder. Bertrand responded by turning into a pale mist. Under normal circumstances, Mariannes Soulbound rapier should have hurt him even in this form, but Bertrand used his natural malleability to swirl out of the des reach.

    No matter. Mariannended gracefully on her feet and prepared for the counterattack.

    She didnt have to wait long.

    Bertrand reformed on her nk and lunged at her with his de, his canines sharp as daggers and his nails having turned into ws. He moved swifter than a cave lion, and too fast for Marianne to dodge.

    So she didnt.

    Finally deciding to use her left hand, Marianne used a spell to cover her palm and fingers with ayer of bone as strong as steel. She used it to catch Bertrands de by surprise, while strengthening her muscles with the Blood; the longswords steel cut through Mariannes glove, but her bones stopped his weapon. At the same time, the noblewomans rapier aimed for her retainers throat.

    Marianne struggled to stop the sheer strength behind Bertrands blow, but her magic empowered her body with superhuman might. The flooring creaked beneath her feet, but she endured. Bertrand had put everything behind his attack, and as such couldnt stop her counterattack.

    Marianne stopped before she could inflict a killing blow, her rapiers tip within an inch of her retainers carotid.

    That will be all for today, Marianne said, as she released her retainers sword and sheathed her rapier.

    "Mdy might prefer another sparring partner," Bertrand suggested while putting his sword on the walls disy of weapons, next to halberds and axes. "You have long surpassed me in the arts of war."

    "You are the best swordsman in all of Paraplex." Very few fighters could leave Marianne winded after a spar, and Bertrand ranked highly among that number. Short of myself of course.

    "Mdy is too kind, but the point remains. I do not think our spars will improve your skills any further. Bertrand put his hands behind his back, his fangs and eyes returning to normal. May I suggest contacting someone like Lord Bethor? He is the best warrior in the empire."

    "A Dark Lord has better things to do than practice with me." Especially Lord Bethor, who coordinated the empire''s armies and safeguarded the border with the Derro Kingdom.

    Marianne hade very close to joining his court rather than Lord Ochs. Sometimes, she wondered how her life would have gone if she had been dispatched to the border, fighting the empires external enemies instead of the internal ones.

    <em>I would probably have be an undead by now, </em>Marianne mused. <em>Maybe one day, when my living body has grown old and sick.</em> "These spars don''t teach me anything, Bertrand, but they prevent me from getting rusty. Hence we shall continue them."

    Marianne was weak in the Blood, the magic of life and death that had brought the empire prosperity. She was efficient and barely used any energy to fuel her spells, but greater disys of sorcery like summoning were beyond her. She simply didn''t have the reserves of energy to fuel them.

    Hence Marianne favored a more practical approach to fighting. She used the Blood to boost her physical abilities and supplement her skills. Her body was as much a weapon as her rapier.

    A shame she couldnt practice her gunmanship though. Bullets cost almost nothing, but gunpowder a fortune. The government carefully restricted its use to avoid cave-ins, and even if Lord Och provided her with a sizable sry, Marianne didn''t believe in wasting money. She had briefly struggled financially for a time after her family all but exiled her, and preferred to keep her own funds in case of an emergency.

    "As Mdy wishes," Bertrand said with a curt bow. "Does Mdy desire tea for her morning brew?"

    "If you would be so kind. Bring the news too."

    <em>I will need to sew this glove again,</em> Marianne thought as she examined her left hand, her bone armor receding beneath her skin. Bertrands de had left a deep cut in the velvet glove. By now, repairing such damage was almost second nature to the noblewoman.

    Marianne retreated to her apartment, a spartan master bedroom with intricate swirling patterns carved in the marble paneling. A stained ss window gave her an impable view of the hedge maze outside, which she found more beautiful than any painting. A pile of novels had umted on her bedside table, such as <em>The Clockstoppers Dilemma</em> and <em>The Leaden Moon</em>. She had been halfway through reading thetter before Lord Och sent her on hertest errand.

    What would I do without you, Bertrand? Marianne asked, as she sat next to her tea table and started sewing her velvet glove back into shape with needles. Her mother would have scolded her, saying that suchbor was beneath her. Marianne missed her family sometimes, even if she was d to live her life as she wished far away from noble etiquette and petty intrigues.

    Only Bertrand remained of her old existence. The vampire had served the Reynard family for centuries, and never faltered in his loyalty. When Marianne fled the imperial capital in disgrace and found refuge in Lord Och''s court, her retainer had dutifully followed her.

    Mdy would probably ruin herself in tea shops, Bertrand replied, as he brought her the days newspaper. Trees capable of surviving underground were rare, and parchment was expensive. Newspapers were issued in a moremon artificial paper substitute created by alchemists from giant fungi, and the substance barelysted more than two weeks before rotting away.

    Marianne read the titles while Bertrand poured her a delicious, fruity mushroom tea.

    <em>Inauguration of the Undend Express nned for next month.</em>

    <em>Sixty-four people died in a cave-in near the Domain of Ariouth.</em>

    <em>The Church of the Light will plead for the reconquest of the surface at the Dark Lords newest assembly.</em>

    <em>Derros troops noticed near the border: is a new war inevitable?</em>

    A reconquest of the surface? Though Marianne believed in the Light, she couldnt help but see the idea of reconquering the surface as a doomed effort. The world above had been cold and dark since the Whitemoon arrived to blot out the sun, with monsters roaming the icy ruins humankind left behind. The Institutes idea of colonizing other worlds sounded more feasible to her.

    Marianne paid more attention to the Derro Kingdom article, as she considered a conflict with these degenerate dwarves inevitable. As the noblewoman had expected, the press only reported an increased presence of enemy golems and quakes in the tunnels near the empire''s borders, alongside grisly tales about Derro King Ottos cruelty.

    The Knights of the Chain maintained a tight grip on the empires cultural policies, and carefully controlled what newspapers printed. Marianne found it harder and harder to distinguish the propaganda from the truth, to her dismay.

    She understood why the Knights of the Chain believed that some information had to be buried or destroyed for the sake of preventing social unrest. When the body was strong, a cunning enemy targeted the mindand in the empires case, those of its citizens. Cults of the Strangers always lurked in the darkness, waiting to exploit times of unrest and fear to recruit people in the service of their vile eldritch patrons.

    But by destroying all knowledge contradicting the imperial orthodoxy, the Knights of the Chain left the citizens unprepared and ignorant. How could the empire fight its enemies if it didnt understand them? The Pleroma Institute had been a breath of fresh air on that front, and Marianne had found it good to discuss freely without looking over her shoulder.

    <em>People don''t call you Otto the Demented for being a kind and stable ruler though,</em> she thought while sipping her tea. The new Derro King was as frighteningly mad as he was maniacallypetent.

    "Lord Och asked for your presence in the Hall of Rituals," Bertrand informed his mistress.

    For what purpose?

    To observe our new acquaintances trial by fire, the retainer said with a sneer.

    You dont like Valdemar? Marianne herself felt rather neutral about the neer. Valdemar struck her as too clever by half and hiding a tinge of darkness, but otherwise a reasonable fellow. He hadnt deserved being strung to a wheel like an animal. Then again, you dislike everyone at first nce.

    "Its the smell, Mdy."

    Marianne raised an eyebrow. What does that mean?

    "Mdy cannot smell it, for she is still a mortal, Bertrand replied. But a hideous stench follows this man. The Institutes animals have sensed it too, and avoid him."

    "What does he smell like?" his mistress asked with a chuckle, amused by the idea of her retainer twitching his nose every time he would cross Valdemars path.

    But Bertrand remained entirely serious. "That is what worries me, Mdy. He doesn''t smell like any scent I recognize. He smells of the unknown, and that''s what disturbs the animals."

    Oh? Could it be rted to his grandfathers otherworldliness? Marianne didnt fully believe Valdemars tale, but she was open-minded. Lord Och at least seemed to believe it possible, and the lich was rarely wrong.

    No matter, Marianne replied, as she emptied her cup. Lord Och will handle him, if he tries anything dangerous.

    Of that, I have no doubt.

    After finishing her breakfast, Marianne left her apartments and Bertrand behind for the Hall of Rituals. Located at the northern point of the Pleroma Institute, this underground chamber served as a secure, warded location where magicians could run dangerous rituals without threatening the rest of the facility.

    Marianne made her way there by climbing down a long, spiraling staircase guarded by two undead warriors in heavy armor. A ck, looming stone archway waited at the bottom and generated a blue magical barrier. Marianne crossed it without any problem, and entered the Hall of Rituals.

    Created by the ancient civilization that once inhabited the cavern, the underground dome was supported by twelve columns of the same ck, oily stones as the pir at the fortresss center. The ceiling reached as high as ten meters, while ancient mosaics and murals covered the walls. All of them represented enormous, cyclopean beings engaged in acts of worship around sinister monoliths. The schrs believed them to be the extinct Pleromians, the first inhabitants of the Domain of Paraplex.

    Lord Och awaited between two pirs, next to a pile of books and paintings topped by an old, tiny music box. Marianne recognized them as Valdemars belongings, collected by the inquisitors after his arrest.

    Speaking of Valdemar, the sorcerer was trapped inside a vast cube of red energy in the middle of the dome. To his dismay, he wasnt alone inside.

    An insectoid warbeast shared the mans cell and furiously attempted to devour him.

    The result of biomancers experimentations, the mutated chimera reached almost three meters in size and reminded Marianne of a twisted centaur. Its legs belonged to a spider and the upper body to a cave crab, with an elongated neck, four eyes, and a fangedmprey maw. Marianne didnt dare imagine how many animals had perished before the monsters maker could create a functional fusion.

    The Blood sympathetically bound the living and the dead together, like the cells of a singr organism. It was the invisible essence of life itself, and no creature could fully escape its grasp. But magicians did their best to give warbeasts resistance againstmon spells, and this creature was no exception. Instead of telekically crushing its head, Valdemar was forced to run circles around the angry creature to avoid its pincers. Worse, he had been given no weapon, and was reduced to grabbing stone pebblesying on the ground.

    The Dark Lord liked his skill tests hard and deadly.

    Ah, young Marianne, Lord Och greeted her, you arrived just in time for the good part.

    The noblewoman silently joined her master to watch Valdemars struggle, though her attention remained mostly focused on her patron. Lord Och wore his old man disguise, as he usually did, and most importantly, he was <em>smiling</em>.

    <em>Och has been dead far longer than he has been alive, </em>one of the Institutes schrs, Edwin the Crow, had informed Marianne on her first day. <em>Undeath sucked the warmth out of him centuries ago. Hes only going through the motions of life not to creep us out but its all theater to him, a game you y with a pet. None of it is genuine. Always remember that.</em>

    Marianne highly respected the Dark Lord, and he had always treated her nicely since she entered his employ. But she knew better than to rx in his presence.

    Is this really necessary, my lord? Marianne asked, trying to vouch for the poor imprisoned sorcerer as politely as she could. She couldnt openly protest to her patrons face the way she did to the Knights of the Chain, but the idea of watching a man die for nothing didnt sit well with her. You might kill him.

    Death is fine, I can raise him again, Lord Och replied without any care in the world. But that will not be necessary.

    Valdemar bit his thumb, spraying a stone pebble with his blood. This only excited the warbeasts hunger, and it rushed at the human with a maddened frenzy. Valdemar threw the stone into the monsters mouth while running as fast as he could towards the crimson barrier.

    The pebble flew inside the warbeasts throat almost unnoticed, and Marianne sensed magic at work.

    A secondter, the beasts neck violently exploded, spraying the arena with blood and guts. The monsters head flew against the crimson barrier, right in front of an unblinking Och, and shattered on impact. As for the body, it copsed on the ground, a smaller humanoid of pure stone and dirt rolling out of the beheading wound. The creature lingered only for a few seconds before vanishing into dust and returning to its home ne.

    Valdemar had summoned a minor earth elemental <em>inside </em>the warbeast.

    "The stone," Marianne guessed, astonished. "But how?"

    "He telekically altered his blood to form a miniature summoning array," Lord Och answered while Valdemar regained his breath. The trapped sorcerer didnt notice the people discussing outside the barrier, as the energy prevented him from seeing or hearing anything.

    "In seconds, my Lord?" A summoning ritual usually took hours of preparation.

    "Young Valdemar is an unpolished diamond." Lord Och looked very happy with the results, and Marianne felt some pity for Valdemar. A Dark Lords attention was a double-edged sword. "He possesses incredible natural talent, especially in the fields of summoning and necromancy. I dare say I haven''t seen such an untapped well of power since myst apprentice."

    "Since Lord Bethor?" Marianne asked, utterly shocked. Some said he rivaled the empress herself in sheer magical power.

    "Equal?" Lord Och chuckled, having read Mariannes mind. "Some say that yes... such a waste that young Valdemar never received an education worthy of his capabilities. Betterte than never I suppose. The iron hasn''t yet rusted, and can still be refined into true steel."

    Marianne observed Valdemar. The young sorcerer had regained hisposure, his clothes covered in the warbeasts body fluids, and awaited the next challenge. Marianne wondered how many he had suffered through so far. "Will you take him under your wing, my lord?"

    "Mayhaps. But something bothers me about young Valdemar." A blue glow briefly appeared in the lichs eyes, his true undead nature shining through. "I analyzed his blood sample and noticed details that eluded our inquisitors. His body overflows with Orgone, an energy usually generated by summoned creatures, in a concentration I would expect from a high-level Qlippoth instead of a human being."

    "So he was telling the truth?" Marianne asked. "He descends from a summoned human?"

    "Perhaps... or perhaps the true exnation is even stranger. I have a theory."

    "Which is, my lord?"

    "That is not for you to know yet, young Marianne," Lord Och replied dismissively. "You shall investigate the Verney case on my behalf and get to the bottom of this.

    As you wish, my lord.

    Since her arrival in Paraplex, Lord Och had made Marianne a private agent of sorts, trusting her to do his bidding and giving her arge amount of leeway. It hadnt taken long for her to understand why.

    Lord Och trusted Marianne because she was entirely reliant on him. As a disgraced noblepletely unwilling to return to her old life, she needed a powerful patron to protect her from the imperial courts intrigues and let her live as she wished. But on the other hand, she could still use her noble name to present a good front and open some doors. Marianne was a velvet glove, suitable for diplomacy and investigation missions. And if she died, the lich wouldnt lose much.

    Marianne knew that Lord Och had other protg dedicated to other tasks. Like that strange boy Iren and his mutant bodyguard, who the Dark Lord used to further criminal enterprises he couldnt officially be connected with.

    As for the Knights of the Tome, they were loyal to the Dark Lord but followed a strict hierarchy and protocols. The other Dark Lords, always eager to sabotage their rivals, regrly tried to infiltrate Lord Ochs court through bribery, ckmail, or insidious schemes. Besides, Knights of the Tome were specialized in dealing with illegal sorcerers or supporting other chivalric orders on magical matters. They werent investigators, and the Dark Lord understood the value of specialists like Marianne.

    I want to know where this young man trulyes from," the lich said.

    I havent found much so far, Marianne admitted. She had already done cursory research on her way to Spellbane, and quickly faced obstruction.

    She knew that the Knights of the Road, who specialized in finding escaped criminals or missing people, had supervised the Verney case. The Knights of the Chain, in charge of protecting the Ant Empire''s cultural uniformity, and the Church of the Light had cooperated on the purge, as they usually did when Cults of the Strangers were involved. The worship of these eldritch entities was strictly prohibited by the Dark Lords, and for good reasons.

    The Strangers only craved onemodity, the souls of mortals.

    Marianne hadn''t found out much about the Verney''s beliefs, since the inquisitors had destroyed every text and executed every cultist they could find. All she learned was that the family had led a cult called the ''Seekers of the Grail,'' but she couldnt find anything about their grail''s nature or purpose.

    You are resourceful and quick-witted. I have no doubt you will deliver. Lord Och snapped his fingers, the barrier copsing and allowing Valdemar to notice the two. Congrattions, young man. Few mortals have met my expectations, and fewer exceeded them.

    Thank you, Lord Och, Valdemar said, before bowing. Lady Marianne.

    I will let you rest a little for today, the lich said. Young Marianne will show you to your room, and help you check on your belongings. I hope we recovered everything, but feel free to inform me if anything is missing.

    The Dark Lord vanished without a sound, space copsing around him until nothing remained.

    Teleportation? Valdemar asked Marianne, amazed by this casual yet awe-inspiring disy of magic.

    Lord Och is a master of all fields of magic, Marianne said, before observing him closely. The necromancer looked in good shape, for someone who had just killed a monster out for his blood. You impressed him.

    I hope so, its the fifth creature I had to kill today, Valdemar replied, before ring at the warbeasts remains. Is this going to be a recurring thing?

    Lord Och is a harsh but fair overseer, Marianne reassured him. You may face other tests in the future, but he will reward you in turn.

    By giving me back my stuff? Valdemar asked, as he checked his belongings. His eyes immediately softened upon seeing the music box. The device was a box made of carved amber full of strange machinery Marianne didnt understand. Valdemar pulled a smaller lever to the boxs side, and a beautiful, slow-paced luby came out. It sounded both happy and sad to the ear.

    "It belonged to my mother," Valdemar admitted, his voice breaking, his gaze faltering. "It was the only thing that soothed her in herst days.

    Its a beautiful song, Marianne said, finding the sound peaceful. She wondered if Valdemars mother resembled her own. How was she? Your mother?

    "She... was not well, the sorcerer confessed as he paused the music box. I dont want to talk about it.

    Im Im sorry for opening an old wound, Marianne apologized. Is she

    "She''s dead. Grandpa and I didn''t have the funds to buy a Soulstone, so her soul passed on."

    Soulstones were designed to catch their wearer''s soul upon death, allowing a necromancer to revive them as an intelligent undead or sentient golem after their body''s demise. Marianne kept one in a pendant around her neck, hidden below her coat.

    Do you have any other family members? she asked. Maybe a survivor of the Verney purge?

    "As far as I know, I''m thest of them. He squinted at her. "You were asked to investigate me."

    "I was," Marianne replied. He had the right to know.

    "Can''t me you. I do look suspicious. Valdemar frowned. I had nothing to do with the Verney family, besides sharing a name. I was a child when the purge happened.

    I know, Marianne replied. I dont hold your name against you, if thats what worries you. Its your acts which determine your worth, not your name.

    I wish the Knights could think like you. Valdemar crossed his arms, his face thoughtful. What do you need to know?

    <em>He wont open his heart to me anytime soon, but hes willing to cooperate at least,</em> Marianne thought. I know you were a child when they were purged, but is there anything you can tell me about the Verney? How did you be recognized as a bastard?

    The necromancer shrugged. "I was supposed to receive an inheritance. My paternal grandfather, Baron Aleksander Verney, recognized me as his son Isaac''s brood in his testament. I was supposed to inherit the family''s estate if my father died without official issues, alongside their ult and religious texts collection."

    "They wanted you to carry on with their cultist activities," Marianne guessed.

    "Probably. But the inquisitors burnt everything anyway, and the Verney were extinguished. I wasnt allowed to get anything, except a stay from execution."

    <em>A hard life creates hard men, </em>Marianne thought with sympathy. She could see that a part of Valdemar still felt sore over the whole matter. <em>If he had inherited some of the Verneys money, he could have bought a Soulstone for his mother.</em>

    I tried to learn more about my paternal line, but the Knights stymied my efforts and prevented me from essing the Verneys oldnds, Valdemar exined. Grandpa told me nothing good woulde out of my search, and that I would catch the inquisitors deadly attention if I persevered.

    He didnt know much, but Marianne could work with it. If there had been a testament, then there was a paper trail. Thank you for your answers, she said. If I learn anything, I will tell you.

    Really? The necromancer seemed skeptical. Shouldnt you keep everything for yourself?

    I am not a knight bound to secrecy, Marianne replied. I believe you are entitled to learning about your origins. If I keep information from you, it will be because Lord Och ordered me to.

    Valdemar sounded pleased by that, and gave her a respectful nod. Thank you.

    Youll find that the Institutes denizens are more open-minded than the knights, Marianne said with a smile. Most of the schrs are very nice people.

    Most?

    Most, Marianne admitted.

    I will take what I can get, the necromancer said. Speaking of names, I dont remember hearing of a Reynard Oldblood family.

    "That doesn''t surprise me," Marianne replied. Since he had answered her questions about his family, she didnt see why she would keep her own origins from him. "We are a secondary line of a cadet branch of Empress Aratra''s family. Were very far away from better known families."

    Valdemar''s eyes widened in surprise. "You descend from the empress herself?"

    "I''m only a distant cousin. A very distant cousin." Marianne had only ever met Empress Aratra herself twice in her entire life, with the second audience ending with her banishment from her court. Her Majesty was very selective about who she invited to her balls and parties. "It''s not as important as you think."

    Empress Aratra officially ruled the Ant Empire, but she was only one Dark Lord out of seven, the first among equals. She acted as the nation''s figurehead and maintained the Bloodstream circuit of portals across human territories, but her influence was limited to her Domain of Sas and the imperial capital.

    Though Her Majesty usually cut out the tongue of anyone who pointed it out.

    We can talk while transporting your belongings," Marianne suggested.

    Good point. Valdemar sighed. Do you know where my room is?

    Lord Och has already set up a workshop for you in the second underground level, with the other apprentices. The first level was reserved for the Knights of the Tome, the third for the Masters, and nobody but the Dark Lord knew what the fourth level was for. Let me help you carry this stuff.

    Youre sure? he asked her with an amused smile. Shouldnt a noble watch me, the poor halfbreed, do the work and stick tomand?

    Now thats unkind, Marianne replied with a smile. But I can leave you to do it alone, if you prefer.

    Now, its alright, just joking. Thanks for the help.

    And so, Marianne helped the Institutes newest schr carry his books to his new home. After talking with Valdemar, she hade to agree with Lord Ochs assessment.

    <em>Why would a cultist baron bequeath everything to a bastard? </em>Marianne thought, her eyes peering at Valdemar.<em> Something doesnt add up there.</em>

    There was more to this man than meets the eye.

 Chapter 4: Apprentice

    Chapter 4: Apprentice

    He dreamed of the well again.

    His hands scratched the stone wall, while he heard the rats crawling above his head. The hole above him shone with a soothing, crimson glow; the light of freedom. But it was so far away, and he was trapped at the bottom deep below the earth.

    The rats tossed him a half-eaten bone, one that joined their pile of treasure at the bottom. The well overflowed with the remains of animals and humans unlucky enough to fall down, but he wouldnt waste away like them.

    He would escape.

    He would be free.

    Once again his nails sank into the stone, as he began his perilous ascent towards the light above. One meter. Two meters. Three meters...

    Strange symbols carved into the stone shone with a yellow light, one that burned and blinded him and made the rats scamper off. He fell back to the bottom, howling his frustration and despair.

    The walls of the well trembled, and the dream copsed into nothingness.

    Valdemar fell off his mattress, and woke up facing the cold stone floor. He had rolled out of his bed in his sleep, and someone furiously knocked on his workshop''s door. "Hello?" a woman''s voice echoed past it. "Is someone there?"

    Valdemar mistook it for Marianne''s voice for a moment, before realizing that this one was different, higher-pitched. A lifetime of fearing inquisitors kicked in, and his psychic sight expanded beyond his door. The sorcerer didn''t recognize the presence on the other side. He could tell it was a woman, one who hadn''t prepared proper magical defenses.

    <em>That dream will never let me go, </em>Valdemar thought with annoyance as his hands fumbled in the dark, looking for an oilmp. Weeks or months often passed between two episodes, but the nightmares always returned. Once in his childhood, he had asked his grandfather about them, and he said Valdemar had fallen down a well when he was too young to remember. He had been lucky to survive long enough to be rescued.

    Perhaps his mind did its best to suppress the memory, but the dreaming world left the door open for it to haunt Valdemar. Or perhaps his subconscious expressed its frustration with hisck of progress on his goal to reach Earth in an allegorical way.

    Whatever the cause, Valdemar strongly considered contacting an oneiromancer to deal with this nightmare. It always left him exhausted and troubled in the morning, and though good dream-maniptors were expensive, he would rather pay to enjoy quiet nights.

    "Who is it?" Valdemar asked, as he finally found amp and lit his workshop. True to his word, Lord Och had afforded his newest recruit aboratory far superior to anything the summoner ever enjoyed in the past. His collection of grimoires and music box had found a new home in shelves next to a writing desk, while tools, alchemical reagents, and magical concoctions covered tables of chiseled stone. He had received a magical, smokeless forge, with the remnants of the broken ecto-catcher resting on the anvil. Stairs led to his apartments above, and a locked door to the outside.

    The sr upstairs wouldn''t see much use. Valdemar had put the mattress downstairs so as not to waste time going up and down the stairs each day; nor did he use the bathroom above unless he had to clean himself up to go outside.

    "Liliane!" the woman replied, clearly overjoyed to receive an answer. Valdemar wondered how long she had knocked on his door before she managed to wake him up. "Liliane de Vane! I''m in the workshop right next to yours! I''m bringing you your new clothes!"

    With a name like that, she had to belong to the Oldblood. Valdemar wondered how many nobles had made the Institute their nest. "I don''t need any," he replied, still wearing yesterday''s clothes.

    "It''s really important! Unless I''m interrupting something?" Valdemar sensed an undercurrent of fear and panic in her voice. "Oh, I''m so sorry, I didn''t want to bother you! I can pass byter if you want!"

    "It''s alright," Valdemar said while suppressing a groan as he rose back to his feet. Truth be told, he was always a bit cranky upon waking up, but that girl sounded too nice toin about. "Take a step from the door, I warded it."

    "Oh, with what kind of warding spell?" she asked with curiosity.

    "The hungry kind." Valdemar unlocked the door, removed the magical wards, and weed his guest.

    His visitor was a pretty little thing no older than neen, with shoulder-long red hair, kind blue eyes, and freckles all over her cheeks. She was surprisingly small, barely reaching Valdemar''s nose, but radiated some kind of hyperactive energy. She wore a blue and orange variant of the Institutes standard magical robes, and carried a pile of clothes in her hands.

    "Hi!" She introduced herself with a bright smile. "Sorry, did I just wake you up?"

    "It''s fine, waking up was long overdue." Valdemar took the clothes off her hands. They included a ck and grey hooded coat, with a purple shirt and pants underneath. A pair of ck leather boots tastefullypleted the set. "It''s not like the other robes."

    "Lord Och thought you might want something more practical, so he asked the acolytes to make adjustments," Liliane replied with a grin. "They''re woven with protective spells too. You would need a very sharp sword to cut through them."

    Nice, though Valdemar would examine these clothester. He suspected they included tracking spells or simr measures. "Do you want toe inside?" Valdemar asked his visitor. "You came all the way, the least I can do is offer you a cup of tea."

    "Oh, it''s alright, I already had breakfast with my mentor," she replied with a slight blush. Did she believe he was making a pass at her? "But sure, I can take a look. Do you need help moving in?"

    "No, it''s fine." Marianne already helped with that, before leaving the Institute on her master''s behalf. Valdemar didn''t ask her about which mission, but he suspected she had gone to investigate his family. She would probably find nothing, as he did.

    Valdemar led Liliane inside his workshop and her eyes immediately wandered to his paintings, which he had put on the walls to give the workshop more personality. The sorcerer liked to paint real world sights, and his pictures included a cute mole rat peeking through its hiding hole, his grandfathers crumbling old shack, and mushroom farmers hard at work. Valdemar had sold some of his artwork to fund his activities in the past, though he had never fullymitted to a career.

    Liliane looked at the paintings with admiration, before freezing before the most beautiful of them all. "Oh, who is this?" she asked, pointing at the portrait enthroned above the forge.

    "Myte mother," Valdemar replied, before putting the clothes on a table next to his potions. He had been so focused on repairing the ecto-catcher that he hadn''t cleaned up the rest of the workshop. Unfortunately, the knights had damaged the device to the point it would take weeks to repair it. "Her name was Sarah."

    "She''s beautiful," Liliane said, mesmerized by the painting. And she was. Valdemar''s mother had been a raven-haired beauty with her son''s pale grey eyes, and looked graceful in a blue dress. She hadn''t yet gone mad when her child had painted her portrait. "But she seems so sorrowful."

    Indeed. Valdemar''s mother always had a sad expression, and only the music box could make her smile for a reason that always escaped her son. Whenever he had pushed the subject, she always burst out in tears. "I don''t think it was in my mother''s nature to be happy," he admitted.

    "It''s strange though," Liliane said. "Her hair is ck and yours is white. Isn''t raven-hair dominant?"

    "It''s not unusual." Now that mankind had lived centuries underground, more and more people were born without hair, eye, or skin pigmentation. Sometimes all at once. Valdemar was fortunate enough to only have whitened hair, rather than look like an albino.

    No way people wouldn''t have mistaken him for an undead otherwise. "You said you lived in the workshop next to mine?"

    "Yes, though I spend most of my time in the greenhouse. I''m studying alchemy and petalmancy under Lady Mathilde."

    Lady Mathilde, Lady Mathilde... Valdemar tried to remember where he had heard the name, his eyes wandering to his potion cookbooks. "Mathilde de Valnoir?" he asked, astonished. She had written over a third of the alchemy recipes he had memorized. "The inventor of the Elixir of Life?"

    This horribly expensive potion reversed the drinkers aging, returning them to the peak of their life. Though immortality in various forms wasmon among the upper sses who could afford it, most rich nobles preferred to remain young forever than be an intelligent undead or have their soul transferred into a golem.

    Since the Elixir''s recipe was known only to its creator and no one managed to reverse-engineer it yet, Oldblood members paid fortunes for a dose... and criminals like the Midnight Market''s members stopped at nothing to steal the potion.

    "Herself. She is a Master at the Institute, and my mentor." Liliane raised an eyebrow upon noticing his confusion. "No way, you don''t know what a Master is?"

    "No, but I have the feeling you will tell me."

    "And you thought right," she replied with a grin. "The Institute follows a strict hierarchy. At the bottom, you have the Acolytes, who aren''t Schrs but assist us. They''re the cooks, suppliers, guards... Do you know Iren? You''ll like Iren, he can get you anything you need."

    "Are the Knights of the Tome considered acolytes?" The thought of being higher in the hierarchy than the people who imprisoned him amused Valdemar to no end.

    "Technically, but dont try to give them orders," Liliane replied with a giggle. "They only answer to Lord Och and the Masters, to a lesser extent. Now, you have Schrs like us, the researchers. We each have a workshop, a limited budget, and we can ess the libraries except the forbidden stuff. And above you have the Masters, who answer only to Lord Och. They''re the elite of the elite, sorcerers who have achieved immortality and mastered a magical field. They have unlimited resources and they can ess all kinds of restricted knowledge. Each Schr must answer to a Master, who serves as their mentor."

    "Really?" Marianne hadn''t informed Valdemar of that part. "So I have to find a teacher?"

    Valdemar wasnt going to spit on a sorcerer''s mentorship, but the idea of a higher authority looking over his shoulder bothered him. Lord Och''s attention was already more than enough.

    "Yes, but no rush, you just arrived." An idea seemed to cross Liliane''s mind. "Oh, you could ask Lady Mathilde to be your mentor! She''s so warm, and she''s also in charge of the local cathedral of the Light. You''ll learn a lot of things with her, and we could help each other!"

    Valdemar wasn''t sure how to answer. A part of him wondered if Liliane''s niceness was genuine, but he prided himself in being a good judge of character and sensed no falseness in her. She was just <em>that </em>friendly.

    "Thanks for the offer," he said, "but I would prefer a teacher specialized in dimensional magic."

    His answer clearly worried her. "Dimensional magic? It''s dangerous stuff. You know, thest adventurer who tried to teleport to another world was cut in half. His torso ended up in another dimension, while the legs stayed at the Institute, so we couldnt raise him back. We had a funeral and everything."

    "Well, it means half of him reached the intended destination," Valdemar replied. Personally, he would consider dismemberment a small price to pay if he could reach Earth. "Though I wonder what you put on the eulogy. ''<em>Here rests his legs, because he could never run fast enough''</em>?"

    Liliane chuckled at his dark joke. "You''re cruel," she said. "We shouldn''tugh about it."

    "What ne was that schr trying to ess?"

    "I think it was the elemental ne of fire," the witch replied, though she didnt sound so sure of herself. The Dark Lord Bethor funded that project for military purposes. Something about opening a gate in the middle of the Derro Kingdom''s border fortresses and incinerating them. But I think Master Poingcarr and Hermann could tell you more. Oh, did you meet Hermann?"

    "I''m afraid not, though Lord Och said I should meet him. He''s a painter too from what I heard?"

    "Wait, you painted this stuff?" Liliane whistled while ncing at the paintings. "Then you <em>must </em>meet Hermann, and Frigga too! She really wants tomission a portrait of herself, but she doesn''t like Hermann''s style. Why don''t I show you around?"

    "Uh, thanks, but I must work on my ecto-catcher"

    But Liliane wouldn''t hear any of his protests. "It will take twenty minutes tops, in and out."

    "I''m sorry, but I really must work." His grandfather''s ghost wouldn''t return to this world on its own.

    "But I came all the way to help," she said, her blue, innocent eyes looking at Valdemar as if he had just beaten a helpless mole rat to death. "You you don''t want to return the favor?"

    Valdemar squinted. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"

    "Is..." She looked almost ready to cry now. "Is it working?"

    Valdemar sighed, as her painful stare became unbearable. "Yes," he said with a sigh. She had brought him his clothes and given him some info, he could spare twenty minutes.

    "Awesome!" Liliane said, her chirpy mood returning. Valdemar couldn''t help but find the change of demeanor a bit jarring. "But first you need to wash yourself. You look as if you haven''t gone out in days."

    Ugh, what had he walked into?

    A few minutes and a showerter, Valdemar emerged from his workshop in his new clothes. He had to admit they felt ratherfy, though he couldn''t recognize the texture. Linen? Silk? The magic inside the fibers soaked him like water.

    The Schrs'' workshops were located on the second level of the Institute, with the ground floor used formon facilities and the first floor mostly belonging to the Knights of the Tome. The second floor took the shape of a long tunnel almost two hundred meters long whose stone walls and the floor had been polished to the point of bing smooth as a mirror''s surface.

    Workshops and individual facilities were honebed around the cavern, while crystals in the ceiling produced glimmers of light. The most beautiful structure in theyer was a giant clock around which the spiraling stairs leading to the upper and lower levels were coiled. Powerful engines fueled by bound earth elementals allowed the device''s crystal needles to turn, and the whole cavern trembled whenever the clock struck.

    As it turned out, Liliane indeed upied the workshop to the left of Valdemar''s, while this ''Hermann'' upied the one on the right. The sorcerer wondered whether his location had been attributed at random, or as part of some gambit.

    Liliane proved a charming conversationalist as they climbed the stone stairs and narrow twists separating one workshop from another, quizzing him about his origins and regaling him with tales about her arrival to the Institute.

    "Let me get this straight, you arrived here because of a flower?" Valdemar asked his neighbor.

    "I did," Liliane replied with a grin. She seemed quite proud of it. "My parents wanted me to join the Sas School of Sorcery in the capital, but it''s full of stuck-up jerks who prefer partying over studying. Still, I was preparing to attend it when the Church of the Light asked for flower contributions as part of their foundation''s anniversary. I sent flowers I had created myself and alchemically modified to produce glows of different colors. Lady Mathilde liked them so much that she visited me, and she offered me a schrship."

    "I remember thatpetition," Valdemar said, though he hadn''t witnessed it. He had been hiding from the authorities back then, and followed the event through the newspapers. "It was only open to Oldblood families."

    He couldn''t hide the envy in his voice, and Liliane noticed. "I''m sorry," she apologized. "I''m sure you would have done well."

    "You don''t need to apologize, it wasn''t your decision. Besides, you earned your stay here." Creating a new species of nt with alchemy took incredible skill, especially at her age. "I would have been more resentful if you had bought your schrship."

    "The Institute doesn''t work that way, thankfully. The Masters rmend a new Schr, and Lord Och has to give his assent." Liliane sighed. "Truthfully, I don''t think I will return to the capital after I finish my studies. I would prefer to be a Master and keep working, rather than spend my days going to balls and fending off marriage proposals."

    "Marriage proposals? Are you an heiress or something?"

    "I''m the only daughter of Count de Vane, from the De Vane Armories."

    Valdemar recognized the name as one of the imperial armies'' main suppliers of metalwork; dear Liliane was set to inherit a sizable fortune if her father ever decided to retire. Considering his wealth, he had probably purchased immortality by now.

    Liliane cleared her throat. "It''s not going to be a problem?"

    "Forgive mynguage, mdy," Valdemar said while locking eyes with her. "But frankly, I don''t give a fuck."

    Valdemar had never licked nobles'' boots, and he wasn''t going to start now. If he befriended Liliane, it would be because he liked her, not for her money or connections.

    Thankfully, the witch sounded quietly relieved. "Great," she said. "You know, it''s nice to talk with people who aren''t after my money or a favor."

    That exined her chattiness. She probably felt lonely. Valdemar could sympathize, having had a solitary homeschooled childhood with few friends to speak of. He made a note to get to know Liliane better, if it didn''t interfere with his own research.

    The duo finally arrived before the entrance of Hermann''s workshop, a single door built into the smooth wall of the tunnel. "Hermann," Liliane knocked on the door. "It''s me, Lily! I''m bringing you a new painter friend."

    Valdemar took a moment to examine the door, as he waited for his neighbor to open it. He didn''t recognize the wards used to lock it, and he could tell the workshop was overflowing with magical energies. What kind of sorcerer inhabited these halls?

    Valdemar had his answer when the door opened, and milky reptilian eyes faced him.

    As it turned out, ''Hermann'' had white scales instead of skin, horns instead of ears, and ck ws for nails. The humanoid lizard was almost two meters tall, covering his body beneath heavy ck robes and a hood. His tail anxiously wavered behind him, and a pair of sses glittered on his nose.

    A troglodyte.

    "Hello," the reptile said shyly as he faced Valdemar, his voice sounding like a serpent''s hiss. His robes were covered in fresh paint, and he carried a brush in his right hand. "Nice... to meet you."

    "N-nice to meet you too, I''m Valdemar," the sorcerer introduced himself, taken aback. "Sorry, I, uh... I didn''t expect a troglodyte researcher."

    "It''s alright..." Hermann replied, though he clearly struggled to speak the words. Valdemar suspected that troglodytes throats werent properly equipped to use the human tongue. "It happens... often."

    Though they could use the Blood, Troglodytes lived in primitive tribes that the Empire of Ant had all but driven away from their home caverns; and they had remained fierce foes of mankind ever since. Valdemar never expected to see one in a Dark Lord''s retinue.

    "The Institute does not discriminate between species," Liliane said, amused by Valdemar''s reaction. "We have a sentient swarm, and a dokkar."

    "You have dark elves?" Valdemar all but coughed. How could they convince one of those sadists to behave? "Don''t tell me you have derros too?"

    "Don''t be silly, Val, derros can''t use the Blood." Liliane giggled. "Can I call you Val? Valou? Valdy?"

    To his disquiet, Hermann started to smell Valdemar as if he were a piece of ham. "You smell strange," he rasped. "It''s... an odd smell."

    "Valdy, you said you would take a shower!" Lilianeined.

    "I did!" he protested.

    "It''s fine," Hermann replied, before inviting them inside his workshop. Though studio might have been a better term. The troglodyte''s home was asrge as his fellow Schr''s, butcked anything one would expect from a magician''sboratory, such as grimoires or potions. Hermann had traded his forge and shelves for a cab full of painting supplies andrge canvas, even using his walls as murals.

    However, the troglodyte favored a stranger style than Valdemar''s realistic one, transformingmon objects into abstract form. A portrait of an ashen-skinned woman had transformed into a collection of cubes and rectangles, while a representation of the hedge maze on the ground floor became a strange, but recognizable, amalgamation of geometric shapes. The murals represented strange symbols each written in a different color, with titles such as <em>''Morose Blue''</em> or <em>''Furious Red''</em> written underneath. When Valdemar blinked, the symbols shifted as if alive.

    The strangest painting, however, was a canvas so tall that it reached the ceiling. The surreal work represented an abyss of multiple colors, of yellow eyes, red veins, and blue chains surrounding a bright magenta rift at the picture''s center; this crack pulsated as if alive, growing and shrinking around a single ck spot like a beating heart.

    Valdemar frowned, as he sensed something watching him. He approached this eerie masterpiece, gazing in the magenta rift and the ck hole at its center. His eyes lost themselves in the ck pigment, trying to distinguish

    There.

    A painted figure sat on a throne of thorns at the center of the abyss, watching back. A hooded figure covered in green robes, with colored shrouds for eyes and swirling tentacles for a beard. It silently called to Valdemar like a me to a moth, telling him to fall into the void and join it inside this ck sun. Yet when the sorcerer touched the canvas, his fingers only brushed against lifeless pigments.

    "You''re seeing him too..." Hermann rasped, as Valdemar pulled back. "You have... good eyes."

    "Seeing him?" Liliane peeked into the ck hole. "I distinguish a form, but..."

    "This thing, it''s alive," Valdemar said, using his psychic senses to try and analyze the painting. He could tell that the troglodyte had woven spells into his workin all his paintings in factbut he received no feedback from the creature looking from inside the ghastly masterpiece. And yet, the necromancer was convinced that this... this entity was watching them. "This is no ordinary painting."

    "No... it is not," Hermann confirmed. "I am a pictomancer. I weave my spells... with pigments. Some pictomancers can create... pocket dimensions. Small... private worlds."

    Valdemar instantly caught on. "And if powerful pictomancers can create artificial worlds, then maybe they can create pathways through space. You''re trying to open a door, but a door to where?"

    The summoner cleared his throat, a chill going down his spine as he nced at the ck hole. "To what?"

    Though his reptilian expression didn''t change, Hermann''s fingers fidgeted and his tail stopped moving. It reminded Valdemar of a prey animal freezing in ce, as if preparing to run any moment. Even Liliane bit her lower lip, clearly knowing something, but refusing to borate.

    "It''s something fishy, isn''t it?" Valdemar surmised.

    "Of course not," a voice whispered into his ear. "There is nothing fishy inside my fortress."

    Valdemar froze as a chilling cold invaded the studio, and a Dark Lord''s shadow rose behind him. Liliane''s face lost all colors, while Hermann quickly lowered his head to avoid his newest visitor''s gaze.

    <em>How does he do that? </em>Valdemar thought as he turned to face the smiling lich, unsettled by his sudden appearance. Did he teleport without a sound, or use invisibility? "Lord Och... when did you arrive?"

    "I was always here, young Valdemar. You only notice now because I wanted you to. Your psychic defenses have improved since ourst meeting, but they remain painfully easy to disable." The Dark Lord nced at the other Schrs. "The same goes for the both of you."

    "I''m... I''m sorry, Lord Och." Liliane bowed so low that Valdemar thought she might hit the ground with her forehead. "I-I didn''t expect it."

    "Few expect an attack or a trick, so you must always be on your guards. But I am d you youngsters have started to bond. I can see the beginning of a fruitful study group." Lord Och chuckled to himself, as ifughing at a joke only he couldprehend. "And to answer your question, Young Valdemar you may see things here that the Church of the Light would find questionable. Heretical even. But you will not care. What happens between my walls stays there."

    The lich looked at Valdemar, his eyes briefly glowing blue for an instant.

    "Do you <em>understand</em>?" the ancient undead asked, his words cold as ice and the threat as heavy as gravity.

    "Yes." Valdemar gulped, while Liliane held her breath. "Yes, Lord Och."

    "Good," Lord Och said with a jovial voice, his eyes returning to normal. "Here in Pleroma, no path to knowledge is forbidden so long as proper safety protocols are respected, and young Hermann is very mindful of them. Perhaps you could even help him. You both approach art so differently, I shudder to imagine what new idea will spring from your brushes."

    Hermann nodded slowly. "I will not say no to help... I am struggling with an obstacle."

    "Truly?" Liliane turned towards the reptilian researcher. "Anything I can help with?"

    "Maybe," the troglodyte replied before scratching the back of his head with a w. "I need to think..."

    "I will let you bounce ideas," Lord Och said, his gaze focusing on Valdemar alone. "Young man,e entertain an old undead on his morning stroll."

    The Dark Lord didn''t even wait for an answer as he walked out of Hermann''s studio. Valdemar exchanged a worried nce with his fellow schrs, before walking after the lich. The workshop''s door closed behind him on its own.

    Lord Och walked towards the entrance of Valdemar''s ownir, where they had a better view of the clock. "What do you see?" the lich asked as he stopped to look at the device.

    "A clock," Valdemar replied after some thoughtful consideration. "An imitation of derro technology."

    This must have been the wrong answer, because the lich shook his head with a look of sadness. "You cant see them yet."

    "Them?" Valdemar asked.

    "You felt it when you arrived, and you still do," Lord Och replied. "That sensation of being watched."

    Valdemar''s eyes widened. "There''s something invisible in this room," he guessed. "Something I can''t perceive, but who can see me."

    "Human brains do not perceive the true reality that surrounds us. Our eyes are blinded by the light and the darkness, unable to see behind the veil. Sometimes it is a blessing, for kindness is only found in lies; but a true sorcerer must aspire for the truth, no matter how horrifying." The Dark Lord adopted his favorite pose, putting his hands behind his back. "The point, young Valdemar, is that your psychic sight is powerful but limited. There are things right before your nose that you cannot perceive, and unless you learn to remove the veil covering your eyes, you will remain blind to the true nature of our world. And if you do not understand this world, how can you hope to reach another?"

    Wounded pride was a bad advisor, but Valdemar epted the challenge. "How does one acquire this true sight?"

    "Training and potions, for a start. You will have to make thetter yourself I''m afraid. Truth is not for the unfit."

    Valdemar made a note to research the subject, if only to improve his own summoning. If he couldn''t perceive invisible things right before him, it might impact his own research in the future. "May I ask you a question, Lord Och?"

    "Asking questions is a sign of intelligence."

    Valdemar took it as a yes. "I''ve been told that as a Schr, I must study under a Master and mentor. Can I pick my teacher, or will it be assigned to me?"

    "You can change mentors if you like," the lich replied, "but I wonder who caught your eye."

    Valdemar frowned. "Change mentors? Has one already been selected?"

    The lich''s eyes squinted in amusement, as if he were looking at a fool.

    No way... "Lord Och, what are you implying?"

    "I imply nothing," the ancient archmage said before ncing back at the clock. "I would not be so bold as to call myself a master, for there is always more to learn. But I have many things to teach you, if you desire my knowledge."

    Valdemar still couldn''t believe it. It had to be a joke or something. "But why me?" he asked. "Thousands of experienced sorcerers would murder their own family to serve you."

    "Why not?" Lord Och shrugged. "Truth be told, I have high expectations for what we may achieve together, young Valdemar. I will have to kill you if you fail to meet them, but hopefully, it should prove a temporary punishment in your case."

    Valdemar didn''t miss the ominous way he said<em> ''hopefully.''</em> "Does it have something to do with whatever force slumbers in your basement?"

    "A sharp insight," the lich replied. "And a correct guess."

    "Did you bind a Nahemoth?" Valdemar asked. Nahemoths were the most powerful of the Qlippoths, demigods so powerful that their presence warped reality itself. Each attempt at summoning one ended in disaster, but Lord Och could have done it. Since Valdemar had a certain talent for binding these creatures, it would make sense that the lich would use him for such a purpose.

    "Who tells you the source of this disturbance is a living being?" Lord Och''s smile turned almost predatory. "I will reveal to you what my fortress is sleeping on in due time, when you are ready. It may even prove the solution to your quest. But first, you must get stronger and develop the True Sight. Only then will I show you my little secret."

    Valdemar wasn''t blind to the maniption attempt at work. The Dark Lord dangled the promise of supernatural insight and the answer to an intriguing mystery, but only if the younger sorcerer would follow the pathid before him. The necromancer still had some reservations at serving under such a ruthless being, especially since his ''entrance exam'' had consisted of battles to the death with warbeasts. An apprenticeship under Lord Och would prove even deadlier.

    But for all his ruthlessness and cruelty, Lord Och was the most powerful mage Valdemar had ever met; one that terrified the inquisitors themselves into obedience. The lich was older than the empire, and learning from his boundless knowledge would help Valdemar achieve his goal.

    In the end, one did not say <em>no </em>to a Dark Lord.

    "So how do we do this..." Valdemar cleared his throat. "Apprenticeship?"

    Behind Lord Och''s smile, there were fangs.

    "I am a very busy undead, <em>apprentice</em>," the undead said while stressing thest word, "and so I will only spare you one day at the beginning of each week. Otherwise, I expect you to learn and experiment on your own. This fortress is full of experts in all fields of magic. Learn from them, even if this seems a waste of time. Innovationes to the open-minded, and inspiration often takes circuitous turns. What did you intend to work on this week?"

    "Repair my ecto-catcher, and repeat the experiment thatnded me in jail." But this time, sessfully.

    "Good," Lord Och replied with a pleased tone. "You are free to continue with your experiment, but you will also assist young Hermann in his ambition. Our scaled friend has engaged in a quest that some would find a source of concern, but I foresee you will both learn a great deal from it. The humble art of pictomancy might appear unusual to you, even useless, but it will help you on your journey."

    <em>Could I paint a portal to Earth? </em>Valdemar wondered. What did it even look like? He had his grandfather''s notes to fall back on, but they were second-hand ounts. The summoner had a picture of Earth in his mind, but he wasn''t certain that it fit reality.

    Lord Och immediatelyid down the homework. "In parallel, you will refine your senses and strengthen your body. You heal quickly, young Valdemar, but you are alive and thus limited by your flesh; the healthier you are, the stronger you will be in the Blood. I will teach you refinement exercises so you may purify your body from the waste that obstructs your full potential, and you shall feed on potions to enhance your senses. I will give you the names, but you will have to research and make them on your own."

    "This way will be slower, but earned?" Valdemar surmised.

    The undead archmage nodded. "Apprentice?"

    Valdemar held his tongue.

    "All I offer is the truth," Lord Och said, his deep voice devoid of false yfulness. "But it is true what fools say. Ignorance is bliss, and the path we walk is not a happy one. Power, real power, demands <em>sacrifices</em>."

    "I understand."

    "No, you do not." The lich looked at the clock with a distant gaze. "But you will."

 Chapter 5: The Painted King

    Chapter 5: The Painted King

    The world was painted in crimson when Valdemar reached the Institutes ground floor.

    The Potion of Insight he had drunk was meant to prepare his body for a genuine Elixir of True Sight by enhancing his sensitivity to magic. Valdemar had read that the effects could get stronger with some people, but he hadnt expected <em>this</em>. He noticed vibrant crimson lines coursing through the Institutes walls and floor, like the veins of a living body. He suspected that these lines represented the wards set around the Dark Lords citadel and theplexwork of spells meant to protect it from intruders.

    Valdemar would have considered the ability to see them without focusing on his psychic sight a boon, if it wasnt so distracting. He suffered from headaches, and he found himself distracted whenever one of the illusory stone veins glowed with magical energy. It would take him days to get used to it.

    As he had suspected, most of the bloody leylines gathered into the ck Pir at the fortress center, but other areas showed a great concentration of these veins: the Cathedral of the Light; the water well; the Hall of Rituals where that sadist of a lich had made Valdemar fight multiple monsters in a row; and the greenhouse.

    Speaking of the Institutes greenhouse, Valdemar had to admit that it was the most well-stocked he had seen in his life. The smell of a hundred different nts reached his nose the moment he took a step past the ss doors, as miraculous herbs and subtle poisonous flowers both grew on trellises. Unique flowers infested isted alcoves illuminated by magical crystals, and Valdemar couldnt recognize half of them. Vines and squirming foliage grew on the ss walls, tended by golem gardeners. Valdemar even noticed a few farming plots allocated to crops and mushrooms.

    Come to think of it, the ce was much, muchrger on the inside than the outside. Valdemar wondered if the red lines were the cause. They probably fueled space-alteration spells to increase the interior size. He promised himself to learn more once he had finished his current projects.

    As she had told him yesterday, Liliane indeed managed the greenhouse on behalf of the Institute. Valdemar found her drying herbs on racks in the middle of the building in thepany of a handsome gentleman of her own age.

    Or was it a gentlewoman? Valdemar had to admit he struggled to identify the persons gender. Their face was graceful and androgynous, with long silver hair falling down on their shoulders and they had beautiful purple eyes. Valdemar immediately recognized the coloration as a weak illusion spell, the purple blurring to reveal green irises underneath.

    Valdy! Liliane greeted him with a smile, while the gentleperson examined the neer from head to toe. They dressed quite like a rogue, with a ck coat and travel cloak. Iren, Valdy.

    Hi, sweetheart, Iren said with a masculine, baritone voice. So youre the new one? I heard of you, but youre more dashing than I imagined.

    Uh, thanks, Valdemar replied, not sure how he should take thepliment. So youre the famous Iren. Liliane mentioned you.

    In a bad way, I hope, he replied with a chuckle. I do have a reputation to keep up. I prefer to be known as mad and dangerous to know. Its better for my line of business.

    Pff, right, Liliane rolled her eyes. Dont listen to him, Valdy. Hes adorable and hell get you anything.

    Valdemar started to regret allowing her to give him nicknames. Anything? the sorcerer asked with a raised eyebrow.

    Well, if youre asking for a dragons egg, Ill tell you to fetch it yourself, Iren replied. But otherwise, just tell me what you need and Ill see what I can do. You fancy something in particr?

    I came here to find some ingredients for a potion, Valdemar admitted. But if youre really that talented, Ill need rare mechanical pieces. Im also looking for Hermann, if you know where he is.

    Valdemar had tried to knock on the troglodytes workshop, only to be met with silence. Lord Och had all but ordered his new apprentice to help the reptilian schr on his secret project, and even though Valdemar would rather focus entirely on his work, he wasnt mad enough to disobey the lich.

    Youll find Hermann in the greenhouses back, Liliane said. He has been painting a tree for a while now. As for ingredients, youve knocked on the right door!

    Potion-making is more of dear Lilys expertise, Iren said with a raised eyebrow. As for your other request, Ill need more info on these pieces.

    Theyre Derro technology, Valdemar warned. Youll need to have contacts in the Midnight Market to get them.

    To his frustration, Valdemar faced some hurdles in trying to rebuild his ecto-catcher. A fewponents had been made with Derroan Steel, a special alloy created through a metalworking process that the Derros kept secret. Antean alchemists had tried and failed for years to reverse-engineer it. Valdemar had heard rumors that the production method needed specific crystals only found in a very specific location in Undend, but he could never confirm them.

    Not a problem, Iren replied, confirming Valdemars suspicions. Truthfully, the markets head honchos asked me to keep an eye on you. You and a few other clients ended up arrested, but youre the only one who got out. Its suspicious.

    Its my former supplier, Armand de Mantebois, who sold out everyone for a lighter sentence, Valdemar replied. My jailers said as much and Marianne will confirm it. I didnt betray the Markets secrets.

    Iren shrugged. I wont bother Miss Reynard, and I will take you at your word. Even if you were behind the leak, youre under a Dark Lords protection now and out of reach. As for Armand, the Market put a bounty on his head. Well find him.

    Midnight Market? Liliane asked,pletely sold. What are you talking about?

    The Midnight Market is a, shall we say, <em>secret association </em>of underground merchants, fencers, and smugglers specialized in distributing illegal goods, Valdemar exined. Especially forbidden Derro technology or foreign magical items. Sometimes youll find fenced goods too.

    What? Liliane choked, before ring at Iren. Dont tell me some of the ingredients you gave me were stolen?

    I dont ask my suppliers where they get their stuff, Iren replied with augh, causing Liliane to punch him in the arm. Besides, its not illegal if a Dark Lord does it. Lord Och and the Midnight Market have something of an agreement. They dont cause problems in his Domain and let me purchase stuff from them, and in exchange, he looks the other way.

    Valdemar had figured as much. His new lich teacher didnt seem particrly concerned about imperial regtions. How much would your service cost? he asked Iren.

    Since its your first time, Ill do it for free if the pieces arent too expensive, Iren replied while smiling. Next time well see. If youre up for it, you could also pay me with work. I have a bounty hunting business on the side, and I need tough guys who can keep their mouths shut.

    Im forbidden to leave the Institute for now, Valdemar replied, though he wouldnt have epted even if he could. Hunting people down for money didnt interest him. And Lord Och gave me enough work on top of my own research.

    Is it true then? Liliane asked with wide, sparkly eyes. That Lord Och took you as his apprentice?

    Valdemar blushed. Who told her that? It doesnt really matter.

    Are you kidding? Iren asked with a chuckle. Thest two people who survived his tutoring became Dark Lords in their own right.

    Valdemar squinted. Those who <em>survived</em>?

    Iren responded with a wink, while Liliane looked happy enough for the two of them. Hes pulling your leg, Valdy, she reassured him. I never heard of Lord Och killing any apprentice. In fact, I think he only took Lord Bethor and Lord Phaleg under his wing, no one else.

    Thats because he erases any information about those who disappointed him, Iren said mirthfully.

    Pff, youre just trying to frighten Valdy.

    Honestly, it wouldnt surprise me, Valdemar admitted. He still shuddered upon remembering his entrance exam. Lord Och is as ruthless as you would expect a Dark Lord to be.

    But no more than he has to, Liliane countered with optimism. Lord Och is just putting up a front so he doesnt look weak before the other Dark Lords, but hes not as bad as you think.

    Valdemar raised an eyebrow in skepticism. Do you try to think the best of everyone?

    Would you rather think the worst? Liliane replied with a kind smile.

    At least I wouldnt feel disappointed.

    And Iren agreed with him. Spoken like a wise man, the rogue praised him. Forgive Liliane, she arrived only a short while before you did and under the kindest mentor of the lot. Give her a few months and shell see the big lich upstairs doesnt have a single good bone in his body.

    He probably had a point. Liliane had only seen the smiling old man disguise so far, not the cruel lich underneath. Valdemar hoped that she would take the truth well enough.

    Anyway, that apprenticeship opportunity is amazing! Liliane said, trying to change the subject. Youre going to do great things, I just know it! Oh, and is that potion a secret project on behalf of the Dark Lord himself? You can tell me anything, you know that? Ill never tell anyone else.

    That didnt inspire confidence. Im just looking for dreamshade leaves, fleshroot powder, a bottle of elemental flux, and some night fruit for a potion, Valdemar replied. Nothing unusual.

    Lilianes joy turned to worry. Valdy, what potion are you making?

    An Elixir of True Sight.

    What? Liliane all but choked. Are you mad? Do you know how dangerous that stuff is?

    Isnt that the potion that drives half the spellcasters who drink it mad? Iren asked, recognizing the elixirs name.

    Because they didnt prepare properly, Valdemar replied, having done his research. One must first limate their brains to the higher truths of the world. I had to brew a Potion of Insight this morning to strengthen my mind, and Lord Och gave me multiple exercises.

    Well, to be precise, the lich had given his new protegee a scroll full of exercises and expected him to master them on his own. ording to the text, the essence of the Blood coursed through seven locks or chakras inside a humans body. Bodily wastes and emotional debris clogged them, greatly restricting a magicians full potential unless cleaned.

    Valdemar had heard of the theory, but it served as a fertile ground for all kinds of hogus-bogus magical enhancement rituals, frauds, or sometimes just as a front to promote questionable dietary regimes. Lord Ochs scroll, however, limited itself to breathing exercises and using the Blood to cycle magical energy through his body to eliminate the umted wastes. Nothing too hard, though Valdemar had to practice every day.

    I dont believe you about the potion part, Liliane said with a frown. If you had really taken that stuff, you would be sick in bed right now.

    Valdemar shrugged. Truthfully, he had expected something like this to happen. My body filters out that kind of stuff quicker than most. I cant even get drunk.

    A fair warning, pal," Iren said. "If you take that Elixir, dont drink it without supervision. I heard the first hours are harrowing. I know a guy who knew a guy who ended up walking through his window thinking it was a door to another world.

    Did he reach it? Valdemar asked, curious. The other world?

    If you consider the afterlife as another dimension, then yes he did.

    Liliane sighed. Youre really set on taking that potion, Valdy?

    I have to, Lord Och ordered it, the sorcerer replied. Besides, it will help improve my spellcasting.

    Fine, Ill give you the ingredients but you have to brew and drink the potion under my care. Im not letting you hurt yourself.

    Youll drink potions alone with a boy in his workshop? Iren raised an eyebrow in a way that Valdemar found obscene. Of course. Nothing suspicious about this, nothing at all.

    An annoyed Liliane tried to punch Iren in the forearm, but the rogue had good reflexes and dodged.

    Afterward, Valdemar gave Iren his shopping list, and the young man replied he woulde back next week with the pieces. The summoner would have preferred to get them earlier, but it wasnt like he could go buy the devices himself.

    He also took the opportunity to ask Liliane what she had asked Iren to fetch her, but as it turned out, they had been negotiating a deal before he arrived. The young alchemist would provide her roguish friend with potions, which he would sell to shops in exchange for a cut.

    Why do you need more funds? Valdemar asked Liliane. I know our monthly budget isnt all that high, but certainly your father can provide all the money you need.

    Dad says that I have to learn that money doesnt magically appear out of nowhere, Liliane answered with a sigh. He isnt going to trust me with the family fortune until I prove I can manage my own funds.

    Huh. Wise. Valdemar had heard many horror stories about children squandering their parents fortune when left to their own devices, and from what he had gathered, Count De Vane had no intention of dying anytime soon. Even if he did, he would probably have his soul transferred into an undead, go into quiet retirement, and keep a voice on hispanys board.

    His business with the two done, Valdemar bade them goodbye and went on a troglodyte hunt. As Liliane had told him, he found Hermann painting in an isted area of the greenhouse. The pictomancer had chosen a majestic nt as his model, a three-meters tall lifeform with armor made of strong ck bark, green leaves basking in a crystalmps light, and strong roots digging into the dirt.

    It was a tree.

    A true <em>tree</em>, not a giant mushroom.

    Its the first time Ive seen one, Valdemar admitted as he approached the troglodyte. Most trees had gone extinct when the sun vanished, as they needed light and heat to survive. The few that survived underground either grew in special forests fueled by luminescent crystals, or had been alchemically modified to thrive underground. What is it called?

    An oak, Hermann replied, still carrying a brush. Valdemar noticed that he had brought two canvases alongside his painter tools, the one he was working on, and a nk. The troglodyte used a pile of books as support to sit on. The species... is long extinct... but Master Amie recreated it with biomancy. Shes... working on birds now.

    I hope to see them with my own eyes. Valdemar nced at the troglodytes canvas, and to his surprise, Hermann had copied the tree in a realistic style rather than in the strange geometric one he used in his workshop. The summoner also noticed traces of Blood magic in the pigments. You mixed some of your blood with the paint.

    Alongside the trees bark. Hermann pushed his paintbrush against a ck pigment. Look.

    As swiftly as a serpent striking its prey, the troglodyte shed his own painting, targeting the extremity of a branch. To Valdemars surprise, one of the oaks branches fell on the ground.

    This is the simplest use of pictomancy, Hermann exined while Valdemar examined the fallen branch. The cut was clean, as if an impossibly sharp de had cut through the bark without resistance. By using my own blood and that of a target I capture the essence and shape of a living being to alter from afar.

    Its impressive, his fellow schr admitted. But any spellcaster could have achieved a simr result with a telekinesis spell.

    Yes... but you would have needed to be close. Once a painting perfectly captures a creatures essence distance bes an illusion. I could cut that tree from the other side of the world.

    Valdemar admitted that it changed everything indeed. The Blood worked by establishing a sympathetic connection between multiple creatures, allowing one to influence the other; even spatial magic or item-rted spells usually worked by mixing blood and souls with inanimate objects or patches ofnd. Valdemar suspected that Lord Ochs teleportation spell used the crimson ley lines across his fortress as a way to travel between two points, the same way two Earthmouths worked to create a gate.

    But the greater the distance separating a sorcerer from the target, the weaker the magic. That was why summoning was an extremely difficult art. Creating a bond with an entity from another world needed a lot of magical support to work, from specific geometric arrays to intimate knowledge of the target. And even then, it was only possible because most summoned entities used the sorcerers magical energies to create a temporary body.

    If pictomancy worked by using a painting as an intermediary to bypass the physical distance, then a pictomancer could hit a target with a spells full power from any ce. Though considering it wasnt more well-known as an assassination method, Valdemar guessed that pictomancy had to face severe limitations. The portrait probably needed to be a nearly perfect representation of the target, and couldnt bypass their magical defenses.

    Hermann gave his brush to Valdemar, who shed another branch of the painting. This time the real tree didnt suffer any damage. I see, the summoner said. The spell only works with the pictomancer who mixed their blood with the pigments. Do you also need the targets blood for the painting?

    No but it makes it considerably easier. Pictomancy can do many other things capture a soul imprison a spirit create a pocket dimension influence a person from afar and even imbue an image with the gift of life. Hermann coughed and cleared his throat. Sorry.

    You struggle with ournguage?

    Yes, Hermann admitted. We troglodytes use... smell and visual information... tomunicate. Our vocal cords are underdeveloped, and... Im still learning yournguage. I know the correct sound, but my mind struggles to to associate it with letters.

    If troglodytes used visual cues to talk, it probably exined his affinity for pictomancy. We could use signnguage, if you prefer, Valdemar said. I learned the basics.

    Its alright I need to master speech. Hermann massaged his throat for a few seconds before speaking up again. Lord Och sent you to me.

    Yes, about that Valdemar scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. Im sure youre researching something very interesting, but Im working on something highlyplex and time-consuming. No offense, but I would rather focus on my own project.

    I heard of it. You are trying to to prove the existence of another world called Earth. Your grandfather came from it.

    Clearly, word of Valdemars activities had spread. He wondered if Lord Och or the Knights of the Tome were to me. I suppose you think its a fools errand too? the summoner guessed. And that I should move on to another project?

    But to his surprise, the troglodyte shook his head. Im actually on a simr quest.

    Oh? That caught Valdemars attention. How simr? he asked, before connecting the dots. Does it have anything to do with with that <em>thing </em>inside your painting?

    After seeing it, the necromancer couldnt chase that strange, hooded figures picture out of his mind. The image had imprinted into his brain, and he could vividly remember each detail. The strange, alien colors beneath the hood, the swirling tentacles...

    The image had been <em>alive</em>. Valdemar was certain of it.

    Yes and it may concern you. Hermann rose from his seat of books, before handing one of them to Valdemar. Look

    On the surface, the book appeared to be a standard painting portfolio, a catalog of art pieces reproducing the originals. Except Valdemar had never seen any of them, and they all shared something inmon.

    At first nce, the pictures varied in style and subject. Some followed the <em>Danse Macabre</em> artistic style which had been the craze during the early days of necromancy, showing representations of Death attending undead parties or being repelled by powerful magicians. Others were highly detailed representations of castle gates or of streets with the houses doors opened. Another showed the famous assassination of Surtr Niflson, the dark elf general who had nearly enved all of mankind during the early days of the descent, in an allegorical style.

    So many different works of art, but <em>it </em>appeared on each of them.

    Sometimes, the hooded figure hid so well that Valdemar needed a few minutes of observation to notice it. In one case, the mysterious creature appeared among a banquets guests lost in a crowd. In another, it appeared on the threshold of a house, but when Valdemar looked into the open door, he only saw the faintest glimpse of and of sand with a pitch-ck sun. Whether it discreetly peeked through a crack in a castles wall or openly standing at the forefront of a picture, it was <em>always </em>lurking somewhere...<em></em>watching the onlooker.

    As Valdemar finished examining the portfolio, Hermann gave him another book called <em>Tales of the Strangers </em>and opened a specific chapter. Less of a research paper and more of apendium of stories, the book mentioned a list of cases where this strange creature had manifested.

    One tale spoke of the famous artist Arnold Vitruscus, one of Valdemars personal heroes, and of his secret collection of paintings which the inquisitors burnt to cinders rather than release to the public. Another included a secret, anonymous interview of an artist speaking at great lengths about her hooded muse and how much it meant to her. The ghastliest story detailed the case of a madman ying fourteen people to use their blood for his magnum opus, a macabre fresco where a hooded figure took center stage. The artist applied the finishing touch with his own life.

    Ancient schrs called him the Silent King, Hermann exined. It appears in finished paintings or frescos inspiring artists with visions of and with a ck sun. I suspect that ites from another ne of existence and it cannot properly manifest in ours.

    Its a Stranger, Valdemar guessed as he kept reading, ill-at-ease.

    All entities that exist outside the Church of the Lights worldview are considered Strangers. They are not a unified group. The Coiled Ones which my kind worship have nothing to do with the Mother of All or the Nightwalker but the Church calls them all Strangers because it cannot exin them.

    <em>At least this one doesnt seem to eat souls for breakfast,</em> Valdemar thought. But still, these eldritch creatures were not to be trifled with. There were dozens of tales about this Silent King, some sinister ounts of murder and suicide, others puzzling stories of unexined urrences or the secret life of famous artists.

    Does Lord Och know what youre dealing with? Valdemar asked.

    Lord Och sees value in my research.

    Thats interesting, Valdemar admitted. But I dont see what it has to do with me.

    Keep reading.

    Valdemar followed the advice, and read until he reached a very unusual tale.

    On a first reading, the story sounded rtively normal by the books standards. A mental asylum patient in the Domain of Sas had drawn a fresco on his cells wall with his blood, one where the Silent King appeared.

    But when Valdemar saw a copy of the fresco in question, he almost choked.

    The drawing represented a strange circle, with a metallic structure simr to an arrow pointing at a clouded sky within. The Silent King showed up at the bottom, right above a short sentence which Valdemar assumed was the works title: <em>La Dame de Fer.</em>

    I investigated all of these cases to the best of my ability, Hermann said. This man was found... in 451 After Empire forty-five years ago in the tunnels near the Domain of Sabaoth.

    The same year of his grandfathers arrival.

    <em>He wasnt alone, </em>Valdemar realized, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. <em>He wasnt alone.</em>

    He didnt know whether to feel relieved, or scared.

    Nobody could understand him and he turned violent, Hermann exined. The authorities couldnt identify him or any rtives couldnt understand his gibberish.

    So they mistook him for yet another mad vagrant and shipped him to the first asylum that would ept him. In fact, that man had probably been simply disoriented and unable to speak the localnguage. Is he alive? Hermann, if this man is still alive, then he can prove Earth exists!

    Unfortunately Hermann shook his head, to Valdemars horror. Asylums when nobody can pay for a patient that they cannot cure

    They often make them avable for biomancers and spellcasters as guinea pigs, Valdemar shuddered in horror, but he refused to let that chance go. Maybe we can still track the corpse! If theres anything left, we can gather information from it!

    I could not find where it went. Some mage bought the corpse anonymously. The paper trail it goes cold.

    Valdemar let out a groan of frustration. He had found his first lead in years, <em>decades</em>, and it led nowhere.

    Hermann nced at the frescos picture, and at the words at the bottom. They could never decipher the text. Thought it meant nothing. I agreed with them until Lord Och approached me with a with a book in anguage he didnt didnt understand.

    My grandfathers journal, Valdemar guessed, squinting. Normally he would have been mad at Lord Och for showing his journal to everyone, but not this time. You saw the illustrations, and connected the dots.

    Yes I recognized the picture and the words but not what they meant. Do you understand them?

    I learned thenguage, Valdemar admitted. The French tongue. It reads <em>La Dame de Fer</em>, or the irondy. Its a nickname for a building called the Eiffel Tower.

    Hermann had gonepletely silent, and Valdemar knew he had the troglodytes full attention. Finally, an intellectual who took him seriously!

    My grandfather spoke of this tower, Valdemar exined. He said it ruined thendscape of his hometown, but he missed the sight.

    Hermann nodded to himself, taking his words at face value. Valdemar found the experience incredibly rewarding. And and he might have finally found a clue about how his grandfather ended up in Undend! He could finally prove his grandsires story as the truth, the absolute truth!

    You think there is a connection between my tale and this Silent King, Valdemar guessed.

    Hermann scratched the back of his left horn, removing an insect that managed to climb its way there. I have tried to to study the Silent Kings pattern. Saying that out loud would have caught the deadly attention of inquisitors in any other ce, but clearly, the Institute wasxer about these things. Do you know... the primary colors?

    Weird change of subject. Red, yellow and blue?

    They were the best basic colors for painting pigments.

    Yes... Hermann replied, before nonchntly swallowing the bug with a swipe of his forked tongue. Valdemar did his best not to show his disgust. I tried with cyan, magenta, and yellow too

    Was that the reason for your strange art style and color choice in your workshop? his fellow schr asked. You wanted to check if specific associations of colors or forms would make the Silent King appear?

    The troglodyte nodded. But it doesnt change anything. I have narrowed down the rules. The Silent King only appears in paintings or drawings... that include thresholds... doors... rifts... murder or death and only those that include blood among the pigments. It is why it has a bad reputation with the Church.

    Or maybe it considers death as a door, Valdemar pointed out. So all paintings include a door or pathway of some kind.

    I reached the same conclusion, Hermann replied with a nod. The paintings all represent doors. Except this fresco. Or so I thought.

    At first nce, it didnt make sense indeed. The Eiffel Tower appeared inside a circle, not a window or a gate. Unless...

    That man was drawing a portal, Valdemar guessed, his fingers shuddering with excitement. A gate to Earth, the one he used to get to Undend. And since the Silent King only appears in pictures with a threshold inside, it means it can detect them.

    This entity might know the portals location, or at least have information on it.

    This could change <em>everything</em>.

    I believe that the Silent Kings visits and visions are instructions for a ritual, Hermann exined. Showing the way to to its realm. The blood is the key.

    Youre trying to use pictomancy to create a portal between worlds, Valdemar guessed, amazed by his audacity. A pathway between the Empire of Ant and this Silent Kings realm.

    A Painted Door between worlds.

    No wonder Lord Och supported the project, and thought Valdemar would do the same. If Hermann was correct, and that a painting could work as an interdimensional portal and if the Silent King could detect conceptual thresholds maybe it could show the way to whatever portal to Earth this madman had seen. Maybe even create one.

    This might have been the same phenomenon that summoned his grandfather to Undend.

    Okay. Valdemar gathered his breath. Okay, I see how our goals align.

    Hermann nodded. I thought we that we could learn from each other. Cooperate to to create a portal.

    dly, Valdemar replied. Do you have any experience with summoning? If youre trying to contact an entity from outside our reality, youll need it.

    I I struggle, the reptilian painter admitted. I can make the Silent King appear reliably but I couldnt create a true gateway so far. Pictomancy alone may not be enough to create the portal.

    Maybe we couldbine your pictomancy with my summoning expertise. However, Valdemar could see the danger inherent to this n. I hope you realize that if we create a door between our worlds and his, it might gain the ability to transfer to ours. What if he is dangerous, or inly malevolent?

    What if it is misunderstood? Hermann countered. What if it is only trying tomunicate but struggles with our minds?

    It drove some painters mad.

    Not all for one bad case, there are ten where nothing went wrong. Hermann coughed, and Valdemar had to wait a few seconds for the troglodyte to recover his breath. That the Silent King is dangerous is a possibility. But we cannot let unproved fear stop us we cannot understand the secrets of the world by running away from them.

    A line of thoughts Valdemar agreed with. And truthfully, the possibility of finally proving Earths existence made taking the risk all the more worthwhile. If this creature follows specificws, it means it can be studied, countered, and maybe evenmunicated with. The fact that we <em>dont </em>understand it now, doesnt mean that we <em>cant</em>.

    Yes it is frightening because of the unknown. If we know and understand we wont be afraid anymore.

    Alright, Im in, the summoner said. I will still focus on my ecto-catcher first and foremost, but Ill help you as much as I can. However, if we progress far enough to create a functioning portal, we will only finish this Painted Door with Lord Ochs assent and presence.

    However powerful this Silent King might be, a Dark Lord would be more than enough to deal with it.

    Agreed, Hermann said. There is another thing to consider. A portrait worthy of a godlike being... needs rare and potent pigments. The three primary colors at least.

    Well, our blood is red and will be needed for the painting anyway, Valdemar pointed out. That leaves only the blue and yellow pigments. I think I could help with it, but I need to learn more about how pictomancy works first.

    Yes, yes of course. I will teach you my art and you will teach me yours. The troglodytes tail wavered, and Hermanns facial expression turned into what could pass for a reptilian smile. I am I am d that we met. My project many wouldnt understand.

    Many dont understand mine either, Valdemar admitted, having found a kindred spirit in the troglodyte. l do wonder why youre going down this path though. I mean, I have a very strong personal reason to prove Earths existence, but why do you seek to contact this Silent King so much?

    Hermanns smile faltered, and he became as still as a statue. Its not not about me. Its for my people. I...

    You dont need to say it if you dont want to, Valdemar replied, sensing his unease. Ill respect your privacy.

    Alright Hermann didnt hide his relief. His fellow schr could tell that whatever pushed him on, it was something eminently personal. Thank you.

    I have onest question. An idea had crossed Valdemars mind. You mentioned that you could use pictomancy to capture a soul?

    Yes what of it?

    Valdemar thought of the day of his arrest, and of his grandfathers ectosm struggling to manifest before dissipating into the ether. Does it work with ghosts too?

 Chapter 6: Old Shames

    Chapter 6: Old Shames

    In Marianne''s opinion, the cities of Ariouth were all the same: old, dusty, and overflowing with wealth.

    Also known as the red desert, the Domain of Ariouth was one of the most inhospitable caverns that mankind colonized over the centuries. Its high temperature, second only to the volcanoes of Sabaoth, made it difficult for vegetation to thrive; even though Marianne used magic to strengthen her body, her throat felt dry and thirsty. Thendscape wasn''t much better, with rocky hills and gulches bordering a vast desert of red sand. Only the undead could thrive in this hostile realm.

    The Dark Lord of Ariouth, Phaleg, was the empires greatest summoner and wouldn''t let a hostile climate get in the way of his ambitions. The summoner had called upon hordes of extranar servants to improve his realm, using earth elementals to dig water wells, air elementals to make the atmosphere more bearable, and used fire elementals to illuminate theyer. Hundreds of these burning creatures seethed inside magical cages attached to the cavern''s ceiling.

    Though poor in food and water, Ariouth was rich in metals and mineral resources. Hordes of undead workers toiled in its mines and quarry, fueling the empire''s economy and Lord Phaleg''s coffers. His capital city of Bmon was proof enough of his wealth. Most of the buildings were made of purple porphyry, with maze-like marble streets and obsidian walls. None of its spires and towers could rival their of the Dark Lord, a gargantuan statue of a faceless sphinx. Made of golden stone stronger than steel, the structure rivaled the Pleroma Institute in size and age. An ancient civilization had raised this monument long before men built a city around it, and some said that Lord Phaleg spent all his time trying to unlock its secret chambers.

    But Marianne wasn''t here to visit the sphinx. Her investigation had led her all the way to the local cathedral of the Light, and to an audience with its head inquisitor.

    Originally, she thought she would receive answers from the Knights of the Road. This knightly order had coordinated the Verney purge, but their master Phaleg had been the former apprentice and now bitter rival of Lord Och. Few people knew what happened between them, and Marianne wasn''t one of them. Thest time the Dark Lords directly shed eight decades ago, the resulting civil war nearly annihted the empire. Even today, only the threat of external enemies like the Derro Kingdom or incursions by surface monsters kept them loosely united.

    Marianne had expected that the Knights of the Road wouldnt care about her being an envoy of Lord Och, especially since she consulted them on a case they solved many years ago.

    She had been wrong.

    The Knights of the Road had weed her with gruffness on her first day, and asked her toe back tomorrow if she wanted an audience with theirmanders. She obeyed, only to be told that the people involved in the Verney case were still unavable and that she shoulde back the next day. After wasting half a week, Marianne wised up and looked elsewhere for answers.

    Thankfully, not all knightly orders answered to the bickering Dark Lords. The Knights of the Light were the churchs inquisitors, and as such followed the lesiastic hierarchy. It had taken a while, but Marianne eventually found someone involved in the Verney purge and willing to talk to her.

    Priests in white garb led her through the cathedrals majestic halls and fiery altar to a more discreet sanctuary deep in the basement, where Inquisitor Penhew awaited her. Marianne had to go through three security checkpoints before reaching her hosts office, and noticed plenty of protective and rm wards. Though they didnt hold a candle to the Institutes defenses, no thief could raid these halls undetected.

    Inquisitor Penhew had been transformed into an undead many years ago, and only bones remained beneath his colorful te armor. He was signing parchments behind his desk when Marianne entered his office, a yellow glow shining from within his empty skull.

    Wee, Lady Reynard, the undead inquisitor said with a ghostly voice, though his jaw didnt move. He invited her to sit on a chair before him. Please give me a moment to finish, and Im all yours.

    Marianne politely followed his suggestion, and took a moment to observe the trove of parchment scrolls and holy texts on the shelves. She was slightly worried by the number of candles in the room so close to the books, but priests of the Light didnt fear the mes.

    Many gruesome items decorated the room. The dry and mummified hand of a troglodyte; an eerie golden goblet shaped like a skull; a ck cube covered in eldritch symbols; a broken mirror made of purple ss; an allegorical illustration of the cursed Whitemoon, the ghoulish rogue moon that obscured the sun in ancient times. The two craters on its surface seemed to gaze at Marianne like soulless eyes, making her look away.

    The inquisitor even had a picture of a dissected monster from the world above. The alien creature looked superficially like a worm, with three eyes on each side of its elongated skull. Powerful mandibles protruded from its mouth, the drawing revealing them asrval forms of the adult creature forming a perverse symbiosis with their parent. The dissection revealed the monsters organs, from its elongated brain to a maze-like circtory system.

    Our orders words are <em>We light the way,</em> the inquisitor said as he put down his pen and focused on his guest. How can I illuminate yours, Lady Reynard? I can see questions forming in your mind.

    Indeed. Almost all the items on disy were magical in nature, though their power was suppressed. Marianne sensed secret wards in the rooms walls, lessening her own power as well. If I may ask, do these items

    They belonged to cults, the undead confirmed. It is customary for our church to destroy everything rted to the Strangers when we wipe them out. Dangerous ideas kill more than swords, and knowledge of the Strangers alone is often enough to give them a foothold in our world. However, we always keep some artifacts and information behind, in case we face a simr cult in the future.

    Marianne wondered if one of these artifacts had belonged to the Verney family. Why are you allowed to keep these artifacts? she asked. I thought prolonged exposure to some Stranger artifacts was dangerous.

    As an undead, I am naturally resistant to mind magic; I am not tempted by the earthly pleasures or promises of immortality that the Strangers usually use to attract converts; and I have handlers to keep check on my sanity. Finally, our security systems will destroy this room and most of the floor if any of these items leave the room. You are actually fortunate to see this room.

    Marianne couldnt help but blush. Thank you for the honor.

    It wasnt meant to be one, the inquisitor replied coldly. I wanted to show you why you should execute the cultist you allowed into your Institute.

    Marianne bristled at his words. As she had worried, she hadnt been invited to an interview out of altruism. You are speaking of Valdemar Verney?

    I rmended that the Knights of the Chain execute him when he was caught, but Lord Och vetoed it. Sparing him is a mistake.

    Are you questioning the Dark Lords judgment, inquisitor? Marianne regained herposure. Valdemar Verneys crimes werepletely unrted to the Strangers.

    That you know of.

    Where Ie from, we do not execute people without proof, Marianne replied defiantly. If you have any, bring them to me.

    Penhew joined his armored fingers together. Citizens have a wrong vision of our inquisition, Lady Reynard. Over the course of my century-long career, my order prosecuted over one hundred thousand people for cultist activities. We only ordered the execution of five thousand of these criminals. Five percent. The rest we usually let go with warnings, fines, or after a short jail time. Do you know why? Because neen cultists out of twenty are rtively harmless.

    Marianne couldnt help but raise an eyebrow in skepticism.

    I said <em>rtively</em>, the inquisitor rified his words, as most cultists dont understand what theyre dealing with. Jaded bourgeois invoke the name of the Mother of All to spice up one of their private orgies. The young rebel against their parents by professing obedience to another deity than the Light. A local congregation is led astray by a charismatic con-man saying that the Nightwalker will lead them to a hidden paradise on the surface. Most of these people we let go with a fine, a short stay in jail, or a memory alteration spell, because theyre harmless.

    And the one cultist out of twenty?

    Theyre the madmen and the monsters. Penhew pointed a bony finger at the drawing of an alien monster. A group of them assaulted one of the gates to the surface to let that thinge through. They believed that it was a messenger of the Nightwalker, and that those it devoured would be reborn as its brood. In their mind, feeding innocents to an alien beast was kindness.

    Then he nced at the various items, exining what each of them did. The hand belonged to an undead troglodyte shaman-priest, whose revival ritual involved the ritual murder of five innocent men and women. The cube in the corner? It actually holds a pocket dimension full of monsters, and thest owner used it as a convenient way to dispose of business rivals. The mirror, at its full power, could enve the mind of anyone

    Though it was impolite, Marianne interrupted the inquisitors spiel. Nobody denies the work that the Church does in keeping people safe.

    Truly? The inquisitors bones rattled. If you did, Lady Reynard, you would have killed the Verneys brood when you had the chance. When we hesitate about these things, people die.

    All I ask for is an objective ount of the Verney purge, Marianne insisted, at her wits end. I do not have the power to y Valdemar Verney. My master alone holds that right. I shall make a report to him in due time, but for now, I am not asking for your <em>opinion</em>. I am asking for the <em>truth</em>. If you will not give it, we can end this meeting here and now.

    Her harsh tone silenced the knight. He didnt say a word nor move a finger. Instead he looked at her with his burning eyes, as if he could peer into her soul.

    When he didnt advocate for Valdemars execution again, Marianne took it as a sign to go on.

    "You were not my first pick as a contact," she admitted. "I looked for all the inquisitors involved in the Verney purge. Imagine my surprise when I learned a fourth of them had eithermitted suicide or asked for a discharge within five years of the operation.

    Many of them asked to have their memories of the incident erased, Inquisitor Penhew confirmed with a nod. I cant me them. The reason I didnt follow their example was that someone had to remember what the Verneys did. And what they can still do.

    Of course he hadnt given up. Valdemar was a child when his family was purged, Marianne countered. Whatever his sire and grandsire did, he took no part in it.

    The inquisitor nced at the Whitemoons illustration, his gaze hollow and distant. "Lady Reynard, do you believe in evil?"

    "What do you mean?"

    "Do you believe in <em>evil</em>?" he repeated, putting particr emphasis on thest word. "Not subjective evil, but true, objective <em><strong>evil</strong></em>. A malice born from the annihtion of everything good in a human being. An abyss of pure darkness so foul, that after gazing into it once, you will see it each time you close your eyes?"

    Marianne considered her answer for a moment. Was that a philosophical question? Or was he leading up to something else? The Church of the Light believed that the sun would return once all living beings in Undend lived a just life free of sin. Redemption was an integral part of their credo. All souls could be purified, either in life or death.

    "No, I don''t," Marianne replied. Evil was but a word, and entirely subjective.

    "Then be thankful for your ignorance, because that was what the Verneys were. Pure evil. Especially Baron Aleksander Verney, may his soul rot forever. Inquisitor Penhew raised a hand to grab a scroll off from the nearest shelf, right below the golden cup Marianne had noticed earlier. Look into his eyes, and tell me what you see.

    As it turned out, the scroll contained the official, illustrated genealogical tree of the Verney family. Though Valdemar and his mother werent on it, his father Isaac, his aunt Lavina, and his paternal grandfather Aleksander all received a picture. Lavina was almost a carbon copy of the portrait of Valdemars mother Sarah, with a leaner face and amber eyes; and though Isaac Verney was more handsome than his son and with dark hair, he shared his sons gaze.

    In truth, Valdemar looked more like his paternal grandfather Aleksander. The man must have been in his seventies when the church made the illustration, with a gaunt, wrinkled face and red-rimmed, pale grey eyes. He dressed all in red in the picture, and gazed back at Marianne with frightening intensity. The face reeked of aristocratic arrogance, but Marianne could perceive something else inside the eyes.

    A sense of purpose, she said. This man had believed in something greater than himself, with unshakable faith.

    A dark one, Penhew said before taking back the scroll. I have been dead for decades, and I still shudder remembering this madman and that cursed rat familiar that always followed him... that beasts face almost looked like that of a man, and his paws were like hands. I wish we could have finished the job back then, and extinguished the family line."

    Why didnt you then? Marianne asked harshly after losing patience. The idea of persecuting someone for his sires crime, however odious they might have been, didnt sit well with her. From what I gathered, you were especially thorough in stamping out the Verney family. Why didnt you kill Valdemar yourself, instead of trying to convince others to do it?

    The inquisitor let out a cavernous sound, which she took for the undead equivalent of a sigh. The Knight-Commander of the time explicitly forbade us from prosecuting Sarah Dumont, her father Pierre Dumont, and her son Valdemar.

    Mariannes head perked up in interest. Pierre Dumont was Valdemars grandfather, and the supposed visitor from Earth. Why is that?

    Its a long story.

    I have time.

    The inquisitor put the scroll back in its ce before focusing on his guest. Where do we start then?

    How about the Knights of the Road? Maybe he would give her the answers she couldnt get from them. From what I understood, they coordinated the purge.

    Yes and no, the inquisitor replied. A purge was far from everyones mind at first. At first, the Knights of the Road were simply investigating the disappearance of a young woman. I think her name was Mona, or something. Pretty standard procedure for them.

    Each knightly order had a specific focus. The Knights of the Road specialized in finding people. Kidnapped individuals, escaped convicts, enemies of the state on the run, bounties, the victims of disappearances... all of these targets fell under the order''s purview. They were by far the best investigators in the realm, and usually mobilized when local militias faced trouble far over their head.

    The local authorities couldnt find her? Marianne asked.

    No. There were no clues, no motive for the kidnapping. She was some no-name apprentice nurse in Sas. In fact, Im sure the Knights of the Road only paid attention because they had been investigating the asylum where she worked for another reason entirely. They used magic to follow a trail to the vige of Vernburg, in the Domain of Horaios.

    Vernburg was the Verneys seat of power, Marianne remembered. Their castle oversaw it.

    It still does. The ruins we left at least. The vige was never resettled after we torched it.

    Marianne did her best not to show her unease. The t, bureaucratic tone he used made her wonder if the papers he had been signing were execution orders.

    In any case, the undead continued his tale, The Knights lead went cold, so they went to us and as it turned out, someone had already reported something simr to the local clergyman. This person imed to be part of a cult called the Followers of the Grail run by Aleksander Verney, and that they were the masterminds behind hundreds of disappearances over thest century.

    A shiver went down Marianne''s spine. "Hundreds?"

    "That we know of. The cult mostly targeted young women, especially freshly flowered maidens. The glow inside Penhews skull seemed to falter into nothingness for a moment, like light swallowed by darkness. The clergy had dismissed the informants ims at first, but when thetest victims description eerily matched that of Mona

    Why dismiss it? Marianne asked, horrified. A manes to you reporting hundreds of disappearances, and you did nothing?

    Havent you heard a word of what I said? The light in the inquisitors eyes burned brighter than before. Her remark had struck a nerve. We get hundreds of such reports, and usually they dont amount to much. Aleksander Verney appeared to be the image of respectability. We thought he was just being ndered, and since the Verney controlled the local militia in their territory, the cult mostly stuck to it and buried any investigation. We had nothing but one questionable witness.

    Or more likely, the inquisitors were eager to investigatemon people, but not Oldblood families. The privilege of birth excused many things, to Mariannes disgust. How was this Mona any different? she asked. Why pay attention to her rather than all the others?

    She was an anomaly, the inquisitor admitted, taken because she had been touched by otherworldly forces or some other bullshit. From what I understood, what happened to her was thest straw for our informant and he spilled everything."

    Marianne hesitated to continue asking questions, as she could tell that she would find the answers disgusting. But she had a job to do, and Lord Och wouldnt take her squeamishness for an excuse. "Why did the cult kidnap young women? To sacrifice them?"

    I shouldnt even tell you. We were asked to burn all the cults texts and prevent knowledge of their beliefs from spreading, in case it would inspire other madmen.

    So far, these people only inspire revulsion.

    Her answer seemed to have satisfied Penhew, for he gave the gory details. The Verney worshipped a Stranger who tasked them with the creation of a powerful artifact called the Red Grail. The cup would grant immortality to anyone who drank from it, and became the cults symbol."

    The undead inquisitor''s glowing eyes nced at the golden, ghoulish cup on his shelf. Only death can pay for life.

    It didnt take long for Marianne to put the two and two together.

    "It''s gilded bones. The noblewoman put a hand on her mouth, horrified. She had seen bone weapons and items before, but the <em>implications</em> if the cult had kidnapped hundreds of people over the years

    The inquisitor nodded slowly. "A beast slumbers in every human being, Lady Reynard, and some are <em>very much</em> in tune with their animal side. Ourws are harsh, and our punishments often appear unfair but they protect us.

    Marianne lowered her hand and gathered her breath. "How could how could they even reach such a sick conclusion?"

    "Through trial and error, he replied, still looking at the ghastly cup. We found early versions of these grails made from troglodyte, Dokkar, and even dragon bones. This particr cup was crafted more than eighty years ago from a human male. After decades of experiments, the cult eventually identified that human maidens were the best material for their Red Grail."

    Why would <em>anyone </em>do that? Marianne sneered in disgust. For immortality? Couldnt the Verneys already afford it?

    "The Verneysmitted these atrocities for the same reason so many good people worship the Light," the undead inquisitor said with a hint of bitterness. "They believed that their vile god would reward their faith by granting them entrance to some promisednd full of sunlight. Gaining immortality from the grail was only meant to be the first step to ess their deitys paradise."

    The empiresws were harsh, but never cruel. Criminals were put to work in life and death, but citizens had rights and were entitled to imperial protection. Even the people who became the Earthmouths were willing martyrs. Nobody forced them to undergo the transformation.

    Could desperation truly justify this cults atrocities? No. It had just been madness, and pointless cruelty. The Verneys had murdered so many innocents for a pipe dream.

    The inquisitor observed Marianne closely, waiting for her to recover herposure. Now, you understand why so many of my colleagues chose to die or forget, Lady Reynard. Its one thing to hear it and another to be there, finding the bones, seeing the horrors these madmen kept in their castles basement, witnessing the worst humanity has to offer. We are trained for it, and we even have oneiromancers to help us deal with our fears. But sometimes, even all of these measures aren''t enough. The Verney purge was the breaking point for many knights.

    She could almost taste the sorrow in his voice. It was one for you as well, Marianne guessed.

    I asked to be transformed into a skeletal knight after it, Penhew confirmed. My kind of undead is less susceptible to emotions, and we do not dream. We do not suffer from nightmares.

    Im sorry for you. This experience had clearly been the most harrowing of his existence. And sorrier for the victims.

    I wished we could have saved them, but we were toote, the inquisitor replied. "We coordinated with the Knights of the Road to raid Aleksanders castle and run an inquisition in Vernburg. Almost everyone in that cursed town was in on it, Mdy. <em>If </em>they weren''t part of the cult, they supported its activities. So we torched the whole ce, castle included, to make sure nobody was left to pick up where the Verney had left off.

    Except Valdemar, Marianne said. Why did yourmander decide to spare him and his mothers side of the family? Was it rted to the informant?

    "Probably, but I cannot confirm it. Our Knight-Commander took the secret with him to the grave. Penhew waited a moment, briefly hesitating to tell her something. But between us, I have a theory. Only a theory if you are interested in my opinion after all.

    Marianne encouraged him to speak up with a nod. You told me the truth. I guess I can listen to your advice.

    Good, he said, before confessing. Mona''s kidnapping was incredibly brazen, and I took it as a sign that the cult was getting desperate. Maybe their god had run out of patience with their failures, and the Verney only had a limited time to finish their artifact. I think that they were considering extreme measures."

    Marianne caught on. "You think that they considered sacrificing Sarah Dumont, even though she wasn''t a maiden."

    "She was almost part of the family, but not quite either. Anyone can kill an outsider, but your own daughter-inw? I think Baron Aleksander decided to sacrifice her as a show of faith to his god, and Isaac turned informant to save her. It would exin why we were asked to let her, her infant son, and her aging father go, even though they had to at least be aware of the cults activities. I cant confirm it, since I was never privy to our informants identity, but I trust my instinct."

    That... that would neatly exin everything. Only a high-member of the cult could have provided such detailed information about the disappearances. Isaac Verney made perfect sense as the informant.

    And yet Marianne felt something didnt add up with that story. She couldnt put her finger on why, but her intuition told her that the inquisitor had overlooked something important.

    "How did Aleksander Verney perish?" she asked.

    We burnt him at the stake, Penhew answered with relish.

    And his son Isaac?

    This time, the undead inquisitor avoided her gaze. "The rats, Mdy. The rats ate him."

    The rats? What what do you mean?

    "They The undeads armored fingers shook, and the light within his eye sockets dimmed. No, I... I''m sorry, Lady Reynard, but no, I..."

    <em>He was there when it happened,</em> Marianne thought. <em>He saw it, and it still terrifies him decadester.</em>

    I have already told you everything that matters. The inquisitor seemed to regain hisposure, but went into a rant right afterward. I did it so that you may understand who you are dealing with. I knew this Valdemar was up to no good the moment I heard of what he was trying to achieve. Reaching that other world full of sunlight he took the words right out of his familys book! The same madness possesses him!

    Marianne winced. The simrities were worrying indeed.

    If you let him live, he will repeat his familys crimes all over again, and they will be all on your conscience, the inquisitor said harshly. Lady Reynard, I beg of you. Return to Paraplex, hang that ckblooded bastard, and let the dead rest. For their sake, and yours."

    Marianne left the cathedral with just as many questions as answers.

    When she reunited with Bertrand, her retainer was busy preparing their carriage for the return trip. The giant beetle pulling it enjoyed a tasty meal made of dung and other substances Marianne couldnt identify, its antennae rising up in happiness.

    <em>At least one of us is happy here, </em>Marianne mused, as she petted the beasts back. Even Bertrand looked dismayed with the results of his own investigation.

    "I couldn''t find any birth certificate for Pierre Dumont, her vampire retainer admitted with a dejected look. Bertrand prided himself in his thoroughness. As far as the empire is concerned, he appeared out of nowhere."

    This was highly unusual. The imperial bureaucracy was slow, but extensive and efficient. Few thingspletely evaded its gaze, and never without the intervention of the Dark Lords or powerful figures.

    "So he dide from another world," Marianne said.

    "Or from a distant,wless corner of the empire, Mdy." Bertrand clearly didn''t believe in Valdemar''s story. "In any case, the first time Pierre Dumont appeared on any document was for the birth of his daughter, Sarah. Her mother was listed as a certain yne Marne, a verymon name. Toomon, I would say

    <em>A promisednd where the sun still shines, </em>Marianne thought while listening to her retainers report.<em> Pierre Dumont died pretending that he came from another world full of light What are the odds that his daughter would frequent a cult looking for one such paradise?</em>

    Marianne didnt believe in coincidences. She didnt think Valdemar was a cultist, but Penhew might have been partly correct in seeing a connection between his beliefs and his familys cult.

    yet I couldn''t find any marriage document involving Pierre Dumont, Bertrand continued. At first, I thought it likely that Sarah Dumont had been born out of wedlock, but considering that marriages are overseen by the Church of the Light, I am tempted to consider another possibility."

    Marianne quickly guessed the implications. "You suspect her birth certificate was forged."

    "It is not unlikely. The Verney family ruled their territory with an iron fist and had a rtively free reign in nominating local bureaucrats. But priests of the Light are chosen by the Church. Which was why the cult informant went to them. If Inquisitor Penhew had been truthful, then the Verneys had subverted everyone else in theirnds. Hence, while the cult could hide the girl''s true parentage, a false marriage document would have been quickly identified."

    "But what would be the point of such deception?"

    "I do not know," Bertrand admitted. Mdy asked me to consider all possibilities, and so I am.

    Marianne reviewed the elements of her case, and immediately identified the problem. Valdemars genealogical tree is full of suspicious holes, she stated out loud, trying to put her thoughts into words. Aleksander Verney, a vicious cult leader, made him a secret heir. And yet he, his mother, and grandfather were spared from the purge.

    Did the Verney believe Pierre Dumont''s tale ofing from another world, and did their best to keep it a secret? Did they believe his grandson was important to their cults goal?

    "The more I learn about these people, the fishier this all smells," Marianne said. And the more she felt that the Knights had overlooked something critically important during the Verney purge.

    What do we do then, Mdy? Bertrand asked. Do we return to Pleroma?

    No. The report to Lord Och would wait until Marianne had found something tangible. "We will look for more clues at the source.

    It was time to visit the lost Verneynds.

 Chapter 7: Invisible Eyes

    Chapter 7: Invisible Eyes

    The sound of bubbling liquids filled Valdemars room as he painted his grandfathers portrait on a canvas.

    The Elixir of True Sight boiled in a sk, releasing colorful magenta fumes. The smell reminded the necromancer of formaldehyde, and it mixed terribly with the odors of fresh paints around him.

    Hermann and Liliane shared Valdemars workshop, both of them reading books around his table. The former was utterly absorbed by his <em>Experts Guide to Magical Pigments</em> grimoire, while thetter asionally raised her eyes away from her alchemy manual to anxiously check on the potion. While Liliane had offered to prepare the Elixir of True Sight for him, he had insisted on doing it himself. He wanted to learn alchemy, not watch someone else do it in his stead.

    A week had passed since the summoner started working with Hermann. Iren had proved himself as good as his word, delivering the Derro tech pieces that Valdemar needed toplete his ecto-catcher. The device looked as good as new, with his grandfathers journal resting safely beneath a ss dome.

    Unfortunately, Valdemar had noticed a terrible problem while preparing the ecto-catcher and he needed a portrait container to house his grandfathers ectosm more than ever.

    Valdemar put his paintbrush away and disabled his alchemical boiler. The Elixir of True Sight had turned into a substance as ck as oil, with a few magenta bubbles rising to the surface. I think its done, he said.

    Finally! Liliane snapped her manual shut. Its been four hours. I told you, you should have raised the temperature by two degrees.

    I didnt want to risk botching the potion, Valdemar replied. The recipe said

    The potions inventor didnt have the technology we have today and nobody updated the cookbook, Liliane interrupted him brazenly. Valdemar had noticed that while usually shy and kind, the young witch turned unusually assertive and passionate whenever alchemy was concerned. She clearly took pride in her expertise. Next time, Valdy, raise the temperature.

    As you wish, Mistress Lily, Valdemar replied with a smirk, before putting on his gloves to manipte the sk. He shook it slowly, watching the concoction take on a violet hue.

    Lily?

    Well, you do call me Valdy, he pointed out. That makes us even. Im still sore that you gave me one, but not Hermann.

    This made Liliane giggle. How about Hermo?

    Please do not Hermann pleaded, before looking up from his own book. Congrattions Valdemar.

    For the potion, or the painting? the summoner asked.

    Both. Hermann nced at the newly painted portrait. Valdemar had painted his grandfather Pierre in the twilight of his years, sitting on the rocking chair he loved so much. The old man smiled at the onlooker, his blind white eyes and long beard making him look like the very picture of wisdom. Valdemar had given him a simple white shirt, breeches, and stacked-heel shoes. Its good. The colors are vivid enough and you blood-soaked the pigments.

    Hermann had proven himself a good teacher, if slow due to his speech-impediment. The principle behind pictomancy was simple in theory: the painter mixed their blood with the paint, captured the essence of the target, and then established a metaphysical link between the portrait and what it represented.

    In practice, it wasnt enough to capture the targets form. You had to capture their <em>spirit </em>too. Much like normal painting, one needed genuine artistic sensibility to be a pictomancer. Additionally, as a Blood-based sorcery, pictomancy could only affect dead or living beings. Inanimate objects like stone were beyond the magics grasp.

    Hermann practiced on nts and animals because it was easier to capture the essence of simpler lifeforms than a human being. Besides encouraging Valdemar to paint a portrait of his grandfather for the sake of his experiment, the troglodyte asked him to practice on the local vampire bats as a trial run.

    Are you sure I can capture the ectosm with that canvas? Valdemar asked, as he waited for his elixir to cool down. I dont want to botch the procedure. I <em>cant </em>botch it.

    It should be fine, Hermann reassured. Ghosts and ectosms are easier to bind since since they arent anchored to a body. You also know your grandfather more than anyone and you share the same blood. Your portrait will be the perfect receptacle. It would have been harder if he had a body.

    Wait, you can rip out someones soul with a portrait while theyre still alive? Liliane asked, horrified.

    Yes and no, Hermann replied. Pictomancy can turn a portrait into a a soul trap. If the target dies the soul will move into the portrait regardless of the distance.

    So like a soulstone? Liliane scratched her cheek. But what if the painted person has one? Or if theyre turned into an undead?

    The pictomancers portrait trap and the soulstone will conflict to catch the soul. Its a a contest of magical strength between the creators of of both devices. Same if if the targets soul is transferred into a golem or an undead body. You cannot sever a soul from a living body with with pictomancy.

    But you can still trap anybodys soul with none the wiser the moment they die. Liliane shuddered. Dont take it the wrong way, Hermo, but Im d there arent more pictomancers running around.

    The troglodyte cleared his throat. My name is not Hermo.

    Great, I will call you Not-Hermo now, Liliane replied yfully. Hermann looked at her with an expressionless face for a moment, before giving up. So, Valdy, where do we start? Will you drink the potion now, or attempt your experiment?

    She sounded quite eager to see both. Valdemar wondered if she intended to drink an Elixir of True Sight herself in the future, or if she had a ghost of her own to summon. The potion, he dered. I need more experience in pictomancy before I attempt to summon my grandfathers ectosm again. The experiment might fail otherwise.

    Huh? Whys that? Liliane asked with a frown. Did Iren give you defective pieces?

    No, no, my ecto-catcher is perfect. Valdemar clenched his fists in rage. Its the journal that the inquisitors damaged.

    This confused Hermann. It it looks fine to me.

    The text is fine, the psychic imprint is not, Valdemar exined. I was in the middle of coalescing my grandfathers ectosm when the Knights interrupted me. The process couldnt finish and exhausted some of the psychic energy that remained.

    And... you think you cant... summon it again?

    I think I can, but it may be damaged. Valdemar couldnt tell much until he actually attempted the spell, but he worried that another failure might destroy the ectosm outright. Thats why I want to have a perfect soul portrait in ce to catch the psychic echo, as I fear it might dissipate otherwise.

    Thats horrible, Liliane said withpassion. Is there anything we can do to help?

    Not much, Im afraid. Its up to me to paint the best portrait.

    Speaking of portraits, I Hermann said, before showing a page of his book to Valdemar. I have done research for the blue pigment for our project.

    Our project? Valdemar couldnt help but smile as he read. The text described a rare nt called Colophryar; the exotic flower grew no more than five petals at once, each dyed with a vivid shade of blue. Though highly dangerous in its natural state, the nts toxins could be refined into a variety of things from sleeping drugs to pigments.

    It grows only in the Domain of Astaphanos among its crystal ecosystems, Hermann exined. The flower is... a powerful magical reagent.

    Oh, Astaphanos! Liliane smiled with enthusiasm. I was supposed to go there with Lady Mathilde and Frigga to collect rare ingredients. We could go there together!

    I cant leave the Institute, remember? Valdemar pointed out, his friends expression deting. Besides, couldnt Iren get us a sample?

    He could, but Im not sure that they will be of the Hermann struggled a bit to find the right word. The quality that we require.

    You could always ask Lord Och for authorization to go outside, Liliane suggested to Valdemar. He might grant your request.

    It costs nothing to ask, Valdemar conceded. As for the yellow pigment, I think summoning a Collector is our best bet. Their blood is golden and the creature possesses the ability to affect space and time in a limited capacity.

    Ive never heard of such a creature, Hermann admitted.

    Collectors are intermediate Qlippoths, Valdemar exined. Theyre extranar creatures resembling giant spiders with the ability to freeze people in time. Thats why theyre called Collectors, as they enjoy gathering trophies. Ive never summoned one though. The higher you go into the Qlippoth <em>hierarchy</em> the stronger and smarter they get.

    Gnawers were so bestial that they couldnt be interacted with, and eating everyone but the summoner was usually the extent of their service. Collectors were almost as intelligent as humans, and twice as vicious.

    Maybe we could convince it to give some of its blood? Hermann suggested. We have much to to offer.

    I doubt it will listen. Collectors are born greedy, and they always want more. More powerful Qlippoths bargain for their services ahead of time before they can be fully bound, and they usually ask to be released into our reality after their service is finished. Well have to wound the beast on arrival and then banish it back home.

    You know, Im worried that you know so much about fiendish creatures, Liliane admitted. Lady Mathilde told me summoning Qlippoths was ouwed by the church. She said that while elementals are mostly passive and usually try to return home, Qlippoths actively try to remain in our world to cause mayhem.

    Which is true, Valdemar agreed. Summoning Qlippoths meant ying with fire, and no summoner was entirely safe from them. When I couldnt get a true magical education, I went to the Midnight Market and I managed to buy some ult texts. The mostplex summoning grimoire I could get my hands on was an iplete copy of <em>Concordance of the nes</em>. Only the Qlippoth chapter was exhaustive.

    Valdemar suddenly wondered if Lord Och had ess to a full copy. The sorcerer had always resented never finishing his education.

    I still dont get why youre taking so many risks for a portrait, Liliane admitted. Its maybe because I dont have a passion project of my own yet, but you might die trying.

    Besides proving my grandfather wasnt a madman, Im doing it for everyone, Valdemar replied. I serve a purpose greater than myself.

    What do you mean?

    Do you like living in the dark? Being forced to raise the dead to meet our basic needs? Confronted by Derros and Dokkars, sandwiched between monsters from the surface and whatever creatures inhabit the worlds depths? Valdemar nced at his grandfathers painting. The world he described was much brighter, in more ways than one. There was no ceiling over anyones head, food was plentiful, and though there were wars, mankind wasnt caged inside a prison of stone.

    Its a noble goal Hermann said. He hesitated about saying more, before finally finding the courage to do so. Im doing something simr. Im trying to find a new homnd for my people.

    Youre looking for a world to colonize? Valdemar asked. This surprised him, as troglodytes had inhabited Undends caves long before humans descended from the surface.

    This Domain and others... were my kinds home before humans before humans forced us out. Hermann let out a sigh. Even now, we we are not tolerated. Lord Och gave me permission to learn here, but he is an exception. Our kinds cant coexist.

    But we coexist right now, Liliane pointed out with optimism. Its not impossible.

    An exception proving the rule Hermann replied. If I were to visit another Domain without disguise I would be looked at with distrust at best or stoned at worse. This is too small for all of us.

    Youre being a pessimist, Liliane replied. Sure, we dont have a sun above our head, but we have the magic and resources to prosper! We just need to better manage our wealth, change peoples opinions, and well get along.

    You are kind, Liliane but you do not understand. You never had to to run away from violence.

    Liliane pouted. What is that supposed to mean?

    That youve been spoiled too much, Valdemar replied with a grin.

    I should toss that potion into your mean face, Liliane replied. I think youre just running away with a few extra steps. It would be amazing if you could find another world, but it wont fix this one. If we dont solve our problems here, well bring them elsewhere.

    Maybe you should ask the empress to run reforms then, Valdemar deadpanned.

    I will, Valdy. Liliane winked at him. But until I can get an audience, I will support your project in the meantime.

    Thanks. Her moral support, and Hermanns, meant a great deal to him after so many years of being ridiculed for his theories.

    Was this how friendship felt? If he had known, Valdemar would have struck one up much earlier. A shame he had met these people only while under Lord Ochs yoke.

    Speaking of Och, Valdemar nced at his Elixir of True Sight. It had cooled enough to be drinkable. The lich had all but ordered him to take it, but if anything, Valdemar was more afraid of not knowing the truth than the Dark Lords punishment. If invisible things watched him, he wanted to notice them too.

    So, ready? he asked his new colleagues.

    Shouldnt we bind you first? Liliane asked with a worried voice. In case you go mad?

    I can restrain him if needed, Hermann pointed out. Valdemar didnt doubt his word. Troglodytes were naturally stronger than humans, and that was without taking their spellcasting abilities into ount. Hermann might have been a pictomancer first and foremost, but he probably knew the basics ofbat magic as well.

    Here goes nothing then.

    Valdemar took a deep breath, and drank the potion.

    He almost vomited the moment the liquid hit his tongue. The brew had a fouler taste than the sorcerer expected, more bitter than anything he had ever tasted. He felt like swallowing viscous, poisonous mud. The substance didnt even wait to reach his stomach, dissolving into his flesh while halfway down his throat.

    It was a struggle to drink the whole thing, and Valdemar put away the empty sk on the desk the moment he finished. Are you alright? Liliane asked, before immediately giving him a bottle of water. Here, take it.

    Thanks... Valdemar said, but the water didnt help wash away the foul aftertaste. Worse, a sense of unease filled his body, traveling from his throat and stomach through his blood. His eyes started to hurt. Uh

    Hermann quickly grabbed a chair to let his fellow schr sit, and Valdemar was thankful for it. He didnt remember ever feeling like this. He had never suffered any disease, and most poisons or toxins barely left him winded. Yet the Elixir of True Sight blurred his vision, stiffened his muscles, and made his belly growl.

    And the heartbeat! He could hear it inside his head, as if his heart and brain had switched ces!

    I underestimated the effects, Valdemar admitted, before wincing as a sh of pain coursed through his eyes.

    This didnt reassure Liliane. Valdy, your eyes...

    Valdemar nced at the empty sk and his own reflection in the ss. His grey irises had turned into a deep shade of crimson, like when he used magic.

    Even the unppable Hermann looked a bit concerned. Can you see Valdemar?

    Yes. Yes, I can. His enhanced metabolism finally kicked in, the feeling of unease washed away. Though he still felt tired, his vision slowly returned to normal. I can see normally.

    Your eyes havent returned to normal though, Liliane pointed out. Do you notice anything different?

    Valdemar frowned, squinting at his fellow schrs. He saw a red auraing off from their clothes, the invisible energy produced by the spells woven into the fabric. He also noticed the same glow around his grandfathers portrait. It was barely a step-up from the Potion of Insight he had drunk earlier.

    It wasnt until he looked at the journal that Valdemar noticed something odd. He rose from his seat, slowly lifted the ss dome protecting the book, and examined the cover as his fellow schrs watched in puzzled silence.

    A strange symbol had appeared on the previously featureless book, its lines glowing with a pale red glow. Two curves joined in the shape of an eye held within a sideway cube, with a line shing the rune vertically. Valdemar didnt remember it, and yet it felt intimately familiar. Like a childhood treasure that he had never truly forgotten.

    Valdemar flipped the journals pages, and quickly noticed new pictures among his grandfathers drawings. These additions were not visions of earthly wonders, but odd anatomical designs. A swirling mass of flesh trapped inside a circle; a rat with human hands and an almost human face; an eldritch, shadowy humanoid without a face, but eyes on the chest, hands, and shoulders.

    The images were disturbing enough, but thest one bothered Valdemar the most. Something about the eerie humanoid silhouette contrasting with the inhuman exterior shook him to his core.

    <em>Did I see it before?</em> Valdemar thought. He had the feeling he did, but couldnt remember. Hermann, do you see these pictures? he asked the troglodyte.

    Which pictures? Hermann asked, confirming he couldnt see them. I have not taken an Elixir of Truth Sight.

    But Lord Och did. Or if he hadnt drunk one while alive, he could still see the invisible. <em>That bastard, </em>Valdemar thought. <em>He knew but didnt tell me. He wanted to see how much I knew about the journal.</em>

    So its working? Liliane grabbed Valdemars hand without warning to check his pulse, before applying her warm fingers to his neck. He sensed her using magic to analyze his body, but let her do her thing. Mmm, besides an abnormal current of blood flowing into your eyes, I dont sense anything wrong. Youre as resilient as a dragon, Valdy.

    I do see things I didnt notice before, but honestly its nothing worth going mad over, Valdemar replied. And my heartbeat is killing me.

    Huh? she asked while removing her hands. Your pulse is fine. Its even slower than usual.

    Valdemar closed his eyes, and to his surprise Liliane was right. His psychic sight didnt detect anything abnormal about his heart.

    But then, where did the sound in his heade from? He focused, trying to locate it

    Its Valdemars eyes snapped open. Its everywhere?

    Valdemar could hear the heartbeating from below, echoing through the ground like some twisted symphony. He put his grandfathers journal aside to touch the nearest wall, sensing the imperceptible vibrations going through them.

    <em>You cant see them, </em>Lord Och had warned him.<em> But they can see you.</em>

    Valdemar Hermann cleared his throat. You should wait a

    Possessed by a feverish urge to clear his doubts, Valdemar rushed to the door. Hermann immediately rose from his seat to stop him, perhaps thinking he would make a mistake. But though he quickly caught Valdemar by the shoulders, the necromancer still kicked his door open.

    An eye looked back at him from the other side.

    Valdemar was so shocked that he didnt even struggle against Hermanns grip. He simply gazed at the eye, at the yellow iris and the fleshy redness around it. The organ protruded from the stone wall on the other side of the floor, right above another workshops door. It wasrge enough to have belonged to a giant, and it <em>was gazing back at Valdemar with an unblinking focus</em>

    Theres one above my door, Valdemar realized, as he noticed a shadow above his threshold. Only then did he notice the veins in the ground beyond his threshold. Not a mere line of red as his Potion of Insight showed him, but a ck vein pumping invisible blood through the floor.

    Hermann and Liliane were saying things, but he couldnt hear them over the slow, thunderous heartbeat. The troglodyte suddenly released his grip over the necromancer, and the world felt all the colder for it. Valdemar took a step forward without looking back, unable to resist the vile fascination possessing him.

    He walked beyond the threshold, and <em>saw</em>.

    There were eyes everywhere.

    There was one above each door, in the ceiling, in the corners; some as small as human ones, othersrger than his workshop. They were yellow and blue, and red, and violet, and colors he had never seen before; all fleshy mounds linked together by invisible veins coursing through the tunnel.

    They were all looking at him with unblinking stares.

    Valdemar struggled to breathe, his fingers shaking. He tried to escape the eyes by looking at the clock echoing in tune with the heartbeat below, but it offered him nofort. Something else floated in front of the device, a burning, fleshy orb of light sitting atop a tentacled body with ck bat wings. The creature blinked at Valdemar, before phasing through the clock as if it was made of water and vanishing.

    Fascinating, isnt it? Lord Ochs voice echoed at his students side, sounding as amused as an undead could be. And you havent even seen the first floor.

    Valdemar turned his head to face his mentor, but he had dropped the old man disguise. The lich beneath the illusion had revealed himself, his ancient bones wreathed in a shroud of cold blue mist and tattered robes. Hermann and Liliane stood behind the Dark Lord, though they were clearly more worried for Valdemars safety than anything else.

    Lord Och? Valdemar asked, his throat sore. The heartbeat around him had be background noise, easy to ignore but the eyes gaze remained unbearable. Youre not using your mour?

    You pierced the veil, my apprentice. You see me as I am, and the world as it is.

    After a moment of hesitation, Hermann found the courage to interrupt the lich. Lord Och, if I may he should rest.

    What he should do is my concern alone, Hermann, the lich replied dismissively. Your concerns are unwarranted. My apprentice has no wish to throw himself out a window.

    The Dark Lord gazed at Valdemar.

    Will you?

    Valdemar nced at the eyes, at the dreadful implications behind their existence... they had <em>always </em>been there, watching him.

    And now that the potion had opened his mind, he would see them forever.

    Valdemar would never escape their gaze. He would hear the heartbeat beneath his feet, always wonder if a creature was waiting to pass through a wall to ambush him.

    His fingers shook, his throat felt sore. If a tunnel looked like this how did the rest of the world? What things outside the Institutes walls had caused so many to go mad after taking that Elixir?

    And the implications the heartbeat, the forceing from below, the eyes in the walls...

    Valdemar wasnt one to flinch away from the truth, but for the first time in many years, he asked a question whose answer he dreaded.

    This ce, Valdemar said, gazing back at the eyes. Is it is it alive?

    My fortress?

    Lord Ochs teeth transformed into a ghastly smile.

    Or the world?

 Chapter 8: Vernburg

    Chapter 8: Vernburg

    The carriage drove along a ck seas coast, towards the Verneys lostnds.

    Also called the Lightless Ocean, this immense body of clear water flooded half of the Domain of Horaios and many caverns mankind had not yet explored. Its presence had made this particr region the most fertile in the empire, with farmers and fishermen making up almost all of its working poption. Some even called Horaios humanitys granary.

    It was also thergest of the Dark Lords dominions, so huge that it took weeks to ride from one side to the other. Earthmouth portals made traveling easier, but there were only so many of them. The Verneys oldnds were located in an isted region to the caverns northeast, days away from the closest city; even the crystal lighthouses that illuminated the Domain had grown scarcer.

    Marianne spent the whole ride examining pictures of the Verney family tree that Penhew dly gave her. She knew something had eluded the inquisitors, and now that she couldpare them with drawings of Valdemar and his mother, she could tell exactly what.

    Bertrand, Marianne called out to her retainer through the carriages window.

    Yes, Mdy? Bertrand answered while keeping his full attention on the road. He had driven for hours now, showing no more signs of fatigue than their giant beetle carrier.

    How old was Lavina Verney when she perished?

    Thirty-seven, ording to official records.

    And Sarah Dumont?

    She was neen when the purge happened. Why is Mdy asking?

    Because they look too much alike, Marianne said, as shepared the two pictures. Indeed, Valdemars aunt looked almost exactly like an older version of his mother. As for Isaac Verney... While Valdemar doesnt look all that much like his father.

    The hair color was wrong for a start, and while he had the Verney look, Valdemar could inherit these genes from his paternal grandfather Aleksander. Valdemar had been a baby when the purge took ce, but as an adult, the differences were too numerous to ignore.

    Lavina Verney was old enough to be Sarahs mother, and never married as far as we know, Marianne said. It would exin the forged birth certificate.

    Noble families were extremely traditionalist, as Marianne could attest. Noblewomen were expected to remain virgins until they married, so Lavina Verney having a bastard would have caused a scandal and destroyed her chances to marry into the Oldblood.

    Is Mdy suggesting Isaac Verney bedded his secret niece?

    Somehow, Bertrand said these words with such a t, deadpan tone that Marianne couldnt help but chuckle. I dont think hes actually Valdemars father, she replied. Or at least, not if my theory is correct. I would expect Valdemar to be less robust if his family tree was a tangled vine.

    But if Isaac Verney isnt the father, who is it?

    That was the real question.

    Aleksander Verney intended to let Valdemar inherit everything should something happen to him, which meant the so-called bastard was a lot more important than he appeared. Then there was the small matter of his unnaturally efficient metabolism, the magical signs that Lord Och detected, and the unnatural stench Bertrand noticed around him...

    Was he even a natural Verney at all? He had the family look, but Powerful biomancers could create homunculi and clones, and Valdemar exhibited abilities Marianne would expect to see in mutants. The Verney Cult had done so many terrible things, creating an artificial heir wouldnt even surprise her.

    Lets hope the inquisitors left a clue or two when they torched the family castle, Marianne replied as she put the drawings aside in apartment beneath her seat. How far are we from it?

    We can already see it, Mdy.

    Marianne looked through the window.

    The crumbling walls of the Verney castle awaited a few kilometers away from the road, standing over a cliff like a twisted ck candle. Ancient crystal beacons along the shores allowed Marianne to see the fortress shadow. Its five broken towers reminded her of a wicked hand reaching for the skies. At its peak, it must have been a modest castle by imperial standards; fitting for a lesser noble, but unsuited for a wealthier household. Mariannes mother would have derided it as a paupers den.

    The castles cliff overshadowed a small fishing hamlet along the Lightless Oceans shore. It lookedrge enough to amodate a few hundred souls, but no more. Lights came from the houses, like embers in a firece.

    Is this the vige of Vernburg? Marianne asked Bertrand, as she started to wonder if they had reached the right location. Have we veered off-tracks?

    I am certain that this is our destination.

    Then something was wrong. Inquisitor Penhew told me that it had never been resettled.

    All the guards they met on the way said they would only find ruins, but the vige looked perfectly normal. Lively even.

    Bertrand sneered in disgust. Mdy, this ce stinks.

    We will go there and investigate, Marianne said with a nod. With luck, it would just be squatters having taken over the ruins.

    That is not what I meant, her vampire retainer replied. The ce smells like Mr. Valdemar. Its the same stench all over the vige.

    Oh? Mariannes hand instinctively brushed against her rapier. Approach it quietly, but be ready for anything.

    As Mdy wishes. Bertrand had the beetle veer off the road, and they made their way to Vernburg in silence.

    It took them less than an hour to get there, but the smell reached them first. If anything, Bertrand had undersold the stench of the ce. Vernburg reeked with the odors of rotten fish, rats, and burnt oil. The streets were made of nks covering a muddy ground, dimly lit by falteringnterns. Though they looked functional, the wattle-and-daub houses were in poor condition, their walls covered in dung. Marianne noticed rats crawling on the wooden roofs, some looking at the approaching carriage without any fear of man.

    Bertrand stopped the coach at the towns entrance, and Marianne didnt wait for him to open her door to get out. She activated her psychic sight the moment she stepped away from her vehicle. Her senses were not as sharp as most sorcerers, but it should give her an inkling of the situation.

    She only saw darkness.

    An invisible crimson mist covered the hamlet, shrouding it from her magical sight. She couldnt even detect the rats within its walls. A power eclipsing her own had taken over the vige as its yground.

    Something interferes with my magic, mdy, Bertrand warned her.

    Mine too, which means a sorcerer is involved. Marianne had hoped to find clues, but not something of this magnitude. How far are we from the nearest guard station?

    I would say three days. Our beetle is tired and needs rest.

    So they couldnt expect to gather reinforcements ande back in short order. The fact nobody mentioned this phantom vige bothered Marianne as well. The Knights asionally patrolled this area, so why hadnt they noticed something?

    Scout the outskirts in mist form, look for wards, and report back to me, she ordered Bertrand. I will send a messenger bat in the meantime.

    As Mdy wishes. The vampire turned into a misty cloud and flew away, leaving Marianne alone. The noblewoman immediately looked into her carriages hiddenpartments, where a ck vampire bat with four wings slept inside a small cage.

    Biomancers had enhanced these animals to fly nonstop for days and instinctively seek out the magical signature of the Knights beacons; the Dark Lords distributed them to their agents in case they ever needed tomunicate quickly. Marianne wrote a small message on a parchment letter, attached it to the animals back, and then let it fly away.

    Bertrand returned from his errands a few minutester, more distressed than ever. I have not detected any ward in the outskirts, he admitted. Although I noticed an abnormally high amount of wild rats in the area.

    And the Verneysst patriarch was quite fond of those rodents. Did you try to fly over the houses?

    I did, but whatever obscures my sight also forces me to transform back whenever I fly too close. The vampires jaw clenched. Bertrand did that when he was under stress. I would have expected a Derro anti-magical device to be the cause, but it would disable the spell shrouding this vige. I could not transform either on the Institutes grounds before Lord Och altered the wards not to affect me.

    So the magic at work within these walls rivaled that of a Dark Lords fortress. This cant have gone unnoticed, Marianne stated the obvious. Did we interrupt a magical ritual of some kind?

    I cannot say, Mdy, Bertrand replied while examining the houses. However, one does not raise a full vige in the blink of an eye. If these houses were burnt to the ground, it would have taken weeks, maybe months to rebuild.

    This conundrum gave her a headache. The sensible thing was to establish a camp nearby and wait for reinforcements, but what if they had stumbled into something they shouldnt have? If a ritual was at work in the area, waiting for days would let it run its course. Marianne couldnt let that happen.

    We go in and try to locate the mage behind the protective spell, Marianne said. If we face resistance, we retreat at once. Gathering information is our priority.

    Bertrand responded with a nod, his eyes briefly turning red. Shall we split up to cover more ground?

    Absolutely not. Divided they would make an easier target. Stay close to me.

    Marianne took a step forward, Bertrand following her like a shadow. The street nks creaked as she moved, and the noblewoman worried that they might copse beneath her feet.

    Though the vige appeared empty at first nce, it didnt take long for the investigators to meet one of the locals. An old man with a crooked back and dusty, tattered clothes cleaned the threshold of a house with a broom.

    Greetings, sir, Marianne introduced herself. The old man didnt raise his head to look at her, nor did he respond. Forgive me for interrupting you, but is this Vernburg?

    Up close, the man reeked of rot and alcohol. The light of a streetntern reflected in his tired white eyes. There are rats all over the shop, he replied with a gruff voice. All those dirty rodents, biting my fingers at night.

    Sir? Marianne asked, slightly worried by the answer. The man seemed absent-minded.

    Bertrands response was far less polite. Mdy asked you a simple question, he said firmly. Answer by yes or no.

    I told the baron to keep his rat in check, the old man replied. He didnt seem to have registered Bertrands existence, and the barons mention left Marianne puzzled. <em>Its not a rat at all, </em>he said, <em>not a rat.</em> Like that made it alright.

    Marianne looked up at the houses roofs, but to her surprise, the rodents had vanished. Sir, are you talking about Baron Aleksander? she asked, trying to change the subject.

    Doesnt matter, the man said, but his tone made Marianne doubt he was answering her question, just have to wait until the egg hatches. Just a little longer, and itll be all over soon.

    Only then did Marianne notice that he kept cleaning the spot, over and over again. After watching his manic actions for a full minute, the noblewoman and her retainer silently walked past the madman.

    While sparsely popted, the hamlet turned out to be far from empty. Marianne crossed paths with a few locals: a washerwoman cleaning clothes by the shore; old vagrants sleeping near a small, crumbling church dedicated to the Light; fishermen tending to their boats. The vige appeared gloomy but unremarkable at first nce.

    A closer examination revealed worrying oddities though. The fishermen tended to rotting boats unable to take to the sea. The washerwoman''s clothes were full of holes. And the vagrants didnt respond when Marianne tossed them a few coins.

    None of them answered her questions, instead replying with inane nonsense. Soon Ill be young again, said the washerwoman, with perfect skin and juicy flesh. I wonder when Shelley wille back, muttered a fisherman, but wouldnt reveal who he was talking about. We werent meant to be like this, whispered a vagrant with empty eyes, well be our true selves soon.

    They looked alive. They had a heartbeat, and breathed as far as Marianne could tell. But they behaved like soulless automatons.

    They smell like Mr. Valdemar, Mdy, Bertrand warned her as they continued their search. All of them. The odors are much weaker, but simr enough.

    And they dont seem to notice each other any more than they pay attention to us, Marianne said as she looked through a houses window. She saw three bowls on a table, full of mud and worms. Zombies?

    They breathe, Bertrand replied with a frown. Although

    Although?

    Their blood smells wrong to my senses, the vampire replied. It feels fake, forck of a better term. Same for the odors of fish, alcohol, rot only the rats and Mr. Valdemars stench appear genuine to me. It reminds me of the homunculi Lady Mathilde raises in herb.

    Then theyre artificial creatures? That would exin their near-mindlessness. Is this a biomancers work?

    To clone an entire vige would take too many resources for a single biomancer, Bertrand pointed out. Such an operation would require a Dark Lords backing.

    Marianne remained silent a moment, as she tried to make sense out of this mess. What was going on here?

    Does Mdy want me to rough one of them up? Bertrand asked. This would be quicker.

    No violence, please. Besides the fact that it was just in wrong, she had the feeling it would escte into something far worse than a muscled interrogation. Do you smell anything else?

    Bertrand closed his eyes. I sense a strong odor of dried blood at the towns center.

    Dried blood Valdemars stench rats everywhere

    This ce was once a den of cultists worshiping a dangerous Stranger, Marianne said. Could it be that one of their rituals had a dyed effect and warped reality? Could it be possible to transport a vige through time?

    I do not know, Bertrand replied. That seems unlikely.

    This whole scenario feels unlikely. If the cult had permanently damaged reality in the area, why hadnt the Knights quarantined it? Either the ce must have appearedpletely normal when thest patrol checked up on it, or the force that obscured Mariannes arcane sight had managed to hide the truth for years. Lets check the towns center.

    She had the feeling many things would be clearer once they checked this area and hopefully, they wouldnt have to resort to violence.

    Bertrand walked through the streets with the confidence of a bloodhound on the hunt, and their path led them through a small graveyard behind the old church. A dozen tombstones were erected in the backyard, and Marianne took a moment to examine them. To her surprise, almost all of them were nks.

    With two exceptions.

    Wait, Marianne called Bertrand, as she examined these anomalies more closely. Let me see.

    Not only were these two stones the only ones with words, but they each also had a hole dug before them. Though ayer of dust covered them, the carved epitaphs were clear and easy to read.<em><strong>Marianne Reynard</strong></em>

    <em>475-496 A.E.</em>

    <em>She talked too much.</em>

    <em><strong>Bertrand Dugclin</strong></em>

    <em>149-496 A. E.</em>

    <em>Loyal to the bitter end.</em>

    Marianne immediately generated ayer of bone armor beneath her clothes, and called upon the Blood to strengthen her flesh.

    Mdy. Even the usually unppable Bertrand spoke with worry. And he should be. Only Marianne and he himself knew his birthdate, which meant that whatever force wrote these words had read his mind without being noticed. I <em>strongly </em>suggest that we leave.

    Not yet. Marianne looked around herself, but nobody seemed to be watching them. Whoever you are, you do not frighten me. I shall not be intimidated.

    Only silence answered.

    Stay hidden then, Marianne said with a shrug. I will get to the bottom of this anyway.

    Though she remained steadfast, Bertrands hand never left his longswords pommel and his eyes remained red as blood.

    The vampire retainer led the duo to the center of the hamlet, a nearly empty za with an old well at its center. Unlike the rest of the vige, the structure was made of strong grey stones andrge enough to pull an ox through. A young woman in her early thirties sang a tune to herself next to the well, oblivious to the strong smell of dried blooding off from it. At this distance, the odor choked the air so much Marianne struggled not to pinch her nose.

    Oh, hello! The woman greeted the investigators with a smile, spooking Marianne. It was the first time a viger acknowledged their existence. Are you visitors?

    Of a sort, Marianne replied, examining the woman carefully. She was pretty with doe-eyes, and wore her light brown hair in an outdated bun. Her light dress was out of fashion, and she didnt carry any weapon. Marianne knew better than to drop her guard, however. For all she knew, the woman might be the sorcerer behind everything. Is this Vernburg?

    Why, yes it is, the woman replied with a look of concern. Are you lost?

    No, no, this this is the ce we were looking for. Marianne sensed Bertrand tense up behind her, as if he half-expected the mysterious woman to attack them. What is happening here?

    What do you mean? The woman seemed genuinely puzzled. Are you from Sas too? I recognize the ent.

    Yes, indeed. Marianne wasnt sure what to make of her. Either that woman was an amazing actress, or she was another absent-minded denizen of this town. Whats your name?

    Mona, the woman replied. Happy to meet you.

    A chill went down Mariannes spine. Would you happen to be a nurse? she asked, her hand tightening around her rapiers pommel.

    Yes, how did you know? The womans eyes lit up. Oh, are you knights? Did youe for me?

    Marianne didnt know how to answer, so Bertrand took over. Yes, he lied. We are knights investigating your disappearance.

    You shouldnt have, the woman replied in an innocent way that Marianne found more and more eerie. Its all a big misunderstanding.

    You werent kidnapped? Marianne found the courage to ask the dead woman. <em>Not a biomancer, </em>she thought, <em>a necromancer.</em>

    In a way. I was very frightened when the masked men seized me after work, but they brought me to the baron instead. He was such a gentleman. He said I hadnt been abducted, but <em>chosen</em>. That I had a destiny. <em>Me</em>. Mona chuckled to herself, oblivious to the sinister tones of her words. He gave me beautiful jewels, and said I would have more if I did my job well. Such a kind man. His rat frightens me though. Its face is almost like a humans. Creepy dirty thing.

    Baron Aleksander Verney? Bertrand continued the interrogation with firm focus, while Marianne tried to make sense out of the situation. The woman in front of her looked too alive to be an undead. Even a vampire had telltale signs, if you knew where to look. What was your destiny?

    He asked me to take care of his grandson, Mona answered to Mariannes surprise. Hes growing unruly, and his mother cant calm him anymore. I took care of old Paul, so I could take care of a little boy. The baron was very happy that I took the job, as Crtail is a very important child. The previous two maids weren''t good enough for him, so they were fired.

    Crtail? Marianne asked in confusion, doing her best to ignore the fired part. She had the feeling the maids faced the same gruesome fate as Mona herself. You mean Valdemar?

    Valde mar? Mona squinted at Marianne. What is that?

    Valdemar Verney. The barons grandson.

    Mona frowned while trying to remember. Im sorry, she apologized after a few minutes. I never heard of a child with that name. Are you sure the name is not Crtail?

    Yes. Baron Aleksanders testament explicitly named Valdemar as his heir, not Crtail. What was going on here? Was this all a ghastly prank of some sort? Who is this Paul?

    Old Paul, Mona answered with a sad sigh. The doctors at the asylum thought he was mad, but they were wrong. He came from another world, but nobody understood him. I taught him a few words in our tongue when I brought him his meals. Poor man, he didnt deserve it I asked the baron if he could help, and he said he would. It wouldnt be the first time.

    The more Marianne listened, the less it made sense. What do you mean? she asked.

    The baron said old Paul wasnt alone. Pierre, they called him. The other man.

    Pierre Dumont? As odd and insane as this encounter sounded, it might give Marianne some clues.

    Monas eyes lit up in recognition. Yes, that was his name, she confirmed. I never met him, but they say I will meet him soon. Hes a very important person.

    Marianne was about to question her some more, when Bertrand unsheathed his longsword. Mdy, the roofs, he said with an rmed voice.

    Marianne looked up.

    Dozens, hundreds of rats were silently crawling on the houses roofs around the square. The ck-furred beasts varied in size, some of them almost asrge as cats. They red at Marianne and Bertrand with bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes.

    Marianne tried to look for a human-faced one among them, but found none. However, she could sense an inhuman intelligence in their gaze.

    So thats how it is Marianne muttered to herself as she grabbed her rapier in one hand and her pistol in the other. Ignoring the puzzled Monas confusion, the noblewoman pointed her firearm at the rodents. Whoever you are, attacking us will be an affront to Lord Och of Paraplex. We will fight, and even if you prevail, others know we came here. You wont be able to cover your tracks.

    The rats answered with a maddening chitter.

    <em>Theyreughing,</em> Marianne realized. Since she had very little time ahead, the noblewoman took a few seconds to nce into the well.

    The pit went on and on into pitch-ck darkness. Though Marianne couldnt see the bottomif it had oneshe could smell the odors of burnt blood all too well. Using her psychic sight up close, she grew certain that the strange power clouding it came straight from this ck abyss.

    <em>Theres something at the bottom, </em>Marianne realized in horror. <em>The source of all this madness.</em>

    A rift in space and time to an eldritch realm? A magical artifact? Maybe a living creature controlling the rats on the surface?

    Is something wrong? Mona asked, utterly oblivious to the situation happening around her.

    Excuse my boldness, Miss Mona but Marianne tried to find the right words as she looked away from the well. How can I say this

    Say what?

    I think you are dead, Marianne admitted.

    Mona blinked in confusion. The words didnt seem to have registered. What do you mean?

    You were killed almost two decades ago by the Followers of the Grail, Marianne said, while the rats stopped chittering all at once. If anything, their silence felt twice as threatening. Your bones were found in the Verney Castles ruins.

    The Followers of the Grail? What, that silly church? Mona giggled. Why would they need me to make a cup? They made their grail long ago!

    Somehow, Marianne found that answer more horrifying than all the others. Miss Mona, dont you remember?

    Remember what? Mona grew more and more agitated, while Bertrand looked for a way out. But though they made no move to attack, the rats had them surrounded. Why are you saying these awful things?

    Crtail? Do you remember this Crtail? Marianne asked, trying to get any answer she could. She was close to uncovering this mystery. She could feel it in her bones. How does he look?

    Was that Valdemars true name? Something linked to the grail? Marianne knew she didnt have much time left before something terrible happened.

    Crtail? Hes a sweet child. Hes a very sweet child Mona began to shake. He he likes the music box very much. He likes the music, but

    But?

    Hes a very unruly child. But hes sweet, hes Mona held her head with her hands, her eyes widening. Thats the blood they said. He cant help it, he was born wrong. Theres something wrong with him, its not his fault if hes like this and hes hungry, hes always hungry...

    To her horror, Marianne noticed <em>something </em>crawling beneath Monas skin. The dead womans back started to grow, to burst like a bag too small for its content. Mona? Marianne asked, instinctively preparing a basic healing spell. Mona, calm down, its going to be alr

    White tentacles erupted from inside Mona, tearing the skin like a cloth.

    Marianne took a leap backward before the squirming appendages could catch her and fired a shot midair. The bullet hit the monster in its eyeless face, causing it to screech with its triangr, fanged mouth. No blood came out of the wound, but its tentacles thrashed around in pain all the same.

    The monster might have looked vaguely humanoid at a distance, but white as milk and utterly featureless save for a gnawing maw. Both its hands and legs ended in sinuous tentacles instead of fingers, and they quickly lunged at Marianne like a. Bertrand swiftly intervened and cut one of its arms with his sword. Marianne shot the monster in the chest while it wailed, sending it falling into the well.

    There was no trace of blood or flesh left from Mona; only dry skin which the horror had worn like a suit.

    Marianne ground her teeth, her pistol''s tip smoking. What was <em>that</em>?

    A Qlippoth, Bertrand warned with a scowl, as they heard more screeches around the hamlet. The rats echoed them with a chittering cacophony, like twisted hosts inviting other monsters to a feast.

    The vigers wereing.

    Bring it, Marianne replied while cocking her pistol.

 Chapter 9: Vermintown

    Chapter 9: Vermintown

    The rats watched as Vernburgs streets were drenched in blood.

    Marianne and Bertrand had tried to make a break out of the cursed hamlet, only for the vigers to intercept them in the graveyard. The noblewoman felt somehow relieved that they still wore human clothes, for that was the only vestige of humanity they had left.

    The vagrants near the church had grown white tentacles, the skin was torn apart to reveal the same monstrosity that had impersonated Mona. A sailor had melted into a pile of red goo with human faces screaming beneath the slime. A fisherwomans neck had elongated alongside her arms, her neck growing fanged gills. The rats observed from the roofs, their maddening cacophony droning into Mariannes ears.

    And so she danced.

    With her rapier in one hand and her pistol in the other, Marianne charged into the fray. The mutated fisherwoman lunged at her, determined to bite her head off. Marianne made the beast eat a fistful of bullets, before gutting her chin to groin with her rapier. The mutant stumbled, and a kick to the chest sent it falling backward. The monster copsed on the tombstone the dark power behind the hamlet had made for Marianne, shattering it utterly before falling into the open grave.

    You wont bury me, Marianne said softly while swinging her de. But I <em>will </em>bury you if you dont back down.

    The monsters showed no fear and charged.

    Marianne counted half a dozen, but she could hear the screech of their kindreding closer. This entire hamlet was a death trap that they had to break out of before getting overwhelmed.

    Bertrand covered her nk, shing one tentacled monster with his longsword while telekically mming another against a gravestone. His movements were a blur but Marianne could still sense him fighting at her side. Their swords shed everything around them in a deadly dance of steel long rehearsed.

    Only old trusted friends who had fought side-by-side for years could achieve this level of natural coordination, where each anticipated the others action without stepping on each other''s toes. Whether Marianne shot a target that Bertrand had telekically restrained, or the vampire shed a monster attempting to throttle his mistress, they acted as one.

    They had been through worse situations and would escape this one too.

    Marianne.

    <em>His </em>voice cut through the noise like a sword through butter.

    Marianne, please.

    Marianne flinched as if she had been struck, almost slipping on the bleeding remains of a tentacled horror.

    A red ooze asrge as an ox crawled into the graveyard, its surface slowly shifting into a dozen copies of a handsome young mans face. The noblewoman froze at the sight of those using blue eyes, that aquiline nose twisted in an expression of bitter contempt.

    "Marianne, why?" he asked, blood pouring out of his mouth like it did on that cursed day. "Why did you do this to me? Why?

    She felt she felt cold, and numb, and lifeless. As if someone had opened a wound and drunk her blood until she was too tired to fight.

    "It was an ident," Marianne muttered, her breath short from the surprise. "Jerme, I swear"

    You <em>swear</em>? The voice echoed inside Mariannes head, sharp and condemning. The swordswoman felt her confidence weaken with each word. "You think swearing will let me live again? That it will give me back the life you stole? I wanted you to kiss me with your lips, not your steel."

    "I didn''t mean it." It was to the first blood only. "I missed"

    "You missed my sword because you were ying the man, Marianne. What, you thought carrying that sword would make another grow between your legs?"

    Marianne flinched as if she had been struck in the face. It took all of her willpower not to drop her rapier, and even then she simply couldnt move anymore. An invisible force nudged her to surrender, to beg for forgiveness.

    Mdy! She heard Bertrands voice trying to shake her off out of this trance, but the vampire was too busy stabbing a tentacled horror trying to exploit Mariannes paralysis.

    "Would you like it, to bury me again? Jermes voice scolded Marianne as the slime slowly approached her. She took a step back to avoid being smothered by that that <em>thing. </em>You didnt even weep at my funeral, you heartless murderer!

    I didnt I couldnt," Marianne said while trying to shake the slime''s psychic influence. Youre not him. Jerme would never have said something so vicious. He''s dead and he''s... he''s noting back."

    Because of <em>you</em>.

    "How could I know you didn''t carry a soulstone?" Marianne blurted out. She raised her pistol at the ooze, her fingers trembling. "Why didn''t you?"

    "Because I trusted you!"

    Marianne pulled the trigger in fury.

    The bullet pierced the ooze and sted a hole in its surface. A telepathic screech echoed in Mariannes mind, the spell that numbed her willpower broken. Or perhaps it was the anger she felt at this cruel monster that gave her the strength to resist.

    You will pay for this, Marianne snarled as her heart swelled with anger. That creature had dared to put salt on that wound, to besmirch his memory with its filthy words!

    Whatever the case, the slime abandoned all attempts at emotional maniption in favor of attempting to devour Marianne where she stood. The noblewoman stepped to the right while shooting the creature, but the wounds her bullets inflicted closed immediately. Her pistol soon jammed, forcing Marianne to holster it and fight with her rapier. Using magic to strengthen her legs, the noblewoman ran circles around the creature and stabbed it in a dozen parts.

    Wherever her rapier struck, the slime evaporated, its telepathic screams echoing in Mariannes mind like the beating of drums. Bloody bubbles erupted on the creatures outeryer, as if it boiled from within. Mariannes soulbound steel hit the monster at the very heart of its essence, destabilizing it.

    Within seconds, the slime evaporated. Only a trail of dried blood remained behind.

    And yet it didnt assuage Mariannes anger, nor her guilt.

    The noblewoman immediately moved to assist Bertrand, but the vampire had the situation well in hand. Tentacled corpses littered the ground, and the vampire seemed to have fun adding more to the pile.

    Marianne would have rejoiced, if she hadnt noticed something wrong with this picture.

    <em>The rats have stopped chittering,</em> she thought as her eyes wandered to the roofs. The mocking rodents had vanished from the roofs, even though they could have tried to overwhelm Marianne and her retainer.

    This didnt bode well.

    A pulse of magicing from the towns center confirmed her worries. It was the same force that had obscured the hamlet from her magical sight, a sinister power that chilled her to the bone. It was raw like a festering wound, and yet so mighty that it made Marianne lose her breath. She hadnt felt anything like this since seeing Lord Och at work.

    I sense tremors, Mdy, Bertrand warned her. No sooner did he say that that the ground began to shake beneath their feet, as if some slumbering beast woke up from below them.

    We have to go, Marianne said, putting all her strength in her legs. Follow me.

    Using her enhanced strength, the noblewoman leaped into the air andnded on the ruined churchs roof. Bertrand simply climbed the walls to follow her, his nails turning into ws.

    From this observation point, Marianne had a better view of the viges well and it seemed to get closer.

    On a second look, the noblewoman realized her mistake. From her vantage point, she witnessed the za around the well shrinking like a puddle of water down a drain. Houses crumbled under the phenomenons weight, their ruins swallowed by the well.

    <em>The hamlet is dying,</em> Marianne realized. The pit devoured the vige, folding space itself like paper. Whatever force created this ce was now taking it back.

    And if the rats flight was any indication, it would kill anyone inside the citys limits too.

    Run! she ordered Bertrand, as she took another leap towards another house. The duo jumped from roof to roof as the hamlet shrank. The graveyard vanished alongside the church as the ground copsed beneath them, mud, stone, and corpses all consumed.

    Putting all her magic into strengthening her body, Marianne took a nce at the streets below. The locals had reverted into Qlippoth monsters, but they didnt flee from the phenomenon. Instead, they all looked in the wells direction, letting themselves be dragged towards it like animals awaiting death in a quicksand pit.

    No. It wasnt eptance that motivated them. Some knelt, others raised their tentacles to the caverns ceiling high above their heads. Marianne had only seen a scene like this while attending the Church of the Lights sermon.

    It was an expression of blissful worship.

    Marianne almost slipped from a roof as one of the houses walls copsed, but Bertrand caught her by the wrist before she could fall. The two managed to reach the hamlets entrance, even though the hamlet had shrunk by a fourth of its size.

    No sooner did theynd outside its confines that a fearsome howl boomed from within the vige. It was a thunderous burst, stronger than any explosion Marianne had ever heard. The scream didnt belong to this world, and yet

    And yet it sounded so eerily human.

    Marianne caught her breath, as she and Bertrand watched the hamlet copse into nothingness. The houses ruins swirled like a whirlpool of stone and wood, gathering into a single point. The howl lessened in strength, and when it finally ended, nothing remained of Vernburg. Marianne and Bertrand found themselves facing a muddy beach and a lightless ocean.

    The veil of power that had obscure the ce had vanished, and the well too.

    It was as if the ce had never existed.

    Mdy, Bertrand said, his hands firmly holding his sword. Behind us.

    Val A chittering whisper reached Mariannes ears. Val de Marne

    Marianne turned around to look at her carriage.

    A ck, squirming mass of rats covered it like a denseyer of fur. The swarm had cracked the windows and ate the leather from the seats, alongside whatever they could sink their teeth into.

    The giant riding beetle had been the first meal of the banquet, its carapace split open from its back as rats devoured it from within. One of the rodents peeked through a crack in the insectoid husks face like a window, while others severed one of the mounts leg to eat its flesh and marrow.

    Marianne struggled to suppress her nausea at the disgusting sight

    And then the swarm began to <em>speak</em>.

    Valde mar the rats croaked as one, their screams somehow sounding like coherent words. The more it spoke, the better the swarm became at articting words. Valdemar Valdemarne is it alive? Where?

    <em>It</em>?

    Does it matter? Marianne replied while defiantly raising her de. Bertrand bit his thumb, shedding calcified blood. You will never get him.

    You will speak, the rats spoke as one with perfect rity, their eyes shining with ghastly red light. Or the good Shelley will crawl under your skin to strip the flesh from your bones! Shelley will eat your eyes and work his way to the brain!

    The beetle burst open like an egg, and a verminous army swarmed Marianne and herpanion.

    The noblewoman managed to leap back to escape the tidal wave of fur, but a few rats managed to jump on her clothes. They sank their teeth into her flesh, but they broke against the bone armor she had manifested over her skin. Marianne skewered them with her rapier, but one rat managed to climb onto her exposed face.

    Realizing the danger, Marianne started manifesting ayer of bone over her cheeks and neck, but couldnt protect her eyes nor mouth without blinding herself or suffocating. The rodent managed to bite her lips and ripped out the flesh, before trying to force its way past her clenched teeth and down her throat.

    Marianne suppressed a wince of pain as she grabbed the rat with her free hand. She tried to pull it away from her, but stumbled as the swarm climbed on her legs by the hundreds. It didnt matter how many she impaled with her de, more came.

    Marianne thought she would die here, eaten alive by rats, when a red light sh blinded her. The rats let out a maddening screech of pain and they fell off from Marianne, allowing her to shake them off. The one trying to eat her lips, she simply impaled with her sword.

    Bertrands bloody hand shone with a crimson light, his body fluids evaporating the moment they poured out of his wounded thumb. The swarm couldnt stand the sight of it and immediately dispersed, leaving the half-devoured beetle and carriage behind.

    Marianne noticed that their eyes had lost their unnatural glow and returned to normal. All signs of intelligence had vanished from their gaze, reced with animalistic cowardice. They were no longer the fearless thralls of an outside force, but scared scavengers facingrger animals.

    The vermin fled into the countryside, leaving their dead behind. Marianne took the opportunity to take a good long breath, before removing the six rats impaled on her rapier. Their corpses fell to the ground as the light in Bertrands fist vanished.

    That was an exorcism spell, wasnt it? Marianne asked her retainer, her lips bleeding. She used her psychic sight to analyze the damage, and to her horror, immediately confirmed that the rats carried multiple diseases. She called upon the Blood to expel the gues and close the wounds. I think I saw you cast it once or twice.

    I used it to banish unwanted ghosts from the mansion of Mdys mother, Bertrand exined. I assumed the sorcerer needed all his concentration to control a swarm this size, and any disruption would cause his power to falter.

    Good call.

    So that was an animancer? Marianne asked as she examined the rats. Animancers were sorcerers specialized in manipting animals, or even nts in some cases.

    The warlock behind the swarm had to be a powerful one, to direct such arge amount of rats at once. Even the Institutes animancy specialist could only control a small flock of birds before suffering from heavy headaches.

    I assume so, the vampire replied as he nced at the empty spot where Vernburg stood a few minutes ago. Though I have no exnation for this this ce.

    I think the two phenomenons are mostly unrted, Marianne replied, as her wounds closed. She dissipated her bone armor, as maintaining it taxed her magical reserves. The rats were as frightened of being trapped inside as we were.

    And the thing she had sensed inside the well its power rivaled that of Lord Och, but she didnt feel any finesse in it. Only raw, naked strength. And the howl at the end

    The cause wasnt a ritual or some other artifact, Marianne said. It was a living being. Maybe even a Stranger. The animancer was probably trying to make use of it, though I dont understand how.

    The viges disappearance exined why the Knights never noticed it. Perhaps it existed in a pocket dimension of some kind, or it could move from one spot to another. Marianne couldnt be sure, as shecked the necessary knowledge, but Lord Och would certainly identify this hamlets true nature.

    She had to warn the authorities, but the rats had sacked the carriage beyond repair. The wheels were broken, the seats torn apart, the food spoiled or devoured. All documents that Marianne kept in her hiddenpartments had vanished, probably stolen including her notes on the Verney investigation.

    Whoever caused this, they would learn that Lord Och had caught Valdemar soon enough. Marianne couldnt shake the feeling that she might have endangered thest Verney, and it shamed her.

    You said we were three days away from the nearest guard station? she asked Bertrand as he picked up a dead rat on the ground.

    Three days ride, the vampire replied while sinking his teeth into the rodents corpse. Bertrand must have exhausted some of his blood casting his exorcism spell, and needed to replenish it. Rats werent as good a sustenance as humans or artificial blood, but beggars couldnt be choosers.

    So it might take them a week to reach it on foot. Using the Blood to increase their pace would diminish their strength, and they didnt have any food left. They might be able to reach a coastal vige, but moving in the open would make them vulnerable to an attack by the rat swarm. Marianne didnt think for a second that the magician behind everything would let them escape the region alive.

    They had seen too much.

    The best defense is a good offense, Marianne mused, as she looked up at the Verney castle. Unlike the cursed hamlet, its ruins remained atop a cliff.

    The Knights had clearly missed someone during their purge.

    And Marianne would finish the job for them.

 Chapter 10: Friends of the Light

    Chapter 10: Friends of the Light

    The ecto-catcher hummed as the shadow of Valdemars grandfather returned from the dead.

    The workshops walls trembled as technology and magic merged into a single force. The ring of blood around the machine undted as a tired Valdemar fueled it. With his shed right hand, he gave his life force to call his grandfathers remaining psychic energies back to the world of the living; and with the left, he tried to guide them towards the portrait on the nearest wall.

    Doing one of these tasks was already difficult, and the two at once even more so but this time, no knight would kick down his door.

    Continue, Hermann encouraged his friend as he provided assistance. While Valdemars blood was the rituals key ingredient, the reptilian pictomancer had added his own to the mix. His pale body fluids formed a second ring around his colleagues, stabilizing the ritual. We are almost done

    Green ectosm was rising from the journal inside the ecto-catcher, coalescing into the shape of a human skull. At first nce, it seemed the experiment would go almost exactly like the first time Valdemar tried it.

    But when only half of the skull manifested, the necromancer realized the problem.

    Damn it! Valdemar cursed. Curse the Knights, theres not enough psychic energy for a full echo!

    By interrupting the ritual the first time, the inquisitors had depleted most of the emotional energies left in the journal. Less than half of it remained!

    Hermann, however, remained optimistic. We must press on. Take everything into the portrait. You wont have a third chance.

    Grinding his teeth in frustration, Valdemar gathered every ounce of emotion, every forgotten memory soaking the journals pages. He then directed the ectosmic construct towards his grandfathers portrait, letting the ghostly echo fuse with the enchanted pigments.

    The ecto-catcher fell silent as the canvas gained a life of its own. Valdemar watched with amazement as the colors in his grandfathers portrait started to shift. The painted eyes closed and opened again, while his chair rocked by a few millimeters. For a brief moment, Valdemar thought his grandfather had returned from the dead.

    But the paintings movements were slow and stiff, like those of a doll rather than a human being. The eyes of Valdemars grandfather moved from his grandson to Hermann, but though he seemed to detect them, his gaze was without warmth or life.

    The portrait was animated, but lifeless.

    Valdemar applied a healing spell to close his wounded palm, while the circles of blood on the floor dried up. Grandfather? He addressed the portrait, praying for an answer as his hands skin stitched itself back to normal. Grandfather? Can you hear me?

    The portraits eyes moved to Valdemar, but his grandfather didnt answer. The necromancer refused to give up so soon. Grandpa? he asked the portrait, his eyes peering into his grandsire. Its me. Valdemar. Dont you remember?

    The portrait observed him in silence for a moment, but the lips arched right as Valdemar thought he had failed.

    Valdemar? The voice was nothing but a faint whisper, but a familiar one. Valdemar hadnt heard this tongue spoken in many years. Are you off ying outside again? Dont wander too far, or your mother will worry.

    Valdemar let out a breath of relief, suppressing tears in his eyes. How good it felt to hear that wise voice again after so long. Half the reason the necromancer ran this ritual was to return his family to him, beyond his research.

    And he had seeded.

    I do not understand thenguage, Hermann said while using magic to close his own wounds.

    I do, Valdemar replied in Antean, before switching back to French to address his dead rtive. Its alright, Grandfather. I cant wander away from this ce, even if I wanted to.

    The portrait smiled, but didnt answer.

    This reaction spooked Valdemar, who suddenly realized his grandfather had asked for his mother when he had outlived her. There were holes in the echos memories.

    The necromancer grabbed the journal and presented it to the portrait. Grandpa, do you recognize this? Valdemar asked, as he flipped the pages.

    Valdemar, did you look into my books again? the portrait asked with a familiar frown of disapproval.

    Im sorry, Grandpa. Valdemar couldnt help but apologize, as he pointed at a passage written in the indecipherablenguage. I didnt understand that passage. What tongue is it?

    His painted grandfathers eyes looked at the text, reading it. Its English, he whispered. John the British, he taught it to me.

    <em>The British? </em>Valdemar thought. <em>What was that?</em><em>A troglodyte tribe?</em>

    We talked. We drank mud and breathed gas together in Picardy His grandfather scowled, the pigments turning white from fear and horror. His voice shook when he spoke. Oh, our poornds, what did the Germans make of you? You were so beautiful once

    Grandfather?

    But Valdemars words fell on deaf ears.

    Where is the grass? his grandfather muttered, his painted visage looking left and right as if surrounded by invisible foes. I can only see the shrapnel. Paul, where are you? I cant see anyone its all dark out there...

    The pigments shifted again, and his grandfather returned to his original position. His painted cheeks regained colors, and his horror turned to confusion.

    Grandfather? Valdemar asked, his throat dry. Grandfather?

    The portrait looked at him, as if suddenly noticing his presence. Valdemar, did you look into my books again?

    Valdemar sighed in defeat. I went off to read outside, he said, dreading the next words.

    Dont wander too far, or your mother will worry, his grandfather advised with paternal warmth.

    She wont. I swear. Valdemar closed the journal, his fingers trembling in silent frustration.

    Hermann, who had observed the interaction in silence, looked at his colleague with concern in his eyes. Is something wrong? he asked Valdemar. You look distraught.

    Its not him, the necromancermented in Antean, as his grandfathers eyes wandered around the room. When the picture answered me, I thought he was back. But as I feared, this replica is iplete. Broken.

    You knew that it would be an echo. Echoes cannot think.

    Yes, but Valdemar shook his head in sadness. I hoped for more than that.

    A reminder of his family was better than none, but it still broke his heart to see his grandfather like this. If only the ritual had worked the first time, maybe the painting would have be so lifelike that Valdemar wouldnt have noticed the difference with the real deal.

    Hermann put a scaled hand on his friends shoulder. I am... sorry.

    Its not your fault, but the Knights. Though Valdemar believed vengeance was a suckers game, if he ever crossed paths with the squad that interrupted his ritual... At least he recognizes thenguage, so I can trante the missing parts over time.

    Be gentle... Hermann advised, as his scaled hands brushed against the portrait. Valdemars grandfather didnt seem to notice the troglodyte. This paintings ego is fragile it will only answer to you its creator and it cannot handle strong emotions.

    Do you mean it might break?

    No, but it will revert to its prior state like a thoughting to aplete stop. The troglodyte observed his colleague carefully. You should take a rest before interrogating him.

    Do I look that tired? If anything, Valdemar wanted nothing less than to fall on his bed and close his eyes. Honestly, I almost suggested that we dy the ritual.

    I would not have med you for it, Hermann replied, his tail wagging behind him. Is it the eyes?

    No. Though Valdemar hadnt emerged from the Institutes lower floors since he drank that damn potion. He was afraid of what the rest of the world might look like. I suffer from nightmares, and tonight was more intense than usual.

    Dreams are a dialogue with ourselves, Hermann said while clearing his throat. He struggled to find the right words. Perhaps your mind is trying to tell you something? What did you dream of?

    It was strange, Valdemar admitted. I was trapped at the bottom of a well I couldnt escape from, and then Marianne looked at me from above.

    Marianne Reynard?

    Yes. It was the first time Valdemar dreamed of her. I heard a womans voice, and then gunshots. But when I tried to climb the well to escape and look for myself, a pile of rocks buried me alive. I dont know what to think of it.

    It is quite natural for mammalian males to dream of femalepany. Hermann scratched his left cheek with his w. Maybe you simply feel sexually frustrated?

    Valdemar remained silent for a moment out of sheer disbelief. No, he said.

    But to his horror, Hermann remained adamant about pitching Valdemar his theory. The well copsing before you can reach her the sound of bullets firing the imagery...

    She had clothes.

    Oh, Hermann replied in disappointment.

    An awkward silence followed, made worse by the confused gaze of his grandfather in the background. Valdemar felt blood rushing to his cheeks. Hermann, if you say a word of this conversation to Liliane, I wont talk to you for a month.

    Her friend Frigga is an oneiromancer. Though Hermann had changed the subject, Valdemar could tell that he still believed in his crass theory. If you have nightmares She can help.

    Valdemar considered the proposal for a moment.<em> And why not? </em>he thought.<em> I wanted to consult a specialist for a while. </em>Shes good?

    The best Hermann appeared a bit embarrassed all of a sudden. But selfish.

    Ill have to pay her?

    The troglodyte nodded in confirmation. Not with gold though she will ask for a favor.

    Service for service? Valdemar could live with it. Fine, Ill consult her after we summon the Collector.

    About that I have done research on the Qlippoths. Are you sure blood will remain behind once we kill it?

    Qlippoths may be spiritual creatures, but if allowed to manifest, their bodies be real enough, Valdemar reassured him. As psychic entities from the extradimensional realm of madness called the Outer Darkness, Qlippoths needed to either create a body of ectosm or possess a living creature to manifest on the material ne. Well need gold coins for my method, as greed drives it.

    So its true Hermann nodded to himself. I read that Qlippoths are manifestations of mortals sins. The greater the sin the stronger the beast.

    Where did you read that? In a Churchs book? Valdemar snorted. Its moreplicated than that. There is debate about whether the Outer Darkness is <em>fueled </em>by emotions or <em>causing </em>them, although all ten species of Qlippoths do draw their power from a particr thought. Collectors are associated with greed and ownership.

    The moreplex and powerful the emotion, the stronger the beast. At the bottom were gluttonous Gnawers and the envious Facethiefs, who tried to mimic humanity by stealing others identities. At the top of the Qlippoth hierarchy stood the creative Nahemoths, mad demigods whose vile wishes their Lilith handmaidens immediately fulfilled. Collectors were in the middle, too powerful to serve asmon summoning fodder, but weak enough to be bound.

    So when will we proceed with the summoning ritual? Valdemar asked.

    Soon, Hermann answered. I asked my Master Loctis to rent the Hall of Rituals for our purpose. He wishes to be present.

    Valdemar winced. The Hall of Rituals could only be entered from the Institutes ground floor above. Cant we do it in my workshop? he pleaded. I mean, its small but I summoned Qlippoths in far worse conditions.

    Summoning is only authorized only possible in the Hall of Rituals Hermann pointed out. And you should go outside for your health.

    I know. Valdemar hadnt left his workshop in days. Liliane delivered him the days meal each morning. I know.

    I I researched ways to help you forget, Hermann admitted. But once the body has taken the Elixir of True Sight

    You cant close your eyes.

    Nor ignore those outside.

    After a short, peaceful rest, Valdemar found the courage to leave the Institutes basement and explore the outside world.

    The eyes were waiting for him.

    They infested the caverns ceiling like mushroom growth. Some were so small that Valdemar could barely see them, but others wererger than the Institute itself. The stones surface was blistered with crystal cysts and metallic fibers. The dark and foreboding ceiling had transformed into an alien tapestry, with none the wiser.

    And yet, in spite of all its terrible eldritch grandeur, Valdemar couldnt help but see the beauty in this spectacle. Strange tangles of fibers linking the eyes together glittered like a web of light. Weird, lurid colors danced on a metallic skin stretching as far as the eye could see. Strange entities floated beneath these alien auroras, from formless shadows to shimmering masses of colored dust and gemstones.

    Valdemar had yed the false skin of the world to see the truth underneath, dreadful and beautiful in equal measure.

    His True Sight also allowed him to see the wards and protections around the Institute. Fiery glyphs and arcane symbols formed a vast sphere around the fortress walls, preventing the shadows outside from crossing its perimeter. The design was soplex that looking at it gave Valdemar a headache; how many sorcerers had woven spell after spell to raise such a perfect barrier?

    Valdemar wandered the Institutes ground, before making his way to the local Cathedral of the Light. The temple was almost deserted, but the necromancer noticed the red aura around the gargoyles on the walls. The statues had been animated with magic, and would defend the building from attackers if needed. Valdemar crossed the gates anyway, looking for the light beyond the threshold.

    He didnt know what brought him here. Valdemar had never been religious, and his experience with the Church had been mostly limited to avoiding its inquisitors but the building and its fires felt reassuringly familiarpared to the alien ceiling outside.

    The cathedrals hall was almost deserted when he arrived, with barely a few Knights of the Tome sitting on the benches in silent contemtion. A hooded priestess chanted deep songs dedicated to the light behind the central fiery altar, feeding a brasero with wood and paper letters. The congregation had written their sins and dark thoughts on them, so the mes could purify them.

    Valdemar silently sat a few rows behind them, taking a look at the area and basking in its warmth. The ceiling was made of thousands of scintiting scales surrounding a crystal shaped like the mythical sun. When Valdemar paid more attention to them, he noticed scenes carved on them: a scene of the ancient humans worshipping the sun on the surface; the Whitemoons appearance in the skies; the age of darkness and frost that followed; mankinds descent into Undend; the wars against the troglodytes, the Derros, and the dark elves; the pact between the first Enlightened One and the Dark Lords, that made the Church of the Light the empires official religion; and the glorious future when the Light would shine again on a world free of sin.

    Valdemars inquisitive eyes then wandered to another part of the architecture, a towering pir of chiseled purple crystal. Pictures of skulls had been carved on the surface, shining with otherworldly light. The structure reached more than ten meters in height, pushing towards the ceiling and the scintiting false sun above.

    A Reliquary.

    Impressive, eh? Valdemar turned his head at the speaker, and blinked in surprise. A golem no taller than a human stood near his bench. Made of wood and purple soulstones, the creature was d in tattered robes, heavy scarves, and a pointed hat obscuring most of its face. Valdemar could only see darkness beneath, and the glow of two yellow crystal eyes. I made it myself.

    A handsome old woman in herte fifties followed the creature, her skin brown, and her eyes darker. Valdemar had rarely seen that coloration before, and wondered if she came from a faraway cavern. Her ck hair was tied into a disheveled bun, and her ck robes reminded the summoner of a bats fur. She gave Valdemar a sharp look as if he were some kind of savage beast.

    You stink, the woman said to Valdemar with the bluntness of a mace, her wrinkles creasing. Wash yourself.

    I took a shower thirty minutes ago, Valdemar protested.

    It wasnt enough, she replied. Your stench frightens the animals.

    "Amie, please, the golem said, before pointing at the bench. Can we sit with you? You look like betterpany than the Knights.

    Valdemar answered with a nod. I never saw a Reliquary sorge before, he admitted, as the strange golem and hispanion sat with him. How many souls does it contain?

    By mytest count, two thousand eight hundred and fifty-three, the golem replied. Its not much, Ill agree. The Church of the Lights Reliquary in Sas contains hundreds of thousands.

    It didnt surprise Valdemar. Reliquaries wererger versions of the soulstones used by nobles and rich individuals to catch their souls after death, allowing them to be revived as sentient undead. Unlike individual soulstones, Reliquaries didnt immediately capture souls at the moment of death, but could hold more than one at once. As such, poor individuals could ask to have their spirit transferred into it while alive if they couldnt afford a soulstone and sensed their death approaching.

    There was a catch, however. Souls inside a Reliquary fused together and lost their individuality. Their knowledge and memories melded together into a single pool of information, allowing the collective to give advice and guidance to the living.

    Ill choose quality over quantity anytime though, the golem argued, though he whispered lowly enough not to disturb the religious ceremony. This Reliquary contains the souls of esteemed schrs and researchers who either failed to achieve immortality or grew tired of it. Their collective pool of knowledge rivals even our own.

    Valdemar made a note to question the Reliquary in the future. Lord Ochs tutge was already a lot to deal with, but he was interested in what this undead library had to say.

    Names Edwin by the way, the golem introduced himself and his friend. Edwin Crowborn. And this is Amie Malherbe.

    Valdemar. The summoner squinted. <em>Master</em> Amie?

    The woman answered with a nod, although her eyes focused on the fiery altar. While Edwin looked more interested in chatting, his female colleague hade to pray and nothing else. Hermann told you about me, I suppose?

    How did you guess?

    All the bats and half the rats in our walls report to her, Edwin exined. He sounded vexed that Valdemar had heard of his colleague, but not him. Were both Masters at the Institute. Im specialized in soulcraft, while Amie teaches biomancy and animacy.

    Soulcraft? Valdemar quickly put the two and two together. So the golems around the Institute

    Theyre my handiwork. Edwin nodded with pride. The gargoyles outside too. I imbued them with life and purpose.

    All Masters needed to achieve immortality. Valdemar assumed that Edwins method involved binding his soul to an immortal golem body, though he wondered what his colleague did. Amie Malherbe reeked of magic, but she neither looked undead nor young.

    I tried to make a sentient golem once, Valdemar admitted. My n was to put somebodys brain in it and to have their mind animate it.

    Like the Derros? Edwin asked. What went wrong?

    I experimented with rat brains, but I couldnt trante the brains electrical signals into psychic or magical pulses, Valdemar admitted. That failure was why he eventually started working on the ecto-catcher. Since I couldnt make a golem work with something as simple as an animal, a human would have been beyond my grasp. That, and the original soul had long departed anyway.

    Your efforts were doomed from the first day, Amie said with firmness. Even Derros transfer the brain while the subject is alive. Once the soul is gone, only knowledge and memories remain. The emotions are gone.

    I thought you had sess with giving life to flesh golems without the need of a soulstone? Edwin asked his colleague.

    It was another soul that took over the vessel, like a newborn. The brains original upant did not return, and though the new one kept the memories, he didnt feel any connection to them.

    Valdemar immediately thought of his grandfather, his eyes lighting up in hope. Could I see this golem? he immediately asked.

    No, Amie replied bluntly. Not unless Lord Och orders me.

    What? Valdemar refused to give up. Why''s that?

    The Master looked at him with disgust. Your stench disturbs my friends.

    What kind of scientist refused to share their knowledge over hygiene? If I put on a perfume

    Still no.

    Valdemar sulked, causing Edwin to cackle. A knight on the front row looked at the group with disapproval, making the golem lower his tone.

    So youre Ochs new protg, Edwin whispered before examining Valdemar closely. Well, it was nice knowing you.

    Valdemar shuddered upon remembering his initiation. I survived so far.

    So far, Edwin replied while rolling his shoulders. But I would invest in a soulstone if I were you. Och kills as easily as he breathes well, as when he breathed.

    He had to be close to the Dark Lord, to name him without his title.

    The ceremony ended a few minutester, and the Knights of the Tome dispersed to return to their posts. Her prayers finished, the priestess walked away from the burning altar and removed her hood, revealing a well-groomed mane of red hair and sharp amber eyes. She was exceptionally graceful, her beauty further enhanced by an emerald diadem and a soulstone ne. Valdemar noticed pouches of ingredients and a belt stacked with potions beneath her cloak, alongside spells woven in her clothes.

    Greetings, child, she addressed Valdemar with a warm smile that reminded him of Liliane. It is the first time Ive seen you here.

    Im not religious, Valdemar admitted.

    But you seek spiritual guidance. I can see it in your eyes. The redhead joined her hands together. Liliane informed me of your predicament.

    This confirmed Valdemars suspicions. Youre Mathilde de Valnoir. Lilianes teacher, and the creator of the elixir of youth.

    I am a humble servant of the Light, nothing more.

    Valdemar would have normally considered her words false humility, but Mathilde of Valnoir sounded quite sincere. Nor did she sound like these holier-than-thou type of inquisitors he had grown to despise.

    And the worlds best alchemist too, Edwin ttered the priestess, while Amie rose from the bench and left without a word. She struck Valdemar as preferring solitude over social activities. Forever young like an eternal flower.

    Thank you, Edwin, Lady Mathilde replied politely. Though I hope you did note to my evening prayer just to tter me.

    And why not? The golem chuckled. We barely see each other unless Lord Och calls us to a meeting nowadays. I enjoy toiling in myb as much as anyone, but eternal life isnt all about research. Besides, its not like you get many followers. Shouldnt you try to convert me?

    The Institute is not fertile ground for worship, the priestess admitted. But I am not a missionary. I offerfort and guidance to those who fear the dark, regardless of whether they believe or not.

    Valdemar shifted on the bench. Yet you hoard the secret of immortality, condemning people to death.

    To his surprise, Lady Mathildes expression shifted into one of sadness. You cannot fathom how many times Ive regretted my decision to keep my elixir of life a secret, young man. s, it is for the greater good. My elixirs preparation is extremelyplex and dangerous. Very few alchemists could reproduce it. The others would create poison disguised as a cure, their botched potions spreading cancers and illnesses.

    Valdemar remained skeptical. I thought no knowledge was forbidden within these walls?

    More knowledge is always good, but there is a right moment for all things. Just as releasing information about the Strangers to the unwary spread their influence, sharing my form as it is will do more harm than good. However, not now doesnt mean never. I am looking into ways to simplify my recipe into something every alchemist could create safely.

    Even your adorable apprentice? Edwin mused.

    Lady Mathilde smiled warmly. Liliane is a sweet and talented girl. If I ever share the original form with anyone, it will be with her.

    Valdemar couldnt argue with that part. Though he did question Mathildes decision to keep her elixir of youth a secret, as the more people aware of the form the greater the odds of someone improving it, he could understand her reasons. If there was a dangerousponent to his own ecto-catcher, he would try to patch out the ws too before releasing the schematics into the wild.

    I heard of your troubles with inquisitors, Valdemar, Mathilde said. So I admit that I didnt expect to see you knock on my doorstep.

    Honestly, neither did I, Valdemar confessed. I dont know what I was looking for here.

    Comfort about what the Elixir of True Sight revealed to you, I suppose? the priestess guessed. I am afraid that what you have seen is the truth.

    Valdemar already knew that, but to have it confirmed made him shiver. The world is alive, and we are in its bowels.

    No wonder the Domains were sorge.

    To his surprise though, Lady Mathilde shook her head. No one understands yet if Undend itself is alive, or if the ecosystem you see outside is an entity spreading through the tunnels. Perhaps it is simply no different than moss.

    Somehow, Valdemar doubted the truth would be soforting. Did you know all along?

    You mean the Church? Of course we know, though my superiors will deny it. In many cases, it is easier to suppress the truth than to ept it. The priestess let out a sigh. I understand how traumatizing it is, to see the truth for the first time. My own revtion shook my faith too... which is why I begged Lord Och to reconsider when Liliane informed me of his ns. I said you were too young, that you needed a few more years.<em> The younger the better,</em> he replied.

    If it were up to Och, no sorcerer would learn magic without taking an Elixir of Insight, Edwin said. If you couldnt ept the truth, then you weren''t fit to master sorcery in the first ce. He follows a survival of the fittest mentality as far as the arcane arts are concerned.

    You all took the Elixir too? Valdemar asked.

    It is one of the required steps to be a Master, Lady Mathilde confirmed. Lord Och has long-term ns that require special awareness of magic. If he asked for you to take the Elixir, it means you factor into them.

    Valdemar wasnt certain if he should take it as apliment or a warning. Maybe both.

    But we can discuss that around a cup of tea, if you want, Lady Mathilde said with a motherly smile. I can tell you have a lot on your mind, and as a priest, it is my duty to ease your burden. Liliane will be here as well.

    That thats kind of you, but Ill pass, Valdemar replied. Though seeing the truth of the world and his failed attempt to fully copy his grandfathers soul weighed on his shoulders, he didnt feel good about sharing his fears with a servant of the Light. Lady Mathilde remained a member of the organization that forced him to go on the run, even if she seemed to have a kind heart.

    His reaction amused the priestess. Are you afraid of a warm drink? But its alright, I wont force you. Liliane will be disappointed though.

    She already guilt-tripped me once, Valdemar replied. It wont work again.

    Lady Mathilde chuckled. Valdemar, while I believe in the Light, I do not condemn others for following their own path and I do not look down on yours. Besides, our journeys share the same destination. We seek to bring back the Light to the people of Ant, whether in this world or another. Though I do question your decision to summon Qlippoths to reach your end.

    <em>I can keep a secret, </em>Liliane had said. But she forgot to say: <em>but not from everyone else! </em>I know how to deal with Qlippoths.

    All summoners think that, until they call something they cannot put down, Lady Mathilde replied with skepticism. One day, you will learn that to your sorrow.

    Summoned monsters are just inferior golems, Edwin dered. Make your own protector.

    However, I will happily take you and Hermann with us to the Domain of Alogi to look for this nt of yours, Lady Mathilde said. Although I must warn you that it might be a dangerous journey. Have you talked to Lord Och about leaving the Institute for a research trip?

    Not yet, Valdemar admitted. The lich hadnt contacted him since he drank the Elixir of True Sight. And I thought Alogi was the safest Domain?

    The priestess chuckled. Thats what the local Dark Lord says to bring visitors and tourists, but some inds are still half-untamed including those where your flower grows.

    All I know ofbat magic is summoning allies and telekic thrusts, Valdemar admitted. I dont think you will like me calling a Qlippoth for help.

    If that is the root of the problem, I will teach you somebat spells. Lady Mathilde winked at Valdemar. It is alright to ask for help, but even better to rely on your own strength.

    Oh, if you want I am testing a new variant ofbat golem, Edwin said with excitement. If you want to practice, I can bring them out of storage. Dont worry, myb has its own infirmary.

    Somehow, Valdemar didnt think that was a good thing.

 Chapter 11: Slow Progress

    Chapter 11: Slow Progress

    Hermanns master was just as odd as he was.

    The droning song of flies and cavern locusts heralded hising in the Hall of Rituals, alongside a ck mass of spiders creeping down the walls. A swirling tide of maggots fell from the ceiling, piling up next to one of the twelve columns holding up the underground dome.

    Valdemar watched in amazement as the insects and arachnids gathered in the shape of a giant humanoid whose head reached the ten meters-tall ceiling. The swarms spiders worked as one to form a cloak of silk covering the monsters gruesome appearance. Twin yellow stars glowed beneath the hood, gazing down at Hermann and Valdemar.

    Master Loctis. Hermann bowed deeply before the monstrous swarm. Thank you foring.

    Though the insects continued to drone, chitter and sing, one word cut through the noise.

    Student. The swarms voice was as mighty as a dragons roar, deep, sinister, and undoubtedly male. Are you ready to begin?

    Yes as you can see. Hermann raised his chin and waved a wed hand at the center of the room.

    As per the procedure, the group had rented the Hall of Rituals for their experiment, and outfitted it with the necessary equipment. A summoning circle of blood, salt, and silver surrounded a pile of gold and a dozen rodents corpses. The wealth would serve to attract the Collector, and the flesh to help it take physical form.

    Valdemar and Hermann had also set a mounted canvas outside the circle, more than two meters tall and almost asrge. Though the duo had originally intended to either wound or sacrifice the Qlippoth once they extracted its blood, another idea came to mind as they prepared. They had soaked the canvas with their blood, to serve as a spiritual anchor for the creature.

    But Valdemar preferred to focus on the walking swarm rather than the summoning circle. He had already crossed paths with a simr creature when he arrived at the Institute, but couldnt observe him up close. Thousands if not millions of critters made up this entity, this Loctis. Valdemar analyzed them with his psychic sight, sensing the threads of magic binding them together. They were like droplets forming arge pool connected to others by invisible drains.

    You are not really here, are you? Valdemar guessed, after offering Hermanns master a polite nod.

    I am everywhere you hear the song of my swarm, manling, Loctis replied as it turned its face at the speaker. Valdemar felt the will of something ancient and sinister looking through the vermins eyes. But you are correct. This avatar is but one of many. As is the one you met when you crawled into this den of stone.

    For a moment, Valdemar thought he faced the most powerful animancer he had ever seen, but the reality turned out to be far more impressive. Each insect contained a piece of soul, so small the summoner could barely perceive it. But together, all these small lights formed a brilliant tapestry radiating with power. One that rivaled even Lord Ochs.

    You bound your soul to a hive of insects, Lord Loctis? Valdemar knew some animancers could transfer their soul into an animals body, but he had never heard of someone doing it to <em>millions </em>of them at once. May I ask how?

    Each insect holds a piece of my consciousness, the sentient swarm answered, though he didnt go into the details. My intellect waxes and wanes with their numbers. I am one, manling, and I am many.

    <em>All breeds of insects share a familial bond, </em>Valdemar thought as he observed the swarm. <em>They tasted blood, and were bound by it as will all their descendants.</em>

    But could a human soul resist being torn apart in so many pieces? Very few sorcerers could afford cutting off pieces of their essence without damaging their sanity and sense of self. Yet Valdemar detected no madness in the swarms aura. If anything, it stood out by its focus, its singrity of purpose.

    The fact Loctis called Valdemar manling made the sorcerer wonder how human the swarm remained though.

    A skilled sorcerer can sculpt their soul like y, and polish it like a stone, Loctis buzzed as he sensed Valdemars confusion. Though disturbing to look at and listen to, the creatures calm, educational tone somehow felt reassuring. Lord Och already guided you through the first steps. Perhaps one day, you shall transcend individuality and achieve the peace of the multitude.

    Valdemar would rather achieve a less disgusting form of immortality, but he couldnt help but respect Loctis feat.

    My Master is a biomancer, Hermann said. A sculptor of life an artist of flesh. Life is his canvas.

    I can see why he became your teacher then, Valdemar replied with a smile. Lord Loctis, may I ask why you chose to join us today?

    The creature you intend to summon shares characteristics with arachnids, the swarm exined. We shall see how many. I have studied all the lifeforms inhabiting this world, but paid little attention to the Qlippoths and denizens of other nes so far. This is an opportunity to cover a gap in my knowledge.

    Master Loctis wishes to assimte the Qlippoth into his swarm if we fail to bind it, Hermann exined. To consume its knowledge and subsume its mind.

    Assimte a Collector? Is that even possible? Valdemar asked in shock. A Collector wasnt truly a spider, it only had the shape of one.

    I do not know either Hermann cleared his throat, while Loctis remained as quiet as a giant pile of insects could be. We shall find out.

    Valdemar didnt hide his skepticism. The attempt was more likely to end with the Qlippoths essence overwhelming Loctis mind than anything. And yet nomon sorcerer could bind their soul to millions of creatures at once either.

    Begin, Loctis ordered.

    Yes, yes, Valdemar replied as he knelt before the summoning circle. Hermann?

    The troglodyte nodded slowly as he grabbed his paintbrush, waiting next to the portrait. Hermann raised his magical defenses, an invisible shield of psychic energy forming around him. Valdemar mentally probed his defenses to test them, and he didnt like what he saw.

    Hermann, your shield is passable, but a bit weak, Valdemar warned his colleague. He knew he shouldntin since the likes of Och could shred through his own like tissue paper, but the summoner had no idea how powerful the Collector might prove to be. Cant you strengthen it further?

    I I admit I focused more on practical uses of magic thanbat-rted applications. Hermann sounded a bit embarrassed about that. You said your summoning circle would hold the creature.

    It should. Valdemar had checked multiple times. But <em>should </em>doesnt mean it <em>will</em>.

    I will step in if anything happens, Loctis droned with impatience. Carry on.

    If the hive insisted...

    Hermann and Valdemar had originally nned to wound the creature on arrival, extract its blood, and then banish it... but the troglodyte had suggested a more daring alternative. They wouldnt kill the Qlippoth, but bind its essence and trap it into a painting to achieve a great feat in pictomancy.

    They would create a <em>painted ce</em>.

    At least, that was the best-case scenario. Valdemar had faith in his summoning abilities, but he knew better than to underestimate a Qlippoth. He felt Loctis gaze on his back as he knelt next to the circle, channeling the Blood through it.

    Collector of names and member of the fifth caste, I call thee from the depths of the Outer Darkness! Valdemar chanted, as a red glow coursed through the summoning circle. Spinner of wealth, I offer you this tribute by the grace of the Nahemoths!

    Valdemar felt a chill run down his spine, as his Blood weakened the invisible veil separating the nes. His call echoed beyond the material universe and didnt go unheard. A powerful presence immediately took notice.

    The world grew cold as Valdemar sensed his lifeforce drained away. The circle funneled his magic towards its center, soaking up the treasures and flesh like water. An alien force sank its teeth into this offering, using it to manifest.

    The rodents corpses inside the circle started to dissolve into goo, mixing with the coins. The metal melted and expanded into a sphere, as an invisible force reshaped it into a vessel for its otherworldly essence.

    Valdemar watched in amazement as this bubble of gold and flesh grew into a tangle of red spidery legs topped with sharp des and far too many for a single spider to support. A chitinous body of red tes formed at their center, topped with a dozen yellow, gemstone eyes. A mouth opened in their midst, filled with insectoid fangs.

    MINE! The word telepathically echoed inside Valdemars skull through the summoning bond, as clear as water. Mine, mine, mine! Its all mine! You are all mine!

    The monstrosity grewrger than a giant beetle, its many legs pushing the summoning circle in all directions. When they touched the boundaries of blood and salt, a barrier of red energy formed to stop them. The creature madly thrashed against its prison, its eyes glowing with otherworldly madness.

    A pulse of psychic energy erupted from inside the circle, and Valdemar sensed this telepathic wave crash against his magical defenses. <em>Did I make an error with the circle?</em> the summoner thought in rm.

    Your souls are mine! The abomination telepathically raged through the telepathic link. Valdemar grinded his teeth, as the beasts hits against his barrier reverberated through his bones. One of the Qlippoths eyes red at Hermann, and another at Valdemar himself, bathing them in golden light. Your bones are mine, and thisnd too! Let me out! LET ME OUT!

    Hermann, now! Valdemar shouted. Now that the creature had fully manifested, the summoner needed assistance to bind it in the painting. Hermann!

    But nobody answered.

    Valdemar turned his head at the troglodyte, only to find him frozen in ce by the Qlippoths luminous gaze. A golden, weblike ectosmic substance coated Hermanns body, preventing the pictomancer from moving. His eyes were lifeless, his limbs as still as his paintings.

    Damn, the summoning circle contained the beast, but not its power!

    Hermann! Valdemar shouted, trying to shake his friend out of his temporal paralysis. Hermann, damn it, I cant hold him alone!

    While struggling to maintain the summoning circles integrity, Valdemar psychically probed the troglodytes magical defenses in the hope of strengthening them and found them intact. Whatever spell the Collector had cast, itpletely bypassed Hermanns protections.

    Worse, the same substance had spread to Loctis silk cloak, freezing it in space and time. But unlike his student, the Master somehow remained capable of moving.

    Enough, Loctis voice buzzed across the room and inside Valdemars head. Submit.

    Valdemar had no idea how the insectoid warlock managed to hijack the telepathic bond, but the trapped Qlippoth clearly heard themand. Half of its dozen golden eyes red at Loctis in anger, the paralyzing substance spilling from the sorcerers cloak to entrap flies and spiders. For a brief instant, Valdemar thought Hermanns master would suffer the same fate as the troglodyte.

    Loctis spoke a single word, and the golden substance dispelled from Hermann and his cloak.

    The troglodyte stumbled against his painting, while his teacher returned the Collectors hateful gaze. What? Hermann asked in confusion.

    s, its resemnce with spiders is indeed purely cosmetic, the swarmmented with a cold, clinical tone. He sounded neither disappointed nor frustrated. Its mind is deaf to my song. You may proceed with the capture.

    The casual, arrogant way he dismissed the Qlippoth chilled Valdemar to the core. The creature the summoner struggled to contain was no more intimidating than a fly to the senior sorcerer.

    Hermann quickly recovered hisposure and assisted in the binding spell. The canvas surface shifted like a whirlpool, a cell calling for a prisoner. Using the summoning bond connecting him to the Qlippoth, Valdemar attempted to transfer it into the painting. His mind telekically grabbed the monsters essence the same way he took over a humans blood.

    The Qlippoth immediately resisted, its alien will pushing back against his would-be captors psychic grip. And unlike the Knight of the Tome Valdemar once threw at a wall, the Collector refused to budge.

    All the Qlippoths eyes focused on its summoner, trying to paralyze him. Valdemar faced the golden glow in the beasts re without flinching. Whatever warding spell Loctis had cast, it canceled the Collectors power.

    The Qlippoths eyes suddenly lost their luster, as if the creature had recognized the futility of its efforts. Valdemar felt all resistance to his control falter and crumble, like a dam breaking. The Collectors essence became as malleable as y to his mind.

    Though wary of a false surrender, Valdemar immediately worked toplete the ritual. The summoning circles shape changed, its outeryer of blood expanding to include Hermanns canvas. The painted whirlpool on its surface swirled as the Collectors legs touched it, the painting sucking the creature in. The Qlippoth vanished inside the portrait within seconds, and the summoning circle shrinked into nothingness. Only a single leg remained on the ground, releasing a fountain of golden blood.

    Hermann immediately applied his paintbrush to give shape to the painted whirlpool, while Valdemar continued to shape the Qlippoths essence. Collectors had the capacity to freeze objects in time and space, and the two warlocks worked together to harness its power.

    Hermanns paintbrush skillfully gave shape to the canvas chaotic surface; half of it was pure skill, and the other advanced pictomancy spells. After a few minutes of work, the researchers no longer gazed at aimless blood, but at the detailed picture of an exquisite square room with golden walls and cobwebs tapestries. The details were so intricate, so perfect, that it looked almost real.

    It is done Hermann said as he lowered his paintbrush. Valdemar, do you sense its power?

    Yes, he did. The painting radiated a faint aura of magic, one that belied the new artifacts true power. Valdemar slowly approached the portrait, raising his hand at its surface. The paint felt smooth under his nails, and the pigments shuddered when he touched them.

    Incredible, Valdemar said in amazement. So fast...

    Fighting is not among my talents but I am not helpless either, Hermann said with pride. I can bind an essence in a minute. I do not even need a canvas to paint on.

    You did well, Loctis calmly congratted the two researchers.

    Hermanns pride turned to shame. No, I I apologize for my weakness, Master. This spiders power it bypassed my defenses. I didn''t even notice. Im sorry, Valdemar.

    I would have been trapped too, if not for your masters help, he reassured Hermann. And my summoning circle wasnt up to the task. Were both at fault here.

    I did not protect you, Loctis replied with amusement. I apud your mastery of space-time sorcery, by the way.

    Valdemar frowned in confusion. You didnt protect me?

    The Masters countless insects gazed at Valdemar. It reminded him of the eyes outside the Institute, and not in a good way. Curious, the swarm droned. You shrugged off the Qlippoths time-space binding, but not out of any conscious effort on your part.

    Maybe the summoning bond shielded me, Valdemar guessed, though a part of him doubted it. The circle hadnt protected Hermann.

    What was it? Hermann asked. That attack it wasnt a spell.

    The Collector altered reality on a fundamental level, Loctis exined. Weaving the threads of space and time to iste you from the rest of existence. I doubt anyone unfamiliar with teleportation and advanced space-time maniption could resist this effect.

    Which begged the question of how Valdemar shrugged it off. He could sense Loctis was asking himself the same question.

    I see Hermann focused on his new painting. Good to know studying this art piece may teach me how to resist such ability in the future.

    Do you want to go in first? Valdemar asked, his hand still on the painted surface.

    The honor is yours, my friend.

    Valdemar held his breath, and pushed.

    His hand vanished through the painting, its surface rippling like water. His fingers had entered a warmer space than the cold Hall of Rituals, and soon his arm followed. With a smile, Valdemar stepped inside the painting.

    The crossing felt like walking through a wall of water, his boots stepping on a smooth metal surface. The pocket dimension took the shape of a cube of gold with a single portrait-shaped doorway, with a space smaller than his workshop. Still, Valdemar couldnt help but grin as his fingers trailed against the cobwebs on the ceiling. Though they felt like paint rather than silk, they were real.

    Hermann followed him into the painting, his tail pping happily. It it worked, he said with quiet joy.

    Yes, it did! Valdemar knocked the golden wall. Do you think we could expand it?

    We could if we connect multiple paintings. The troglodyte scratched his left horn, as he calcted the rooms size. Twenty cubic meters maybe twenty-five.

    Valdemar suddenly realized that Loctis hadnt sent any insects after them, the swarm waiting on the other side of the painted barrier. Are we the only ones who can enter this ce? he asked Hermann.

    Yes and no, Hermann replied. We used our blood to craft this gate and our blood is its key.

    So Liliane cant enter until we spray her with our blood? Valdemar shuddered. Well, I guess we can use this portrait as an additional closet.

    I will take this painted ce study it. Hermanns ws trailed against the walls. This is a small world too small...

    Too small for your kind? Valdemar guessed. Is that why you wanted us to go through with that ritual?

    It was a test-run practice for the day we will create the Silent Kings door. Hermann shrugged. And if we cannot open it maybe it could be the draft of a new world. A new reality where my kind could settle.

    I think it would take a Nahemoth for that, and I doubt they can even be bound in a painting at all. Valdemar considered how to expand this pocket dimension. Now that the Collectors essence gives this space structure, we could strengthen it. What if we bound a soul echo to the portrait, like my grandfathers? Will it take a solid shape inside? Will it increase the pocket dimensions boundaries?

    I do not know Hermann replied, though with excitement rather than surrender. We shall see

    They were just starting.

    The duo stepped out of the painted space, though Hermann wisely attempted to bring a strand of cobweb with him. The substance vanished when it crossed the threshold, proving that painted elements could only survive inside the pocket dimension. Valdemars hopes to bring painted gold to the real world died with this demonstration.

    Once you are done with the fluid extraction, you shall transport the beast''s leg to my workshop, Loctis ordered his student, as he collected the Qlippoths blood on the floor inside a bottle. The Collectors severed leg still wriggled on the ground as if alive. I wish to study it.

    Yes, Master, Hermann replied with obedience.

    The living swarm wordlessly scattered like a formless mass, the spiders among it cannibalizing the silken cloak. The hordes of insects crept up the walls and vanished through small cracks in the stone.

    Valdemar suddenly remembered Edwins quip about all bats reporting to Master Amie. Do all animals in the Institute answer to a sorcerer? he asked Hermann before grabbing the canvas for transport. It was a lot heavier than the summoner expected.

    Not only the animals. Fear the nts. They have ears too...

    Really?

    No, Hermann replied with a deadpan tone, as he moved to help Valdemar. It was a joke.

    I am pleased by your progress, apprentice. For once, Lord Och sounded halfway honest. The lich had finally deigned to contact his student again, inviting him to a stroll through the Institutes hedge maze. Turning an intermediate Qlippoth into a pocket dimensions power source was a stroke of genius, if you pardon me using the expression.

    The ideas credit goes to Hermann, Valdemar replied. He took a moment to observe the ck thorns making up most of the maze, and noticed a few colorful flowers growing out of them. Has it been done before?

    Many pictomancers created pocket dimensions, but none used a summoned creature as its fuel, the lich answered with a shrug. You can achieve a simr result with five human sacrifices and a kitten.

    That was oddly specific. Thankfully, Hermann had more ethics than the lich.

    I didnt know you were familiar with pictomancy, my teacher, Valdemar admitted. Do not take it the wrong way, but you do not look the artistic type.

    I do not have your appetite for the arts nor Hermanns talent with a paintbrush, but I studied all forms of magic. A few pictomancers achieved a form of immortality simr to lichdom by binding their soul to their own portrait, and I sought to understand the process better.

    Did you bind your soul to a portrait, my teacher?

    Are you fishing for information about my phctery, apprentice? The lich sounded more amused than anything. I decided against using a painting. I do not denigrate the great feat of achieving immortality through pictomancy, but I found this method imperfect.

    Because the painting degrades?

    That can be solved easily enough with the right spells, Lord Och replied dismissively. The problem is simpler, my apprentice. A sorcerer binding their soul to a portrait will always reflect it. They will never grow old, their wounds will close. But they remain unchanging, and thralls to their vanity, their passions, their lusts. Lichdom is the superior form of immortality because it frees the mind from these foolish temptations.

    The answer made Valdemar smile. I suppose you have a poor opinion of vampires?

    I do. The disdain in the lichs voice was real enough. I will never understand their appeal. I do not even consider them true undead, since they still need to feed. Vampires are a <em>botched work</em>.

    The lich eventually led them to a small fountain inside the maze. A statue of a hooded, cyclopean creature poured water in a marble basin full of algae and translucent fish. Valdemar analyzed them with his psychic sight, and realized a biomancer had enhanced both animals and nts to make the small ecosystem self-sustaining. The fishs excretions nourished the algae that then produced oxygen and nutrients for the local animals.

    What life lesson did you take from this adventure? Lord Och asked his apprentice, as he gazed at the pure waters.

    Considering the life lesson part, Valdemar guessed the lich asked for wisdom rather than practical knowledge. The Collector was more powerful than I imagined. I shouldnt have underestimated it and prepared better.

    A wise answer, apprentice, but not the one I wished to hear.

    Lord Och nced at a fish and telekically pulled it out of the water.

    Let me tell you a secret about the Strangers, the Qlippoths, and all these arrogant creatures inhabiting our world, the lich said, as he coldly watched the captive animal struggling to escape his invisible grasp. You may meet a few pretending to be as old as the world, to have created mankind, or to im godhood. It may even be true.

    Valdemar raised an eyebrow, knowing such ims would have given an inquisitor a dire case of apoplexy.

    But no matter how powerful they look, we can ovee these entities. The lich released the fish, letting it sink into the basin. Valdemar let out a sigh of relief upon seeing it flee for the bottom, as far away from the surface as possible. The gods do not deserve our worship, let alone our suffering. If these beings achieved great power, so can we; for there is no limit to the human genius.

    There was something oddly reassuring in the Dark Lords cold, calm arrogance. Inspiring even. Impossible is but a word, Valdemar said. Countless people told him reaching Earth was impossible, and he would prove them all wrong.

    Indeed. Lord Och put his hands behind his back while ncing at the cyclops statue. This realization should have given you rity, and yet your mind remains clouded.

    Im Im asking myself questions, Valdemar admitted, his own gaze turning to the water. Ive noticed a few strange urances, and I dont know what to make of them.

    The lich scoffed. Enlighten me.

    The Collectors power didnt affect me and it stopped resisting my attempts to bind it, even though it had more than enough strength to fight back. Valdemar had wondered if it had been a trick, but the summoner had felt the creatures essence bend to his will as he reshaped it into a pocket dimension. It simply submitted.

    You should take pride in your power.

    It felt too easy, Valdemar replied. And someonemented on my stench.

    I suggest perfume, the lich quipped. It works wonders for me.

    Except that when I asked Hermann about it, he replied that I smelled like the Collector we just bound. I also heal far faster than anyone I know. I didnt think much of it beforehand, but when I add all these details together...

    You feel there is something <em>unnatural </em>about you, young Valdemar?

    I dont feel, I think. Valdemar scowled at the Dark Lord. And I know you suspect something too, my teacher. You sent Marianne to dig into my family history to confirm whatever hypothesis you made.

    The lichs silence spoke louder than any word.

    How did you learn to summon Qlippoths? Lord Och eventually asked, though he refused to turn around and face his apprentice.

    Valdemar frowned in confusion. I bought a manual at the Midnight Market.

    Did you? the lich asked innocently.

    You can ask my empty purse, Valdemar replied with insolence.

    Did <em>you </em>find this book, or did the <em>book </em>find its way to <em>you</em>? Lord Och looked over his shoulder, the glowing light in his sockets faltering. Are your dreams truly dreams? Are they even your own?

    Of course the Dark Lord would answer a question with more questions. What are you getting at, my teacher?

    That if you want to learn the truth, you should ask yourself the right questions. The lich turned around and faced his apprentice. I do not ask questions to confuse you, young Valdemar, but because the journey to an answer is as valuable as the answer itself. Life is a test, and effort builds character.

    So if I want <em>any </em>answer, Ill have to find them myself? So much for tutoring.

    Careful, young Valdemar, the Dark Lord said with cold amusement, having read his apprentices thoughts. I can tolerate insolence, but not ungratefulness. Have I not been helpful to you?

    You have, Valdemar conceded. He wouldnt have met teachers like Hermann without the Dark Lords support, nor glimpsed at the true nature of the world without his guidance. The Institute had given him more resources than he could have ever hoped for.

    But Lord Och was still a maniptive <em>ass </em>who withheld information from his apprentice, while putting him through potentially deadly tests.

    Do you expect me to <em>coddle </em>you, apprentice? The lich chuckled. Like a cksmith molding the perfect de by hammering the steel over and over again, I will reshape you into the greatest sorcerer you can be.

    How does keeping secrets from me help with the tempering process? Valdemar asked with a dubious frown.

    Because you are the only one who can find yourself, young Valdemar, the Dark Lord replied with surprising gravitas. If I told you of my suspicions, they would influence you. I can teach you how to practice magic, to bend reality to your will, but I cannot tell you who you are. No one can do that, except you.

    Valdemar crossed his arms, but took the time to consider his mentors words.

    Who was he? He didnt need anybody to tell him that. He was Valdemar Verney, seeker of Earth, and that would never change. Though he was angry with the Dark Lord for keeping his cards close to chest, in the end, it didnt matter. Valdemar had taken him up on his offer of apprenticeship to open a path to Earth, not to learn more about himself. He could do that on his own.

    Fine, Valdemar said. Ill find the truth myself.

    Thats the spirit. The lich decided to throw him a bone. I did promise I would share one of my secrets with you if you proved an apt disciple, and I shall deliver. Tell me, what do you know of the ancient Pleromians?

    That they built this ce and many other monuments, Valdemar replied. Until their civilization went extinct, though nobody knows how.

    Dont you find it strange though, that an entire poption could die without leaving any trace?

    Well, I did consider another possibility, Valdemar admitted. That they arent dead. That they just moved on.

    But where could an entire civilization go without leaving a trace? Undend is a vast ce, but they should have left hints. The lich tilted his head to the side. Unless they went... elsewhere?

    Valdemars eyes widened, as a possibility formed in his mind. No way...

    It is time I show you what stirs beneath our feet, young Valdemar. Lord Och put his hand on Valdemars shoulder, as space twisted around them. And where the Pleromians went.

 Chapter 12: Heirs to a Lost Empire

    Chapter 12: Heirs to a Lost Empire

    Many schrs fantasized about the fourth and deepest level of the Institute.

    Valdemar had asked everyone from Liliane to Iren about what the Dark Lord kept underneath his fortress, only to always receive the same answer: nobody knew. Lady Mathilde and Edwin seemed to have an inkling, but knew better than gossip about their masters secrets. Liliane believed that Lord Och hid his phctery there and that its power radiated outward like a furnace; while Hermann thought that the lich instead maintained a secretboratory underground, where he worked on ghastly experiments.

    Valdemar hadnt expected ancient ruins, however.

    The lich had teleported them to hisirs depths, folding the very fabric of space; and unlike the Collectors stasis effect, Valdemar couldnt counter it. One instant they were in the hedge maze, and inside a gallery the next. The walls were made of the same oily, pitch-ck stone as the great pir at the Institutes center, but carved from floor to ceiling with ancient glyphs and depictions of the Pleromians.

    Valdemar had to cover his mouth as he inhaled a cloud of dust, to Lord Ochs amusement. You will forgive me for theck of aeration, my apprentice, he said with mock concern. I rarely get living visitors.

    I suppose this floor Valdemar coughed. It can only be essed through teleportation?

    Or by digging your way in. I can give you a shovel, if you want to build an air duct.

    Valdemar ignored the jab, and instead used the breathing exercises Lord Och taught him. He focused on the flow of air within his blood, using magic to maximize his respirations effectiveness. The summoner had to use his hood as an improvised scarf thick enough to protect his lungs from the dust, but thin enough that he wouldnt suffocate.

    <em>Its not just the dust and the oxygen deficit, </em>he thought. He sensed something putrid in the air, a foul humor that made him want to vomit. A remnant of disgust, the hideous smell of abhorrent sex, and the suffering of something devoured alive. <em>Horrors happened in these tunnels, and echo even millenniater.</em>

    Lord Och looked cautiously impressed. Good. You understood the practical applications of my exercises.

    Thank you, my teacher.

    But you wouldnt need to breathe if you had transformed yourself into an undead, the lich said, immediately taking back hispliment. You should at least learn to strengthen your organs.

    Lady Mathilde started giving me pointers, Valdemar said as the two walked down the gallery. The carvings represented the daily life of the ancient Pleromians; one showed a trio of cyclops offering a shining trapezohedron to a high priest of their kind, another a sessful dragon hunt by spear-wielding warriors. She said I should start with spells to reinforce my body and make it hard as steel.

    Though their training sessions had so far been limited to Valdemar punching a crystal golem in the chest and breaking his hand. Edwin had been quite happy with his creations resistance to damage, while Mathilde reassured Valdemar that he would progress with persistence.

    Wise advice, though Marianne would be a better teacher. You should ask her to give you lessons when she returns. The lich touched the walls with his left hand, his bony fingers leaving a trail of dust behind them. Your body is the only weapon you can rely on behind the mind. Once youplete your training, you will extinguish lives with a thought.

    The carvings offered the most detailed representation of the Pleromians Valdemar had seen yet. Though most archeology books represented them as one-eyed humanoids, the ancient walls showed that they had sharp fangs for teeth, arms longer than their legs, and a gaunt, crooked body shape.

    Is it true some of them were more than ten meters tall? Valdemar asked his mentor.

    Its an exaggeration. The tallest skeleton I found barely surpassed five meters. Lord Och pointed a skeletal finger at a representation of cyclopean priests praying before a ck stone monolith. The Pleromians were ruled by a powerful priesthood who guided their civilization by peering into the future. These seers determined the ce of every individual from birth, selecting their job, who they would have children with, which cavern they would settle...

    It must have been terrible. Even the empire didnt go that far in controlling its poption.

    This system helped the Pleromians achieve internal stability for centuries. As far as I know, they didnt even need currency, as the state organized everything. Their lineage selection process also greatly increased the number of sorcerers among their poption, to the point almost every member of their poption could spellcast.

    And yet they never tried to reach the surface?

    The Pleromians feared it, Lord Och replied with a chuckle. Their culture considered the stars to be evil forces, and that everyone living under the sky exposed themselves to their malevolent influence. Their mythology said their ancestors fled underground to avoid the suns dreadful gaze. Even trade with surface empires was shunned.

    Valdemar couldnt understand the idea of retreating underground by choice rather than necessity. The Pleromians reminded him more of bats than humanoids, as afraid of the light as humans were of the darkness.

    The gallery led to a broad hall asrge as the ground floors cathedral, with colossal statues holding the ceiling. Each art piece was moreplex than thest, and Valdemar suspected that they belonged to different artists. This collection included an intricate stone Pleromian warrior ready for battle, a geometric nightmare of metal triangles fused together, and a disfigured horror with more mouths than fingers.

    More recent devices upied the hall besides these ancient statues, including crystal globes glowing with bottled lightning, shelves of books protected from decay by spells, and ss vats bubbling with green liquid. Valdemar noticed husks inside the containers, such as a mutated, single-eyed humanoid and a giant skeletal undead with steel for bones.

    I owe Hermann money, Valdemar mused out loud. He thought you kept aboratory downstairs, my teacher.

    This isnt my true den, apprentice, Lord Och replied absentmindedly. It is a specialized workshop meant to serve a very specific purpose.

    You attempted to recreate the Pleromians, Valdemar guessed as he examined the experiments. The skeleton was around the same size as most statues, and the mutants single eye was a giveaway. Did you seed?

    I am afraid not. I have tried to summon soul echoes the same way you did with your grandfather, but the centuries erased whatever trace of sentience they had left. Only the pain remained.

    The pain it was faint, but Valdemar sensed an aura of suffering suffusing this ces walls, too ancient to have been the Dark Lords work. What happened here?

    I have spent centuries tranting the Pleromians glyphs and understanding those who wrote them, Lord Och exined as he led his apprentice further down the hall. The Pleromians were among the first to delve into the secrets of the Blood, though they specialized in biomancy rather than mastery of the soul. At the apex of their civilization, they had unlocked the secrets of extended longevity, outgrew the need for manualbor thanks to homunculi ves, and ruled their empire withoutpetition. But immortalityes with a certain downside

    They grew bored, Valdemar guessed. The hall led to a stairway made for giants, each step forcing him to take a leap down. Lord Och simply floated through telekinesis, amused by his students struggles.

    Indeed apprentice, immortality bored the Pleromians to death. The centuries are long, but unlike us humans, the cyclops didnt have troglodytes, dokkars, and derros to contend with. With no need to struggle for survival, they focused inwards and embraced every vice possible. Exotic curiosity turned into debauchery, as their harmless pleasures devolved into vile practices.

    The stairway led them down to a vast corridor with two vividly detailed frescos of statues on each side of the path. The creators had exquisitely chiseled every facial expression, capturing the subtlest shades of emotion.

    Though an artist at heart, Valdemar wished the sculptors had been less thorough.

    Each scene depicted on the fresco was more obscene than thest, and it <em>started </em>with a cyclopean dinner with an especially loathsome main course.

    Parents held feasts with their children as the appetizers, Lord Och said with the same passion as a museum guide. Priests fornicated with alien things. Sorcerers reshaped their bodies into esoteric art pieces. I will spare you their other practices, as they would make even a dark elf blush.

    Valdemar didnt need to imagine, though he would rather forget what he saw. This gallery of excesses disturbed him more than any Qlippoth, especially when he noticed the statue of a Gnawer physically stitched to a Pleromian sorcerer. Worse, Valdemar felt the agony in the stone.

    Whoever had sculpted these horrors used live models.

    Eventually, the sightseeing became unbearable, and Valdemar focused on Lord Och rather than the statues. The lich showed no disgust at the horrific scenes around him, which his apprentice found <em>infinitely </em>more disquieting.

    Lord Och stopped floating above the ground, his steps echoing through the sinister gallery. As you can see, young Valdemar, the Pleromians pushed the boundaries of immorality farther than even the most depraved cultists. But no matter the excess, it was never enough. After a time, they realized this world had nothing left to offer them in terms of pleasure.

    Valdemar suppressed a sigh of disgust, and focused on the mystery at hand. Now, he started to see the pattern behind the Pleromians disappearance. And once they grew bored of what this reality had to offer, they went off to look for another, he guessed.

    Exactly, apprentice. And this

    Lord Och stopped at the end of the gallery, and the entrance of the floors final room.

    This is the door they used.

    Valdemar took the first step into the chamber, and held his breath.

    An underground, colossal dome asrge as the Institutes courtyard stood before him, its ck stone ceiling shimmering with fiery purple Pleromian glyphs. Unlike the rest of the structure, the roomcked any piece of art or any type of device... save one.

    Valdemars steps echoed in the dome as he approached the towering archway at its center; a doorrge enough to let an army of giants through. It looked so simple and yet so intricate, a twisted tangle of ck stone, purple metal cables, and shining crimson crystals. The archway thrummed with power and purpose; humming a low-pitched song that rippled through the fortress, inviting the living and the dead to cross it. Yet this door was closed, and led to nowhere.

    But a dreamer could always wake up, no matter how deep the slumber. The magic remained vibrant in this old device, waiting for the day when a wise mind would unleash it again.

    Valdemar couldnt resist touching the archway, his fingers shuddering at the contact. The stone and the metal making up the structure gave off a faint warmth. Even millennia after the Pleromians vanished, their work endured. Whatever depraved horrors they had inflicted on each other, Valdemar couldnt help but admire their genius.

    This was the ultimate expression of his dream made real.

    Is it still working? Valdemar asked his teacher.

    Yes... and no. Lord Och put his hands behind his back as he joined his apprentice. Even this ancient master of the dark arts looked humbled by the device. The Pleromian Gate can be reactivated under the right conditions, but I havent figured them out <em>yet</em>.

    Amazing. Simply amazing.

    Its a stable portal, Valdemar realized as he analyzed the structure with his psychic sight. The inner workings of the device were a mystery to him, but its purpose was as clear as water. A doorway into another universe.

    Into <em>multiple </em>universes, with the right tweaking, Lord Och corrected him. I havent had the opportunity to study the other gate for some time, but I assume it had the same function.

    Valdemars head snapped in his teachers direction. The <em>other </em>gate?

    His answer amused the lich. You think the Pleromians could fit their entire civilization through one door? I know of at least another gate like this one in Ariouth, though I havent been able to examine it since my previous apprentice and I had a

    Lord Ochs voice turned cold as ice.

    A disagreement.

    Valdemar remembered the tales of the Dark Lord Phalegs rise to power, and how he had been Ochs apprentice before bing his sworn foe. <em>If only they could cooperate, we might have reached other worlds by now, </em>Valdemar thought.

    We might have. Lord Ochs voice was heavy, though Valdemar didnt detect any remorse in it. s, the living hold grudges better than the dead. In any case, if two doors exist, why not three or more? The Pleromians empire wasnt asrge as our own, but it covered arge part of Undend.

    An idea formed in Valdemars mind. If there are other portals, maybe my grandfather used one.

    Now, youre getting it. Lord Och nodded happily. Did your grandfather tell you how he ended up in our fair empire?

    He didnt know himself, Valdemar admitted. He said he was there as a medic-soldier, fighting a war between many human countries in trenches of churned mud, hungry rats, and sharp shrapnel. A living Hell, he called it. His hands shook whenever he remembered it.

    My sympathies, the lich said without really meaning it. Did these human countries use magic?

    Valdemar shook his head. They hadnt discovered the Blood, but their firearms were better. He said they didnt break half as often as ours, and some could kill a dozen men at once.

    You look a bit tall for a half-derro, child, Lord Och teased Valdemar. The derros couldnt use the Blood, but their engineering prowesses far surpassed that of mankind. Many technological advances came from reverse engineering those madmens inventions.

    Derros cant mate with humans, Valdemar replied, vexed.

    Not naturally, but everything is possible through the Blood. Lord Och turned serious again. It does not surprise me that humans from other worlds do not practice magic. Our civilization learned of the Blood from troglodyte tribes after the Descent. We feared the dark and its wonders back then.

    My teacher, you speak as if you lived during those times.

    The lich chuckled.

    You did? Valdemar asked, his eyes widening in shock. He had heard Och was older than the empire, but he would have to be nearly a thousand years old to predate the Descent.

    If your grandfathers civilization hasnt discovered the Blood, Lord Och said, superbly ignoring his apprentices question, then how did he end up in our world? What did he remember?

    Not much, Valdemar admitted as he remembered his grandfathers tales. He and his unit were sent to hold a vige destroyed by the <em>Kaiserreich </em>tribe. When they arrived, the ce was a sted minefield. Grandpa remembered working to remove the mines when a booming sound interrupted his work. He thought it was the Kaiserreich tribe attacking, but a light swallowed him before he could flee. He lost consciousness, and woke up in a tunnel.

    Which color for the light, and which tunnel?

    Grandpa didnt remember well, as it happened quickly. As for the location, he woke up in the tunnels between Horaios and Sabaoth.

    Lord Och considered his apprentices words for a few seconds, before speaking up again. I suspect the sound came from a short-lived spatial rift opening. The sudden change in air pressure between an open space and our caverns could have triggered an explosion. As for what caused this rift to open, a red light would have been a telltale sign of a Blood magic ritual. Question your painted echo until you learn all its secrets.

    Valdemar flinched at the way Lord Och adressed his grandfather, but didntment on it. Someone could have opened a Pleromian Gate with a ritual?

    Perhaps though I entertain another solution. Lord Och joined his fingers in a thoughtful pose. The region between Horaios and Sabaoth is close to the Derro Kingdom of Andvari. King Otto Blutgang spent thest decades shing with our forces in the area. Considering his fondness for esoteric machinery, its possible one of his devices opened the breach.

    You think Otto the Demented experimented with nar travel? If so, Valdemar was thankful that his grandfather rejoined human civilization rather than falling into the derros clutches. If even half the tales about Ottos brutality were true

    The Demented? Lesser minds call him that, but having had the opportunity to confront him, I find this nickname demeaning. Otto the Nail possesses a superior intellect, the kind that onlyes once every few centuries. He operates differently than most. Lord Och shook his head in genuine contrition. Its such a shame that he was born a derro, or he would have risen to be a Dark Lord. Truly a shame.

    How is impaling your countrymen along a road a show of intellect? Valdemar asked mirthfully.

    Weeding out idiots is a favor to the universe, the Dark Lord replied dismissively. The information gathered by Hermann indicates that ourte asylum prisoner saw a portal simr to the Pleromian gate and painted it on his cells wall. He might have belonged to the same warband as your grandsire.

    I thought the same, Valdemar said. Its possible that my grandfather passed out during the nar transport.

    Perhaps or maybe something separated him from the others. We will have to locate the tunnel where hended, but not now. You would not survive the journey in these tunnels. The lich examined his apprentice head to toe, and clearly found him unsatisfactory. While you continue to assist young Hermann on his pictomancy project, we will focus your studies onbat spells. You need to broaden your perspectives beyond mming knights against walls and summoning thralls.

    Though Valdemar considered fighting ast resort, he had to admit he wouldnt mind getting better at it. His life would have been very different if he had been powerful enough to fend off the inquisitors. Will you teach mebat spells?

    Lord Och shook his head. I have a betterbat instructor in mind for you.

    Valdemar thought he had misheard. Did the arrogant lich just admit to being second best at anything? A <em>better </em>one?

    I give credit where it is due, but the person I have in mind is less Lord Och hesitated on the right word, <em>delicate</em> than I am.

    Valdemar shuddered. Considering Lord Ochs idea of a test was to pit him against monsters, he dared not imagine what the lich considered <em>indelicate</em>.

    Young Mathilde will teach you the basics of spellcastingbat for now, as will Marianne when she returns from hertest errand, Lord Och decided. I will send you to my chosen tutor afterward. Once he has made a proper battle mage out of you, you will be ready for my direct tutge.

    Thank you. Valdemar bowed slightly. He was always eager to learn. If I may ask, who else knows about these gates?

    The other Dark Lords, and some of my most trusted lieutenants. Count yourself lucky. The Dark Lord waved a hand at the Pleromian Gate. How do you feel, now that you learned of this secret?

    That if Lord Och was correct about the device being capable of reaching multiple universes, then Valdemars quest might finally reach its end.

    Earth awaited beyond these doors, alongside mankinds hopes for a better life.

    And yet, a cynical part of Valdemars mind remembered amon saying all too well.

    <em>If it looks too good to be true, it probably is.</em>

    You will forgive me, my teacher, Valdemar said, but I found an inconsistency in your tale.

    Do you use me of lying to you, apprentice?

    I believe you are withholding some elements. Valdemar crossed his arms. We all know that in a poption, there are always headstrong individuals who go against the majoritys wishes. Cultists are proof enough of that. Even if most Pleromians had grown bored with Undend, some would have elected to remain behind. Maybe not many, but a few.

    The lich listened in silence.

    I can only see one reason for why the entire poption would willingly move away, down to thest man, Valdemar said. It wasnt a migration but an evacuation order.

    The Dark Lord nodded in satisfaction. Your insight does you credit, young Valdemar. Indeed, the Pleromians first built the doors in the pursuit of a higher understanding until their seers predicted a disaster that would soon befall their empire.

    What disaster?

    The Pleromian glyphs do not give details, Lord Och replied with a shrug. Though ording to my research, the Pleromians escaped a few decades before the Whitemoon entered our sr system.

    They predicted its arrival? It still didnt add up. <em>We</em> survived it well enough, albeit at a cost.

    Perhaps they overestimated the danger, or predicted that we would ughter them like we did the troglodytes once we made our way down, Lord Och said with a ghoulish, skeletal grin. Though truthfully, I have no answer to this mystery. Whatever disaster the Pleromians predicted, it didnt prevent us from surviving a thousand years.

    He had a point. The Pleromians had good reasons to fear the Whitemoon, as mankind learned to its sorrow, but it couldnt extinguish the light of mankind. The cyclops had run away rather than stand their ground.

    The Pleromians left these artifacts and all their secrets in our capable hands, Lord Och continued. I know that together, we will uncover them all.

    Is this why you revealed this gates existence to me? Valdemar asked while gazing at the gate.

    Skills can be learned, Lord Och dered, but a drive is innate.

    One day, we shall open this door into humanitys new home, Valdemar replied with firm determination. I swear it.

    His people would finally see the light.

 Chapter 13: Nest of Evil

    Chapter 13: Nest of Evil

    Even as a crumbling ruin, Castle Verney looked foreboding.

    The fortress dark walls hadnt aged well. Marianne scarcely saw a roof without a hole, or a battlement without a breach in its stone. The Knights fires had consumed most of the wooden parts of the architecture, leaving only ashes and ck stone. Most towers had copsed, and the few that still stood looked like broken fingers.

    The absence of vines or mushrooms also disturbed Marianne. The castle had been abandoned for nearly two decades, and yet nature hadnt taken it over.

    <em>A ce so evil even nts wont enter it</em>, Marianne thought as she looked at the archway entrance. A defaced stone gargoyle loomed over the rusted iron doors and the darkness beyond them.

    I smell rats inside the walls, Bertrand said, eyes red as blood and fangs out. Ever since the rat attack, Mariannes retainer had chosen to stay in his true form. This is their nest.

    I dont sense any magical defenses, Marianne said as she raised antern she had managed to salvage from the carriage. Its faint light illuminated the archway and showed a dark corridor leading inside the castle. Makes sense. The Knights patrols would have noticed.

    I could go in alone and scout ahead, Bertrand suggested. We are entering the enemys territory, and they know of our arrival.

    We are more vulnerable while separated, and our foe can target us from afar. Bertrand taught her the basics of his exorcism spell on the way to the castle, butck of practice made it unreliable. Marianne was confident in her abilities, but she was no spellcasting genius. We must force the sorcerers hand.

    Wielding herntern with one hand and keeping the other on her sheathed rapiers pommel, Marianne stepped inside the keep. Bertrand made no sound as he followed her, but she sensed his sharp gaze on her back.

    After a short walk through a dusty corridor, the duo reached the castles crumbling great hall. Most of the ceiling had copsed, and the Knights had defaced the bas-reliefs decorating its walls. The room smelled of dust, and a thinyer of ashes covered the ground. Nobody had visited this ce in years.

    Marianne relied as much on her psychic sight as her physical one. She often sensed the presence of rats hiding in the walls and the ceiling, lurking at the edge of her magical senses. The rodents scampered off whenever she moved in their direction, but she knew that they followed her. The sorcerer controlling them had learned their lesson, and refused to offer a direct battle.

    A cursory search through the ruins proved fruitless. The stables were a desert of dust and rot; the towers stairways were for the most part broken and led nowhere; the library had no books, though Bertrand found a pile of ashes where the Knights gave them to the pyre.

    <em>Lord Verney probably slept here, </em>Marianne thought as she examined the dusty remains of an opulent bedchamber. Rats and vermin had devoured the beds mattress, while the cushions had rotted. The remains of a smallb upied a stone chamber to the bedrooms left, with broken alembics and a shattered workbench covering the floor. <em>Did he murder his victims here, I wonder?</em>

    The more she and Bertrand explored the keep, the more Marianne found the ces silence oppressive. Even old tunnels felt more alive than this open tomb.

    They found the first corpse in the castles bathrooms. Bertrand smelled something at the bottom of a pool of murky water, and fished out human bones. They found arger collection of charred skeletons piled up in a dining hall, their legs shattered and their skulls split open by swords.

    They were sanctified after death, Marianne said as she examined the remains with herntern. To make sure no ghost would rise from the ashes.

    Lord Penhew hadnt lied. The inquisition had been very thorough in extinguishing the cult.

    Is Mdy looking for something? Bertrand asked, as he watched Marianne skim through the charred skeletons.

    Lord Penhew said he burnt Aleksander Verney at the stake, she replied. I wonder if his corpse is among these.

    All men look the same in death, Bertrand pointed out. Mdy might as well look for a needle in a haystack.

    Maybe his remains smell the same as Valdemar.<em> Or a Qlippoth, </em>Marianne thought.

    Lord Och mentioned an abnormal quantity of Orgone in Valdemars blood, a telltale sign of summoned creatures. After visiting that vige and the strange creatures inhabiting it, Marianne had immediately noticed the connection.

    <em>Is Valdemar even human? </em>Marianne thought grimly. <em>Blood scans should have identified his true nature if he were a shapeshifter.</em>

    Bertrand chuckled. Mdy, that is not how scents work. These bones smell the same.

    What about the smell of rats? Cant you follow them to their nest?

    This castle <em>is </em>their nest. They are everywhere.

    Then try to locate the stench you noticed in the vige and around Valdemar, Marianne ordered. It might lead us to our culprit.

    The noblewoman sensed the rats growing agitated at the periphery of her psychic sight. <em>I need to find the animancer before he deciphers my notes and goes after Valdemar,</em> Marianne thought with determination. She refused to endanger a guest of Lord Och, even if indirectly. Valdemars family legacy had hurt him more than enough already.

    Bertrand sniffed the air, inhaling ash and dust. It took him minutes and a lot of backtracking, but he eventually found a lead in the bathroom. I sense a stenching from below, he said while staring at the murky pool. It is faint. Almost unnoticeable. I dont think a hunting hound would notice, unless it knew exactly what to look for.

    The stench travels through the plumbing? Marianne asked as she examined the pool. The water had festered, but the bathrooms remained connected to whatever well they drew the liquid from. An underground cistern, perhaps?

    Or a hidden cavern, Bertrand suggested.

    Marianne hardened her free hand with ayer of bone, and punched through the wall closest to the pool. She heard a rat screech as she smashed her way through the stone, her fingers closing on the rodent. Marianne squeezed the animal to death as it attempted to bite her, before tossing its corpse in the pool.

    The hole she made revealed aplex array of bronze pipes going through the wall. I think we found how the rats travel through the keep, she muttered out loud. The pipes went down and down underneath the castle.

    Marianne grabbed a stone pebble and tossed it into the hole. She didnt hear it hit the bottom, though Bertrands sensitive ears proved more effective. It echoed, he warned his mistress after a few minutes. The pipes lead to arger cavern underneath.

    Marianne and her retainer took down the wall one brick at a time, revealing a narrow shaft barelyrge enough to amodate one person through. They could use the pipes as improvised ropes to climb it down.

    I must warn Mdy that it will be easier to go down than to climb up, Bertrand said. If the culprit awaits us at the bottom, it will be difficult to retreat.

    The same will go for the sorcerer. Unless their foe could use another secret passage. If we wait too long, they might escape.

    Then allow me to go in first.

    Marianne nodded in agreement, and her retainer transformed into a cloud of mist. The vampire flowed down the shaft, while his mistress grabbed a pipe with her free hand. It was difficult to climb all the way down while holding antern, but Mariannes magically improved strength helped her a great deal.

    She expected the rats to attack her during their descent, but though she heard the rodents crawling through the pipes and drains, they stayed out of Mariannes reach. Were they gathering to attack her at the bottom, or preparing to close the way out? Or did Bertrands exorcism shake the animancers control over his swarm more than she thought?

    Whatever the case, Marianne found Bertrand back in his vampire form when she reached the shafts bottom. After making a safending, the noblewoman raised herntern to see through the thick darkness.

    The duo had entered an old boiler room, a tangle of old machinery and rusted pipes. Marianne heard the sound of running water in the distance and suspected this area was connected to the Lightless Ocean outside. The devices once drained the water and treated it for the Verneys plumbery, only to decay over the decades.

    <em>Twenty meters below the castles ground floor, maybe more, </em>Marianne thought as she tried to calcte the shafts length.<em> Close to water level. Maybe even below.</em>

    Mdy, Bertrand said as he examined the boilers levers. No dust.

    Marianne frowned as she observed the device. Indeed, the machinery looked rather well-preserved for something left to rust for twenty years. Some pipes and drains had fallen into disrepair, but others looked surprisingly polished. Marianne followed them as they dug into the rock walls, leading to a steel door with rusted hinges.

    Its doorknob hadnt gathered dust either. Marianne extended her psychic sight, and sensed multiple lifeforms on the other side.

    Trap, Bertrand suggested while unsheathing his sword.

    Trap, Marianne confirmed before grabbing her own rapier. What do you smell?

    Mr. Valdemars stench, formaldehyde, and blood. Bertrands eyes squinted. Blood most of all.

    The vampire transformed into a cloud of mist and traveled through the keyhole to scout ahead, while Marianne gathered her breath for the battle she knew woulde soon. Bertrand? she called through the door.

    Mdy may not wish to look, her retainer replied on the other side with a hint of disgust.

    Marianne responded by kicking the door open. The rusted hinges gave way and the noblewoman stepped inside a dark cavern. Hernterns light reflected on a ss vat, a set of dead human eyes looking at her on the other side.

    Marianne held her breath, as she watched a womans corpse float inside a container filled with formaldehyde. Her lower half had turned into bloody red bones, and her upper body parts were white as milk. The corpses face was frozen in a hollow expression, like a mindless doll.

    And yet, Marianne immediately recognized her from the Verney pictures.

    Sarah Dumont, she whispered as she examined the vat. The container was old and cracked at one spot. It was a miracle none of the liquid inside had leaked through. Its her.

    Its <em>them</em>, Bertrand replied. The vampire was looking at a second container to his mistress left and the thing inside <em>moved</em>.

    Marianne flinched in horror.

    Another Sarah Dumont was held prisoner in the second container, but she was missing more than her legs. Only her beautiful head floated in a vat of green liquid, alongside her spine, a beating ck heart, and cancerous lungs. The creatures gaze snapped between Bertrand and his mistress, but her eyescked any hint of intelligence.

    Mariannes thought process froze as she tried to process the sight before her. The noblewoman slowly raised herntern to take a better look at the cavern around her.

    Or rather, theb.

    Herntern wasnt bright enough to see everything, but what little it showed shook Marianne to the core. The two vats near the entrance were but the first of many, some broken, others rtively intact. One held a mutant human embryo with an oversized head; another a twisted mockery of Sarah Dumont with elongated arms and a fanged mouth. Both appeared alive to Mariannes psychic sight, bronze pipes pumping their ss prisons with water and nutrients.

    A metallic tang hung in the air, while small puddles of alchemical substances stained the stone ground. Marianne carefully walked past workbenches covered with dusty bloodstains, before noticing a hideous cup carved from a human skull on one of them. Someone had filled it with ck hair and a pair of half-rotten grey eyeballs.

    Mariannes horror was reced with fury, as she connected the dots. She moved on to the next table, finding a macabre assortment of butcher tools, vivisection treatises, and half-scribbled anatomy notes.

    Someone was trying to recreate the Followers grail, and used clones of Sarah Dumont as raw material.

    The grimboratory seemed to stretch on forever. Whoever used it had cobbled it together by scavenging broken containers and second-hand instruments. Their work was gruesomely grotesque and unbefitting of any professional biomancer.

    Whoever used this ce was a novice. A <em>deeply deranged </em>novice, but a novice all the same.

    <em>But why Sarah Dumont of all people? </em>Marianne wondered. The biomancers obsession with her was obvious, and thisbs resources could have been used to do so much else. What made Sarah special? Was she the best material for the grail somehow?

    And what did it mean for Valdemar?

    Marianne nced at Bertrand to ask him if he smelled anything, but the vampire put a finger on his lips before she could open her mouth. He then pointed at his ears, and his mistress immediately understood.

    They werent alone.

    Marianne silently scanned her surroundings, ready to strike at the first sign of danger. Her psychic sight sensed lifeforms in the room, but whenever she looked in their direction, she only found herself facing a deformed clone.

    Bertrand pointed at his nose and then to an area of theb shrouded in darkness. Though theb was chaotic and haphazard with little organization to speak off, this part of the caverncked any form of equipment. A wide space more than twenty meters in diameter had been left untouched.

    This part of the cavern was entirely unremarkable, save for a strange, circr pool at its center. An unknown substance bubbled in it, a vile tar as ck as the purest darkness.

    The sight of it filled Marianne with a mix of thirst and revulsion. She felt the primal call to drink this vile oil, to let it flow inside her. It would make her <em>better</em>. She would never grow old, and her skills would never rust. Her senses would be sharper than any beast, her skin as smooth and strong as steel. No one would match her strength, and no one would try to force her to wed again.

    Marianne would be free.

    Or she would die.

    Marianne knew, on a primal level, that taking this oil might kill her. Her survival instinct screamed at her to run away, to avoid the temptation. It was the medium for something powerful, too strong to be contained. She would burn from the inside, a moth consumed by mes.

    Life or death.

    Marianne felt like a woman dying of thirst being offered a cup of poison as these two instincts pulled her in different directions. Her psychic sight went wild, as it struggled to grasp this substances true nature. It felt <em>alive</em>, iprehensible yet familiar. Something that called to her flesh and soul, telling her to join this divine union.

    The call was insidious, and by the time Marianne realized what was happening, she had already walked three steps towards the pool. <em>No, </em>she thought, using all her willpower to look away. She canceled her arcane sight, briefly blinding herself to magic, closing her eyes to the vile promise of that that <em>thing</em>.

    Bertrand fared no better. Her vampire retainer gazed at the pool with horrified fascination, licking his fangs while his body trembled with tension. Though he hadnt walked forward, he struggled to hang on to his weapons pommel. His eyes were redder than ever, like a man possessed.

    Bertrand, Marianne whispered. Although her retainer had told her to remain silent, she saw he was losing the fight. Bertrand, look away. Bertrand

    A ck droplet fell into the pool from above.

    Marianne instinctively looked up and raised herntern at the ceiling.

    An enormous symbol glowed faintly in the stone above, so faintly she could barely see it. Two curves joined within a cube, shed by a vile organic rift. The lines making up this symbol closed and opened without rhyme or reason, festering with the ck oil like a bloody wound on the worlds skin.

    It was blood.

    That ck oil was the blood of <em>something </em>greater than any human, something that called to all living beings the same way a me tempted moths to their doom. This was the divine nectar the grail was meant to contain; the primordial fluid that would grant either immortality or oblivion.

    Marianne couldnt look away from this bleeding eye of stone, and barely noticed the ck-furred shape crawling on the ceil right above

    The swordswoman suddenly snapped back to reality. Bertrand! she shouted a warning far toote, as the rat dropped a shining sk on them. Her retainer didnt move an inch, unable to look away from the ck pool.

    Without another alternative, Marianne tackled her vampire retainer. The blow broke Bertrands trance and the vampire transformed into a cloud of mist right as the sk hit the ground. The substance inside erupted in a bright sh of light.

    Marianne instinctively covered her head with her arm, saving her eyes from blindness. The white light was strong enough to illuminate the cavern, but it did more than that. Bertrand screamed in pain, his cloudy body reforming into a humanoid shape and copsing on the floor.

    Bertrand! Marianne tried to rescue her friend, but though she avoided the worst of the sh, the sudden bright light had weakened her vision. She could barely distinguish the vampires shape near the pool.

    Somethingnded to Mariannes left with a loud thump before she could reach him.

    Only years of training allowed the noblewoman to dodge the dagger aiming for her throat, and she still dropped herntern in the motion. The container shattered against the ground, its mes erupting between Marianne and her attacker. She immediately used magic to heal her eyes.

    Her foe didnt let her recover from her shock and leaped over the brokenntern with lethal speed. Marianne quickly dashed forward with her rapier and surprised the creature, their des shing. And she gazed into the bloodshot red eyes of her foe, the noblewoman remembered one of the Qlippoths words at the hamlet with perfect rity. What Baron Aleksander Verney had said about the strange, hideous rat that followed him everywhere.

    <em>Its not a rat at all.</em>

    The monster before her was neither man nor rodent, but a gruesome intermediary step between the two. Rags and ayer of ck fur covered the beast, except for its wed hands, dirty face, and elongated tail. Its face had curved ears and long sharp fangs which snapped at her with bestial fury. His two daggers were crossed, barely stopping Mariannes rapier from impaling him through the throat.

    The Knights had mistaken this <em>thing </em>for a mutant rodent, instead of the infant form of something far, <em>far </em>more dangerous. Something intelligent, and deadly.

    Youre a cultist, Marianne realized. Bertrand wriggled on the ground at the edge of her vision, with burns all over his skin. Thest Follower of the Grail.

    Master Aleksander is dead, the monster rasped with an all-too-human voice, before pushing Marianne back with inhuman strength. But good Shelley never wavered in his devotion!

    Marianne attempted to gut the monster and finish him off here and there, but his tail lunged at her head from the side like a whip. She lowered her back to dodge, and the beast immediately attempted to stab her from another angle.

    The swordswoman disarmed one of her foe''s hands with a well-ced parry and dodged the other dagger. Moving with astonishing speed, the man-rat used his newly freed hand to grab her by the throat.

    Marianne tried to stab the beast in the heart while gasping for air, but the rat dropped his other dagger and grabbed her wrist. Her rapier managed to cut his chest and draw blood anyway, but not deep enough to pierce the heart.

    And now, the man-rat said while lifting Marianne above the ground with one hand and pushing her sword away with the other. Shelley will feast!

    His fangs lunged at Mariannes face, sharp and hungry.

 Chapter 14: The Wound

    Chapter 14: The Wound

    The fangs lunged at Mariannes face to devour her alive.

    Reacting quickly, the swordswoman raised her free left hand and stabbed the monstrous rat in the eye. Ayer of bone grew over her thumb, as it crushed the eyeball and hit the soft flesh underneath.

    Shelleys fangs stopped within an inch of Mariannes face as the monster let out a screeching roar. The noblewoman channeled the Blood through her arm to strengthen it, frantically keeping the monster at bay. She tried to wrench her other hand and rapier free from the monster, but his grip remained strong as steel.

    Shelley frantically tried to shake Marianne off him, but she refused to give ground. Though his wed fingers tightened around her throat and prevented her from breathing, she kept pushing her thumb deeper into the rats eyeball. A fountain of blood erupted onto her gloved hand, and she sensed Shelleys skull slowly crack under her tight grip. A little longer and she would tear his head apart.

    Eventually, the pain became too much for the cultist to bear, and he tossed her off him with inhuman strength. Marianne rolled on the cold hard floor as she gasped for air, but her foe lunged at her again the moment she got back to her feet.

    The beast charged at the noblewoman on all fours, ws out. He pounced at her like a cat on a mouse, but Marianne dashed to the left to dodge his ws. The rats tail swiped at her head, forcing her to keep her distance.

    <em>Hes faster than me,</em> Marianne thought while gritting her teeth. She still struggled to breathe correctly due to her sore throat, and worse, Bertrand still wriggled helplessly on the floor not so far from her position. <em>Butpletely unskilled.</em>

    Shelley assaulted her with a whirlwind of ws and bites, screeching all the way. The left side of his face dripped with blood, making the beast look even more savage. Having learned the lesson from theirst sh, Marianne kept her distance and remained on the defense. She side-stepped and backflipped, letting the beast exhaust himself while she waited for an opening.

    Her time came when Shelley attempted to pounce on her again and left his nk exposed. Moving to his blinded left, Marianne stabbed him in the chest with her rapier right between the ribs. The monstrous rats hide felt strong as armor, but her Soulbound weapon pierced him all the same. Marianne knew next to nothing about rat biology, but she hoped to have hit a major organ.

    Shelley pushed her back with his tail before covering his wound with a hand. The cultist let out a high-pitched screech, and Marianne heard a chittering symphony answer his call. A horde of bloody-red eyes looked at her from theboratorys shadows, and a tide of vermin rushed at her from all sides.

    With few options, Marianne attempted to use the exorcism spell Bertrand taught her. Using the Blood, she expelled a part of her soul outward like a st; the magic took the shape of a red light radiating from her, disrupting the invisible bond between Shelley and his rats.

    Unfortunately, herck of practice showed. While the light caused many of the rodents to recoil in fear, not all of them did. A few rats pursued Marianne and forced her to move towards the ck pool to avoid being encircled.

    You will be the new sacrifice! Shelley shouted, as he brought a sk from beneath his tattered rags. Recognizing the same blinding substance the cultist used to burn Bertrand, Marianne quickly grabbed her pistol with her left hand. She didnt have many bullets left and her weapon was prone to jamming, but she banked everything on one shot.

    Her aim remained true, and she sted Shelleys sk before he could throw it at her.

    The substance inside ignited, and Marianne barely had the time to cover her face as it unleashed a sh of bright light. Shelley let out a roar of surprise, but didnt scream as loudly as the helpless Bertrand. Marianne winced as she heard her retainers cries of pain, the light burning his skin to reveal the festering flesh underneath.

    Though the noblewomans eyes struggled to adapt to the lighting, she heard some rats scampering in her direction to exploit her distraction. Marianne fired a warning shot, but one attempted to leap at her face. She backhanded it with her pistol midair, sending the beast flying into the ck blood pond.

    And the dark oil erupted.

    Marianne held her breath as an <em>immense </em>mound of ck slime rose from the pool; a monstrous mass of oozing darknessrger than a carriage. The rodent she had thrown into the pool screeched from atop this protosmic horror, the vile substance tearing its flesh apart and filling its skin like a bag.

    No, you fool! Shelley screamed in genuine terror. His left hand was missing two fingers where Marianne shot him, with ss shards piercing his palm. Theyre not worthy! Not worthy!

    Marianne couldnt take her eyes off the ck slime. The call that almost led her to throw herself into the pond was now reced with primal revulsion as she witnessed the ck substance change the rat in its grasp. A second head grew out of the rodents neck, one with three mouths. New eyes opened all over its tainted fur, and they soon overwhelmed the rats body mass. The rodents screeches turned silent, as the cancerous mutations devoured him from within.

    Eventually, they became too much. The poor rats skin burst open like a pierced balloon and exploded in a shower of ckened blood. Bertrand! Marianne shouted a warning as she dashed at her wounded friend. Get away!

    Toote.

    Though Marianne managed to avoid getting soaked by the ck rain, a droplet hit Bertrand as he recovered from his wounds. The vampires skin had started to regenerate from exposure to the bright alchemical light, but the ck slime touched his festering shoulder. The infection immediately spread through him like a wildfire, ckening his dusted flesh.

    Bertrand! Ignoring all caution, Marianne rushed to her retainers side, sheathed her rapier, and prepared to put a hand on him. Maybe a healing spell could help him

    Back off! her retainer snarled before her palm could touch his shoulder. His mouth had transformed into a maw of sharp fangs, and ayer of translucent skin covered his eyes.

    Marianne flinched and took a step back, right as the ck slime returned to inside its pool. A booming sound echoed across the cavern, and its walls shook. Shelleys rats scampered off in fear, perhaps because their natural cowardice overwhelmed his control. The monstrous cultist bandaged his wounded hand and face with his rags, while ncing at the ceiling with religious awe.

    The confused Marianne ignored him. Instead, she watched powerlessly as Bertrands body started to change. His hair fell off from his skin as it turned translucent, making his bones and organs visible. His ws grew as long as des, his muscles melted away into a gaunt and elongated figure, and his human ears turned into those of a twisted bat.

    Bertrand, let me help you, Marianne insisted.

    Back off, mdy... The vampire crawled away, refusing physical contact. He grabbed his clothes as if he could cut the infection out of his body, but only tore them apart. I cant its inside me...

    You can fight it off, she encouraged her friend. Youre strong. You can

    A terrible noise boomed from the ceiling above.

    Marianne had never heard a sound like this. It was deep and yet high-pitched, an eldritch cacophony not of this world, a maddening song that rippled through reality itself. Marianne instinctively dropped her pistol and covered her ears, but the noise traveled <em>inside </em>her head.

    Thousands of voices screamed at once within her skull, their screeches traveling through her nerves and blood. Marianne thought her head might explode as she looked up at the screaming ceiling.

    The symbol above her had started glowing. The stone wound that fed the pool no longer spat blood, but smoke. A magenta shroud of eldritch energies floated out of the carved rune, as ephemeral as a ghost. The simmering mass coalesced into the shape of a swirling eye, its design so hypnotic that Marianne couldnt look away from it.

    A sign! The rat cultist yapped with rapturous joy, so loud that his voice cut through the noise. The master of masters heard Shelleys prayers!

    The eldritch noise died down, but the stone symbol kept glowing with a bright red light. The cavern trembled, a quake rippling from it and shaking the tunnels to their foundations. The ceiling cracked and a boulder fell just left of Marianne and Bertrand.

    <em>Its going to copse,</em> the noblewoman realized in horror.

    The cultist didnt share her fear. In fact, he looked almost giddy.

    Yes, yes, the good Shelley doesnt need this ce! he muttered to himself, as he grabbed another sk from beneath his rags. The grail is alive! Alive!

    Reacting quickly, Marianne grabbed her pistol off the floor and attempted to shoot the rat cultists head off. However, Shelley dodged the bullet with a leap, before throwing his sk at his ownboratory. Instead of unleashing a bright sh, this potion instead erupted into a burst of green mes. They quickly spread across theb, while Shelley himself escaped into the darkness. Marianne shot the cultist twice, but wasnt sure if she managed to hit him.

    The cultist had set his ownb on fire, leaving his pursuers to die.

    Come, Bertrand! The noblewoman ordered. We need to get out!

    Cant control Her friend shook as if suffering from the cold. Translucent wings grew out of his arms, his body shape twisting into a monstrous hybrid between a man and a bat. Its calling me, Mdy everywhere inside me inside <em>you</em>...

    Inside her? But she hadnt been touched by the ck oil, she was certain of it. Bertrand, you must fight it, Marianne tried to encourage her friend. Youre strong. You can

    I cant! He snarled at her, his voice twisting into a beastly roar midway. Go!

    Im not abandoning you here

    Mariannes retainer snapped his jaws at her like a savage animal, nearly tearing off her arm. She barely managed to avoid the attack by taking a step back, her heart skipping a beat in surprise. Her transformed retainer grabbed his head with his wed hands as if suffering from a headache, his words transforming into a beastly hiss.

    Even in spite of his warnings, Marianne prepared to cast a healing spell on her retainer only to remember the eldritch cloud above her head. She barely had the time to raise her eyes to see it fall towards her.

    Marianne dashed away towards theb to escape it, but the alien entity followed her. She shot the eldritch cloud with her pistol, hoping the bullets would disperse it. Instead, the projectiles harmlessly went through the fumes and the cloud continued its pursuit.

    Marianne sent onest nce at Bertrand as she ran away. Her retainer had fully transformed and flew in the opposite direction as her, towards the clones of Sarah Dumont. He had reverted into a savage beast, hungry for blood; <em>any </em>blood.

    Im sorry Marianne apologized to Bertrand. After onest regretful look, she fled in Shelleys direction, knowing the cultist would have an escape route ready.

    The cloud followed the noblewoman even as she ran between cloning vats and workbenches, but Marianne channeled the Blood through her legs. Her speed increased twofold, and she soon left the eldritch fumes in her dust. The cloud persisted until arge stone fell from the ceiling, shattering a ss container and spraying the ground with fluids. A warm, half-formed clone of Sarah Dumont rolled on the ground, and the eldritch entity stopped pursuing Marianne to feast on this easier prey.

    It seemed the pistols bullet did hit Shelley on his way out, as the noblewoman noticed a trail of blood on the ground. It was faint, only a few droplets, but clear enough. Marianne fled into the heart of theb as it burnt behind her, following the trail towards a small tunnel dug into the crumbling wall; she and Bertrand probably missed it on their way in, as it was so small that a human needed to lower their back to move inside.

    Marianne bent as she rushed inside, leaving the copsing, burningb behind her. She heard a boulder block the way behind her, and felt dust falling on her head as the tunnel trembled. <em>I need to get out</em>, Marianne thought as she frantically crawled through the tunnel. The whole ce was copsing on her.

    Never before had Marianne felt so stressed. Each time the walls shook, she worried about being buried alive. The air grew thick and dusty, making her cough. All the way, she prayed that Bertrand found a way out; so long as he lived, even as a monster, he could be cured.

    Marianne had no idea how long she crawled through the tunnel, as she lost herself between twists and turns. Did it go to the center of the world, or to a darker horror than the one she left?

    <em>I wont die here, </em>Marianne told herself. The Soulstone ne around her neck seemed to pulsate against her skin, waiting for her soul to pass on to better catch it. But in this ce, nobody would find it. Her spirit would remain trapped beneath Verney Castle, forgotten until the end of days.

    Marianne prayed to the Light for deliverance. The tremors weakened the deeper she went, though they were followed by a loud and terrible noise. The noblewoman pressed on nheless. She <em>refused </em>to perish here, buried and forgotten. She had too much to do.

    She didnt die.

    At longst, Marianne heard the sound of crashing waves and reached an exit. Her boots hit a thinyer of water, as she emerged from the tunnel into a small cove roughly one kilometer away from the Verneys castle.

    Speaking of the fortress, the quake had caused it to crumble. A good part of the cliff supporting the keep had copsed into the Lightless Ocean, leaving only a pile of rocks rising from the waters. Smoke rose from the ruins, though Marianne couldnt tell if the fumes belonged to Shelleys mes or the eldritch creature he had released upon the world.

    Maybe Bertrand was buried under these rocks, or he managed to fly away to safety. Marianne needed to inform the Knights. To uncover the rubble, to bring biomancers to cure him. She refused to let her retainer and oldpanion perish as a monster.

    The noblewoman walked along the cove, following droplets of blood along the sand with her pistol in one hand and her rapier in the other. She couldnt see far in the dark, but she wouldnt relent. She would find that abominable cultist, and end his life here and now.

    The trail continued for a while, before abruptly stopping. Marianne looked around with her psychic sight, trying to detect the presence of magic. She expected Shelley to get the drop on her, but no ambush materialized.

    A horrible doubt formed in Mariannes mind, and her gaze turned towards the Lightless Ocean. She squinted and focused, until she distinguished a small shape on the water far away from her.

    A boat.

    Marianne let out a cry of frustration as she opened fire on the escaping vessel. She fired two more shots before her pistol ran out of projectiles.

    It was all for naught. As the boat vanished from her sight, Marianne lowered her weapon in silent rage.

    Shelley had gotten away.

    <em>Not for long,</em> Marianne thought as she nced at her left thumb and the rat blood soaking her glove. With these fluids, the Knights spellcasters could locate Shelley almost anywhere. Wounded as he was, the mutant cultist wouldnt get far and the authorities would hunt him relentlessly.

    But though Marianne had managed to send a messenger bat to the nearest guard station, it might be days before reinforcements arrived and Shelley would get a headstart. It wasnt hard to figure out where he went.

    <em>The spawn is alive, </em>Marianne remembered the cultists words. Considering who he had been trying to clone, it didnt take long for the noblewoman to connect the dots. <em>Hes going after Valdemar.</em>

    If Shelley was foolish enough to get near Lord Ochs protege, the lich would y him easily enough. But why would he? Why was Valdemar so important to the cult? Marianne thought of the ck blood in the cave, about the force lurking inside the phantom hamlet of Vernburg.

    Shelley was a dangerous foe, but only the maddened thrall of something far worse. A dark force was at work in the region, and Marianne had barely scratched the surface of its activities.

    <em>Inside me,</em> Bertrands words resonated in her mind,<em> inside you.</em>

    Marianne needed to get to the bottom of this. Not only for herself, but for her retainer. Shelley knew the nature of the substance that transformed the vampire into a monster; perhaps he knew how to cure it.

    Im going to hunt you, Marianne swore as she looked at the Lightless Ocean, her fingers clenching on her weapons. Like a <em>dog</em>.

 Chapter 15: The Dreamlands

    Chapter 15: The Dreands

    Lady Mathilde believed in traveling light.

    Valdemar had expected such an esteemed alchemist to gather arge escort of knights for her trip to Astaphanos, but the priestess did none of this. As he reached the Institutes stables with a bag full of painting supplies, he only found Liliane, Hermann, and Iren waiting next to the carriage.

    They had all dressed for the trip. Liliane had traded her usual robes for a more casual blue traveling dress and a chic red beret, while Hermann hid his face behind a gue doctors mask and his hands beneath a pair of gloves.

    Is that really necessary? Valdemar asked the troglodyte about his clothes. Can you even breathe with that apparatus?

    Locals will lynch me otherwise, Hermann exined. Your merchants will refuse to sell their wares or overcharge me. Its better that they think Im human.

    Probably, Valdemar admitted. Most humans saw troglodytes as savage barbarians, and they werent tolerated in Antean settlements without an escort. By hiding his tail beneath his robes and lying about his profession, Hermann could pass for a human.

    I will punch anyone who tries to shortchange you, Liliane said while pumping her fist.

    Theyre more likely tough than feel fear, Iren teased her, and got pinched in the arm for his trouble.

    Didnt your mother tell you not to pick on fairdies? Liliane asked with a pout.

    Youre too young to count. Iren easily dodged Lilianes attempt to pinch him again, before ncing at Valdemar. You look like shit, my friend.

    I couldnt find sleep. For once nightmares werent responsible though. Valdemars mind simply refused to abandon itself to slumber, though he couldnt exin why. I didnt know you wereing with us.

    Im surprised by your presence as well, Iren replied with a raised eyebrow. Werent you forbidden from leaving the Institute?

    Lord Och gave me permission to go out and gather material for the Painted Door project. The lich seemed rather confident that he could track down his apprentice if needed, though Valdemar wasnt foolish enough to flee. Though I have to, I quote, <em>follow all of young Mathildes orders as if they were mine.</em>

    Dont worry, Valdy, everything will be fine, Liliane reassured him with a pat on the back. Itll be like a pic! A rxing experience!

    Ill pass for the pic, as Ive got some private business to take care of in Astaphanos, Iren replied before making a mock bow. Until then, Ill be your chauffeur. Youll need a good one.

    Indeed. Though Lady Mathilde traveled without an escort, Valdemar couldnt say the same about her wagon. A house on wheels might have been a better descriptor, as it needed two giant beetles to carry it. Made of wood and metal, the vehicle included a second floor with windows, a bronze chimney, and even an alchemical reservoir. A smalldder allowed people to climb to the backdoor.

    Its a mobileb, Liliane exined. Some alchemists use them to travel across Ant and sell potions on the road.

    Its too big to go through some tunnels, Valdemarmented.

    The major roads are more thanrge enough for these vehicles, Iren countered. The Dark Lords made them wide enough to let armies through them. You got a point though, I wouldnt travel to the border towns in this wagon. Those regions have narrow tunnels and way too many carriage robberies.

    I thought... you had friends in every criminal enterprise? Hermann asked.

    Friends and foes, my scaled fellow, Irenmented with a chuckle, before dusting his clothes. And herees our revered Master.

    He had a sharp ear. Lady Mathilde indeed rejoined them, though not alone.

    A stunning dark elf followed the priestess, and her appearance made even Valdemar pause.

    Liliane was a pretty girl and Marianne Reynard had an austere beauty, but they looked downright <em>nd </empared to this otherworldly creature. Her figure was graceful, her face a lovely sight. Her ashen grey skin was as smooth as a polished mirror, nearly ck, and her pale blue eyes looked like sapphires shining in the dark. Her light violet hair fell down to the bottom of her back, and she walked with the arrogance of someone used to getting her way. Her regal ck and purple dress embraced a weblike motif, while a gold and ruby ne sparkled around her neck. A spidery veil on her hairpleted the ensemble.

    Only a pair of curved ears, hooved feet, and a serpentlike tail betrayed her inhuman origin. Neither did Valdemar sense any warmth in the woman. She was attractive the same way a cave lion was; deadly, exotic, and dangerous to approach.

    Greetings everyone, Lady Mathilde said with a polite nod. I believe we are all here.

    Frigga! Liliane greeted the dark elf with a smile. It was a warmer wee than Hermann, who ignored her entirely. Im so d you coulde.

    My dear Liliane, how could I let you visit Astaphanos without me? the dokkar said with a beautiful clear voice. She kissed Liliane on the cheeks, making her blush. I cant wait to show you our embassys Pleasure Gardens. You will love them.

    That reminds me, the oneiromancers of the Ardent Dreams await your next visit with anticipation, Iren informed the dark elf. They have developed a new mind experience just for you.

    Frigga sneered. I hope it is better than thest one. Their dreamscapes cater to vulgar tastes, and I strive for finer experiences.

    Valdemar took a moment to observe Frigga in silence, trying to get the handle on her personality. His experience with the dokkars, or dark elves, was limited to what he learned in books. The humanoid race had ruled one of thergest territories in Undend alongside the Pleromians until repeated wars against Ant and the derros caused them to fall from preeminence. Their empire had fragmented into city-states barely kept united by the threat from other species.

    Valdemar didnt pity them though. The dokkars had nearly exterminated mankind during the Descent, and the massacres perpetrated by their generals remained a trauma in humans collective consciousness. Were it not for his ancestors choice to resort to mass-undead drafts and extensive use of necromancy, Valdemar might not have been alive today.

    But those were old times, and neither Ant nor the dokkars wanted a war that would only serve to strengthen the Derro Kingdoms position. So humans and dark elves engaged in a policy of reconciliation.

    It was a slow and difficult process. The few dokkarmunities in Ant had been expelled two hundred years ago for worshipping a Stranger called the Mother of All; and though the empire had since allowed dark elf merchants to trade in their territory, they were limited to a few border cities. Considering the mention of the dokkars embassy, Valdemar supposed that Frigga was something of a diplomat.

    She seemed quite friendly and Liliane appeared to like her, but Valdemar remembered Hermanns warnings about the dark elfs selfishness. Indeed, he detected a hint of cruel cunning in Frigga''s gaze. Like a cat, she yed nice in public and viciously murdered mice in private.

    The dark elf noticed the gaze Valdemar sent her, and gave him a lovely smile. Most men would have blushed, but the summoner remained cautious. And who might you be? Frigga asked.

    Valdemar Verney, Valdemar introduced himself.

    Frigga of House Fredegund. She offered her hand to Valdemar. The sorcerer was puzzled for a few seconds, before realizing that he was supposed to kiss it; which he did. Damn noble <em>tiquette</em>... My dear Liliane spoke highly of you.

    I speak highly of everyone, Liliane responded with a chuckle.

    And we all love you for it, the dark elf replied courteously as Valdemar let her hand go. You seem wary of me though. I swear I wont bite.

    Its the first time I''ve seen a dokkar in the flesh, Valdemar admitted. All I learned of your civilizationes from imperial propaganda, and Im not sure what to think of it.

    Oh, your inquisitors will tell you that we dark elves eat babies, enve the weak, and sacrifice our kinsmen during orgies dedicated to the Strangers, but theyre wrong. Frigga chuckled to herself. Babies dont have enough meat, very is tightly regted, and we abolished dark elf sacrifices since animals worked just as well.

    Charming, Valdemar deadpanned. He noticed that Lady Mathilde looked ufortable about the sacrifice part for obvious reasons. You dont believe in the Light?

    I worship the Mother of All, Frigga replied, and Lady Mathildes expression turned into a nk mask. The Mother of All was considered a Stranger, and her cult was ouwed in the empire. But dont worry, I follow thews of yournd while in it and I do not proselytize.

    Frigga is here as part of a schrly exchange, Lady Mathilde exined to Valdemar. Lord Och allows her to study our magical traditions, and one of our colleagues receives tutge from dokkar archmages.

    Between us, Im also supposed to spy on Lord Och and report everything he does to my house, Frigga said while winking at Valdemar, I would be thankful if you could tell me everything you know about the lich.

    Shouldnt you keep that part for yourself? Valdemar asked with amusement.

    Well, everyone already knows, Iren pointed out with a smirk. I had her pegged as a spy on her first day.

    Im not telling you anything about my teacher, Valdemar replied. Though I would be interested in learning more about the dokkars from you. Ive been researching ancient civilizationstely, and your empire is second only to the Pleromians in age.

    We are far more ancient than your empire, thats for certain, Frigga replied with racial pride. I would be delighted to enlighten you on our culture while we solve your sleeping problem.

    Valdemar red at Liliane.

    What? she asked.

    <em>You can tell me anything, I won''t tell anyone?</em> Valdemar quoted her.

    I was trying to help! Liliane protested. Frigga is the Institutes best oneiromancer! Her dreams are so vivid, its hard to distinguish them from reality.

    You paint with pigments, while I sculpt desires, Frigga told Valdemar. Were both artists in our own way.

    How is Poingcarrs project going by the way? Lady Mathilde asked the dark elf. Were the dream crystals I provided up to the task?

    They were, Frigga replied with a sharp nod. But s, he needs more. Hence the reason for my visit to Astaphonos, besides entertaining my dear Liliane.

    Poingcarr, Poingcarr Isnt Poingcarr the Master who created the well outside? Valdemar asked Hermann.

    He is the troglodyte confirmed. Master Poingcarr is a a specialist in ult mathematics and dimensions.

    Master Poingcarr is studying the world of dreams; particrly the Nightmare of Kazat at its center, Frigga exined. Where every oneiromancer has failed to physically enter the dreaming world with magic, he believes he can seed with technology. In exchange for my expertise on oneiromancy, he took me as an apprentice.

    Ill pass on your help for my sleeping troubles, Valdemar dered. If youre out to learn more on Lord Och, Im not letting you anywhere inside my head.

    Friggaughed. Spying on the lich is what Im <em>supposed </em>to do, but I think in the long-term. If Lord Och took you as an apprentice, it means you might grow into a powerful and influential magician. Hence, it will be in my houses interests to cultivate good rtionships with you so you can be of use to uster.

    Valdemar suddenly wondered if her friendship with Liliane was entirely disinterested. Probably not. Liliane was the heiress of a powerful weapon magnate, and a good friend to have for a dark elf diplomat.

    I will vouch for Frigga, Liliane insisted.

    So will I, Lady Mathilde added.

    Valdemar didnt hide his surprise. Do you trust her?

    I trust her self-interest, the priestess said. Frigga was forced to sign a soul contract when she arrived here, which allows Lord Och to punish her no matter where she is. She will not dare to displease him.

    Frigga''s smile turned colder. I would rather that you didnt spread word of this particr arrangement, Lady Mathilde.

    And I would rather that you behave in public, the priestess replied with a dry tone.

    Liliane looked inly ufortable, and Valdemar couldnt me her. Lady Mathilde and Frigga did their best to hide it, but they clearly didnt get along.

    In any case, out of respect for my dear Liliane, I would dly help you with your nightmares. Frigga put a hand on her waist. But when youre good at something you never do it for free. Since youre a friend of a friend, I will give you a discount.

    How much? Valdemar asked with a sigh, having expected something like that.

    You will paint me a pictomancy portrait as payment, Frigga decided. I cannot deny Hermanns talent, but his special style cannot capture my beauty. Liliane seemed very impressed with your mothers portrait, so I suspect you shall prove up to the task.

    A portrait? Valdemar could live with it. Sounds simple enough.

    But it wont be any portrait, the dokkar said with a coy smirk. I want something sordid and scandalous. A painting that will make your priests blush.

    Ah yes, <em>dark elves</em>. Valdemar prayed she wouldnt ask for him to paint her torturing a mole rat. How sordid? he asked warily.

    If I were at home, I would ask you to paint me during an orgy, Frigga said with longing. But s, your Empires citizens are too tightced for such festivities. Maybe you could paint me naked with a corpse at my feet? No, that would be too quaint well use a giant bat instead, and Ill take a very suggestive pose...

    Frigga! Liliane protested in horror, her cheeks turning red. Why?

    Because it will be <em>fun</em>. The dark elf sounded more and more excited with her idea. Imagine if I sold it and used the money for charity. A naked dokkars portrait made by the child of cultists, helping fund your orphanages. I can already imagine the scandal!

    I already know a few people who would pay a fortune for a naked picture of you, beautiful, Iren said. I would be first-in-line.

    The horrified Liliane nced at Lady Mathilde, but she remained imperturbable. The Light shines on all that is beautiful, the priestess said. There is no shame in celebrating our bodies... within eptable limits.

    The Light, yes, Frigga said with disappointment. She had wanted to infuriate the priestess, and lost interest when she didnt take the bait. See, Liliane? I would be doing holy work. You cane to watch the painting process, if you want...

    By now, Liliane was so red that Valdemar started to worry for her health. When are we leaving? she asked Lady Mathilde.

    Right now, the priestess replied. Our journey will take a while, so make yourselves at home.

    Much like the Institute, Lady Mathildes wagon benefitted from space alteration spells. Alreadyrge on the outside, the inside provedrge enough to fit multiple rooms. The alchemist had set bunk beds on the first floor for her trainees and allowed Valdemar and Frigga to use one for their dreaming experiments.

    This is a sleeping draught, the dark elf said, as she gave her patient a cup. The blue liquid inside tasted like mint. Justy down on the mattress, and rx.

    My metabolism clears drugs quickly, Valdemar warned her as he followed her directives. Lady Mathilde had decorated her ceiling with the painted symbols of surface constetions, which he found tasteful.

    So Liliane told me, but I gave you enough to put a dragon to sleep. Once her patient wasying on his bed, Frigga touched his forehead with her soft fingers. Valdemar sensed a jolt of electricity travel through his skin as she made contact. Close your eyes, and clear your mind. It will be easier that way.

    Hypothetically, could you enter my dreams even if I resisted? Valdemar asked.

    Of course I could, she replied with a scoff. But it will be more pleasant for both of us if you dont struggle.

    Valdemar closed his eyes and did his best to rx, but as he expected the potion was slow to affect him. Or perhaps he was still wary of letting the dark elf inside his head, even if others vouched for her.

    Valdemars mind remained restless, and he tried to find a distraction. May I ask you something?

    Go on, Frigga replied while calmly massaging his forehead.

    If you are called dark elves, does it mean there are light elves? The question always bugged me.

    There were, sort of. Frigga decided to give him a full history lesson. In ancient times, our civilization discovered the Blood but split over what to do about it. Most dokkars were primitive people who feared witches and sorcerers to the point of imprisoning them. Our spellcasting ancestors, rejected by all, decided to create a new home underground. They believed that magic originated from something deep below the earth and sought tomune with it.

    Valdemar shuddered as he remembered the eyes on the walls. Could this strange organic superstructure have a connection with the Blood? And what happened to these surface cousins of yours?

    We ughtered them when they tried to flee the Whitemoon and the chilling cold, Frigga replied with an eerily casual tone. <em>Beware of serpents with long memories </em>is a famous dokkar proverb.

    Ill keep that in mind, Valdemar deadpanned. He was pretty sure magic wasnt the only reason that caused the light elves to exile their darker cousins.

    Frigga asked Valdemar questions of her own as he rxed. When did he start dreaming? What did he dream of? Had he already seen the well of his nightmares in the waking world? Valdemar answered them all, though his focus slowly slipped. His body started to feel numb as it entered a torpid state of inactivity. His breathing slowed down, and darkness soon overwhelmed his mind.

    When his eyes opened again, Valdemar found himself in a ce stranger than any Pleromian ruin.

    He stood alone on some kind of teau drenched in a thinyer of pure water, the surface reflecting the half-formed images of his grandfathers wizened face, his mothers sad smile, Lilianes giggles, and Hermanns reptilian eyes. Small statues rose from the waters, from a broken Eiffel tower to a shatteredary sphere. Only Lord Ochs representation stood absolute, its bones made of rusted steel.

    This dreamworlds ceiling was made of yellow fumes coursing with colorful electrical bolts, though their light didnt hurt his eyes. The current found its source in a strange city on the horizon, one that didnt look like any human settlement. Valdemar distinguished a tangle of bulbous ck towers, spiraling stone buildings, and floating inds of stone. The lightning circled it like a halo or the eye of a magical storm.

    The more he squinted at it, the more this city disturbed the dreamer. Its towers appeared to be made of countless statues of humans, troglodytes, elves and other creatures bound together in a macabre fresco; its architecture shifted as if alive, a building flickering and reappearing on another spot.

    Valdemar attempted to use his psychic sight to analyze the area, but his magic failed him. While his body felt real, no magic coursed through his veins. He was an illusion, a mirage without substance.

    So this is your dreamscape. Valdemar raised his eyes, and noticed Frigga sitting on empty air above his head. Somehow, her voice cut clearly through the noise of the thunderbolts above. Its aplete mess.

    I didnt expect <em>this</em>, Valdemar admitted. He thought that his inner world would be a physical representation of his old family house, or maybe a copy of the Institute. I never dreamed of this city. I dont even know what it is!

    This is the Nightmare of Kazat, andmark of the dreamworld, the dark elf said while ncing at the strange city on the horizon. Without going into the gory details, its an invasive nightmare that grows by consuming dreamers. Exploring it is dangerous for all but the most powerful oneiromancers, so I would suggest enjoying its dark beauty from afar. The fact you can see it from your dreamscape is a bad sign.

    Valdemar flinched. How bad?

    I will need a moment to check, she said while slouching. She reminded Valdemar of a cat stretching on an invisible sofa. This doesnt look like it, but Im delving into the fabric of your dreams.

    Sure, make yourself at home, Valdemar deadpanned, though he let her work in peace.

    He took the opportunity to explore the teau, which turned out to be much smaller than he had anticipated. It was half asrge as the Institutes ground floor, and almost entirely devoid of decoration. It disturbed Valdemar that out of all the images of his friends and family, only Lord Ochs statue seemedplete. The Dark Lord cast arge shadow even in his subconscious.

    Since it was a dream, Valdemar attempted to summon things from the ether, or to fly. His imagination should rule in his mind, but his feet remained anchored to the ground and he couldnt summon anything.

    Maybe his subconscious enforced some limitations on his dream? He couldnt fly because he didnt believe he could?

    After a few minutes of observation, Frigga leaped from her invisible seat and gracefullynded in front of Valdemar. Her ck hooves made no sound when they hit the ground, nor did the water ripple at her contact.

    You are ill, my dear human, the dark elf dered. First of all, I can tell you have absolutely no oneiromancy training, which means your psychic defenses fade away when you sleep and leave your mind unguarded. Second, you possess an abnormally strong connection to the Primordial Dream.

    I thought all souls were connected to it? Valdemar asked, having done some research on the subject when he tried to banish his nightmares on his own. The Primordial Dream, also known as the Collective Unconscious and the Dreands, was the magical dimension from which all dreams originated.

    Yes, but not directly. She waved a hand at the teau on which they stood. This is your dreamscape, a half-ne unique to an individual soul that serves as a filter between your mind and the Primordial Dream. Its a bubble that shields your mind from unwanted attention. However, the Nightmare of Kazat exists deep inside the collective unconscious.

    Which means my dreamscape is thin and not working properly, Valdemar guessed with a frown. Wonderful. I suppose thats not a good thing?

    Not for you, it isnt, she replied with a chuckle. Your homes door is unlocked and anyone can get in. Besides making you a lot more vulnerable to nightmares than most of your kind, Im surprised you werent attacked in your sleep by a night hag or incubus already. Or maybe you were and dont even remember.

    Okay, this was much worse than expected.

    Damn it, he should have consulted an oneiromancer years ago! Valdemar had thought his nightmares were the result of a childhood trauma, not a magical deficiency. He already didnt like Lord Och reading his mind, and the idea of any criminal oneiromancer infiltrating his dreams angered him.

    How did it happen? Valdemar asked. From the way you make it sound, its unusual.

    I will need more sessions to answer that question, Frigga admitted. Dreamscapes naturally form during infancy, and yours simply didnt grow as it should. Its possible your mind was tampered with or you survived a terrible experience that left your subconscious permanently scarred.

    Valdemar clenched his fingers. My grandpa said I fell into a well while young, he exined. Ive been having nightmares ever since.

    Poor you, the dark elf replied without really meaning it. She reminded him a bit of Lord Och, going through the motions of courtesy without truly believing in them. A childhood fear could have weakened your dreamscape, but not enough to leave it stillborn. I cant stress it enough, you wont even feel any intruder slipping inside you.

    Is the phrasing intentional?

    Yes, Frigga replied coyly. By now, Valdemar had grown certain that she took a <em>schadenfreudian </em>joy in teasing and embarrassing people.

    Valdemar gave her a hypocritical smile. Then how can I <em>protect </em>myself from bad girls like you?

    This made the dark elf chuckle. Good one. Learning the basics of oneiromancy will let you strengthen your dreamscape, protect it from intrusions, and prevent your sleeping mind from wandering into dangerous ces. Alternatively, you could buy a dreamcatcher, though it will be horrendously expensive.

    Frigga waved her hand, and a strange device formed in her hand. It resembled a circr amulet with aplex web design at its center.

    Valdemar couldnt help but feel a tinge of envy. The dark elf had better control of <em>his </em>dreams than he did!

    A dreamcatcher is a nifty amulet that prevents you from dreaming at all, Frigga exined. It seals your subconscious shut while you sleep. No dreams, no intrusions. You wont be able to use oneiromancy though.

    Valdemar frowned in skepticism. I spent some time in the custody of inquisitors, and they preferred to keep me awake rather than put an amulet on my neck.

    The dark elf licked her lips like a cat. Did they torture you?

    They strapped me to a wheel and pumped me full of drugs.

    What, thats all? She looked downright <em>disappointed</em>. Your inquisitorsck imagination. Their method is understandable though. A dreamcatcher is a veryplex amulet that must be adapted to a specific mind, making it extremely costly.

    And Valdemars funds were extremely limited. Lord Och afforded him a research budget, but he spent most funds on his ecto-catcher and various elixirs. Besides the cost, he would rather avoid relying on an item he could lose. Could you teach me how to repair my dreamscape? he asked the dark elf.

    Frigga conjured a throne of ck mahogany from nowhere, and slouched on it as if she owned Valdemars mind. Not for free.

    That greedy <em>bitch</em>. I already promised you a portrait!

    To pay for my expertise, the dark elf replied mirthfully. Which Im generously providing. But tutoring you would demand a lot of my free time, and I am a busy woman.

    I should have listened to Hermann, Valdemarined. The troglodyte had called Frigga selfish, but she was even worse than expected.

    The lizard is a goody two-shoes, Frigga said with a cackle, while I know what Im worth.

    I dont have an inexhaustible purse, Valdemar warned her. How much do you want?

    Then lets agree on a future favor. Nothinges to mind right now, but Im sure I will find a use for you. The dark elf licked her lips in a predatory way. Now, about that portrait you owe me

 Chapter 16: The Eyes of Heaven

    Chapter 16: The Eyes of Heaven

    When the next morning came, Lady Mathilde summoned the schrs to her workshop.

    While it probably paled before her trueboratory at the Institute, her wagon was truly an alchemists dream. The workshop resembled a cozy wooden cabin, clean and brightly colored. Clever use of space and hiddenpartments allowed Lady Mathilde to store a wealth of potions, ingredients, dried mushrooms, and shelves packed with esoteric grimoires. A coal boiler served as the firece and energy source of the wagon, fueling the mes of boiling sks. From alembics to blood-filled show globes, Lady Mathilde had collected every tool in the alchemical repertoire.

    Valdemar also noticed other devices that he had only ever heard before. Thergest was the <em>athanor </em>near the boiler, a very special metal furnace used to mix multiple alchemical substances at a constant temperature, but he paid more attention to a strange projector. A ck soulstone was attached to it, ready to be activated.

    Is that a phantom projector? Valdemar asked Lady Mathilde in astonishment. Frigga observed a green homunculus fetus in a sk to his left, watching tubes fuel the artificial creature with nutrients.

    It is, the priestess replied with a kind smile, before giving him a demonstration. She pushed a button and the device immediately projected the crimson image of a wizened old man.

    <em>Day 30, Viveka month, year 304 After Empire, </em>the specter muttered to himself. Valdemar recognized it as one of thest years of the so-called Spore gue that killed a third of Ants poption. <em>File 253. Observation of Spore gue in action among adult female subjects. Subject: Andrea Torras, fourteen days after infection. Observation: the spore appears to spread through the air before infecting the cerebrospinal fluid and higher brain functions. Humor analysis shows an increase in adrenaline. Subjects neurons are slowly reced with fungal tissue, while biological functions are repurposed to produce more spores. Hypothesis: modification of cerebrospinal fluid might be the key to checking the infection. Note: must create a control group to observe further developments.</em>

    Ive never seen one before, Valdemar admitted as the ghost continued reporting his findings. Phantom projectors allowed the user to extract a soulstones memories and showcase them.

    He was a... biomancer? Hermann asked, as he and Liliane approached the device.

    An unlicensed one, Lady Mathilde exined as she turned off the projector and caused the ghost to vanish. Human biomancy was illegal in 304 A.E., but many spellcasters turned to the art in an attempt to cure the Spore gue.

    And three of them were sessful in the end, Valdemar remembered from the history books.

    This soulstone belonged to one of them, the alchemist Johann Baptista, Lady Mathilde exined. While he and his colleagues did find a cure, theymitted atrocious human experimentations in the process. Even infecting healthy families to study the disease''s progress.

    Thats horrible, Liliane said with a frown.

    They killed hundreds and saved millions, Valdemar replied. Its a gain. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

    Lady Mathilde smiled, but her grincked any warmth. That was their defense, but they still abducted and experimented on people without their consent. However, since Johann and his colleagues <em>did </em>save the empires poption, it was decided that their souls would be preserved in soulstones for the benefit of future generations. Lord Och came into possession of all three of them and entrusted Baptistas spirit to me.

    Your kind would not have needed to sacrifice anyone if they had allowed biomancy from the get-go, Frigga said after losing interest in the homunculus. Our people have never suffered from diseases for millennia thanks to health treatments and inheritable mutations. Nor do any of us die of old age, and we dont even need a potion for it.

    A process that decreased your fertility, Hermann pointed out. You still havent recovered from thest human wars losses.

    Friggas expression twisted into one of disdain, but Valdemar could tell that Hermanns words hit a nerve. I would rather stay forever young than have more than three brats at home, the dokkar argued.

    Lady Mathildes elixir makes both possible, Liliane boasted with a bright smirk.

    Thank you, Liliane, the priestess replied serenely, while Frigga sulked. In any case, I didnt gather you all for a biomancy lesson. Valdemar, a few days ago I gave you pointers aboutbat spells. I would like to check on your progress.

    Ive been practicing the reinforcing spell, Valdemar answered with a nod.

    You too? Liliane looked strangelypetitive today. Letspare!

    In response, Valdemar channeled the Blood through his hand until his fist turned ck as coal. His skin and flesh strengthened until they were hard as steel.

    While Lady Mathildes eyes widened in surprise and Frigga looked on with interest, Liliane outright whistled. Valdy, how did you do that? she asked. Byparison, when the heiress reinforced the skin of her fist, it simply looked thicker and stiff.

    I rearranged the chemicalposition of my skin while reinforcing it, Valdemar exined. From what I gathered, reinforcing works by channeling blood to thicken the skin. I figured that since blood contains iron and carbon, it would be better to restructure my skin into a flexible alloy of organic steel. It turned out great.

    Its a highly advanced use of the reinforcing spell only found among trained battlemages, Lady Mathilde congratted him. Im impressed you picked it up so soon and that you didnt copse immediately. Your blood needs iron to transport oxygen through your body, so using that much should have left you <em>at least</em> winded.

    I heal and regenerate blood quickly, Valdemar said with pride as he returned his hand to normal. I think I could harden my entire body.

    Frigga snickered for some reason.

    Lady Mathilde shot the idea down immediately. Dont. Reinforcing your entire bodys surface will consume an enormous amount of resources, and most importantly, its useless. The human anatomy is astonishingly resilient, so focus on covering your weak points. The neck, the head, the torso you will consume less resources this way.

    Im jealous, Lilianeined. I can only enhance my arms so far.

    Dont worry, my dear Liliane, Frigga reassured her while putting a hand on her forearm. You will make a far better mind mage than him.

    By the way, Valdy, did you sleep well? Liliane asked with curiosity. Oneiromancy is amazing, isnt it?

    Friggaughed while Valdemar gritted his teeth in embarrassment.

    What? Liliane asked with a surprised frown.

    Hes hopeless, Frigga said with a wide, mocking grin.

    <em>She has such a punchable face, </em>Valdemar thought while struggling to keep his calm. Liliane looked at him with astonishment, which somehow made him feel even more ashamed. No way! she said. But oneiromancy is so easy!

    It was Valdemars turn to look at his friend in astonishment. You can do it? he asked Liliane.

    I taught her the basics of dream defense, Lady Mathilde said with a raised eyebrow. What is your problem with this science, Valdemar?

    I dont get it! The necromancer admitted in frustration.

    He had spent the entire night receiving tutge from Frigga about strengthening his dreamscape but he would have asked for a refund if he could. The dark elf had given him exercises such as detailing childhood memories to build things in his dreamscape, or focusing on his feelings.

    It didnt work. Valdemar tried for hours to conjure things in his dream, to give them shape, to no avail. Friggas support turned to frustration at his slowness, then at astonishment before his terrible results, and finally into mockery.

    It astonishes me that an artist would be so poorly in tune with their feelings, the dark elf said, as she finished delighting her audience with tales of Valdemars failures. Lady Mathilde listened with a frown, Hermann scratched his head in confusion, and Liliane looked at Valdemar as if he were sick.

    What does that even mean? Valdemar rasped. I know who I am.

    To the necromancers surprise, Lady Mathilde didnt look convinced. From what you tell me, I am not so certain.

    Lets do a thought experiment, Frigga suggested. Liliane, Valdemar, imagine you get an idea for a new source of energy. What do you do with it? You can answer the question too, Hermann.

    I will start considering the practical applications, Valdemar replied as he tried to figure out her point.

    Mmm Liliane took a longer time to formte her answer. I would try to see how it could help everyone.

    I would study understand it as much as possible, Hermann dered after considering the question for the longest time.

    Frigga nodded without judgment. Now, that energy you discovered is limitless. Your whole civilization will benefit from it. However, it will put your coal miners out of work. They will lose their jobs and suffer. What do you do?

    The answer is in the question, Valdemar pointed out. The greater good and the big picture trump everything. So long as the many benefit from it, the feelings of the few are secondary.

    Valdy, youre too hasty, Liliane scolded him. I would find a middle ground. Introduce it progressively, so the miners can find new jobs.

    And so make the whole civilization lose out on the new energys advantages in the meantime? Valdemar asked mirthfully.

    Everyone should prosper, Valdy, Liliane replied with surprising firmness. Common prosperity isnt worth hurting people in the process.

    Please, my dear, no judgment yet, Frigga chided her, before ncing at Hermann. What about you?

    I I do not know, the troglodyte admitted. I I suppose I would ask everyone to reach a consensus.

    Frigga nodded in agreement. From your answers, I can tell dear Liliane will make the best oneiromancer among the three of you. No wonder we get along. Even Hermann has some potential, but you, Valdemar? You will never be more than passable.

    Valdemar frowned in anger. Watch me.

    No, she has a point, Lady Mathilde dered. Oneiromancers need to be in tune with their feelings, Valdemar. Not only those of others, but their own. They understand themselves and their values.

    So do I, the necromancer replied.

    I do not see the problem, Hermann agreed with him.

    Valdemar, imagine you fulfill your goal and reach this other world full of sunlight, Lady Mathilde said. What will you do then?

    An easy answer. I will keep the path open so my people can settle on the other side.

    Thats not what she asked. Frigga smiled. What will <em>you </em>do? How do you imagine your life after you fulfill your objective?

    Valdemar opened his mouth.

    And immediately closed it.

    What would he do after opening a pathway to Earth? He he would probably try to visit his grandfathers tribe if it still existed, and maybe explore this brand new world?

    You never never considered what you will do <em>after </em>reaching your goal? Hermann asked.

    No, he didnt. Valdemars life had revolved around fulfilling his grandfathers dream, and he never imagined what his life would look like afterward.

    You see the big picture, but forget to include yourself in it, Frigga exined. And thats why you will never be a great oneiromancer. You have a<em> goal</em>, yes, one that you borrowed from someone else; but you dont have <em>dreams</em>.

    Why think about the future if I havent achieved my objective yet? Valdemar asked back. Ill cross that bridge when I reach it.

    Lady Mathilde had the grace to exin things better than the dark elf. Frigga makes a poor effort at making her point across. What she means, truly, is that you are a <em>thinker </em>and not a <em>feeler</em>. Your mind reasons in terms of tangible results, of problems to solve, but with little consideration for your own feelings or those of others. Its not a bad thing. Your disciplined mindset heavily contributes to your engineering and summoning prowesses. But this will make learning oneiromancy and all forms of mind-magic difficult. These spellcasting traditions heavily rely on intuitive feelings and empathy.

    Lord Och has no empathy for anyone, and yet he can read minds, Valdemar countered. And Frigga is, forgive the expression, a selfish ass.

    Valdemar ignored the re Liliane sent him, but Frigga didnt seem to care anyway. You wound me, the dark elf replied. Its not because I put my feelings and person above others that I dont consider them. I wouldnt be half as good as riling up your kind if I werent such a sensitive, caring soul.

    As for the Dark Lord, he had centuries to cover his weaknesses, Lady Mathilde replied. Anyone middling in a field of magic can be talented with enough time. Im not saying you cant master these skills, Valdemar; only that you will have a harder time with them.

    You cant be good everywhere, Hermann tried to reassure Valdemar, who crossed his arms in defeat. You should focus on building your strengths.

    Come on, Valdy, youre already amazing in so many fields. Liliane patted him on the back. Dont be greedy.

    Valdemar sulked, but after a moment he realized that his friends had a point. He couldnt expect to be a master of all forms of magic. Besides, he didnt need to invade others dreams or read minds. The necromancer only had to learn enough to protect himself from those who used these forms of magic. And if not, he could simply summon a creature that would solve the problem for him.

    But we have digressed from our original point, Lady Mathilde said while trying to refocus her lesson. Liliane, Valdemar, I am very proud of your progress. Now that you have learned the basics of the reinforcing spell, its time I teach you a long-distance option.

    The priestess raised her hand, extended her fingers, and pointed them at a wall.

    Blood ruptured from below her nails, before taking the shape of five sharpened projectiles. They hit the wall so fast that Valdemars eyes couldn''t keep up, impacting on the steel with the strength of arrows.

    This is the <em>Blood Bullet</em> spell, Lady Mathilde exined. While Liliane examined the point where the projectiles hit, Valdemar focused on the priestess fingers instead. The wounds below her nails had closed immediately, leaving no opening. You use this technique by solidifying blood below the nail, crystalizing it, and then apply pressure tounch the resulting projectile at high speed. Of course, it decreases the amount of blood in your body. The more you use it, the quicker you will exhaust your reserves.

    <em>No wonder I havent seen many Knights cast this spell,</em> Valdemar thought. <em>Reinforcing or telekic ms didnt exhaust reserves nearly as fast as throwing these projectiles</em>.

    I know a stronger version, Friggamentedzily, trying to show off. Except I use bones and reinforced phnges rather than blood.

    The <em>Bone Bullet</em> spell is indeed a stronger variant, but one that needs more resources and finesse, Lady Mathilde replied calmly. For now, blood will suffice.

    Master, doesnt it hurt? Liliane asked with a frown. Youre cutting through your skin.

    You will feel pain, dear child. The priestess smiled. But youll get used to it with effort.

    I I would like to learn as well. Hermann cleared out his throat. I need to get better at fighting.

    Youre thinking of the Collector? Valdemar asked, his troglodyte friend nodding in confirmation. It seemed his defeat had affected Hermann more than he expected.

    Cool, we can practice together, Liliane chirped with a smirk. Could you show me your Bone Bullet technique too, Frigga? I would love to learn it.

    Of course, my dear, the dark elf replied before kissing her friend on the cheek in a way Valdemar didnt find chaste at all. Everything for you.

    It took a while, but the group finally reached their destination. Iren informed them that they had crossed the right Earthmouth portal, and Valdemar stepped out of the wagon to take his first step in Astaphanos capital of La Dorada.

    Famously known as the Pearl of the Empire, the city lived up to its name. Raised on an ind surrounded by the Lightless Ocean, the settlement mixed impressive architecture with exotic beauty. Shaped from brass, tin, and gold, the buildings used curved forms rather than the rigid lines favored in Paraplex and other rival Domains. Domes and rounded roofs were moremon than spires and towers, while vast canals allowed cowled undead boatmen to transport travelers onvish skiffs.

    The city buzzed with activity. The Earthmouth portal led the groups wagon to a sprawling bazaar where merchants from all corners of the empire came to sell their wares. From licensed necromancers selling mindless undead servants to dark elves tradesmen importing expensive silk, La Dorada was amercial crossroads where many pleasures could be fulfilled. Biomancy-enhanced whores invited clients tovish brothels for unforgettable trysts, while oneiromancers openly peddled dream-drugs. Some magicians even offered wealthy clients to experience the memory of others, or to live out their darkest fantasies in dream worlds where their will wasw.

    Of course, not even this ce was exempt from the Dark Lords surveince. The mirror-faced Knights of the Mind observed the bazaar from the safety of the rooftops and the shadows of alleys. They didnt just survey the streets to prevent crime, they also patrolled dreams and thoughts.

    All fantasies could be satisfied by oneiromancers; all but those that the local Dark Lord, Lady Phul, deemed uneptable. She allowed more freedom and debauchery than her colleagues, but it was all an insidious illusion; a calcted spectacle meant to lure citizens intocency with meaningless sensations. Those who sumbed to darker temptations, who mistook the liberty of dreaming of torture, sex, and ephemeral power for a license to turn to the Strangers or question the Dark Lords, were never seen again.

    But both people and buildings paled before the beauty of La Doradas gardens. Sprawling rows of nts, phosphorescent mushrooms, and bio-engineered trees decorated the streets. The smell of flowers mixed with the smell of sex and drugs; in La Dorada, beauty and decadence coexisted in equal measure. Liliane and Frigga immediately asked Lady Mathildes permission to visit the garden, and Hermann seemed tempted to join them.

    And yet, for all of the citys beauty, the eyes were here too.

    They were on the caverns walls and the ceiling, big and small. An army of squamous orbs observed the oblivious human ants toiling beneath them. The watchers judged men and women in silence, unseen and yet all-powerful.

    Valdemar looked up at the ceiling, at thergest eye of them all. It was so red, and so big, that it probably matched the city below in size. Its ck pupil seemed to watch the bazaar, and Valdemar wondered if this creature could notice him specifically.

    Can you understand me? the necromancer whispered, his voice drowned by the shouts of oblivious merchants and the cacophony of tourists.

    The eye of the world did not answer. Maybe it didnt hear. Maybe it didnt understand humannguage. Maybe it watched but didnt truly care.

    Blink if you do, Valdemar asked, afraid of the answer.

    For a moment, the necromancer found sce in his ignorance.

    But then the giant eye closed.

    Lids of hideous festering flesh emerged from the stone flesh of the living cavern, covering the eyeball in a protective mantle. They were so huge, and yet moved so fast, that they made no sound when they joined.

    And when they snapped open again, Valdemar felt the thousands of eyes of Astaphanos adjust their gaze. Their pupils turned from watching the thousands of civilians to a single person in their midst with unwavering intensity.

    Valdemar sensed the burden of their vigil on his shoulders, on his back, on his face. He felt from every direction, from above and below. When he looked down at the ground to escape the watchers attention, he noticed tiny golden eyes growing from the pavement, so small he hadnt noticed them.

    But they had seen him. They had heard him, and they had answered.

    Whatever this thing, this superorganism was, it wasnt just alive.

    It was <em>sentient </em>too.

    Letting out a breath in silent anxiety, Valdemar tried to focus on something else. His gaze wandered to the crowd in the bazaar, but the people had eyes too. Most didnt pay attention to the necromancer. Some looked through him, focusing on stands behind his back.

    But a pair of eyes peered into his own, as pale and grey as his own.

    Valdemar froze in shock as he noticed her long raven hair and oh-so-familiar face; the same face that sang him songs as he learned to talk, who carried him in her arms whenever he cried. She looked younger, far younger than when she had died, but it was <em>her</em>. Even hidden below her ck hat, he could recognize her anywhere.

    He blinked, and she was gone.

    Valdemar immediately rushed into the crowd, pushing away people. He heard shouts and Liliane calling his name, but he didnt care. He rushed between the stands, towards the alley where he glimpsed her, but he only saw fleshy eyes on the walls and shadows.

    But he hadnt dreamed. He knew what he had seen, even if he didnt understand how it was possible.

    Mom? Valdemar asked.

    The eyes didnt answer.

 Chapter 17: The Shopkeeper is your friend

    Chapter 17: The Shopkeeper is your friend

    Are you certain it was her? Hermann asked. The disguised troglodyte attracted many curious gazes with his gue doctor outfit, with people stepping out of his way. It could have been a trick of the mind.

    I know what I saw, Valdemar insisted. My True Sight protects me from illusions. I can even see Irens real eye color now.

    Iren put a finger on his lips, as he guided the trio through La Doradas narrow alleys. Shush, he said. Thedies prefer me with purple eyes.

    Speaking of eyes, Valdemar had had his fill of them. The globulous orbs were lessmon in the suburbs, but the necromancer couldnt find an alley without at least one of them gazing at him. Attracting the entitys attention had proven to be a mistake, as it refused to let Valdemar go out of its sight.

    No wonder most of the people who had consumed an Elixir of True Sight went insane. The feeling of being watched all the time was maddening and fueled Valdemars paranoia. Though he valued his life enough to bear this burden in silence, he understood how some magicians might have considered death a release from the constant surveince.

    Valdemar would have been happier sailing the Lightless Ocean, but fate got in the way. The group should have taken a flesh ferry towards a half-savage ind to find samples of the Colophryar nt, thest ingredient needed for the Painted Door project. Unfortunately, the ship had apparently suffered from a technical mishap, dying their departure.

    Iren had then suggested going to the Midnight Markets local chapter and buying the nt from smugglers; Hermann had reluctantly agreed to it for ack of a better option. Since Lady Mathildes own errands were more legal in nature, the group had split in half with orders to meet again at the dokkar embassy afterward.

    Iren had led them to the dirtiest parts of the city. Far from the splendor of the main square and bazaar, the distant suburbs of La Dorada were a hive of shacks, houses in squalor, and crumbling buildings. The alleys formed a maze without rhyme or reason, though Iren seemed to know the area like the back of his hand. Beggars asked for money at every crossroad, and even the Knights of the Mind were less present in the district.

    This was their of Astaphanos underss. The pox-ridden whores unable to afford a biomancy treatment, the servants, the waiters and carriage drivers. Valdemar suspected a few of them were miners and farmers put out of the job by the ever-increasing use of undeadbor, with no choice but to migrate to therger cities to find work.

    Was his mother hiding among them? Valdemar knew he had seen her, deep within his bones; even if he couldnt exin it himself.

    Hermann noticed his unease. Maybe it was a lookalike?

    Maybe, Valdemar admitted. But I cant exin why, but I <em>know </em>it was her.

    It could have been her ghost paying you a visit, Iren said. Is your mother entombed in this Domain?

    No. His mother was buried in Horaios, and ghosts didnt rise from the dead years after their demise. A specter can look almost real, but their true nature is easy to discern for those with the right knowledge. She was made of flesh and blood.

    An hallucination then, Iren suggested while shrugging his shoulders. You dont sleep enough and you suffer from a lot of stress. Bothbined can drive a man mad.

    Maybe. Valdemar hated to think himself as mentally unwell, but he had barely started treating his insomnia; even his sessions with Frigga left him tired, as dreaming exhausted him mentally.

    Hermann scratched his masks beak. What if it was the eyes doing? You said she appeared after after you addressed them. The two events might be rted. A telepathic projection an attempt tomunicate. We should test it out.

    I would rather not, Valdemar admitted. Not now at least.

    The watchers gaze weighed on him enough already.

    Iren finally led them to their destination, some kind of lost pawnshop inside a dead-end alley. It did not inspire confidence from the outside. Time and dust had degraded the storefronts paint job, while the entrance sign<em> Elias Emporium </em>was clearly missing a few letters. The metal doors hinges were rusted, while the cracked window showed an odd assortment of items including jewelry, figurines, musical instruments, and even a pistol. The alley was empty, as if the locals feared approaching it.

    This is the ce, Iren said.

    Looks a bit too small for a Midnight Market haunt, Valdemar pointed out. The smugglers preferrger ces such as hidden tunnels to do their business.

    This is just the entrance, my friend. Iren knocked on the door three times in quick session, then two more times after a short wait. Valdemar guessed that it was a signal. Ill lead you there and youll be free to ask out for your flower while I solve my business.

    Why did youe here? Hermann asked with curiosity.

    A pal of mine found an item Ive been looking for, Iren exined. A rare coin from before the Descent. Im wary of forgeries, so Ill check it myself before making the purchase. Im something of a specialist.

    Valdemar chuckled. He had expected Irens business to involve blood money or worse. You collect <em>coins</em>, of all things?

    Everyones got a hobby, friend. Ill show you my collection when we return home. Ive got stuff that goes back to the Pleromians.

    Valdemar sensed someone approaching the door from the other side with his psychic sight, even before he heard the lock turn. The gate opened to reveal a spry old man in his seventies, with pale skin and a balding head. His clothes were simple and inexpensive, his eyes whitened by age.

    And yet, Valdemar immediately sensed something unusual about this shopkeeper. A sense of wrongness exuded from his gaze, as if his eyeballs didnt fit the wrinkled eyelids. He wasnt a sorcerer and released no magical aura, but Valdemar couldnt put his finger on it, but something about this man struck him as unusual.

    Unaware of Valdemars thoughts, Iren greeted the shopkeeper with a pat on the shoulder. Elias, my old friend, hows the family?

    Fine, fine, the shopkeeper answered with a smile missing half its teeth. He invited the group inside his shop and closed the door behind them.

    The ce wasrger than it looked from the outside, dustier than a tomb, and aplete bric--brac. The sheer number of items piled up in every corner astonished Valdemar, as he wondered how the shopkeeper managed his inventory. Besides the usual assortment of pawn shop goods, the emporium had gathered quite the collection of odd goods as well: a drum made from a cave leopards skin, a pre-imperial era curved sword, a broken soulstone and even a tattooed dokkars mummified hand. Candles provided a modicum of light, though some shelves remained obscured.

    Valdemar and Hermann took a moment to scan the shop for anything interesting, while Iren made small talk with the shopkeeper. The troglodyte immediately focused on a collection of carved stone masks representing reptilian creatures. Some took inspiration from snakes, others from cave lizards, and a few werepletely fantastical. Hermann grabbed a mask with six eye openings and a fanged, open mouth. His hand brushed against the surface with nostalgia.

    These are troglodyte masks? Valdemar guessed.

    They represent the Coiled Ones that my kind worship. Priests wear them to take the persona of the god. his reptilian friend whispered too low for the shopkeeper to hear. This is Ashgar Kris... the Hunter of Souls god of the dead. I wonder how it ended here.

    Valdemar guessed that some tomb robber found the mask and sold it without understanding its significance. Neither did the Knights, or they would have fed these troglodyte artifacts to the mes even if none of them carried magical properties.

    The shop had collected thirteen masks in total, though one of them stood from the rest. This particr artifact wasnt made of stone, but some kind of ck substance that reminded Valdemar of wood. Itcked openings for the mouth, the nose, or even eyeholes. A chalky white symbol expanded from the forehead, before ending in tentacles as it reached the masks borders.

    Which god does it represent? Valdemar asked, as he peered into the spiral. His gaze lost itself in its center, in this neverending white abyss. A god of knowledge?

    To his surprise, Hermann shook his head. This is not one of ours.

    Truly? Valdemar touched the mask, and shuddered. The wood, if it was truly wood, felt cold as ice.<em> Definitely not normal, </em>the sorcerer thought, <em>but I dont sense any Blood magicing from it either. </em>The back part of the artifact was as ck as the purest darkness.

    Pushed by curiosity, Valdemar put the mask on. The wood felt unbearably cold against his skin, though it didnt hurt either. Even stranger, the mask seemed to adapt itself to the wearers face,tching to his mouth and nose like a secondyer of skin. Valdemar breathed, and chilly fresh air filled his lungs.

    Though the maskcked any opening, the sorcerer started to see through the wood and not with his eyes. This vision was sharper, focused at the center; the unlit parts of the shop became clearer, as if the mask had lifted the veil of darkness. Valdemar nced at Iren and the shopkeeper, and while the former found the scene amusing, thetter frowned in confusion.

    Now you look like a real cultist, Iren said with a smile.

    We must bring Frigga to the sacrificial altar! Valdemar joked back. The mask made his voice reverberate like an echo. The dark gods will have their due!

    Even Hermann joined in. I can hold the knife... while you restrain her.

    Aw, youre cruel, Iren replied with a chuckle. Trust me, shes a paragon of virtue by dokkar standards.

    She is vulgar arrogant Hermann looked fit to gag. Tasteless!

    Clearly, the troglodyte hadnt digested Friggas contempt for his art style.

    Anyway, Valdemar, whats up with that mask? Iren asked. You sound like some bad novels viin.

    Besides the voice change and feeling cold to the touch, it improves my ability to see in the dark. Valdemar removed the mask seamlessly, as it detached itself from his skin. Pretty underwhelming for a magical item, but practical. How did you guys manage to hide it from the Knights?

    The Knight-captain in charge of the district loves money and whores more than he fears his superiors, Elias replied while crossing his arms. We pay him and his men a generous sum each week to look the other way. Sometimes, we also give them a few items to confiscate or traitors to arrest. Pretty sweet deal if you ask me.

    Why couldnt the Knights of the Chain have been so amodating?

    Valdemar examined the mask, trying to understand the enchantments woven into it. To his surprise, he didnt notice any. His True Sight had identified the lines of bloody energies fueling Ochs fortress, but this mask only oozed cold and darkness.

    Where did you get it? Valdemar asked the shopkeeper. The longer he examined this artifact, the more fascinated he became.

    I do not remember, but I can look in the registry, Elias replied gruffly. Do you want to buy it?

    I will, Valdemar replied as he put the mask back on. He was curious about how this item worked, and why his True Sight couldnt identify the enchantments used to create it.

    I will take the others, Hermann dered while grabbing all the troglodyte masks.

    All of them? Iren asked with a raised eyebrow. Are you a collector too?

    They belong to an ancient and proud people, Hermann replied with cold anger. Not to <em>tourists</em>. This is cultural appropriation!

    Valdemar could read between the lines. Hermann worked tirelessly to find a new homnd for his people, and considered these artifacts troglodyte property. He would have paid any price to get them back to his kind.

    Thankfully, the purchase didnt amount to much. A few hundred silver coins for Hermann, and a handful of gold for Valdemar.

    Are you well, Elias? The rogue asked their host as he put the troglodyte masks in a cloth bag. Its not like you to underprice your wares. You didnt even argue.

    I dont care about those, the shopkeeper replied as he handed the bag of masks to Hermann. The good merchandise lies below.

    Something in his tone made Valdemar suspicious. Elias sounded a bit too unenthusiastic for a pawnbroker. <em>Maybe its just the eyes getting to me, </em>the sorcerer thought. <em>Now Im starting to see shadows in every corner.</em>

    Their business done, the shopkeeper moved behind his shops counter and lifted a carpet. He touched the floor, and Valdemar heard the sound of a lock opening. The others are already downstairs, the shopkeeper said while opening a trapdoor in the floor and revealing a narrow corridor. If you want to see the real stuff.

    Where does this lead? Hermann asked.

    To a smuggler cavern, Iren exined as he confidently walked down the stairs. In all likelihood, he had done so countless times before. Thats where the market gathers at this hour.

    Im still not convinced that they will have quality Colophryar, Hermann said as he climbed down after the rogue. This is a very rare nt.

    Valdemar followed the march, but stopped at the trapdoors threshold. Youre noting with us? he asked the shopkeeper.

    Someone has to keep the counter, the man replied as if he were an idiot.

    It made perfect sense, and yet a lifetime of evading inquisitors kicked in, raising all kinds of rm bells.

    Valdemar trusted his gut, and something didnt feel right here. The shopkeeper, a pawnbroker, hadnt even argued about the price of his wares; nor did he seem to remember their real value or origins. And though he did his best to appear aloof, Valdemar sensed an undercurrent of nervousnessing from him.

    Valdemar? Hermann asked inside from the stairs. Iren had long since vanished from sight, delving into the darkness below the shop.

    Elias the shopkeeper was growing impatient. Youre going in or what? I aint leaving it open forever.

    Something felt wrong about this man, though Valdemar couldnt exin why. The sorcerer locked eyes with the shopkeeper, and finally realized what bothered him about the eyelids.

    You dont blink, Valdemar said while Hermann emerged from the stairs in confusion.

    They had been in the shop for minutes, and Elias hadnt blinked <em>once</em>.

    Valdemar swiftly raised his hand while the shopkeeper flinched in surprise, his gloved fingers grabbing Elias eyelids and lifting them.

    There was another patch of skin below the first, white as chalk.

    A Derroan steel dagger sprung from the mans sleeve and aimed straight for Valdemars stomach.

    The sorcerer reacted faster and hardened his chest into steel. The daggers de cut through his reinforced clothes like butter, but grazed against the imprable shield Valdemars skin had turned into.

    Hermann let out a roar and rushed at the shopkeeper, but the man swiftly leapt to safety with inhuman dexterity.

    He nevernded, as Valdemar telekically grabbed him in midair and tossed him against the counter with enough force to break it. Splinters flew all around the shop in a catastrophic crash, and blood flowed from the shopkeepers nose. He tried to struggle, but Valdemar held him firmly with the power of his mind. The mans blood bent to his will.

    And as he established firm control over the shopkeepers flesh, Valdemar began to notice many unusual things. A substance in the eyes, to change their coloration; an abnormality in the vocal cords, as if they were made of different muscles than the throat; iron bars in the limbs, neck, and spine to extend them; more livers than a man should have; a metal device inside the brain; and an alchemical powder grafting a secondyer of skin over the first.

    Hes some sort of mutant, Valdemar warned Hermann while keeping the shopkeeper restrained. His captive tried to scream, but his mouth refused to open. Do you smell anything?

    Hermann briefly removed his gue doctor mask and revealed his true troglodyte visage. Its strange, the pictomancer said as he sniffed the horrified captives face. There are two peoples smells and the second is not human.

    The troglodyte removed his gloves, grabbed the shopkeepers forehead with his hands, and started peeling the skin away with a w. Hermanns incision was as precise as a scalpel as it cut through the mans visage and revealed a second face beneath the first.

    Ghoulish cheeks and chalky skin, strands of a white beard, hateful lidless eyes The creature was humanoid and yet inhuman. Yet both sorcerers in the room quickly recognized Ants ancestral enemy.

    A derro, Hermann said with astonishment. How did he

    How did <em>they</em>, Valdemar interrupted him. No way he acted alone.

    ...

    And Iren hadnte out of the stairs.

    <em>Shit</em>.

    Hermann, bring this spy to the Knights and sound the rm, Valdemar said, as he knocked the derro into unconsciousness by mming his head against the counter. The summoner <em>loathed </em>the inquisitors from the bottom of his heart, but the situation was too terrible to be picky. Im going after Iren before he gets himself killed.

    Alone? His troglodyte friend was aghast. This is madness.

    That derros false skin came from a living human, Valdemar replied grimly. It wasnt hard to guess what this monsterspatriots would do to Iren if they caught him, and the rogue didnt deserve it. <em>Nobody </em>did.

    The necromancer continued his descent while Hermann reluctantly obeyed hismand and exited the shop to call for help.

    The stairway went down for at least ten meters below the shop, the stepstones creaking below Valdemars feet. His mask allowed him to see perfectly in the dark, to notice the magical symbols etched into the walls. They had been used to shield the basement from supernatural scrutiny, but had degraded fromck of maintenance. The derros couldnt use the Blood, after all.

    <em>They must have been here for days, </em>Valdemar realized, as he reached an archway at the bottom. He was starting to hear voices in the derronguage; though the sorcerer wasnt particrly good at it, he understood that the speakers were having an argument of some kind.

    As Iren had warned, the stairway indeed led to a natural cavern hidden deep below the city, onerge enough to amodate an underground bazaar. The derros had turned the marketce into what Valdemar could only describe as a twistedboratory.

    Tall pylons machines reached as high in the ceiling and crackled with electricity, their light powerful enough to illuminate most of the cavern. Unlike the bric-a-brac above, the nightmarish factory was a model of cruel organization. A row of six operation tables was lined up against the left wall, though only two were upied. The first housed an unconscious derro with elongated legs, the second a shackled human male. A masked derro surgeon two heads smaller than Valdemar was opening his fully conscious victims forehead with a saw, the mans gagged to muffle his screams.

    The right side of the cavern looked even ghastlier. Six human brains floated inside a ss container hooked to a strange machine-maze of steamy pipes and pumps, while yed human skins dried on a vast cupboard. Each had been treated with alchemical substances, and marked with a three-digit number.

    A dozen undead workers toiled among the pylons and operation tables, but a closer look informed Valdemar of their true, ghastlier nature. Their skin had been cleanly removed, leaving their raw bloody flesh exposed; and their skulls had been scooped open above the eyes, their brains reced with metal antennae pulsating with shes of lightning.

    Two of these workers were carrying an unconscious Iren to an operating table. The rogue profusely bled from the chest and head, his clothes tainted red. Valdemars eyes widened in horror and fury behind his mask, his heart turning cold as ice.

    Two derros with daggers argued not far from him over the corpses of a third and fourth; the cruel dwarves both wore leather armor and carried daggers, perhaps because firearms would make too much noise. One of their dead brethren had Irens shortsword impaling him through the chest, and the others head had rolled a few meters away from the neck.

    The first derro was admonishing hispatriot, and Valdemar distinctly heard the words for<em> idiot, need alive for surgery,</em> and<em> brainless lobotomite </em>among the litany of insults. They were so busy arguing that they didnt notice the sorcerer entering the room.

    Valdemar did not hesitate.

    The warlock raised both his index fingers at the cruel dwarves, and fired two blood bullets. He winced in pain as the projectiles erupted through his skin, but they both hit their target in the head and killed them on the spot.

    He had killed beasts and summoned monsters before, but never sentient humanoids. <em>No,</em> Valdemar thought as he nced at the brainless corpses of his kindred. <em>Theyre beasts who can speak, nothing more.</em>

    The derro surgeon among the operation tables let out a screech of surprise and rushed at Valdemar with his saw, but the warlock telekically squashed him against the ceiling. While the dead doctor crashed on the ground, the magician rushed to the wounded Irens side. The undead workers didnt stop him, too mindless to act without direct orders.

    Valdemar applied a hand to Irens chest and head as the lobotomized undead put him on an empty operation table. The derros had stabbed him <em>eight </em>times, broken his ribs, and savagely beaten him into unconsciousness. The rogue was losing blood, and risked permanent brain damage if not treated quickly.

    Valdemar used magic to treat Irens wounds the best he could, knitting flesh together and redirecting his blood to prevent a stroke. The other human victim, strapped to a bed, looked at the sorcerer with pleading eyes. Blood flowed from his forehead where the derro surgeon had cut him.

    Im sorry! Valdemar replied while focusing on saving Irens life. He had stabilized the rogue for now, but needed more time to help him fully recover. One at a time!

    Yet a thought couldnt escape Valdemars mind, as he remembered the numbers on the yed skins.

    How many?

    <em>How many?</em>

    Heavy steps echoed in the cavern, alongside the clinking of steel. Having closed Irens wounds, Valdemar raised his eyes to see a golem emerge from a deeper area of the cavern.

    The steel machine was twice as tall as a human, and the ss tank serving as its head almost reached the ceiling; a disembodied, cadaverous derro skull with a cable spine floated inside green liquid. The golems chest was a furnace, its shoulders steel pipes. Its left hand wasrge enough to crush a mans skull, and its right ended in a cannon.

    The machine raised its weapon at Valdemar without a word, and opened fire.

 Chapter 18: The Brain Collectors

    Chapter 18: The Brain Collectors

    Lady Mathilde had advised Valdemar not to reinforce his entire body, as it cost a great amount of energy and he only needed to protect a few vital areas.

    But she probably hadnt expected her student to be subjected to artillery fire.

    As he heard a click echo from the golems cannon arm, Valdemar instinctively jumped between the unconscious Iren and the line of fire. His skin turned to steel from head to toe, while his flesh grew denser from the sheer concentration of iron within his muscles. His sense of touch numbed into nothingness as he became a living statue of metal.

    A cannonball the size of a human fist hit Valdemar in the chest, the impacts blow reverberating through his body as the projectile ttened against his natural armor. The st propelled him backward against one of the cavern''s walls, his back shattering the stone. A sharp pain spread through his ribcage, perhaps from a bone fracture.

    Valdemar saw stars and stumbled, the ttened cannonball falling to his feet with a loud ng. The golem froze for a few seconds in surprise, the skull inside the machines ss dome of a head ring at the iron sorcerer.

    Unlike the brainless workers, that thing had a mind of its own.

    Valdemar immediately attempted to telekically take over the golems skull and crush it. He sensed a mental response, a brain and a spine connected to machinery; but no blood to control. The derros had reced veins with cables, and body fluids with alchemicalponents.

    The golem immediately charged at Valdemar with frightening speed, the ground shaking with its heavy steps. It raised its left hand, and prepared to rip the sorcerers head off from his shoulders.

    Reacting quickly, Valdemar nced at the derro surgeons corpse lying on the ground and telekically tossed it at the golems face. The body hit the machines ss visor with enough force to crack it, but it didnt slow down. Valdemar attempted to grab Iren and the other bed-bound prisoner before making a break for the stairway, but he almost tripped while taking a few steps.

    Damn it, his iron armor might have been strong and flexible enough to resist a cannonball, but itcked the flexibility of skin!

    The golem tossed aside the infirmarys beds in its chargethankfully missing Irensand attempted to punch Valdemar. The sorcerer leapt to the side at thest second, the machines metal hand piercing through the cavern wall like a sword through butter.

    Worse, the noise was starting to attract attention. Valdemar heard voices deeper in the cavern, and realized that another group of derro was moving his way.

    Hastily undoing his metal armor to move more freely, the sorcerer rolled to the ground, got back to his feet, and fired a few blood bullets from his fingertips. The projectiles hit the golems ss tank and widened the existing cracks, but not enough to pierce through the shielding.

    It didnt matter though, as Valdemars blood slipped through the cracks and the sorcerer telekically reshaped it into a small summoning circle. As the golem freed its hand and pointed its cannon at the sorcerer, he snapped his fingers and activated the spell.

    The summoning circle ignited, and the golems visor exploded in a fiery st.

    Valdemar raised his arms to shield himself from both the bright light and ss shards as the golem violently fell on its back. A self-sustained congration materialized over the machines metal body, tongues of mes looking for fuel. The fire elemental raged like an inferno as it incinerated the golems piloting skull to a crisp and turned its strange fluids to steam.

    The machine didnt rise again.

    Valdemar had yet to see <em>anything </em>survive a monster being summoned in its face.

    Enjoy yourself, the sorcerer said, as he left his summoned bonfire to its fury. Valdemar nced at the derro surgeons guinea pig, whose bed had been tossed aside by the golem; the human, a man in his forties, bled so profusely from the forehead that his hair had turned red. He struggled against the manacles chaining him to his bed, his eyes widening in relief upon seeing Valdemar approach.

    Calm down, the sorcerer said as he applied a hand to the mans forehead. The derro surgeons saw had cut through the bone, which Valdemar couldnt repair, but he quickly stitched his skin back together. The summoner then reinforced his hands, breaking the mans manacles. Hey, my friend is wounded, can you help me carry

    Valdemar never finished his sentence, as the prisoner fled for the stairway the moment he could. He didnt even bother to remove the gag around his mouth.

    That coward!

    It was an all too human reaction, but Valdemar would have hoped for a <em>little gratitude</em>.

    I hope you get shot! the summoner shouted on impulse.

    And the derros fulfilled his careless wish.

    A bullet hit the nameless prisoner in the back of the head, shattering the skull in a shower of blood and brain. The corpse copsed at the bottom of the exit stairways, and Valdemar immediately regretted his words.

    A trio of derro emerged from the caverns depths, wearing primitive respirators and ss visors on their faces. The shooter carried a long, spindly firearm Valdemar had never seen, the second a blunderbuss, and the third an alchemical methrower.

    The trio noticed Valdemar and his elemental, with the blunderbuss wielder opening fire. The sorcerer ducked down in time to dodge, but his summon was hit directly. It only enraged the elemental, who abandoned its futile attempts to burn the golems corpse to charge at the derros. The vile dwarves fired bullets, but their projectiles harmlessly phased through the creatures mes.

    An idea crossed Valdemars mind. ncing at the two derros he slew earlier, the sorcerer manipted the blood bullets encased in their skulls and telekically reshaped them into summoning circles. Hungry thralls of the Nahemoths and members of the first caste, he chanted, his voice twisted by his mask into an alien growl. I summon you from the depths of the Outer Darkness!

    The two corpses erupted in a shower of blood, as twin masses of eyes and tentacles manifested within them. Two Gnawer Qlippoths materialized, sandwiching the derros between the elemental and themselves. One of the dwarves activated his methrower and bathed the summoned creatures with green mes, but their tentacles swiftly coiled around his neck and started choking him to death. One of his allies attacked everyone with his rifle, while the fire elemental caught thest member of the trio and melted the flesh from his bones.

    <em>The nice thing about being a summoner,</em> Valdemar thought, <em>is that youre never outnumbered.</em>

    With his foes distracted by his summoned allies, Valdemar hastily returned to Irens side and checked his vitals with blood magic. The stabilization process had worked, though the sorcerer noticed abnormal chemical reactions in his body. Having focused on the stab and head wounds in priority, Valdemar started paying more attention to the rest. He noticed an abnormal bnce of hormones, hints of biomancy maniptions, and

    Oh.

    Valdemar was thankful that his mask had merged with his faces skin, or he would have probably blushed in embarrassment.

    Carrying his ally in his arms, the summoner prepared to make a dash for the stairs when he noticed movementsing from it. Briefly fearing derro reinforcements, the sorcerer instead froze in confusion as a swarm of colored vipers slithered down the stepstones. The creatures, which numbered in the hundreds,cked eyes and depths; they appeared two-dimensional, like sheets of paper. Their scales were all red in color, rippling like

    Like fresh paint.

    Valdemar! Hermanns voice called him out as he emerged from the stairway. His painted snake horde spread across the room and immediately chased after the derros; while thetter had managed to burn the Gnawers to a crisp, the fire elemental had turned the blunderbuss wielder to ashes in return. Hermanns vipers coiled around the methrower-user and crushed him under their weight, thest derro fleeing deeper into the cavern with Valdemarsst summon in hot pursuit.

    You can do that with pictomancy? Valdemar asked Hermann, as two mirror-faced Knights of the Mind walked right after the troglodyte. They flinched upon seeing the room, and especially the brainless worker corpses walking around, before immediately chasing after thest derro.

    For perhaps the first time in his life, Valdemar was happy to see the authorities.

    I was in a hurry, Hermann replied, as he rushed to his allys side and nced at Iren. Is he

    No, but he will need help, Valdemar reassured him. Hermann immediately grabbed Iren and pulled him on his shoulder, the rogue as light as a feather to the troglodyte.

    A strident screech suddenly echoed through theb, while the electrical pylons light became unbearable, electrical arcs jolting between them with increasing frequency. The mindless, brainless workers stopped their tasks as the noise turned sharper, clearer. <em>Derro words,</em> Valdemar thought, as his ears struggled to make sense of them.

    The workers immediately answered the signal, the brainless animated corpses rushing to the harvested human brains containers and removing them from the machines to which they were connected.

    Stop them! Valdemar shouted, as he realized the danger. Theyre trying to get away!

    Hermann let out a hissing whistle, and his painted snakes immediately attacked the brainless workers by coiling around their legs. A single kick was enough to dissipate them into harmless paint however; Hermanns creations were more obedient than Valdemars summons, but far more fragile.

    The light from the pylons brightened, and the electrical bolts they emitted spread between them. A bolt vaporized half a dozen snakes, while another hit a Knight of the Mind rushing down the stairs and struck him down.

    Slime of the mind and member of the third caste, Valdemar chanted, preparing to summon another Qlippoth as reinforcement. I call you from

    His vision went white with a crashing boom.

    For a brief instant, Valdemars world slowed down to a crawl. A bubble of white light seemed to surround him, spreading over his blurred body; he went deaf for a moment, all sound stopping, all images dimming.

    And then came the pain. The <em>excruciating </em>pain.

    A wave of burning heat spread over his flesh, as if it was melting off his bones. Invisible ants crawled beneath his skin, from his toes to his eyes, the thrumming wave of suffering consuming him entirely. Every inch of Valdemars body <em>hurt</em>, and yet he stood in ce, unable to move. His fingers trembled, his nerves aze. He didnt even have the strength to scream, his brain paralyzed by the monstrous current racing through its neurons.

    Another lightning bolt hit Valdemar in the chest, and the white turned dark.

    Valdemar oscited between darkness and consciousness afterward.

    Each time he opened his eyes, the pain took over. Even his treatment at the inquisitors hands couldntpare to what Valdemar was experiencing in these moments; he felt as like a piece of meat being cooked alive, his blood boiling as invisible ants devoured him from the inside.

    Sometimes he woke up facing Lilianes panicked face. At other times, he vaguely remembered Lady Mathilde pouring liquid into a syringe. Valdemar actually weed the brief moments of dreamless oblivion that followed, right before his eyes snapped open again. The only part that didnt hurt was his face, his mask providing him with fresh air, its cold surface soothing the pain.

    And cold he felt when he awoke.

    The world was dark and chilling. The frost numbed him to the bone, though he didnt shiver. He was dead, and yet he breathed.

    He walked on thick ice, with only a distant howl forpany. He thought it was some beast calling out to him, until he sensed something brush against his naked chest. A movement in the air, strong and fresh. Fresher than anything.

    Was that the wind?

    There were no walls around him, no ceiling to keep him down. Only a white desert, and an all-consuming darkness. He walked alone in the ruins of frozen cities, past the corpses of mammoths and monsters forever trapped in cages of ice. When he looked at their faces, he could only see fear and despair.

    What was worse? To be in without knowing it or to see death, and yet be powerless to escape its grasp?

    Valdemar looked up at the small distant lights in an ocean of cosmic darkness. He had heard of the stars, from the few brave and foolish enough to travel to the surface; some were blue, others a baleful shade of green. He watched a hundred fall down like droplets while twin daemonic mes danced in the void. The stars looked beautiful and terrible in equal measures.

    And then, he noticed the Whitemoon looking down on him.

    A pallid white sphere blurred the heavens, obscuring a smaller moon and the constetions. It was smaller than the world, the way a derro appeared so frail next to a human being. It dominated the skies, hanging above the surface like a vampire bat over an open wound.

    And it had eyes too.

    They were not the flesh eyes of Undend, no. They were as soulless as its surface, two ck bottomless abysses over vertical rifts. The Whitemoon''s ghoulish visage would have reminded Valdemar of a skull, were it not for its expression. Something in the eyes told the watcher everything he needed to know about why this rogue moon had emerged from the coldness of space to orbit around this world; why it had obscured the sun and cast the surface in eternal darkness.

    <strong><em>Hate</em>.</strong>

    That face <em>hated </em>Valdemar. It hated life, and warmth, and all that was. Its hateful eyes didnt look at the surface, but below; at the living creatures festering beneath the stone skin of the, hidden but never safe.

    Valdemar lost himself in these hateful eyes, but he looked beyond. Beyond the darkness, beyond the death it promised. And no matter how deep the ckness, the shine shone through it. Soon the sorcerer found a glowing star beyond the Whitemoon. A fireball greater than the world, beautiful and bright.

    <em>Is that the sun? </em>Valdemar thought as he gazed at the light, his fingers reaching for it. It looked so close, and yet so distant. <em>Its beautiful. </em>His fingers looked so ugly and shadowy inparison, ws of ckness trying to approach something they could never possess. The closer he got, the warmer he felt; but the sun forever remained out of reach.

    His vision sharpened, revealing the candles beneath the fireballs, the chandelier, and the pale yellow ceiling. Valdemars hand became clearer, covered in lightning-shaped scars, and he noticed the bed sheet against his naked chest.

    Valdy, Lilianes soft voice said to his left. Valdemar struggled to turn his head around, but noticed his friend sitting at his side with a look of concern and a bouquet of blue flowers in her hands. Iren upied a bed behind her, his chest bandaged like a mummy and his eyes open. Valdy, how do you feel?

    Like shit, he replied slowly, his voice twisted into an alien growl by his mask. His body didnt hurt anymore, but it was numb and slow.

    I had to triple the anesthetic dosage, Liliane said while biting her lower lips. She seemed relieved to hear him speak, but bothered by his voice change. Your body eliminates it otherwise. Your regeneration is its amazing.

    You would be dead otherwise, Iren said from his bed.

    It was just a flesh wound, Valdemar replied with a chuckle, only for his chest to contract. The pain was sharp, butsted less than an instant.

    Dont you dare, Liliane scolded him with a deep frown. Lady Mathilde and I didnt nurse your ass back to life for days to hear you joke about it.

    Two bolts, thats all, Valdemar groaned. Liliane fidgeted in her chair. What?

    Hermann said you were hit <em>six </em>times, his friend said, her face turning as pale as milk. I I didnt recognize you at first. I could see the flesh, and we couldnt remove your mask.

    <em>Six times?</em> Also, she said he had been asleep for <em>days</em>? Couldnt you remove it?

    No, it sank into your flesh when we tried to remove it; Lady Mathilde feared it would reach the bone and fuse with it if we tried hard enough. We had to give you the healing potions intravenously.

    That that didnt bode well.

    Valdemar moved his hands to his face, his numbed finger fumbling as they touched the wooden surface covering his skin. Liliane looked on with worry. Valdy, be careful, she asked.

    I its alright. The mask unattached itself without any trouble, allowing the sorcerer to remove it and put it on the nket. It felt strange to breathe normal air again; he sensed dust flowing into his lungs, and the smell of flowers. It must have been a defense mechanism.

    Maybe. Liliane shifted in her seat. Where did you find that stuff, Valdy?

    In the shop, Iren replied for Valdemar. I dont think the fake Elias understood its true value.

    Valdemar thought there was more to that. He examined the mask, finding its surface as perfect as the day he found it. Lightning powerful enough to burn its wielder alive hadnt even dented it.

    You said you tried to remove it? Valdemar asked Liliane, his voice raspy and his throat sore. How?

    I poured acid on it for a start, his friend admitted. We escted from there.

    And yet, it had survived everything. And the dream Valdemar had of the Whitemoon looking down on him it felt far too real for it to be a figment of his imagination. The sheer amount of details, that sensation of infernal cold and loneliness

    Valdy, what is that thing? Liliane asked.

    I dont I dont know. Certainly not a pawn shop item. The shop does it have sales registers?

    Youll need to ask the Knights, Iren said. They confiscated everything.

    Valdemar would consult them, and yet his thoughts moved to the fake Elias. The derro had looked confused when he had the mask. Maybe it was just inexperience, as the imposter couldnt possibly know everything the true shopkeeper did. But why hadn''t Hermanns masks bothered him?

    <em>He had never seen this particr artifact before,</em> Valdemar thought, a shiver going down his spine. <em>The mask was never there.</em>

    Liliane clenched her fists. Damn it, Valdy, she said, her voice breaking. Please dont do that again.

    What was <em>that </em>actually? Valdemar asked, as he remembered the horrific sight of human skin dried like clothes. He knew some Qlippoths used a simr process to impersonate mortals, but he never imagined derros could replicate it with surgery. Did

    From what I understood, some of the dwarves escaped through tunnels with the brains they harvested, Iren said from his bed, looking at the window. Not all of them though. The Knights are interrogating them alongside Hermann, and Lady Mathilde is studying the skin samples they recovered.

    Lady Phul is furious, Liliane said, before showing Valdemar her blue flowers, which he identified as fresh Colophryar. The petals smelled so sweet. She asked us to remain discreet, and gave us these flowers as thanks. Theye straight from her personal gardens.

    Thanks? More like a bribe to keep quiet. The Dark Lord didnt want people to know that a derro cell had been operating right under her nose. What did the dwarves even want with the brains they took? And how many people had they managed to rece?

    Valdemar chased the thoughts from his mind. It was the inquisitors problems now, not his own. With the Colophryar nts in their possession, he could finallyplete the Painted Door with Hermann. When will we leave?

    Not for days. Liliane put the flowers on a bed table, then red at Valdemar. If I find you out of your nkets, Ill spank you like a child.

    Not even my mother spanked me, Valdemar replied with a smile.

    She should have, it would have taught caution. Why did you think going alone in this dwarf den was a good idea? She pointed a thumb at Iren, as if he were an afterthought. To save this guy?

    I know you care, Iren teased her, though Valdemar sensed a hint of pain beneath the yfulness. Your life would be too dull without me.

    Pfft, of course I would have saved you, but Valdy is supposed to be smarter than I am. Liliane sighed. Now that we can ess your mouth, itll be easier to feed you. Ille with potions, and you better drink them all.

    Yes, Mom, Valdemar replied with a deadpan voice. Liliane exited the room through a door while rolling her eyes, leaving him and Iren alone.

    You should ask her out, the roguemented with casual bluntness. I mean, you almost died without passing on your genes.

    So did you, Valdemar deadpanned back. Frigga is all yours.

    You know, she didnt even visit us. I expected her to do weird stuff to us while we were asleep. Iren looked at Valdemar with a yful look. You know, oneiromancers they dont need to be asleep to get inside your dreams.

    Valdemar slowly turned his head at the rogue, blinking repeatedly. What do you mean by that?

    All those times she talked to you in your dreams? Well, she could still move in the real world. Alone in a room, with your unconscious body.

    No way, Frigga didnt strike him as that kind of

    But

    A doubt formed in Valdemars mind, while Iren grinned ear to ear. Why did I save you again? the summoner asked, while trying to suppress the horrifying mental image of Frigga sneaking into his bed.

    I dunno. His voice turned from yful to serious. Honestly, friend. If you had been the one shanked in an alley I wouldnt have risked my life for you.

    Valdemar remembered that nameless prisoner who made a run for the stairway, and ended up dead for it. He wondered if Iren would have reacted the same, if the positions had been reversed. Then why do you call me friend?

    I call everyone <em>friend,</em> because thats my job. Iren shrugged. Im the guy that gets you what you need.

    The guy, or thess?

    Depends. Irens voice swiftly changed from masculine baritone to high-pitched and feminine. His<em>her</em>facial features grew softer, moredylike. Does it matter to you?

    No, Valdemar replied immediately. Well, yes, it does, but

    Damn it, how could he say it?

    Iren, youre not fully human, the warlock stated. Are you?

    Iren looked away. If I answer, will you tell me why you saved me? Because I really dont get it.

    I would even if you kept quiet. Valdemar shrugged. Why wouldnt I have saved you? Liliane would have, you heard it yourself.

    Liliane is as nave as a newborn, and shell probably get killed for it. You struck me as smarter.

    Honestly, I might have hesitated if you had been an inquisitor or wronged me before. Though nobody deserved to be yed alive and their skin used as a warm disguise.

    And if you hadnt known me?

    I would have helped anyway. <em>And I did,</em> Valdemar thought as he remembered the derros other victim. After my mother and grandfather died, I was all alone. It was a tough life. Nobody helped me without expecting anything in return.

    Thats how the world works, Iren said with cynicism.

    Well, its <em>wrong</em>, Valdemar dered firmly. Just like its wrong to have a roof of stones above our head rather than a bright blue sky, or to have inquisitors burn our books because the knowledge inside <em>might </em>be dangerous. If we worked together rather than constantly keeping each other down, mankind would have expanded beyond this cold tomb by now. Were <em>better </em>than this.

    Iren looked at him with an indecipherable gaze. You spent too much time around Liliane, he mocked Valdemar.

    Maybe, Valdemar admitted. But she isnt wrong. I dont think we can change everything but someone has to try. To start somewhere. Or nothing will change. Even if I fail to reach Earth I hope someone will pick up where I left off.

    Iren smiled, and this time it reached the eyes. Youre an idiot, he said while looking at the window. Lord Och is going to eat you alive and shit you out.

    He cant, he doesnt have intestines.

    He will grow them, just to mess with you. Iren marked a short pause. Have you ever heard about doppelgangers?

    The shapeshifters? Valdemar raised an eyebrow. Youre one?

    Yeah. Irens face darkened, literally; his pale skin took on a browner shade, and his hair became cker. His eyes didnt change though, which might exin his use of illusions to hide their colors. Itsplicated.

    You dont have to tell me, Valdemar replied.

    Maybe I will one day. Iren pulled his nket closer to his shoulders, his appearance returning to normal and his voice bing masculine again. I hope Ill live long enough to see that bright blue sky of yours.

    Me too, Valdemar replied while looking at the ceiling, trying to imagine the sun beyond it. Me too.

 Chapter 19: The Red Grail

    Chapter 19: The Red Grail

    You should have let him die, the Knight of the Beast told her, his eyes squinting behind his horned helm. Anterns glow reflected on his te armors steel. You made a mistake.

    Marianne ignored him, as she and a dozen armored warriors searched the beach of rocks that had once been Verney Castle. Her messenger bat had reached its destination and allowed a warband of the Knights of the Beast to answer her call. This military order, bound to Horaios Dark Lord Hagith, specialized in hunting and ying monsters, patrolling tunnels to protect trade, and studying dangerous creatures. They were professionals, and immediately set out to clean the fortress wreckage in search of clues.

    They had upturned most stones, finding the crushed remains of burned clones or broken alchemical tools. Precious little evidence had survived the castles destruction, but inquisitors were nothing if not thorough. The remains of Shelleysb werepiled for psychometry analysis, while specialized ck warhounds memorized noteworthy smells.

    They had found no trace of the ck blood or of the monster it had summoned.

    No signs of Bertrand either.

    <em>If that thing is still Bertrand,</em> Marianne thought grimly.

    The Knights captain continued scolding her. By prioritizing the life of a servant over the greater good, you not only allowed a dangerous cultist to escape, but also let him summon a dangerous eldritch entity in imperial territory. Worse, you failed to finish off your vampire before he could transform into an abomination. Hundreds might die because of your weakness

    With all due respect, sir, Marianne interrupted him with a re, as she turned a stone to reveal the crushed hand of a Sarah Dumont clone, <em>fuck you</em>.

    A few knights looked in their direction, while their captains eyes peered at Marianne through his helmets visor.

    Bertrand was not only my servant, but a friend andpanion. Perhaps you consider it alright to abandon your own allies to their death, but I do not. Mariannes tone turned even more icy as she continued. I acted to the best of my abilities in a situation that your order should have dealt with.

    Abilities that were foundcking, the captain replied.

    <em>You </em>let a cultist act in your territory. Were it not for my investigation and my retainers efforts, you would still be in the dark about Shelleys activities. If <em>you </em>had done your job and correctly surveyed the region, I wouldnt even be here.

    The captain grunted. I will admit our patrols failed to pick up on suspicious activities, but you should still have followed proper procedure, joined us at the nearest station, and then we would have assaulted the castle. Going in alone with your retainer was madness.

    Shelley would have escaped anyway, with no blood sample to track him down. Bertrands loss had made her deeply furious, as did her failure to catch the cultist. If not for her need to report the truth topetent authorities in case she perished on the job and her carriage''s destruction, Marianne wouldnt have waited for these reinforcements at all.

    Maybe. Or maybe your early interference caused the premature summoning of whatever creature you saw. And my point stands, you should have prioritized the cultist over saving your retainer. Some people are simply too dangerous to live<em>.</em> The knight prepared to argue further, when one of his alchemists approached the rocky shore. Squire Jzsef?

    Captain Lopold, Lady Reynard, the alchemist made a military salute, fist against his chest. We finished analyzing the suspects blood sample.

    Did you find anything? Marianne asked. She had tried to preserve the blood she took from Shelley the best she could, but most of it had dried before the Knights arrived.

    I am the one asking questions here, Captain Lopold said with annoyance. Marianne wondered if he was simply unhappy with his job in general; this area was one of Horaios most remote, and not the most prestigious of assignments. Report, Jzsef.

    The alchemist offered a sharp nod. The cultist is almost certainly a mutant lycanthrope, sir. We found traces of a modified Beast gue, inocted during infancy. Its possible Aleksander Verney got his hands on a sample and modified it to include rat genes.

    The Beast gue. When the Dark Lordsst came to blows, Horaios master Hagith had his biomancers create this biological weapon to transform humans into hybrid monsters susceptible to an animancers mental influence.

    What was the point? Captain Lopold asked his subordinate.

    Rats are intelligent but weak-willed creatures, pliable but capable ofplex tasks, the alchemist theorized. Exposure to the Beast gue usually results in the victim losing higher intelligence and self-control; while this wererat was not as powerful as a werewolf, he clearly kept most of his human intelligence. Enough to run ab.

    And since Shelley had been in his masters employ while an infant Marianne tried not to think too hard about the ghastly implications. <em>Whatever his origin, he is a threat to the empire now,</em> she thought.

    And the blood trackers? Captain Lopold asked.

    We are synthesizing one as we speak, the biomancer replied. We have enough blood for two, maybe three.

    I would like to have one, Marianne asked. She had sworn to hunt the beast, and she would deliver. Besides the danger he posed, maybe Shelley held the keys to returning Bertrand to normal.

    Certainly not, the captain replied. Hunting monsters is our orders prerogative.

    Marianne frowned. Fighting dangerous spellcasters is the Knights of the Tomes duty.

    True, and we will ask for the orders support but you are not a Knight of the Tome. The captain shrugged. We thank you for your assistance, but it is no longer necessary.

    I do not work for you, Marianne pointed out, struggling to keep her calm. The sheer ingratitude and condescension got on her nerves. Lord Och asked me to get to the bottom of the matter, and I will.

    You are free to pursue your hunt, but not with our trackers.

    I brought the blood needed to make them. By now the other knights all looked at their argument, though few showed it. And Bertrand?

    He will be caught alive, if possible.

    His tone made Marianne clench her fists. Do you truly want to bring Lord Ochs wrath on your head?

    I do not answer to him. Lopolds eyes gleamed with scorn beneath his helmet. A case like this shouldnt be entrusted to a noble dilettante and husband killer.

    Mariannes cheeks turned red. <em>So that was what it was all about,</em> she realized. <em>I knew his ent sounded Sasian. He must have studied at the officers academy too. </em>You knew Jrme.

    He was ten times the man you were or would have been, if you were a man. The captain nced at her rapier. And you killed him over a <em>sword</em>.

    It was an ident, Marianne said while clenching her teeth.

    Then why did you run away and seek Lord Ochs protection? Lopold shrugged, uninterested in her answer. He must have loved you a lot to let you win.

    Youre wrong. I was a better swordswoman than he ever was. Even Bertrand had called her a saint of des; to the point where she had surpassed him in spite of his centuries of experience. And that is why I asked for a duel.

    Her Soulbound rapier was her heritage as a Reynard, and though her father had wanted Jrme to wield it, she could never bring herself to surrender it to someone who couldnt best her at swordy.

    Even if she had loved that someone.

    I won fair and square, Marianne said. I regret Jrmes death, more than you could possibly know but I dont regret winning that duel.

    Regret all you want, hes dead and you live unpunished. I suppose you can add your retainer to the list of your victims

    Captain Lopold froze, as the tip of Mariannes rapier stopped within an inch of his left eye. Her movement had been so swift, that she could have in the man before he even reacted.

    You wont finish that sentence, Marianne warned coldly. The noblewoman noticed the other knights raise their spears at her, but she ignored them. One way or another.

    The air grew cold and tense, as the captain looked at her sword without a word. Neither Marianne nor the knight backed down, and a fight seemed almost inevitable.

    <em>Wait,</em> she thought, as a heavy presence hovered over the shore. The sound of crashing waves grew dimmer, as if the Lightless Ocean itself receded. <em>Its not its something else.</em>

    Her psychic sight noticed an invisible force manifesting among the rocks, as overwhelming as the tide. She felt the taste of rotting flesh on her pte, smelled rot in the air. It was the stench of inevitable death.

    The Knights around her immediately threw down their weapons and kneeled. Marianne imitated them. She recognized the presence from her childhood, the few times other Dark Lords visited the empress in her Domain of Sas.

    My, my, what a mess. The voice was deep and jovial, closer to a friendly merchant than a powerful archmage. If you wish to fight, we have arenas.

    The Dark Lord Hagith manifested on the shore in a bright silver sh. When Mariannes eyes recovered, the ruler of the Domain of Horaios floated in front of her and captain Lopold, overshadowing them both.

    The tallest among the Dark Lords, Hagith reached almost as high as two meters and a half, his body so obese that he looked more like a mountain of stitched, putrescent flesh rather than a man; to the point where Marianne couldnt even see his nose. Thick string wires prevented his hairless skin from falling apart due to overstretching, and kept a second, colossal mouth on his belly closed. His eyes were entirely ck, without an iris or pupil, and he wore naught but oversized breeches.

    He was not physically present though. His body looked as ephemeral as a ghost, a silver cord growing out of his chest and vanishing into the ether. Marianne wondered what spell he used; her surprise must have shown on her face, for the Dark Lord gave her an answer.

    Astral projection, fair maiden. The specter moved his hand to his mouth and chewed, as if he was eating something invisible. In all likelihood, the Dark Lord contacted her over dinner. A spell every mage should master, though few are capable of casting it.

    My lord. Captain Lopold lowered his head so low, that his helmets horns almost touched the ground. What owes us the honor of your visit? Has our messenger reached you already?

    Oh, you sent a messenger? The Dark Lord caressed his naked paunch in a motion Marianne couldnt help but find obscene. No, I have not received any message. I sensed a surge of magical energying from this hideous

    The specter nced at the castles ruins and then at the shore. Only then did he realize that the castle was gone.

    My, this does improve the sea view, the Dark Lord noted to himself with a chuckle before ncing at Marianne. Are you the cause of this destruction, mdy?

    Marianne hesitated before answering. Of the Dark Lords, Hagith was by far the most popr for organizing grandiose festivities, running diatorial tournaments, and supporting farmers in his territory. Hagith preferred to rule with bread and circus rather than an iron boot though he was just as capable of thetter as his fellows. Yes and no, Lord Hagith.

    I would have preferred one or the other, the Dark Lord replied. But I have time. Tell me everything, dear. The truth, and nothing but the truth. Starting with who you are.

    Marianne noticed Captain Lopold about to say something, perhaps a nder attempt but his words died in his throat the moment he looked at the Dark Lords second, closed mouth. I am Marianne Reynard, she said. I have been sent by Lord Och to gather information on the Verney family but Im not certain that Im allowed to disclose everything.

    Her response amused Lord Hagith. Lord Och is far away, and I am here. You would rather risk my wrath than disappoint him?

    I swore my loyalty to Lord Och, Marianne replied. She hoped the Dark Lord wouldnt begrudge her for staying faithful to her employer; he probably expected the same from his own men. However...

    Your investigation involves dark secrets about Ochs newest apprentice. Lord Hagithughed at Mariannes surprise. The empire is a small world and news travels fast between us, Dark Lords. Do not worry, dear. Lord Och and I enjoy a cordial rtionship. If I find your answerscking, I will get them from your master.

    Marianne nodded slowly, and gave the Dark Lord a detailed report while omitting a few details rting to Valdemar. How she had tried to look for information on the Verney at the source, only to discover a ghost hamlet and a cultist operating under the familys castle. Hagith listened to her words with rapturous attention, his ck eyes narrowing when she mentioned the hamlet and the ck blood beneath Verney Castle.

    I see, he said simply. Lopold? Do you corroborate her tale?

    We havent found any trace of the ck blood she mentioned, or of the creature that it summoned, the captain replied. But the rest of our findings match Reynards story, sir. We are currently preparing to hunt the perpetrator.

    Do so immediately, Lord Hagith said with firmness. This ratling may have failed to summon the Nahemoth once, but we cant let him live long enough to try again.

    Mariannes head perked up in surprise. Nahemoth, my lord?

    A Nahemoth, dear, Hagiths lips pursed, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Your retainer identified this ghost hamlets vigers as Qlippoths; correctly so. But he didnt know enough about them to understand what you had found. This <em>Vernburg </em>was almost certainly a Nahemoths demine.

    I Marianne gulped, slightly ashamed of her ignorance. Sir, I I do not understand much of what you say.

    Hagith observed her with a calcting gaze, before turning at the knight next to her. Lopold?

    Yes, my lord? the captain replied.

    You will provide Lady Reynard with a blood-tracker, your Bestiary, supplies, and a mount.

    Mariannes heart skipped a beat in surprise. Captain Lopold, though, didnt sound happy for her. My Bestiary? He tried to hide his displeasure, but his voice betrayed his true feelings. Sir

    You will receive another, and Lady Reynard clearly needs a crash course on Qlippoth pest control. The Dark Lords tone remained warm, but brook no dissent. I will have no quarrel with Lord Och over such a trifling matter, and if she wants to assist in the rat hunt, I shall indulge her.

    I Marianne was at loss for words. She had expected to be sent home, not given assistance. I dont know what to say.

    Then say nothing, Lord Hagith said with a chuckle. Another Dark Lord would have used you of starting trouble or in you for withholding information, but you have done me a great service in uncovering this sordid mess. You will do me a greater favor by killing that rat. And this ck blood bit, its truly fascinating Yes, we will take your retainer alive. We must study him.

    Mariannes hope immediately turned to horror. My lord, I hes a friend, and my retainer.

    Oh, dont worry. Lord Hagith waved a hand at her dismissively. If he dies, you will bepensated for your loss.

    Marianne wanted to argue further, but bit her tongue. The man was generous when it cost him little, but he clearly put his interests first. If she were to save Bertrand, it would be by capturing Shelley or through Lord Ochs influence.

    And the way he spoke of this ck blood Marianne had aroused a dreadful curiosity in this archmage, and feared what mighte out of it.

    There was not a moment to waste.

    Captain Lopold was true to his masters orders, affording Marianne with everything she needed. Marianne decided to hunt on her own though, separate from the Knights, and he didnt stop her. If anything, she would have been happy never to see Lopold again.

    That behavior was why she had fled from Sas. Most people she knew despised her now, and the reasons that had driven her to duel Jrme in the first ce remained. Nothing had changed. Nothing <em>would </em>change.

    Riding on a giant beetles back as it ran along the Lightless Oceans shore, Marianne observed the blood-tracker. Taking the shape of a red crystal of fossilized blood, the device shone with a crimson glow depending on the direction she pointed it at. It hadnt taken her long to identify Shelleys most likely destination.

    <em>Paraplex, </em>she thought. <em>Hes going to Paraplex.</em>

    Shelley couldnt use the Earthmouth portals; now that the Knights had his blood, if he tried he would be immediately detected and caught. He would use longer tunnels. Though the cultist had a heavy lead on her, Marianne might beat him to the Domain thanks to this. And her vampire bats would inform Lord Och long before either of them reached Paraplex.

    But Marianne knew better than to underestimate Shelley. Otherworldly forces supported him, and they might rival even the Dark Lords in power.

    Marianne nced at the grimoire in her supply bag. As it turned out, Bestiaries were hefty grimoires distributed to the Knights of the Beasts captains,piling detailed information on monsters they might be expected to fight. Lopolds book numbered thousands of pages, to the point it might have been heavier than stone.

    The information within was confidential, and only meant for high-ranking members of the Knights of the Beast. No wonder Lopold had been so displeased about giving up his own, to a non-member no less.

    When her beetle took a pause to drink, Marianne took a moment to check the information on the Qlippoths. The interdimensional species had a whole chapter dedicated to them in the extranar dangers subsection. The file opened on the picture of ten orbs connected together by a twisted tree of flesh.

    The Tree of Death, she read out loud, to better memorize the content. Flowing from the root of the Nahemoths, who dream the other Qlippoths into existence, the Tree of Death represents the Outer Darkness hierarchy.

    Each orb contained the picture of an eldritch creature, some of whom Marianne recognized as beasts who attacked her at the hamlet. Satoriel, or Facethief, she read below a picture of the creature which had impersonated Mona. Second caste born of envy and jealousy... capable of limited shapeshifting seeks to steal the life of others, often to the point of self-delusion easy to identify due to being unable to fully emte emotions...

    Mariannes jaw clenched upon recognizing the picture of the slime creature that taunted her about Jrme in the third castes sphere. Called Ghogiel, or Egoid Ooze<em>, </em>the creature was apparently fueled by sloth; it delighted in convincing people toy down their arms and spiritually waste away, usually through telepathic attacks.

    Each Qlippoth was its own brand of horror, growing more and more powerful the higher their caste. The worst of them upied the trees bottom, and the picture itself gave Marianne nausea. A disembodied, monstrous face looked back at her on the grimoires pages; a fiery maw surrounded by eyes and swirling tentacles, spitting out the mes of creation. Pictures of the other Qlippoths floated around this monstrosity like fleas around a colossal vampire bat.

    The embodiments of selfishness and solipsism, Nahemoths generate a magical field where their desires arews, allowing them to spawn lesser Qlippoths into existence, Marianne read. While absolute in the Outer Darkness, this ability is limited by the inherent order of our reality. The summoning of a Nahemoth on the material ne instead results in a bounded space-time anomaly where the creature can twist our reality, but not fully control it. A ce that is neither the material realm nor the Outer Darkness, but both. A <em>demine</em>.

    Or a ghost town where Qlippoths yed at being humans. Marianne tried to remember the well at its center, and shuddered as she realized what slept at the bottom.

    And the more she read, the more cause for concern.

    Summoning a Nahemoth is an extremely difficult task for all but the most powerful conjurers, and an act of pure madness, she whispered, herntern as the only source of light. Nahemoths are malicious entities that cannot be bound to servitude; at best they can be unleashed as living disasters on unsuspecting poptions. Fighting a Nahemoth head-on is a feat worthy of a Dark Lord. If you encounter one, contact the nearest headquarters for immediate reinforcements.

    Most information about fighting these creatures amounted to containing the lesser Qlippoths while conjurers banished the Nahemoth back to its home ne. Thankfully, powerful spells could achieve such a feat; the Bestiary even detailed a procedure to do exactly that, though it was soplex that it gave Marianne a headache from trying to understand it. Only a powerful sorcerer could pull it off, and certainly not without support.

    The thing at the wells bottom had probably been a Nahemoth, true. It checked perfectly.

    But ording to the Knights Bestiary and Lord Hagiths own words, only an exceptionally powerful conjurer could summon one. Shelleys knowledge of magic seemed limited to rat-rted animancy and alchemy. At no point did the mad cultist try to summon reinforcements during their battle at Verney Castle.

    <em>He didnt summon the Nahemoth, </em>Marianne thought. <em>He was only studying it.</em>

    But then who summoned that creature? She looked into the general parts of the chapter, trying to see if the Qlippoths could invade the material ne without a conjurers support. She quickly noticed a section that had been recently edited.

    Most schrs theorize that the Outer Darkness is a dimension of pure chaos and festering madness, Marianne read. Recent oneiromancy research in Astaphanos suggests instead that the Primordial Dream shared by men, dokkars, and lesser races may be a subsection of the Outer Darkness. It is possible that the collective unconscious evolved as lifes dreamscape, a protective cocoon created by sentient life to protect itself from depredations; this would exin the intimate link between Qlippoths and the emotional spectrum.

    Marianne rarely dreamed, but she shuddered at the idea of something like the false Mona looking at her innermost thoughts. Worse, the Bestiarys theory begged a very important, and terrible question.

    <em>If the Outer Darkness is a dream, </em>Marianne whispered to herself, <em>then who is the dreamer?</em>

    The Bestiarys writer answered her question.

    Oneiromancy researchers suggest that the Qlippoths are the will of a Stranger made manifest, she read. <em></em>The same way the Nightmare of Kazat was created by dreamers perishing in their sleep, the Outer Darkness may be an almighty Strangers dreamscape. In this interpretation, the mightiest Nahemoths are no more than the conduits of arger being''s creative impulses<em>. </em>Considering the Primordial Dream might have been unconsciously created by life to protect itself from Qlippothic influence, we must assume that this entitys desires are antithetical to mankinds survival. As such, every member of the species found unbound must be executed on the spot.

    Marianne closed the book, considered this information, and then tried to put everything in order. She reviewed every part of her case, and tried to see how it all fit.

    The Verney Cult was heavily associated with Qlippoths. A Nahemoth had recreated a copy of Vernburg for a reason Marianne couldnt fathom, and Shelley clearly cooperated with it. The Qlippoths found in the hamlet also smelled like Valdemar, suggesting a connection.

    If the Bestiarys theory was correct and Qlippoths served a Stranger then it might have been the creature that the Verney cult worshipped. The entity that had manifested its will through the rune beneath Verney castle. It was its blood that the cult had tried to harvest by creating their unholy grail.

    But why clone Sarah Dumont? What made her so important? Because she was the daughter of a human from another world? The Verney had been interested in travelers from this Earth ording to the False Mona. What made them important?

    <em>Theyre not worthy! </em>Shelley had screamed, when the ck blood had consumed both Bertrand and his own rat familiar.<em> Not worthy!</em>

    It made them worthy.

    Everything fell into ce, and Mariannes eyes widened in horror. She searched for a feather and ink among the supplies given to her, and scribbled down a genealogical tree. One far simpler, and far more terrifying than she had thought.

    Pierre Dumont and Lavina Verney were Sarah Dumonts parents; two worlds united through a single bloodline with special powers. One that was <em>worthy </em>of the cults greatest honor. One that could <em>survive </em>it.

    This ounted for Valdemars maternal side.

    As for the paternal

    <em>Perhaps the truth is even stranger, </em>Lord Och had told Marianne when she asked for his opinion on Valdemars true nature.

    <em>Stranger</em>.

    The Dark Lord had hinted at the truth, dangling it right under her nose.

    <em>The grail is alive! Alive!</em>

    The red grail. A vessel capable of holding a gods blood and bind worlds together. One made of bones and flesh, that promised immortality. A living bridge between the cult and their vile deity.

    Marianne wrote the bloody rune she had seen below Verney Castle in the ce of Valdemars father.

    <em>We must assume that this entitys desires are antithetical to mankinds survival.</em>

    <em>I pray, for all our sake,</em> Marianne thought grimly, <em>that he took from his mothers side of the family.</em>

 Chapter 20: Mouse Trap

    Chapter 20: Mouse Trap

    A giant rat, you say? The old man smiled with a crooked tooth, his eyes hidden behind bandages and an old musket resting on his thighs. Havent smelled a rat in a while. My cat catches them all.

    A hooded visitor, maybe? Marianne asked from atop her giant beetle. The farm was calm and peaceful, with giant snails peacefully grazing moss inside their pens. Their owner lived modestly in a two-floor, hollow stone pir of a house. There were lights and dancing shadows behind the windows. Someone who didnt show his face, traveling to Paraplex?

    The old farmer scratched his white beard as he sank deeper into his rocking chair. Though he appeared calm at first nce, Marianne could see the tension in his fingers. A wrong move and he would reach out for his weapon.

    Marianne couldnt me him for being suspicious. The closest farm was half an hour away, and these tunnels werent frequented; the only light came from the houses or the fewnterns along the road. For all the farmer knew, she might have been a highwaywoman or worse.

    I swear on the Light, Marianne said. This... man is a criminal and a murderer. If you know anything

    Yes, yes. The farmer shrugged. Imperial officials onlye to collect taxes or hang poachers around here.

    Im not here for either. She had too many questions to ask Shelley before she could consider a summary execution. If you do not remember anyone, it is fine. I will be on my way.

    There is there was someone. The farmer stopped ying with his beard and looked over his shoulder, at the iron, decrepit door of his home. Dear?

    Yes, Da? a younger, female voice answered from the other side.

    You said you met a leper while washing clothes at the well?

    Yes, poor thing! The woman answered. Bandaged everywhere, wouldnt even show his face or approach me! Said he was looking for a healer to soothe his pain, so I sent him to Emma and he thanked me!

    Emma? Marianne asked.

    The apothecary, the farmer replied with a sneer. Closest thing weve got to a healer since ourst one took a nap in the dirt, though methinks a few of the viges men pray to her cunt. Her three whelps gottae from somewhere.

    Im sure Werner is the dad! his daughter answered through the door. He visits her every day!

    The farmer snorted. None of the children look the same. Youngest one got fire in the hair, while Werners beard is as ck as theye.

    Marianne wondered how he knew that detail since he was blind. When did it happen? she asked. If the Light had shined on her, she might have finally found a lead on Shelleys itinerary.

    My dear washes clothes every first day of the week.

    So three days ago? One day after Verney Castles copse, Marianne counted. It could have been Shelley. Considering his inhuman endurance and speed, he wouldnt have needed a mount to cross the distance in such a short time. Can you show me the way to thisdy''s house?

    The farmer gave her directions with a chucklethe house with the garden to the left of the roads secondnternand Marianne tossed him a coin as she left.

    It was easy to notice thenterns in the ambient darkness, and far more difficult to see the road itself. Most routes from Horaios to Paraplex went through Mariannes home Domain of Sas, but thankfully Shelley had taken a less frequented tunnel. Since they were far away from Earthmouths, few people inhabited these pathways; this vige probably numbered less than forty families dispersed across kilometers.

    From their sinuous shape and walls of volcanic rock, the swordswoman suspected that these caves used to beva tubes and magma chambers. The ceiling was low, and the road would benefit from repairs.

    Although her eyes focused on thenterns lights ahead, Mariannes thoughts turned to another matter. To a revtion and questions she had rehearsed in her head for thest few days, trying to fathom their implication.

    Valdemar Verney was a half-Stranger, a living ritual, and cult experiment born to serve a nefarious purpose.

    But which one?

    Was Valdemar meant to serve as his progenitors messenger in Undend? A living gateway for the Qlippoths to enter the material ne? A vessel for the Stranger to possess? Did the Verney purge truly disrupt this entitys ns, or simply dy them? And most important of all, what was Marianne supposed to do with Valdemar himself?

    Captain Lopolds words came to mind.

    <em>Some people are too dangerous to live.</em>

    If there was any risk that Valdemar might yet fulfill his intended purpose, even unintentionally

    An inquisitor wouldnt have hesitated. Though Valdemar was unaware of his heritage, the greater goodmanded that he should perish. Every breath this ticking time bomb took might bring the empire closer to a disaster. Marianne simply had to spread the news, and the Knights would burn thest Verney on a pyre; even Lord Och would probably let it happen, if the information became public knowledge. The lich didnt fear the masses, but other Dark Lords would pressure him into relinquishing his protg.

    Marianne only had to send a single letter, and it would be all over.

    And yet and yet she hesitated.

    <em>He looks so human</em>, Marianne thought, as she remembered her short discussions with thest Verney. Even the inquisitors couldnt discern his true nature. <em>In spite of his origins and difficult life, he didnt be a monster. He is a dreamer who wants to help people.</em>

    By opening a portal to another world.

    Marianne couldnt help but see it in another light now. <em>Is that even his own desire, or his progenitors? </em>She wondered. <em>Is this Earth even a world of sunlight, or a trap? Will a portal there lead to a den of horrors hungry for human souls?</em>

    It had been nearly twenty years since the Verney purge, and besides his incredible resilience and skill at conjuration Valdemar had yet to cause an incident of any kind. True, he had broken thew, but he hadnt driven a town to madness or summoned a Nahemoth as far as Marianne knew. Even Lord Och had taken the young conjurer under his wing rather than dissect him, although he certainly suspected his true nature.

    Marianne couldnt make a decision rashly, and some elements still eluded her. The false Mona had mentioned a certain <em>Crtail </em>child, and unlike Shelley had shown no knowledge of Valdemars name. Maybe she had been lying, but the Qlippoth impersonating her was infamous for getting too much into character ording to Lopolds Bestiary.

    <em>I have uncovered a piece of the puzzle, but many more remain hidden, </em>Marianne thought as she had her beetle turn left after the secondntern on her path. <em>And only Shelley might be able to answer my questions.</em>

    Emmas house was located deep in a dead-end cavity, far enough from the road that Marianne thought she had taken the wrong turn at first. Her beetle identally stomped on a garden of moss, mushrooms, and medicinal nts the noblewoman had seen before in the Institutes greenhouse. She and her mount approached foreboding stone walls and closed windows. The entrance door was a rusted ruin dug in the cavity itself, so fragile Marianne could probably break the hinges by kicking it.

    Is anyone here? she called through the door. She didnt notice any light inside the house, so maybe they were sleeping?

    But by now, Marianne had gotten used to bad surprises. She activated her psychic sight, trying to detect the presence of human life inside.

    She didnt sense much. Only the hint of smaller lifeforms, of fungi and maggots. The blood inside the house was cold and dead.

    No human life in a home owned by a woman and three children.

    Hastily climbing down from her beetle, Marianne unsheathed her rapier. The noblewoman put her ear against the door, and when she didnt notice any noise on the other side, kicked it open.

    It wasnt even locked.

    Bertrand, cover my The words died in Mariannes throat before she finished her sentence. She had grown used to her retainer having her back on difficult missions, and her mind hadnt epted his disappearance yet.

    She missed him dearly.

    With herntern in one hand and her sword in the other, Marianne stepped inside the house. She didnt make a sound as she walked, her heartbeat quickening as she prepared for an ambush.

    The house smelled of an unpleasant mix of body odor, cooked meat, and alchemical fumes. The front rooms stonework was crude andcked paint, with only a mole rats skin used as a rug. <em>Humble people, a harsh life</em>, Marianne thought as she examined the ground. Mud covered the rug, as if a group had walked out without bothering to clean up afterward. The footprints werent fully dry yet and pointed to the exit.

    People had left in a hurry, and Marianne barely missed them.

    The noblewoman decided to dy her hunt. She needed to determine the fate of the houses upants, and if it was indeed Shelleys work Why did the cultist stay days here before moving immediately to Paraplex?

    Marianne moved to the next room, a cramped kitchen mixed with a storing room. The table was set for four, the tes as unclean as atrine. A cauldron rested on a stone oven, still containing some sort of cold meat stew. Marianne moved herntern over its surface, trying to see what it was made of.

    She noticed something buried inside the soup, so heavy it had sunk at the cauldrons bottom. A bone, perhaps but it looked too big and round for a mole rats rib. A terrible doubt crossed Mariannes mind, and she used the tip of her rapier to bring the food to the surface.

    A severed human head looked back at her from inside the cauldron, the eyes and tongue devoured by maggots.

    Marianne would have loved to say that she had grown used to this kind of horror by now, but she struggled against the urge to vomit. The the head belonged to a middle-aged man, grown bloated from the liquid in which it had been soaked. From the ck hair around the cheeks, it probably belonged to this Werner the farmer spoke of. He must have visited the apothecary, only to find a dangerous guest in the house.

    <em>No,</em> Marianne thought as her eyes briefly wandered to the <em>four </em>tes on the kitchens table. Her breath shortened, as the implications became clear. Please, no

    The noblewoman moved into the next room, her steps faster, her movements tenser. The bedroom was a mess, the four straw mattresses covered in animal excrements and the remains of half-devoured rats. If Marianne needed any proof that Shelley was behind this, her suspicions were now confirmed. She followed the foul smell in the air to narrow stone stairs leading to an attic. The blood-tracker glowed inside Mariannes pocket as she climbed the stairs.

    Was Shelley still here? Marianne doubted that he was as she would have sensed him, but she remained on her guard. The odors of herbs and potions mixed with the terrible smell of rot and death as she climbed.

    Emma had used her attic as a herbalistb. It was little more than a kitchen by the Institutes standards, the furniture so old Marianne wondered how it hadnt crumbled already, the tools made of rusted iron or bones. Seeds and herbs dried on a shelf next to a small firece and a barrel of fertilizer, while bloodied, broken sksid on a workbench. The few books Marianne could find had had their pages torn apart, the potion containers shattered and their contents spilled on the floor.

    The blood-beacon grew more agitated when the noblewoman examined the alchemical stains on the ground. Marianne soon noticed red spots among the puddles of healing potion and herbal elixirs.

    Shelleys blood.

    Had he been trying to experiment on his own blood? For what purpose? To find a way to avoid his pursuers?

    And that foul smell

    Mariane turned herntern, its light revealing a corpse in the firece.

    Considering the breasts and body shape, she must have been a human woman once but these were the only hints to her former identity. The corpse had an elongated rat head, the bloodshot eyes consumed by fungi growth. Pustules grew on the furred back, while maggots festered in the slitted throat and stumped tail. The mutants dried blood had been arranged into the dreadful shape of Verney Castles rune, as if the baleful symbol had gorged itself on the creatures life. A sentence was carved into the corpses forehead, a promise and a warning.

    <em>We always return to the Blood.</em>

    Marianne had no idea how long she gazed at the macabre spectacle, unable to say a word, unable to process what she saw. It wasnt the sight of the symbol that mesmerized her, or the worrying absence of Emmas children that paralyzed her muscles. It was everything, all at once.

    Mariannes breath grew shorter and shorter. <em>Am I am I shaking? </em>she thought as she nced at her shivering hands. The noblewoman trembled as if she had walked straight into a cold chamber.

    First that twisted vige, then Bertrand, then Valdemars true nature and the implications of his mere existence Now Now this

    And the children Four tes, but no trace of the children.

    It it was too much. Too much all at once.

    Marianne sat on the workbench, thenterns light dimming in her shaking hands. She closed her eyes, breathing in and out in an attempt to calm herself. The noblewoman attempted to meditate, to clear her mind. She closed herself to the foul smell of this tomb, banishing the memories of the horror she had seen.

    Was this how Inquisitor Penhew had felt after the Verneys purge? Too many dreadful encounters at once, a dive into the darkness leaving the mind exhausted, the spirit wavering?

    What was even the point in continuing? Everywhere she went, it was already toote. Maybe dark gods smiled on Shelley, looking over his work with favor. Investigating the Verney case had only resulted in the loss of Bertrand and unleashing more horrors on the world. Maybe fate was already written, and the forces Marianne fought were beyond her ability to ovee.

    No.

    No, she couldnt give up. Not now, notter. She <em>refused</em>. Not while she could still do <em>something</em>.

    Bertrand wasnt dead, and could still be saved. Valdemar hadnt be a monster. The children were missing, but hopefully alive. Shelley could be in.

    Marianne hadnt lost yet. Maybe she would fail to change anything. But at least, she would have tried.

    Her heart invigorated with grim determination, the noblewoman opened her eyes and returned to her search. She examined the mutated body, trying to confirm her identity. From the clothes and pouches of herbs around her thorn belt, this was probably Emma herself.

    Had Shelley transformed her into a monster through the ck blood?

    <em>We found traces of a modified Beast gue,</em> the Knights of the Beasts alchemist had said,<em> inocted during infancy.</em>

    Marianne nced at the alchemical tools, and the remnants of Shelleys blood on the floor.

    <em>Its possible Aleksander Verney got his hands on a sample and modified it to include rat genes.</em>

    Shelley had extracted the modified gue that turned him into a monster from his own blood, and used Emma as a test subject. Her aging body couldnt resist the changes and perished rather than fully transform.

    <em>Only a few days, </em>Marianne thought. Shelley had ransacked this house three days ago and probably leftst morning. The illness was lethally effective.

    The noblewoman returned to the entrance and examined the footprints with more attention. She confirmed that some were smaller than others. The children had survived the inoction, but considering the tes and theck of resistance, the gue had given Shelley a hold on their mind. They had be no different than the rats he controlled.

    Though the cultists cruel acts filled her with loathing, Marianne couldnt help but ponder the reasons behind them. Was he trying to recruit new minions, to indoctrinate new wererats into the Verney cult? Why hadnt he done it before then?

    And why had he been so so careless? Shelley had set hisstb on fire, and been careful to keep his activities hidden for years. And now, he had left the corpse of a sacrifice in the open like a morbid trophy. And though he had made a token effort to break the tools behind him and obscure the purpose of his experiments, it struck Marianne as half-assed. A carelessness that bordered on arrogance.

    Either Shelley didnt think that it mattered if people learned of his existence and activities or he actively wanted word to spread. Perhaps he took joy in finally practicing his vile religion after years of hiding in a castles crypt and exulted in his newfound mission. But somehow, Marianne suspected arger scheme was at work.

    Even stranger, her blood-tracker still mostly pointed towards Paraplex. Even if Shelley recruited a dozen wererats, they wouldnt be enough to bypass the Institutes defenses. If he attempted something so foolhardy as an infiltration or assault, Lord Och would y him.

    Unless

    Unless Shelley didnt intend to attack the Institute from the front. It would make more sense to stretch its resources thin, or force a desperate situation where Valdemar would have to leave the fortress to help. A terrible disaster that even a Dark Lord would be hard-pressed to deal with...

    Mariannes eyes widened in panic as she put the two and two together, and she rushed outside. She climbed on her riding beetle and fled towards Paraplex as fast as she could, without even alerting the locals to their herbalists fate. The danger was too great, and every second wasted would endanger more lives.

    Shelley had created a gue, and he had already selected the first carriers.

 Chapter 21: The Doorway to Nowhere

    Chapter 21: The Doorway to Nowhere

    The Institutes Hall of Rituals had turned into an art gallery.

    When the time came to finallyplete the Painted Door project, Hermann decided to have multiple pictomancy works set on the rooms walls; especially pictures associated with death, the Silent King, or doorways. The troglodyte hoped that the presence of so many art pieces in close proximity would somehow enhance the nned ritual.

    It took hours for the Institutes golems to transport them all. In total, the exhibition included twenty pictures, from Hermanns cubical, geometric designs to a copy of the famous <em>Pickmans Supper </em>macabre painting. Meanwhile, Valdemar only offered one contribution to the exhibition.

    So, if I understand, Valdemar asked his grandfathers portrait, switching from his native Antean to English while writing down notes in his notebook. I need to add <em>ed </em>to the end of a verb to speak about the past. Like<em> I goed to the churchst month?</em>

    Yes, for most verbs, his grandfathers shade replied. The painting looked outwardly the same, but Valdemars true sight identified the countless magical wards protecting it; Lord Och had personally outfitted the artifact with his own protection spells to ensure it would survive whatever maye. But some verbs change entirely if used with the past tense. The past of <em>go</em> is <em>went.</em>

    Huh? Why?

    Its an irregr verb. There are many others. Like how the past of <em>make </em>is<em> made.</em>

    But What is the point? his grandson asked in confusion. If you have a simple rule, why makemon verbs abstain from following it? What higher grammar purpose does it serve?

    His grandfathers portrait smiled in embarrassed silence.

    Valdemar sighed. Is there a way to identify an irregr verb from aw-abiding one?

    No, but I remember most of the list.

    So Valdemar would have to memorize them all? Damn it. Alright, could you give me the list, grandpa? the summoner asked as he scribbled on his notebook. <em>Go </em>bes <em>went, make</em> bes<em> made.</em>..

    His grandfather listed all the irregr words, or rather the few that he remembered. Valdemar had noticed a few other irregr words in the journal, but when he pointed them out to the animated painting the portrait couldnt identify them.

    Curse the inquisitors for interrupting his ritual the first time!

    Besides the asional oddities, mastering the Englishnguage hade easily to Valdemar. Contrary to his grandfathers native French tongue, the grammar rules were rtively simple, with only one word for each concept and little reliance on outside context to get the meaning of a sentence across. French had less irregr verbs but harder conjugation, more flexible use of word cement, and differentiated between a formal and informal dialect.

    He still had no idea why the British tribe called theirnguage English rather than British though.

    The holes in his grandfathers memory unfortunately made identifying specific English words difficult. Valdemar was confident he could decode most of the journals coded pages given time, but not all of them.

    I am d to see you are making progress, my apprentice, Lord Ochs voice suddenly echoed at Valdemars left. By now, the summoner had grown used to his mentor teleporting into his presence without warning. Time is the most precious currency of all. The only one we cannot get back.

    Valdemar closed his notebook and offered a nod to his grandfathers portrait. I need to go, grandpa, he said while bowing. Well continue another time.

    Be careful, Valdemar, the portrait advised. Dont talk to strangers.

    <em>A bit toote for that, </em>Valdemar thought as he nced at Lord Och. The lich carried the spiral mask his apprentice had recovered in Astaphanos. Are you returning it to me, my teacher? the summoner asked.

    It is yours, my apprentice. Though I thank you for bringing it to me for study. The lichs skeletal fingers trailed on the masks spiral design. Your intuition was once again correct. The material making up this artifactes from the surface.

    From the Whitemoon itself? Valdemar had suspected a connection after his dream.

    Yes and no. This mask was made from the hide of a powerful creature that traveled to our world with the Whitemoon, and now roams the surface above our heads. I suspect you already heard of it.

    Valdemar gritted his teeth. The Nightwalker.

    This Stranger was infamous for roaming the deste, snowy surface above Undend. The entity had attempted to descend underground in the past, only to be repelled by powerful magical wards set by the Dark Lords. Cults worshipping it often attempted to travel to the surface, to be rewarded with transformation into higher beings that could thrive in the eternal night and bitter cold.

    Did the mask create a psychic connection with the creature? It would exin Valdemars dream. The summoner had seen the surface through the eyes of another, gaining a glimpse of the horrors that now inhabited the ruins of ancient civilizations.

    Why are you giving it back to me, knowing the danger this artifact represents? Valdemar asked his teacher. Iren couldnt find any receipt or transaction papertrail in the shops registers. The mask found its way to the shop on its own.

    Of course it did. It was a gift, Valdemar. His reluctance amused Lord Och. How ungrateful of you to spite anothers generosity.

    I am not fond of poisoned gifts. For all Valdemar knew, the mask could give the Nightwalker a foothold into his mind.

    All gifts are poisoned, young Valdemar, because they are never free. They alwayse with a subtle string called thew of reciprocity. <em>I give you this ring, but in exchange, you must share your life with me. I offer my friendship, but you must help me in return when I need it. </em>Together, all these obligations form a web that we call society.

    What about selflessness? Helping someone because its the right thing to do, without expecting anything in return?

    Oh, but help is never truly free, Lord Och replied, his ghostly eyes flickering like candles. Sometimes, the reward is ones own gratification, the addictive drug we call self-righteousness.

    That is a very cynical vision of the world, my teacher, the summoner replied with a frown. Somehow, the discussion had be a philosophical debate. I hope that I nevere to share it.

    Navet is the privilege of the young, my apprentice.

    And cynicism is thest refuge of the old?

    The lich chuckled. I should remove your tongue for your insolence, but I will indulge you for now. Age, and the world we live in, will teach you wisdom soon enough.

    Wisdom? Where was wisdom to be found in such nihilism? The world was not a fine ce, true. Valdemar couldnt deny it. But someone seeing only the bad parts of it was just as blind as those who only wished to see the good ones.

    Lord Och gave Valdemar an indecipherable gaze. The lichs skull was an expressionless mask, but for a moment his apprentice saw the light in them vacite; as if his very thought had struck a chord with the Dark Lord.

    How old, the ancient undead rasped, do you think I am?

    Valdemar considered the question thoughtfully. Lord Och predated the empires foundation, and was probably a lich already by then. Some said that the undead warlock was older than the Descent itself, though his apprentice doubted it; humans only discovered the Blood and undeath after fleeing into Undends depths. Between eight and six hundred years old?

    Eight or six or ten, I had learned all I needed to know about our species by the first two, Lord Och replied coldly. Some philosophers in my youth said that peace would be achieved when everyone lived infort, that we should give all citizens a voice in the government. Ive listened to rulers making speeches about how, if they were granted ultimate power, they could bring eternal order and prosperity to mankind. I have survived more wars than you had years, watched nations turn to dust. And across the long centuries, I have seen our kind make the same mistakes over, and over, and over again.

    Valdemar listened in respectful silence, trying to see where the lich was getting at.

    Human natureno, the very nature of sentient lifeis unchanging like gravity, the ancient Dark Lord exined. It always pulls us down. The ancientsin about the good old times, while the young believe they can do anything. The weak envy the powerful, and the strong sow the seeds of their own demise through their willful indulgence. Empires rise and fall apart as easily as republics and democracies. The system we Dark Lords have created is the stablest one yet because we understand human ambition and keep it tightly leashed. But even so, for all of our efforts, this great undying pyramid is always one slip, one mistake away from copsing.

    By now, Valdemar couldnt keep his mouth shut. So <em>what</em>?

    So what, he asks, Lord Och replied with augh. You are working under the delusion that bringing the sun back to our fellow humans will make them happier. You are wrong. It will make their lives morefortable, yes. They will swear to make it right this time, to change their ways because they feel regrets about the sacrifices they had to make until they do not. They will fight for resources, for glory, for the color of their skin or for a useless patch ofnd. You could give our people everything, and they would still be unsatisfied.

    I do not have the benefit of your age, sir, so I will trust your expertise, Valdemar replied calmly. But if we abandon hope for a brighter tomorrow for our kind whats left to believe in?

    Power, the lich replied immediately. Knowledge. And yourself.

    So, giving up on everyone and everything else? Thats a lonely path to walk. And not one Valdemar wanted for himself.

    Perhaps, but it is a less painful path than the one you are treading on. Only bitterness and disappointment lie ahead of you, my apprentice.

    With all due respect, my teacher, I believe my beliefs and magical potential are unrted, Valdemar argued. Whether I face sess or disappointment, I will carry on regardless.

    I hope so for you, but I have seen too many promising sorcerers wallowing in self-pity. The only way to be powerful, truly powerful, is to stand above the petty squabbles of mankind. The sooner you free yourself from others expectations, the better. The lich chuckled. Except mine, of course. Do not disappoint them.

    <em>Do as I say, not as I do,</em> Valdemar thought. Is that why you became a lich, my teacher? To transcend human frailties?

    It yed a part, alongside immortality and magical power. Lord Och nced at the paintings, and especially Valdemars portrait of his grandfather. I do not need to feed or drink. My thoughts are unclouded by dreams and lust. I have time, enough time to learn all there is to know. I hope to improve myself and achieve a higher state of existence without the weakness of a phctery one day, but lichdom is an eptable intermediary step for now.

    Valdemar immediately saw the w in his logic. If you believe cutting yourself from others is the key to power and freedom, why be a Dark Lord? Why rule a country? And why take apprentices?

    Because there is a limit to what I can do alone, Lord Och replied calmly. I could rule a kingdom of the mindless dead and learn what all the Masters of this ce are uncovering by myself but it is more efficient to delegate. As for our rtionship, young Valdemar, we are simply useful to each other. Your talent serves my purposes, and I reward you with knowledge and power. We lift each other up. That is all.

    Sir, with all due respect Valdemar took a long deep breath, unsure how the lich would react. He considered keeping his mouth shut, but silence couldnt protect him from mind-reading...

    Speak your mind, Lord Och ordered, his tone colder than before. He had already glimpsed Valdemar''s answer in his thoughts. I do not punish honesty.

    I do not believe you, his apprentice stated.

    You use me of <em>lying</em>?

    If you are free of others expectations and feelings, why try to convince me? Valdemar pointed out. If you are truly confident in what you say and believe, then you dont need to prove anything.

    Lord Och chuckled, though Valdemar sensed the falseness in his voice. You are unshakably convinced of Earths existence, young man, and yet youve been trying to prove its existence to all the people you have met.

    I know Earth exists, Valdemar defended himself. But no, by your own logic, Im not free of others expectations. A part of me wants to prove the truth to others, and it will bring me joy when I am inevitably proven right. Just as a part of you wants to convince me because it will make you feel better.

    For the first time since the conversation began, the lich became as silent as a tomb. The air became colder and dryer, as if an invisible force sucked the warmth out of it.

    Lord Och, I will take your knowledge and wisdom with gratitude, Valdemar dered with honesty as he stood his ground. But I wont be like you. I do not want to.

    Maybe his path was one of failures and disappointment, maybe his efforts wouldnt change anything in the long-term. But Valdemar would try to make things better, not only for himself, but for others.

    The lich didnt answer immediately. For a few seconds, the ancient undead remained as still and silent as the stone walls around them. His eyes flickered with otherworldly light, as if his very soul waved in power.

    And then he spoke, his voice echoing with the weight of centuries, each word resonating with ominous power.

    <strong>We shall see about that, </strong>was all the Dark Lord said.

    Valdemar shivered as the temperature returned to normal. So did Lord Ochs voice, as he summarily dismissed the matter with unnerving ease.

    In any case, to go back to our original discussion Why would anyone send a gift, young Valdemar? Lord Och asked, though he didnt wait for his student to answer. To catch your attention. Strangers and powerful entities are not so different from any powerful patron. Some are whimsical immortals who try to lead men astray, and delight in watching their destruction unfold. Others offer power and knowledge for service. Dealing with the Strangers can be very profitable for a lucky few, which is why so many fools try in spite of the dangers involved. This mask may be an opportunity to unlock powerful secrets and gain more strength.

    Or a trap to take away my free-will, Valdemar pointed out. The risks are high.

    Life is full of dangers, young man. There is a chance that the ceiling above your head will copse once you step outside, but would you spend the rest of your existence hiding in your home? The lich shook his head. I suggest that you minimize the risks to yourself, but study this mask with a rational mind. We cannot hope to conquer the Strangers and make their powers our own if we do not understand them.

    Valdemar nced at the paintings, and in particr, at arge wood panel at the Hall of Rituals center. The support on which he and Hermann would paint a door to another world. <em>Its no different than studying this mask, </em>Valdemar thought as he grabbed the artifact, its surface cold to the touch. <em>Ill just have to avoid putting it on until I understand what it does. </em>My teacher, if I may ask Do you know why the Whitemoon came to our world?

    Of course I do, Lord Och replied with a smug tone. Though I believe you gained a glimpse of its motives already.

    Motives implied sentience. Does it hate us, humans? Valdemar asked. Or the eyes we share tunnels with?

    Lord Ochs skeletal face morphed into a ghoulish smirk. You should find that out on your own, young man.

    Of course. Why had Valdemar expected anything else but a cryptic answer?

    Because you do not listen, Lord Och replied with a mocking tone, having read his students thoughts. In any case, I hope you enjoyed your little vacation in Astaphanos, because you will not leave my fortress in the near future.

    Am I grounded? Valdemar frowned as he put his mask and notebook beneath his schrly robes. Is it because of the derros?

    You will remain here for your own safety. The lich put his hands behind his back, his voice deepening. I have received worrying reports from young Marianne and my colleague Lord Hagith. It appears the inquisitors were not as thorough as they thought, and a cultist from your grandfathers group escaped the purge. He is currently atrge and aware of your existence.

    Valdemar froze. Even twenty yearster, his familys ghost still haunted him. You think he wille for me?

    Lord Och gave his apprentice a curious look. Would you want to meet him?

    No, of course not. That loathsome cult had already made his life hard enough. Were it not for the reputation he inherited from them, Valdemar might have already opened a pathway to Earth by now. I could help catch this man, if you want. Act as bait.

    I considered this course of action, but I fear it might get out of hand and put you at risk. Lord Och sounded halfway concerned, to his apprentices surprise. Besides, I would not call a wererat a man. More like a beast gifted with human intelligence.

    A wererat? Valdemar asked, his eyes widening in surprise. I didnt even know that kind of monster existed.

    There is a lycan variant of almost every animal alive today, and even some extinct species. Young Hagith outwitted himself when he created his Beast gue. It is far too flexible and resilient to my liking. Lord Och let out a shrug. Lycans are an annoyance. You leave one free, and a dozen pop up in your backyard the next week. Someday I might create a virus to exterminate them all and be done with this nonsense.

    Why havent you tried that with the derros? Valdemar asked with curiosity. After seeing the grey dwarves at work, the summoner understood why the empire had such a harsh foreign policy towards them.

    It had taken days for the lightning scars to vanish from his body, and while Liliane got to see the dark elves embassy gardens, Valdemar spent his days in Astaphanos in a hospital bed.

    Oh, we tried germ warfare before against the derros, but their government massacred all their infected countrymen while their alchemists developed a cure. And the lich said that with such cheerfulness too... Believe me, young Valdemar. Anyoneining about our political system hasnt spent a day in the Derro Kingdom. Their ruler values life even less than I do.

    Well, at least the Dark Lord didnt pretend to care.

    But Valdemar couldnt help but find it incredibly creepy how Lord Och could switch from cold-heartedness to amusement so easily. It felt like watching someone go through masks in quick session. Or maybe Valdemar had yet to see the lichs true self.

    We face a dozen lycanthropy cases each year, Lord Och said dismissively, as the buzzing of flies and echoes of heavy footsteps resonated in the Hall of Rituals. I dont expect this one to be any different. The wererat does not worry me half as much as the forces he helped unleash, or the scrutiny his foolish actions might bring you.

    Valdemar could live with that.

    Hermann and his master, Loctis the Swarm, climbed down the Halls stairways to join them. The troglodyte carried pots of paints, two ceramic palettes, and paintbrushes. Lord Och Valdemar the troglodyte nodded before the other master-apprentice duo. Sorry for the wait.

    No need to apologize, young Hermann, Lord Och replied, though his eyes focused on Loctis alone. A few minutes are nothing to the likes of us. Loctis, my friend, how is your research going? Any new breakthroughs?

    Valdemar couldnt help but notice that Lord Och hadnt used young to qualify his colleague and he sounded even a little respectful. <em>Theyve known each other for a very long time,</em> he guessed. <em>Centuries maybe.</em>

    The cancer theory seems to be the likeliest exnation for the biological oddities we observed, Lord Och, Loctis answered, the countless flies and insects making up his body buzzing beneath his tattered cloak. Mutant cells breaking off from the body, weakening it and causing a reaction.

    Lord Och thoughtfully touched his chin with his bony fingers, as if stroking a nonexistent beard. How will the body react to these cells behavior? Destruction and recement? Forceful assimtion? What consequences will it have on the host?

    It is too early to say yet.

    Valdemar didnt fully understand what they discussed, though it seemed they were talking about biomancy until Lord Och mentioned the derros. I suspect Otto Blutang shares our hypothesis, the lich said. His men gathered many brain tissue samples recently, probably for the purpose ofparative studies. My spies among the dokkar enves and troglodyte tribes informed me that the Astaphanos incident wasnt an isted case.

    Did did the derros abduct dark elves and troglodytes too? Valdemar exchanged an uneasy nce with Hermann, neither of them willing to interrupt their teachers.

    For what purpose? Loctis asked cooly. His kind shouldnt be affected.

    From what we know, Lord Och replied. They have been here for a while.

    Loctis pondered the lichs words, and Valdemar sensed his countless eyes gazing at him and Hermann. May we speak privately? the swarm asked.

    After a short silence, Lord Och waved his hand. A bubble of crimson mist formed around him and Loctis, and when the lichs mouth moved, no sound came out of it. None that Valdemar could hear.

    Whatever they discussed, they didnt want their students to learn it. Maybe it was a state secret about the Derro Kingdoms ambitions.

    Well, in the end, it didnt matter. Valdemar shrugged and examined Hermanns painting supplies. Is everything ready?

    Yes The troglodytes tail waved behind him uncontrobly as he handed Valdemar his palette. Im Im nervous and yet excited too.

    Same. Valdemar nced at the pigments. His blood mixed with that of his fellow pictomancer, for the red; Colophryar extracts for the blue; and the Collectors blood for the yellow. Hermann had mixed variousbinations to create other colors, from green to orange, even a deep shade of purple. Im taking a risk by bringing my grandfathers portrait to this gathering. Frankly, if Lord Och hadnt warded it himself

    I swear it it will not be in vain. It will improve our odds I know that. Hermann nced at the exhibition. Where is... Friggas portrait?

    I barely started it, Valdemar admitted while shuddering. Frigga had proven to be a wonderful model, aesthetically speaking but the more he painted for her, the more she asked for ghoulish alterations. She wants me to represent her with half her body rotting now. To <em>show lifes fragility. </em>Between us,<em></em>I would rather paint Liliane or Marianne. Frigga just rubs me the wrong way.

    You know some of my kindred eat dark elves. Hermann handed him a piece of charcoal, so they could make a sketch of the painting before starting with the paint job. I frown on these practices

    But you wouldnt mind making an exception for Frigga? Valdemar chuckled. I wouldnt rmend it. She probably tastes bitter and rancid.

    Its not about the taste. Hermanns lips pursed to reveal the fangs beneath. Its about pleasure.

    By now, the two pictomancers didnt even need to argue about the sketch. They acted as one, drawing a charcoal picture of a wide gate opening into a foreign world of sand dunes with a ck sun in the skies. The wood panel was two meters seventy centimeters tall, with a width of two meters;rge enough to let both humans and troglodytes through.

    You know Hermann cleared his throat. The harvested por tree we used was recreated from a fossil. There is no other support... like this one.

    We gathered materials worthy of a god, Valdemar agreed. If the Silent King snubs us, I will be mad.

    His remark made Hermann thoughtful. I I hope it will work. I researched I researched him for years. If we fail if we fail, Im considering an an alternative.

    Create a painted world?

    Yes. Create a world for my kind piece by piece. Hermann hesitated. But I I will need help. To bind the creatures to use as fuel.

    Say no more, I will help you depopte the Outer Darkness, Valdemar vowed with a smile. Each Qlippoth piece will have its ce.

    Thank you Hermanns inhuman lips morphed into a smile. Maybe we could link the painted ce to your grandfathers portrait. Let you touch him.

    Valdemars heart skipped a beat. Its possible?

    I do not know but we can try.

    Their respective masters finished their conversation, with Lord Och canceling his spell to oversee the sketch. Are you ready to begin? he asked, both Valdemar and Hermann nodding at once. Then proceed.

    Both pictomancers grabbed their paintbrushes and began to work.

    Their blood mixed with the pigments as they applied the first coat of paint. Valdemar sensed the gaze of his teacher on his back, the invisible pressure of his expectations. But his arm remained steady, as did Hermanns. Their paint brushes followed the outline sketch, creating sharp colored lines.

    Then, once they hadpleted the outline, they started filling in the various shapes. A halo of blue for the door; a pale hue of yellow for the endless desert beyond; a dark shade of red for the sky above it. They mixed the colors with expert care, choosing the rightposition for the most vivid result.

    At this point, they should have let the painting dry before moving on to the next phase of theposition but the pigments seemed to do it on their own. Fumes came out of the ck sun at thepositions center.

    Hermanns hand approached the dark star without touching it. I sense heat.

    Yes. The center of the painting radiated warmth, drying the paint by itself. A fount of magic erupted from the ck sun like a fountain; a power simr to the Blood, and yet subtly different.

    A spell that neither Hermann nor Valdemar had cast. They nced over their shoulders, Lord Och giving them a nod while Loctis swarm remained unnervingly silent.

    The pictomancers switched from coating the wood to adding texture, depths and thickness. They addedyers to the gateway and to the sun, filled the skies with blood, and gave shape to each grain of sand. The portraits lines shifted on their own, the magic of both sorcerers suffusing every shade, every hue. Valdemar noticed his grandfathers portrait fidgeting at the edge of his eye, alongside the other pieces exhibited. They sensed an invisible pull, something that the painters could barely perceive.

    The Silent King walked on the painted dunes, beyond the doors threshold.

    He was small, so small that Valdemar could barely see him. His robes were a shade of dark green, tattered rags fluttering in the wind. A mass of multicolored tentacles squirmed beneath his hood, obscuring the light of his eyes. The creature took a step, and then another.

    The Silent King was moving closer.

    By now, Valdemar painted entirely on instinct. His hand was no longer his own. Something other than his will guided it, as gentle as a parents hand, as cold and alien as an otherworldly outsider. An invisible bond connected the summoner to the creature on the other side, using the painting as a medium; the same way Valdemar used a circle to bind Qlippoths to his will. Hermann was as transfixed as his colleague. The rest of the world no longer mattered. Only this painted door, this perfect magnum opus, deserved their full attention.

    Even when the ground started shaking beneath their feet.

    A deep rumble echoed through the Hall of Rituals, and dust fell on Valdemars shoulders. The walls trembled, but he didnt care, didnt let that interfere. His hand turned into festering flesh and sick pale eyes opened all over his arm, but he didnt care.

    He only had eyes for the alien world before him. The ruins of an ancient city rose from beneath the painted dunes, alongside floating structures of stone rising in a cloudless sky and spiraling staircases that no man had ever seen. Statues of alien, defaced giants appeared all over the horizon, all of them in awe of the ck suns radiance. The Silent King walked closer and closer, his open eyes revealing stars and a glimpse at forgotten cosmic secrets. Beckoning the painters to take a step into this brand new and terrifying world.

    An alien howl echoed across the hall, and Valdemars paintbrush snapped between his fingers.

    Only then did the summoner regain awareness of his reality, to see it blurring with a nightmare. His hand had turned into the same festering flesh and eyes as the walls beyond the Institute, and a fanged mouth snapped its jaws inside his palm. The Hall of Rituals had gained new colors, reality blurring like a chaotic canvas. The other paintings in the exhibit appeared like inds in a sea of fresh paint.

    Lord Ochs voice cut through the noise, as sharp as a sword.

    Carry on.

    The lich remained imperturbable, while Loctis cast spells at his side. Though he appeared an eternity away from Valdemar, Lord Ochs voice reached his students ears just fine.

    Carry on, he repeated.

    And Valdemar returned to work. His paintbrush broken, he used the same technique as the blood bullet to solidify his bodys fluids into a crystalized wand to carry on. Hermann had switched from using his brush to his tail, while his eyes shone with feverish madness. They added shadows on the city, highlighted the ck suns dark radiance, and worked all the disparate details into a single, unified whole.

    An invisible force pushed against his face as he gazed into the painted door, small grains of sand hitting his cheek.

    <em>Wind, </em>Valdemar thought in his creative fever. Not the cold, howling blizzard that his mask had shown him, but a dry, warm breeze.

    The Silent King looked tall beyond the threshold, so close he was but one step away from crossing it. And yet, he did not. The Stranger stood on the other side, gazing through the portrait as he did with countless others.

    The Silent King didnt say a word, nor did he need to. His meaning was clear as springwater, as all pieces fell into ce. His visits to painters and madmen had never been a call to summon him to the material ne. Silent or not, a true king did not visit foreign courtiers.

    <strong>Come</strong>.

    A true king <em>invited</em>.

    Hermann and Valdemar werent the summoners.

    They were the ones being summoned.

    And so the two pictomancers answered the call. They couldnt resist, even if they had wanted to. They had poured their blood and soul into this masterpiece, and it wouldnte to life without this finalmitment.

    They stepped through the painted door and into another world.

 Chapter 22: In the Court of the Silent King

    Chapter 22: In the Court of the Silent King

    Songs reigned in the Silent Kings realm.

    Valdemar was no music expert. His experience was limited to his mothers music box and street performers ying tunes in taverns for a coin; he had never listened to an opera or an orchestra.

    But as he listened to the melodies echoing across the sand dunes, Valdemar doubted that any mortal instrument could y them. Some sounds he recognized as belonging to trumpets, violins, ocarinas, and pipe organs, but others Others were more like animal screeches, the sound of shattering ice and burning mes. This was a symphony of chaos and madness, yed by an inhuman orchestra.

    Valdemar couldnt help but hum the melodys tune to himself. Something in the song felt familiar, like a childhood luby his conscious mind had never forgotten entirely.

    This is Hermann removed his hood as he looked at the heavens above them, his reptilian eyes wet with tears. Beautiful.

    A ck sun shone in the dark red skies above the two mortal visitors, surrounded by a crimson halo. The sinister star reminded Valdemar of an eye gazing down on him, a deity observing the world below from a celestial throne. The summoner had expected the crimson light to burn his eyes, to blind him with its terrible beauty; and yet the ck suns sight inspired neither pain nor horror, but awe.

    It was not the fabled sun and blue sky of Earth, but Valdemar had never seen anything more beautiful in his life anyway. The colors were <em>real</em>, not painted pigments or figments of his imagination. Natural light traveling down from the greater cosmos with no stone ceiling to block it.

    And the wind the flowing current that brushed against Valdemars cheek felt as warm as his mothers hand. The grains of sand were dryer than Undends dust, but the air was fresher, <em>pure</em>. No dust or mushroom spores filled the summoners lungs as he breathed.

    It felt good.

    Valdemar had tasted freedom. The pleasure of an open sky without walls or ceiling to keep him imprisoned. He had taken a look outside the stone womb of Undend and gazed at the infinity beyond.

    Everyone else needed to see it too.

    Valdemar looked behind him, half expecting the Painted Door to have copsed after they crossed it. To his surprise, an enormous canvas stood out of the sands, representing the Hall of Rituals. Neither Lord Och nor Loctis appeared on the picture, but it looked so vivid, so real, that Valdemar immediately recognized it as a doorway between worlds. He touched the surface with his fingers, sensing the softness of the paint and ack of resistance. He could push through if he wanted, crossing the boundaries between universes to return to his own.

    <em>My hand,</em> Valdemar thought. It was as normal as it had always been, with no screaming mouth growing out of his palm. Had it been a dream? An illusion created by the ritual? Or a brief glimpse at a revtion that escaped even his True Sight?

    Valdemar was not stupid. He knew of his abnormal biology and he doubted Lord Och took him under his wing only for his talent. There was more at work than he knew. <em>Eyes, </em>he thought, as he observed his arm.<em> It had eyes like the walls.</em>

    I think we can leave if we cross this painting, Valdemar informed Hermann. But neither of our masters crossed it, and I cant hear anything through the Painted Door.

    They werent invited. Only the two of us were. Hermanns eyes couldnt stray from the ck sun above them. Its

    Hermann?

    Im sorry Hermann shook his head, wiping off a tear with his w. Its I hope your Earth looks as beautiful as this sky I dearly wish so. This ce is better than anything I imagined.

    Valdemar smiled and gave his friend a pat on the back. One day, I will show you Earth. Just like you brought me here.

    We did it together.

    But its your research, your work, that made this Painted Door possible. I only assisted you in your endeavor.

    I I thank you for it. Hermann looked down from the skies and at the endless dunes surrounding them. Structures rose out of them like blind fish jumping above the Lightless Oceans water, whether they were ck pyramids standing beyond the horizon, inhuman statues reaching out towards the skies, or the ruins of forgotten cities. But this ce its dead. All dust and ruins...

    Theres music though, Valdemar pointed out. You cant have a song without a musician.

    Maybe maybe the Silent Kings focus isnt painting but art itself? Hermann scratched the scales below his mouth, his gaze thoughtful as he observed the ancient ruins from afar. The structures for architecture the subtle symphony for music.

    Then you think the Silent King contacted other artists?

    Probably but the signs were less visible. How can you see a song? Hermann nced at the painted portal behind them. I wish Master Loctis could be here. He would know

    They cant cross the Painted Door on their own, Valdemar guessed. Knowing the lich, Lord Och would have magically forced his way into this other world if he could. The fact he hadnt meant that the Silent Kings spell only worked on a limited number of people, or that the entity had enough control over the portal to prevent intruders from crossing into his realm. Do we cross the Painted Door again and report to our teachers?

    Hermann shook his head. It may close forever behind us if we try. Better to explore this realm first. Meet the ruler of this ce ask for answers.

    True. They had seen the Silent King during the ritual, but the Stranger was nowhere to be found. Valdemar and Hermann were guests in this realm; they would have to travel to their host and pay homage, not the other way around.

    The music seemed toe from the ruined city rising out of the sand, so the two pictomancers walked in that direction. Valdemar had barely taken two steps before he had sand all over his boots, in and out. I dont think its a Painted ce, the summoner whispered as he examined the grains. They didnt feel like pigments to the touch. Its a natural world.

    Hermann searched under his robes and brought out apass. The needle pointed towards the ck sun above them rather than the distant north. Laws here are different. Electromaism does not behave like in our world.

    Valdemar smiled at his friends foresight. Did you bring that tool expecting we would be transported to another world?

    I hoped we would. The troglodyte put the device back in a pocket. I thought I could bring my people to this ce. Help them settle in a new world with the Silent Kings permission.

    Valdemar wasnt sure this desert could sustain life at all. The presence of breathable air implied the presence of oxygen-recycling nts or elementals or at least it would if they were exploring a cavern. He had no idea how air worked in this alien realm.

    Come to think of it, how did the wind not disperse into space without a ceiling to keep it trapped? Valdemar had never asked himself the question, but now it sounded odd to him. There were so many things he didnt know, so much to learn.

    You thought, as in the past? Valdemar asked his troglodyte friend. Youve changed your mind?

    Only a select few are let inside, Hermann replied. I dont think the Silent King will let my entire people settle in his realm.

    You can always ask, it will cost you nothing. Though I can understand if you would prefer a greener ce.

    I will take what I can get. Hermanns expression turned grim and sorrowful. We troglodytes are a a shattered people, Valdemar. Our tribes were long at war even before mankind conquered our caverns and scattered us across the tunnels. Our poption decreases each year killed by wandering monsters or derros. If nothing is done we will disappear. Not now or in a century but one day.

    Hasnt anybody tried to unite the tribes? Valdemar knew of a few troglodyte warlords who threatened the states that preceded the Empire of Ant in the distant past. Not as a marauding horde, but as a peaceful state we could trade with?

    We do not have Earthmouths our settlements are scattered. Easily crushed byrger armies. And why would others trade when they can steal? Hermann shook his head. Our respective people will never be one, Valdemar.

    Were getting along just fine, Valdemar pointed out. I understand your desire for a ce to call your own, Hermann, but I dont think the situation is so hopeless as far as our species are concerned.

    Individuals can be friends. But nations? I dont think so.

    Many of the imperial Domains once belonged to troglodyte tribes. Hermann had given up on recovering his peoples old homnd from the Dark Lords and now sought another; to the point he had agreed to serve under one of his kinds tormentors.

    Though he was a human whose kind benefited from the troglodytes decline, Valdemar couldnt help but feelpassion for his friends plight. If Hermann found a hospitable new world, would Lord Och let him keep it for his people? Somehow Valdemar doubted it. History would repeat itself and the Dark Lords would have their due.

    The duos long march through the desert ended at the broken fortifications of a dusty city asrge as Pleroma. The architecture differed from the visions Valdemar had seen while creating the Painted Door though. The houses were joined together like tunnels in anthill, their walls covered in geometric symbols. The roofs were ovoid in shapes, while the tallest structures included borate domes and rounded towers.

    Valdemar examined the streets with his True Sight, but to his surprise he didnt detect any hint of Blood-rted magic. The walls symbols had no supernatural properties, nor did they have eyes to re at the visitors.

    <em>So this many-eyed entitys reach is confined to Undend? </em>Valdemar guessed. Good. Hopefully, Earth would be free from the eyes presence too.

    The streets were deste and empty, but strangely preserved as well. The dunes hadnt buried these ruins, nor did ayer of dust cover the paved roads. The desert had stopped at the walls as if afraid to enter the city.

    I recognize the architecture, Hermann said as he examined a houses rounded roof. Ive seen a simr shape at the dokkar embassy. But sharper. This city... It looks cruder. Older.

    Could it be an elf settlement from before the Descent? Valdemar asked. Did they somehow travel to the past? No, that was absurd. He had never heard tales about a ck sun shining in the skies before the Whitemoons arrival.

    He nced into a houses open windows and looked at a stone roomcking any furniture whatsoever. Mosaics of hunting scenes or carvings of ancient rituals often decorated the various buildings, but Valdemar didnt find any table, chair, or even cooking instrument. The homes were beautiful, but lifeless.

    Its like this city was never inhabited in the first ce, Valdemar noted. No corpses either. If a cataclysm destroyed this settlement, the dry air should have preserved some remains.

    The summoner grabbed his notebook, recording the walls symbols next to his list of English irregr words. Maybe Frigga could trante them when they returned home? At his side, Hermann grabbed dust and dirt samples inside a small sk for study.

    Their quest led them to spiraling staircases with crumbling stepstones and steep slopes. The citys districts were piled up on one another, and the second level proved slightly different from the suburbs. Conic structures swiftly supnted the rounded houses, while reptilian statues becamemonce. Each street corner, each crossroad had its personal representation of a coiling serpent or a mighty four-armed lizard.

    And all of them wore familiar masks.

    Impossible Hermann froze in awe before the statue of a mighty troglodyte warrior overseeing a dried fountain. This is Onragon, protector of the Steelscale Tribe.

    Ive never heard of it, Valdemar admitted, before noticing something odd with the music.

    Theyre long-extinct. Hermann raised a hand but didnt dare to touch the statue. Perhaps he was afraid of bringing down the Silent Kings ire, or of infuriating the cultural deity that the art piece represented.

    Valdemar would have asked for details if something else didnt upy his mind.

    The citys music had changed so slightly and naturally that he hadnt noticed at first. Drums and cymbals had reced the ocarinas and pipe organs, the melody growing slower and more aggressive. The melody was clear and intelligible, but paradoxically no more noticeable than background noise.

    Valdemar nced at the horizon in an attempt to locate the musics origin, only to notice new oddities.<em> There were pyramids in that direction,</em> he remembered as he stepped close to a stone guardrail and observed the distant dunes. Yet the monument had vanished, reced instead by the shadow of a colossal tower piercing the skies like a spear. Other structures had risen out of the dunes; a giant cyclopean statue that closely matched those near the Pleromian shrine underneath the Institute; the shadow of another city with twisted, hunched architecture; and a colossal ck crystal asrge as the institute.

    Valdemar nced down at the houses below. The troglodyte district was no more than four meters above the elven one, but the distance appeared far greater from the summoners point-of-view. The houses below had be as small as anthills.

    <em>We didnt climb that high, </em>Valdemar thought with a frown. Did the Silent King use spatial magic? Then why couldnt the summoners True Sight detect anything? Was he too weak to perceive the magical wards embedded in the stones around him, even though he could notice Lord Ochs? Or did the Silent King use a power simr to the Collectors and altered reality on a fundamental level?

    So many questions, and no one to answer them.

    They alle from extinct tribes, Hermann whispered as he examined other statues. Shrines to fallen nations.

    Lost civilizations. Valdemar remembered stories about human empires before the Descent. About how they worshipped the sun, raising pyramids and towers in an attempt to be closer to its life-giving power. As for the Pleromian statue

    So many different civilizations, but they all had one thing inmon.

    Its not a dokkar district, Valdemar said as he gazed down at the houses below. Its from the light elves. We heard their music, witnessed their architecture, and saw their pictures. We experienced the essence of their civilization, their art.

    Hermann immediately caught on. This realm, this entire world its not a kingdom Its

    An art museum, Valdemarpleted his sentence while moving away from the guardrail. Of ancient civilizations.

    Iren collected coins.

    The Silent King collected cities, songs, and paintings.

    Valdemar licked his lips. <em>Even the taste of troglodyte cuisine,</em> he thought upon sensing a spicy whiff on his tongue, mixed with a sweet aroma.

    Hermanns curiosity turned to dread. Are we visitors? he wondered out loud with a hint of terror. Or part of the collection?

    Valdemar shuddered. Had this all been a trap? A method to capture artists and preserve their civilization''s culture forever? Would they be condemned to wander these endless dunes for all eternity?

    The Silent King left the way out open, Valdemar pointed out weakly. And theres nobody else here.

    I wonder too we cant be the only ones to have made our way to the Silent Kings realm. Hermann looked up, his eyes setting upon the highest point in the twisted city; a stairway reaching higher than the tallest tower, yet leading nowhere. Maybe we will see more from up here?

    With no better idea to suggest, Valdemar followed his troglodyte friend as they continued their ascent. The music changed once again as they reached the stairways first step, alien sounds drowning out the mortal instruments. The symphony grew louder with each step they took, as if the singer awaited them at the summit. The stairway itselfcked a guardrail or anything in the way of decorations, but the path was wide enough to let a giant beetle through.

    Valdemar didnt know how long they climbed. Minutes? Hours? When Hermann had to stop to catch his breath at the halfway point, his friend nced at the paths side. They couldnt have risen more than a few dozen meters above the city, yet it appeared leagues below them. Domes had be specks of dust and towers no taller than needles.

    They wouldnt survive a fall into the void.

    The second half of their ascent became weirder and weirder. Each new stepstone crossed caused the worlds music to change slightly, as if they were the keys of a giant piano. The wind stopped blowing, and the world below

    Valdemar held his breath, nced beyond the stairway, and immediately focused back on the path ahead. Heights already disturbed him, but now the city below had be almost invisible, a ck spot at the bottom of an endless pit. A part of Valdemar wanted to look at the void, to throw himself into its depths.

    The ground was calling him.

    You wont fall, Hermann said while raising his tail as if it were a life-saving rope. I will... catch you if you slip.

    Have you ever walked at such heights? Valdemar asked, a little ashamed of his fear. Unlike him, Hermann appeared almost unfazed.

    Not quite, but I like climbing. The troglodyte smiled. Its alright.

    Was that what friendship felt like? To know someone would have your back no matter what? That Valdemar didnt have to fear, because another would help him?

    Friendship felt nice. Almost as nice as family.

    Their hellish ascent ended atop a rectangr stone tform at the apex of the world. The world had be nothing but an endless red horizon, with ck lightning coursing through the cloudless heavens. The music and wind had both died out, leaving only an oppressive silence.

    The Silent King liked it this way.

    The Stranger awaited his visitors at the edge of the tform, standing at its very edge and facing a portrait floating in the void. His green robes had turned red, grey tentacles wriggling underneath the cloak.

    Watching him hurt Valdemars head. His vision blurred, his eyes unable to properly perceive the thing facing him. The summoner expanded his senses with his psychic sight, trying to divine the Silent Kings true nature.

    He saw <em>nothing</em>.

    No feedback, no blood, no flesh, no magic. Nothing. As far as his psychic sight was concerned, the creature in front of them didnt exist.

    This figure was not the Silent King it was nothing but a psychic projection. The avatar of a greater power that human minds couldntprehend. Valdemars brain had attributed humanoid features to this entity in an attempt to give it sense.

    As for the portrait that the Silent King observed, Valdemar immediately recognized it as a copy of the Painted Door. Or was it the original, teleported across time and space to join the Strangers endless collection?

    More strangely, another Silent King walked inside the picture, his robes as green as verdant moss. From Valdemars point of view, the Stranger appeared to look at his living reflection in a mirror. And if the Painted Door was here, before them then where did the painting in the desert lead to?

    What was going on here?

    Valdemar nced at Hermann, only to see his friend kneeling before the entity. After some hesitation, the summoner imitated the troglodyte. This creature possessed great power beyond theirprehension, and they should show him the respect he deserved. An insult, perceived or real, could result in their death.

    The Silent King didnt say anything as lightning erupted from the ck sun and coursed through the skies. He seemed absorbed in his silent contemtion of the painting, marveling at every detail, each subtle change in color. The halo around the ck sun above them changed color, dyeing the red skies with a purple shade.

    An alien noise buzzed inside Valdemars head as the heavens transformed. They formed words not made of letters, but alien sounds and thoughts; like an animal trying to mimic human speech, understanding the meaning, but not the subtleties.

    <em>WHAT DO YOU DESIRE?</em>

    Valdemar remembered Lord Ochs words about Strangers. Some were powerful patrons exchanging service for favor, others pranksters toying with mortals at their leisure. To which category did the Silent King belong?

    Valdemar exchanged a nce with Hermann, the troglodyte clearing his throat before daring to answer. What do you offer Your Majesty?

    The answer came swiftly.

    <em>THE TRUTH.</em>

    At what cost? Valdemar blurted out, before swiftly adding, Your Majesty?

    A tentacle emerged from the kings scarlet robes and brushed against the Painted Doors frame.

    Will we stay here? Hermann asked anxiously.

    <em>NO. YOU LEAVE. FOREVER.</em>

    They would return to Undend, but never find their way here again. The Silent King would not summon them again from the other side.

    Perhaps all his visitations across imperial history had been nothing but artmissions, an attempt to get mortals to paint a new masterpiece for his collection. Or perhaps this portal would serve the Silent Kings aims in the far-future, whatever they were. In either case, he no longer needed the pictomancers anymore. He would thank them for their service with gratitude, but no regret nor exnation.

    Valdemar nced at Hermann. The troglodyte looked disappointed, but not surprised. As he had expected, the deity wasnt willing to let <em>anyone </em>settle in his private gallery.

    What do you mean by truth? Valdemar probed, trying to sound as polite and respectful as he could. He didnt want to anger this ancient entity by asking too much, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Will you answer all our questions until we are satisfied?

    Unfortunately, the Silent King was not that generous.

    <em>ONE TRUTH.</em>

    One question? Hermanns voice died in his throat. One for the both of us?

    <em>ONE EACH.</em>

    Better than nothing, but less than Valdemar hoped. The summoner exchanged another nce with Hermann. You go first, Valdemar told his friend. It was your project. The honor is yours.

    Hermann nodded slowly, before looking back at the Silent King. Your Majesty... my people are scattered and broken. The troglodyte hesitated, before mustering the courage to ask his question. Tell me how how I may give my people... a new world of their own,

    The Silent King did not answer.

    Hermann nced at Valdemar, with the summoner thoughtfully considering his next words. He had so many questions to ask.

    <em>What are you? </em>Valdemar thought. <em>What is this ce? Why did you bring us here? Why is this door important to you? Why is there another you inside it? What power do you possess? How may I bring back my grandfather and mother from the dead? Do you know how to turn back time and change the past? What knowledge do you have? What can you teach me? Can you teach me? Is my father truly my father? Will I die before realizing my dream? Who am I? What is the meaning of life?</em>

    All these questions had value, but only one mattered to Valdemar.

    Tell me, he said, how I can bring my people to this beautiful world called Earth.

    The Silent King turned around to face his guests.

    The visage beneath the hood belonged not to a man, but to the sky Valdemar had seen in his dreams; inds of light shining in an ocean of darkness. But instead of the Whitemoon dominating this cosmdscape, a ck sun ruled absolute.

    Valdemar lost himself in the darkness beneath the hood, his mind absorbed by the ckness. The ck sun grew to epass the universe itself, the shadow of eyes, mouths and tentacles wriggling beneath its surface. The stars vanished in the pitch darkness of the cosmos, the cold void of space inside which not even the stars could survive.

    Valdemar no longer felt his body. He no longer breathed, no longer lived. His thoughts had escaped his flesh, bing an immaterial spirit. The Silent Kings words resonated in the void, giving shape to nothingness.

    BLOOD OF TWO WORLDS.

    A vision of Valdemars grandfather appeared floating in the darkness, scribbling words in a diary. He looked as if he had lost ten years, and so oblivious to the invisible strings making him dance. Another mans shadow observed him from inside the cover of darkness, a vile rat standing on his noble shoulder. But when Valdemar tried to look at the strangers face, he only saw blood, worms, and a wicked smile.

    YOU WERE BORN FOR A PURPOSE.

    The vision changed. His grandfather had grown old, singing words while reading scriptures from his journal. A copy of Valdemar stood before him, naked as the day he was born; symbols were etched into his skin, while his gaze was lost in a drugged haze. Alien fumes erupted from his nose and mouth, gathering in the shape of a living nightmare, a monster with many eyes.

    FULFILL IT.

    The false Valdemar opened his mouth, and it grew. It grewrger, and wider, devouring his torso and his limbs. His blood melted into the earth, his flesh and bones turning into an archway.

    The Earthmouth that was once Valdemar opened, and his grandfather took a step through.

    His tears dropped on green grass, growing under a bright blue sky.

    No.

    SACRIFICE.

    No, no

    THE GATE AND THE KEY.

    No! Valdemars mind screamed, denying the vision, denying his grandfather, denying the gods words.

    TRUTH DOES NOT LIE.

    Valdemars mental scream echoed into the void, dissipating the illusion only for another to swiftly rise in its ce.

    A derro sat on a throne of steel and steaming pipes. The grey dwarfs hair was ck as night, his face smooth like a polished mirror. A crown of dark steel pulsated with lightning around his forehead, illuminating his cold, heartless blue eyes. An archway of steel crackled with lightning behind him, twisting the fabric of space itself.

    ANOTHER WAY.

    The derro king copsed into a puddle of blood, his fluids pouring down a deep dark well. The steel throne and portals copsed into dust, while another Valdemar stepped out of the darkness. Thick ck blood poured out of his veins, while eyes and mouths tore out his skin to reveal the inhuman face underneath.

    The Silent Kings final word drowned Valdemars screams as an eye opened at the wells bottom, hungry for blood.

    <strong>ABOMINATION</strong>.

    A tide of Blood swallowed Valdemars soul, bringing him back to his body.

    The Hall of Rituals floor was unweing, the air dusty and cold. The ghoulish visage of Lord Och looked down on Valdemar, with none of his grandfathers feigned affection. My my, he said, his words distant like an echo. You look unwell, my apprentice.

    Valdemar didnt answer. He couldnt. His head hurt, his body shivered from the cold within. He didnt even rise up. His heart was dead in his chest, beating so slowly he could barely hear it.

    Lord Ochs amusement turned to concern? Caution? Something Valdemar had never seen on his skeleton face. The lich gave no word offort or condemnation. He didn''t say anything.

    Instead, the Dark Lord offered Valdemar his skeletal hand.

    His apprentice looked at the appendage as if it were a foreign object. He almost expected a trap or a mockery, but Lord Och waited with the patience of the dead.

    After a moment of hesitation, Valdemar grabbed his mentors hand. The lich felt cold to the touch, but not as much as the floor. Lord Och helped his apprentice rise back to his feet, his expression unreadable.

    Hermann was there too, and in a better shape than his fellow pictomancer. The troglodyte held his head while his master Loctis observed him with a look of concern, his reptilian face morphing into a bright smile.

    I saw I saw it. The Painted World I saw it. Hermann nced at Valdemar with a look of pure happiness. Valdemar, its wonderful I hope your Earth looks as beautiful...

    Valdemar didnt answer. The vision of his body twisting into an Earthmouth red into his mind like a dream twisting into a nightmare. His eyes wandered away from Hermann, to observe the Hall of Rituals gallery.

    The Painted Doors panel remained, but it had be a nk te. Valdemar and Hermanns sublime magnum opus had vanished, taken away to join an endless collection in a dead world orbiting a pitch ck star.

    As for the other portraits...

    Valdemar turned to his grandfathers painting, and the ghost within it. The echo of Pierre Dumont smiled at his grandson, oblivious to his clenched hands, gritted teeth, and furious re.

    Valdemar, are you alright? his grandfather asked with concern that almost looked sincere. You shouldnt talk to strangers.

 Chapter 23: Shells

    Chapter 23: Shells

    Valdy, Lilianes voice called through the workshops door. Valdy, are you inside?

    Valdemar stared at the ceiling whileying on his mattress. The bed sheet covered his grandfathers portrait in a corner of the room, hiding it from view.

    He is Hermann muttered. But I I dont think now is the time

    Nonsense! Liliane replied. Valdy, I made a cake. With vani mushrooms. Right out of the oven. Come out before it bes cold!

    Lilianes words sounded like whispers to his ears, distant and nearly unintelligible. Valdemars pots of blood-paints, the unused leftovers of the Silent King project, shook in a corner. Bubbles rose to the surface as if an invisible fire boiled the substance.

    Valdy, talk to me. You can tell me everything, you know that? I swear I wont judge. It will make you feel better.

    The paint burst out of the pots and climbed on the nearest wall like aggressive moss. Its color changed from red to green and ck and yellow, a twisted chaos echoing Valdemars own emotion.

    He he needs time, Hermann whispered, so low Valdemar barely heard him. To think. He is wounded...

    Thats exactly why we cant leave him alone, Hermann.

    Sometimes The only cure for woe is time, Liliane. He needs time in hisir to lick his wounds. To figure it out. Only then will he let us in. When hees out we will be here.

    A short silence followed.

    I Liliane cleared her throat. We wille backter, Valdy. Please dont do anything stupid, alright? Be safe.

    Friend? It was Iren this time. Youre still in your room?

    Valdemar turned on and stared at the left wall. The paint covered it entirely now, like an infectious growth taking over the room centimeter by centimeter. The chaotic colors had assembled into a stable form; that of a twisted, ghastly tree with eyes for leaves and flesh for bark. His magic had gone wild, letting his subconscious guide the design.

    You know I could unlock this door if I wanted, right? Someone will if you dont give us a sign. Liliane is worried youre going to hang yourself or something.

    What would that change? Considering Valdemars regeneration, it probably wouldnt stick.

    Iren sighed, too loudly for it to be natural. Hermann didnt give me all the details, but enough to figure it out on my own. He thinks you need to be alone for a while to digest what you learned and that we should respect your privacy. I would be tempted to agree, but somehow I think your mood will only get worse the longer you stay alone.

    Valdemar doubted that. He had already hit the wells bottom, when depression had filled the void anger had left in his heart. He didnt even struggle to escape in his dreams either.

    Iren waited a moment for an answer. Valdemar sensed himherlooking around beyond the door, checking if anyone listened. I know what youre going through, Iren said. More than you know.

    No, he didnt.

    I dont need telepathy to know what youre thinking, friend. Another pause. Hesitation. You know, when mothers dont want an unwanted child, they usually go to a biomancer. One spell and theyre purged. Some sorcerers though dont take money as payment. Especially when one of the parents isnt human at all.

    The flesh tree spasmed, the painted yellow eyes looking in all directions. ck pigments gathered on the bloody bark, like the bud of a dreadful flower.

    I was born in ab, Valdemar, Iren confessed. A biomancer extracted my stillborn, half-formed fetus and perfected it into a <em>viable specimen. </em>Once he had learned everything of value about shapeshifting by the time I reached maturity, he thanked me for my <em>contribution to science </em>and forgot I existed.

    The ck paint turned into an armless hand with a yellow eye for a palm. The wed fingers fidgeted on the wall, as if trying to tear through the invisible barrier between its two-dimensional reality and its creator.

    The reason Im saying this Iren struggled to find his words. Look, whatever you were born for, it doesnt matter. Ive been so many people over the years, I forgot my original appearance. Boy, girl, old, young, I dont keep a face for long. If being Valdemar Verney is too painful or sorrowful just be someone else. Someone who feels better.

    The ck hand slowly emerged from the wall, its fingers dragging it across the floor.

    Ive said my piece, Iren said with a sigh. You dont owe your gramps anything, friend. Not even your name.

    The living hand copsed into a puddle of ck paint, and the flesh tree bore another fruit.

    By now, the paint covered the ceiling and half the walls. The tree of flesh shared the room with a pitch-ck sky full of colorful stars orbiting around a pure blue sphere. The Mask of the Nightwalker faced the ghastly picture on the right wall, like the Whitemoon ring at the surface of the world. Painted creatures crawled all around the workshop, from shapeless green blobs norger than a clenched fist to pale white moths with eyes on their wings.

    Someone knocked on the door, and Friggas voice came through. My dear Valdemar, I cannot help but notice you are missing our modeling meetings, she said with a chuckle. Unless you expect me toplete my portrait myself?

    The painted creatures lived short lives, but each new generationsted longer than the previous one. One survived for half an hour before copsing into lifeless pigments.

    Fine, if you wont do me the courtesy of answering, I shant be polite either. The dark elf dropped her mask of yfulness. I dont like you. You have a certain talent for painting and sorcery, but frankly, I dont find you particrly interesting. Youre nd and forgettable.

    A mothnded on the painted Earth, tainting its blue waters with thick ck blood.

    However, your petnt behavior saddens my dear Liliane. She worries for you more than everyone else in this Institutebined, and I believe her pity is wasted on you. I am truly tempted to enter your dreams and put back some positivity in that empty skull of yours.

    It would cost her if she tried. All Valdemar dreamed ofst night was of the well and the hungry maw waiting at the bottom. When the nightmares came, he hadnt fought them back.

    Your new defenses wont stop me if I try to get in, she said. Dont think I havent noticed what youre doing in your sleep. I dont know what you intend to do with that trap of yours, but it wont ensnare me.

    Good. It wasnt meant for her anyway.

    In any case, get out of that room before I drag you off from it. Your petty nightmares will look like childish fantasiespared to what I shall show you.

    The paint had imed every inch of the room, except the right wall.

    The Mask of the Nightwalker exercised a counterforce and channeled a power that rivaled Valdemars own. Paintedndscapes of alien worlds, magical glyphs, and chaotic maelstroms stopped at a circle of nothingness around the Stranger artifact, unable to cross the invisible barrier. Even the moth swarm flying around the room couldnt touch the mask.

    Valdemar sensed a connection forming through the Blood between the stone floor beneath the paint and the world outside. A surge of magic, powerful and yet nearly imperceptible, created a bridge between the workshop and another ce. Valdemar couldnt sense the point of origin, but he did detect the undead sorcerer traveling through it.

    His painted field waited for thest moment and then pushed back.

    Valdemar expected Lord Och to force his way through the magical cocoon, but he instead redirected his spell through the right wall, teleporting right in front of the Mask of the Nightwalker. The switch took less than a second, so swiftly that the Dark Lords apprentice was convinced he had nned it from the start.

    Nice try, Lord Och said with satisfaction. If I were a few centuries younger, I might have fallen for it. Still, what kind of unruly student attempts to prank their teacher?

    You intended to teleport behind me without warning, Lord Och, Valdemar said as he rose from his mattress to salute the Dark Lord. I strongly suspect that you enjoy startling people.

    And you would be correct. The lich nced at the paintedndscapes all around the room, and the artificial moths flying in the air. He raised his hand, with one of the insectsnding on his index finger. And here I thought you were wallowing in self-pity, doing nothing all day.

    I work or paint when I feel down, Valdemar admitted. It distracts me.

    A productive way to deal with loss, albeit not the healthiest one, Lord Och said, the painted moth dissipating into colored smoke. What a curious innovation, this room...

    His reaction surprised Valdemar. You have never seen anything like this?

    I have my suspicions about what you did, but I admit I never saw pictomancy used this way. Lord Och smirked, baleful light shining through his skeletal eyeholes. You attempted to emte the Nahemoths by creating your own demine.

    Valdemar nodded. Truthfully, he was pleased with the lichs response. Considering his age, surprising him was a victory in itself. When I saw Hermann create painted creatures during our fight with the derros, I immediately thought of the Nahemoths.

    These creatures gave birth to lesser Qlippoths by shaping their essence through their demine. Since Valdemar had mixed his own blood with the pigments used to create the Painted Door, he had quickly realized that he could use them to turn an area of space into an extension of himself. He had let his subconscious direct the growth of this painted field inch by inch.

    The more space he had imed, the easier it had been to manifest magical constructs from the paint. They were extensions of his subconscious, paint and sorcery granted a simcrum of physical form; they werent meant to exist in the physical reality, making them fragile. Rather than force reality to ept these constructs, Valdemar had turned a small corner of the world into an extension of himself, making his creations more real inside it.

    The mere fact that Hermann hadnt needed this infrastructure to generate a tide of painted snakes spoke volumes about his talent.

    Valdemar also hoped that this <em>Painted Field </em>could serve as an external dreamscape since oneiromancy didnte easily to him. Since he failed to create one in his dreams, he would build one in the physical world instead. Frigga could boast as much as she wanted, her reaction had shown Valdemar that he was on the right track.

    Valdemar once thought the nightmares guing him were mere repressed memories. The Silent Kings visions had shown him that something far more sinister was at work, and he needed to improve his defenses.

    Were his nightmares even his own?

    Lord Och sounded very pleased with his apprentices progress. I knew introducing you to Hermann would yield excellent results. And of course, since the Painted Door could open rifts between two dimensions, I suppose you intended to experiment with summoning next? Maybe open a path to Earth?

    Valdemar red at his mentor. You <em>knew</em>, he spat.

    Of course I did.

    Then why am I still alive? Valdemar asked with a frown. Why didnt you sacrifice me, like my own grandfather wanted to?

    Lord Och gave him a curious look. You believed the Strangers words?

    I didnt want to, but... I had to check. And when he confronted his grandfathers portrait, the echo inside entered another cognitive loop. Maybe it had forgotten the original memories, or the truth was too difficult to bear. I created this room to understand myself, to try to figure out if the Painted Door would have worked if my blood hadnt been used as fuel. But now its all around me, I can notice the Orgone in the air. Only summoned creatures produce such an amount, and I belong to two worlds through my mother.

    Partly, Lord Och said before ncing at the ckened Earth painted on the ceiling. Your lineage does bind our two nes together, but other factors are at y in your peculiar abilities.

    <em><strong>ABOMINATION.</strong></em>

    The Silent Kings condemnation red inside Valdemars mind alongside the vision that came with it. The summoner nced at his veins, and the red blood flowing through them.

    He had always suspected his paternal grandfathers cult had experimented on him. He had mistaken his regeneration for a mere body enhancement, instead of the symptom of something far more sinister.

    Had this obliviousness just been mere navet? Valdemar had always brushed off questions about his past, even his own. Maybe he had known the truth all along, but refused to ept it. It had taken a Strangers mental assault to finally make him reexamine his life.

    Or perhaps his thoughts werent fully his own. Maybe his two grandfathers had set instructions in his mind while he was in the womb, to ensure he would fulfill their ultimate goal when the time came.

    <em>Thick ck blood poured out of his veins, while eyes and mouths tore out his skin to reveal the inhuman face underneath.</em>

    Whatever that goal was.

    Lord Och, he asked feebly, am I a monster?

    Do you remember what I told you, apprentice, when you asked me who you were?

    Valdemars jaw clenched. That I was the only one who could tell who I was.

    Young Iren spoke with wisdom, the lich said, tantly admitting to spying on his apprentice from afar. Whether you are a monster is up to you, young man. You are who you choose to be.

    <em>A man or an Earthmouth then,</em> Valdemar thought grimly. He had asked the Silent King how he could lead mankind to Earth, and the Stranger had answered his question literally. The summoner should have also added that he wanted to survive the experience and see that world for himself.

    If you want to sacrifice yourself, I will not stop you, Lord Och said. Though it will be a waste and many will weep. Your grandfather didnt use an Earthmouth to enter our world, so why should we need one to reach his own?

    Because that method would work for certain. Valdemar had been bred for this purpose since the moment he was born.

    Why would I sacrifice you, when I <em>know </em>we shall eventually seed with another method that wont cost you your life? Lord Och asked mirthfully. If I still needed to eat, I would say that I intend to have my cake and eat it too. The long-term benefits of your survival will outweigh the short-term gains of an interdimensional Earthmouth.

    Valdemar shivered at his cold, brutal logic but somehow he couldnt help but feel relieved. It might have sounded selfish, but he wanted to see Earth with his own eyes too.

    His grandfather Pierre had brainwashed him since his childhood with stories about his homeworld, the way a farmer fattened a snail for the ughter. He had sown the seeds of Valdemars devotion, hoping to reap it in the form of a sacrifice for his own rotten selfishness.

    But even if the dreamer wasnt a good person, did that invalidate the dream?

    Mankind needed to see the light again. To gaze at the stars and the sun as Valdemar did in the Silent Kings realm. The universe was a strange and dangerous ce; but also beautiful beyond words. His people, his friends, deserved better than a stone ceiling.

    Valdemar nced with shame at his workshops door, remembering the individuals who knocked on it. In truth, while he was thankful for their support... he didnt know how to deal with it.

    In his childhood, Valdemar usually ran back to his grandfather for protection whenever he felt sad. Now the mere memory soured his mood, and he had long grown used to istion anyway. What was he supposed to do, share his dark thoughts and foul mood with others? Spread the pain around? Rant about how his grandfather, the person he dedicated his <em>entire life</em> to fulfilling the dream of returning to Earth, had raised him as a mere tool?

    Above all things, Valdemar hated being pitied.

    What he needed was time to process everything, to strengthen his mind. Sorrow and anger could only affect him if he let them be.

    I suggest that you embrace undeath, Lord Och happily suggested. It did wonders for my good mood, and it will certainly improve your looks.

    Valdemar ignored his mentors jab. You could clone me, he suggested. Biomancers often used that procedure for rich patrons, to cultivate fresh organs and rece the originals aging parts. Create a soulless sacrifice.

    It will not work.

    How do you know?

    Because I already tried the day we met. Lord Och chuckled as his apprentice gave him an offended re. My apprentice, you leave your gic material everywhere, what did you expect? Between us, I always like to have a spare apprentice or two.

    Valdemar shuddered, as he remembered the Dark Lords attempts to duplicate the Pleromians. Why didnt it work then?

    Two reasons. The lich joined his hands. First, Earthmouths need the soul of a <em>willing </em>martyr to function. This is why it is such an honor and we do not use, say, prisoners and political enemies for it. The creation ritual does not function if the sacrifice does not consent to it, whether out of despair or altruism.

    Valdemar thought about the vision he had, and the dead look in his illusory doubles eyes. <em>Despair,</em> he thought, <em>born of betrayal.</em>

    Second, your peculiar biology makes cloning you a hazardous prospect, as testing can attest. When I tried to duplicate you, your clones regeneration went Lord Och hesitated. Haywire.

    <em><strong>ABOMINATION.</strong></em>

    It mutated? Valdemar asked, although he wasnt sure if he even wanted to know.

    All I will say is, if you ever lose a body part, I strongly suggest that you reattach it as quickly as you can. Or throw it at your nearest foe. Lord Och chuckled to himself. Come to think of it, we should explore this idea in the future.

    Valdemar crossed his arms. Speaking of the future, where do we go from now Lord Och? You asked me to help Hermann with the Painted Door project and wepleted it.

    And the experience proved highly pertinent for all parties involved, Lord Och mused. You are a Schr of Pleroma, Young Valdemar. You are free to take your research wherever you want, and I suspect you already know your next destination.

    Yes, he did. The Silent King had shown him the path.

    In my visions, I saw a derro with a crown building a portal, Valdemar admitted. Probably King Otto Blutang. From what we gathered so far, its highly probable that the derros summoned my grandfathers unit to Undend with their technology.

    Do you intend to ask the derro king to share his discoveries with us? Lord Och asked mirthfully. Considering the troubles in Astaphanos, Im sure the empress would agree to a diplomatic mission.

    In all likelihood, it would end with Valdemars brain in a jar and his skin used as a disguise by some mad dwarf infiltrator. Maybe the English parts of the diary hold information about the tunnels where my grandfathernded, said the summoner. You could examine them. Maybe the derros left hints.

    The Dark Lord scoffed. <em>I </em>could examine them? Are you offloading your duties to me, apprentice? Or have you given up on fulfilling your dream?

    Was that dream even his own?

    Valdemar still thought mankind deserved a world with an open sky, but he wasnt certain if he was the best person to find it anymore.

    His familys cult had worked for a bloodthirsty Stranger. If they wanted to reach Earth so desperately and created Valdemar to achieve their goal, then it served their patrons goals somehow. Maybe the Stranger wanted to ess Earth for its foul purposes.

    Valdemar was afraid. Afraid not to be in control, or worse, to identally poison the perfect world he had dreamed of. Lord Och, is my mindpromised? Do I want to reach Earth because I want it, or because an instinct embedded in my blood is pushing me to?

    The lich remained eerily silent.

    Valdemar sighed. Im the only one who can answer that question, is that it?

    Keep building that Painted Dreamscape, the Dark Lord replied without really answering. It will help you figure out the truth.

    A pointer was better than nothing.

    Locating the site where your grandsire appeared is a good idea, the Dark Lord said. But as I warned you before, the tunnels in question are dangerous. Even more so now that your familys cult is active once more and that the derros are on the offensive again. Thankfully, thebat-magic teacher I had in mind has agreed to take you under his wing.

    Which Master will it be? Valdemar asked, banishing his darker thoughts from his mind. Edwin and Loctis appeared to be the most talented battle mages in the Institute from what he had seen.

    My chosen instructor does not serve me, or <em>anyone else</em> for that matter, Lord Och replied. You will have to travel to the Domain of Sabaoth to meet with him.

    Sabaoth? It made sense. This Domain was the Empires bulwark against derro invasions and monsters wandering out of the unexplored depths of Undend, a fortress of stone, steel, and magma pits.

    However

    Wasnt I supposed to stay at the Institute until the wererat was apprehended or in? Valdemar asked with a frown.

    Lord Och brushed off his worries. You will travel to the safest ce in the Empire under good escort. Young Marianne is making her way back to us as we speak, albeit short a retainer. I believe a stay in Sabaoth will also help her sharpen her de.

    Marianne is returning? Valdemar was eager to see her. She had investigated the Verney family far enough to detect a hidden cultist, so maybe she had found something interesting.<em> I need to know the truth,</em> Valdemar thought. <em>The full truth. About who I am, and my purpose.</em> Who is this instructor?

    The lichs ghastly smile sent shivers down his spine.

    It is time, the Dark Lord said, that I introduce you to my previous apprentice.

 Chapter 24: Sword & Sorcery

    Chapter 24: Sword & Sorcery

    The wererats guts had spilled all over the dead-end alley, his poisoned blood reddening the stone floor of the city of Pleroma.

    Marianne resisted the urge to pinch her nose from the foul smell. Her blood-tracker burned against her skin as if she had finallypleted her hunt. And yet, even a cursory nce at the creature at her feet disabused her of the notion.

    The hunt had only begun.

    Marianne had followed the blood-trackers call as it guided her back to Lord Ochs stronghold, and found the city on lockdown. The ancient lich hadnt taken any chances upon learning that a wererat was after his apprentice and restricted ess to the Earthmouths. After reporting her return to the Knights and requesting an escort, Marianne had let the blood-tracker guide them through the narrow alleys of the old town.

    Rats were numerous in these poor suburbs, making the swordswoman quite paranoid. When the blood-tracker confirmed Shelleys presence in the area, Marianne and her reinforcements split up to close off the area and cover more ground.

    The creature before her had jumped in without warning the moment she looked into the alley. The ambush hadsted mere seconds, with Mariannes de gutting the beast like a fish. For a brief moment, the swordswoman thought she had finally avenged Bertrand.

    But while the creature before her took elements from both a rat and a human, it was too gaunt and small to be Shelley. The rodent nose was half-formed, with only one arm having ws and the other unmutated. The beast wore rags smelling of cheap fungi alcohol, and Marianne noticed a cup with a few coins hidden behind the corpse. She examined the face more closely and found it vaguely familiar.

    <em>I tossed you a few coins near the market street, </em>Marianne remembered. The homeless man had white hair rather than fur then.

    She had never paid this man much attention in the past and didnt even know his name. Yet the sight of his mutated corpse filled her with anger. If she had caught up to Shelley earlier in the tunnels, she might have saved him. <em>Each day I fail to bring the rat to justice, someone else pays the price, </em>she thought grimly.

    The noblewoman sensed a presence above her with her psychic sight and instantly readied her sword. She looked at the roofs surrounding the ustrophobic alley, half-expecting another wererat to fall upon her.

    Instead, a pitch-ck bat descended upon the alley. The animal was norger than a fist, but its body radiated an aura that betrayed its true nature.

    A crimson shroud of power surrounded the critter as itnded next to the dead wererat. The flesh expanded, the fur receding to reveal the brown skin underneath. The wings turned into ck robes, the face shifted into an old womans visage with piercing ck eyes.

    Marianne lowered her sword upon recognizing the witch. Master Malherbe.

    Reynard, the Institutes animancer replied with a dry voice while she examined the corpse. Amie Malherbe didnt care formon courtesy. When did this happen?

    Minutes ago, Marianne exined as the Master bent down to examine the corpse. Did you receive my messenger bat? About the Beast gue variant?

    Amie confirmed with a sharp nod, before putting her thumb into the wound the rapier left. Once she had soaked her nail with blood, the animancer licked it.

    Marianne winced at the sight, but didnt try to stop the Master. Amie Malherbe was the Institutes foremost expert on animancy and a talented biomancer. If anyone had developed an immunity to the Beast gue, it would be her. I used this device to find him, Marianne said as she showed Amie her blood-tracker. I thought it would lead me to Shelley.

    It did, the animancer replied as she licked her lips, not even ncing at the tracker. Your cultists blood courses through his veins like an infection. Alongside something else.

    Marianne struggled to suppress a sigh of frustration. Shelley could have bitten dozens of victims by now, turning all of them into decoys. Had this been his true goal all along when he developed his gue? To use the infected as a smokescreen to cover his tracks? Something else you said?

    Blood from another source, Amie replied as she summarily removed the victims rags to examine him; pants first. Marianne couldnt help but blush. But not from any creature Ive encountered. I would have said a vampire, but more ancient, primeval.

    Mariannes heart skipped a beat. A mutated vampire?

    Maybe. Amie rolled over the corpse, revealing a half-formed tail growing between the cheeks and bruises on the left ankle. Could be your retainers blood.

    Marianne hadnt dared to raise the possibility out loud. Herst letter included a demand that the Institute could look for an antidote if possible.

    A request that had gone unanswered.

    The swordswoman didnt know how to take the news. On one hand, finding Shelley meant locating Bertrand as well. But on the other hand, why would the deranged cultist need her retainers blood for his gue?

    <em>Or he was looking for another substance inside Bertrands veins,</em> Marianne guessed, as the memory of the ck blood dripping from the ceiling in Verney Castle came to mind.

    Master Malherbe had reached the same conclusion. From what you said in your letter, the original substance has powerful mutagenic properties, she said. Too powerful. Your retainers blood acts as a diluted substitute. Less potent, but more malleable.

    Amie pointed at the bruises on the victims ankles. Some scab remained at their center, the remnant of a wound. Look.

    Marianne squinted. Looks like a rat bite to me.

    A <em>normal </em>rats bite, Amie pointed out.

    Somehow, that made it even worse.

    Shelleys rodent thralls could spread the wererat gue on their own. Marianne nced at the streets beyond the alley, watching rodents hop out of a trash can. How many of them carried the gue inside them?

    Thisplicated things. If Shelley found a way to infect normal rats with his blood gue, he might not even be in the city at all. Pleroma was the only city in the Domain of Paraplex, surrounded by foul bogs and marshes. The wererat could be hiding in the swamps, far away from civilization while letting his swarm do his dirty work. If he had spread his rodents over arge area, it would make it extremely difficult for the blood-tracker to find him.

    Her curiosity satisfied, Amie pulled the corpse over her shoulder. Bile and blood spilled on her cloak, but the animancer didnt even seem to notice. I need time to study it, she said. Knowing Lord Och, he will ask me to suspend my projects until I develop a vine.

    What about those already infected? Marianne asked with a frown. What about Bertrand? Master Malherbe, do you think you could cure him?

    I would need to examine him first, but if this is indeed his blood I tasted

    Master Malherbe shook her head, and Mariannes heart shattered in her chest.

    Why? the noblewoman asked, her voice breaking. She was no biomancer, but she had seen their work. You can reshape life, transform yourself into an animal.

    I cannot stay in an animal shape for too long, Reynard, Amie replied. If I do, I will stop being a transformed human and truly be a mindless animal. This is the same principle for the Beast gue and whatever affected your vampire. If allowed to take root, that kind of magical virus bonds with the victim on a primal level. The effects can be suppressed with biomancy treatment and constant medication, but the disease only sleeps. It never goes away.

    But you could make a suppression treatment? Marianne refused to ept Bertrand and Shelleys victims were beyond salvation. Could they live a normal life again?

    Maybe, if they follow a lifelong biomancy treatment that few can afford. Amie shrugged. It will be kinder to kill them.

    It would be crueler to kill them when there is hope for an alternative. Even if Marianne would rather have a cure, she could live with this imperfect solution. She would pay Bertrands treatment out of her own pocket and find a way to help Shelleys other victims.

    Her honor demanded it. It was her fault that the cultist had escaped so far.

    <em>Is it? </em>Marianne wondered as she nced at the gutted corpse. She had a responsibility in failing to catch Shelley so far, but the cultist moved unnaturally fast. As far as Marianne knew, he was on foot while she had the benefit of a riding beetle. He shouldnt have reached Pleroma before her, let alone managed to infect anyone so quickly.

    Either Shelley learned teleportation in record time or Marianne had overlooked a critical clue.

    Master Malherbe, how did you locate us? Marianne asked the animancer as they walked out of the alley to meet with the Knights. Can you track the wererats by smell?

    I was looking for a smell, but not that one. Amie sneered in disgust. That stench is all over the city.

    Valdemars? Certainly Lord Och wouldnt be so foolish to let him out of the fortress while a Verney cultist was on the loose?

    No, Amie replied. Its close, but more intense. Purer. Fouler. It lurked around the Institute, like a mole rat looking for a way in. It couldnt get past the magical defenses, but it startled the animals.

    Mariannes thoughts turned to the Vernburg demine. Could it have been the Nahemoth acting? She ruled out that possibility. The creature that lurked around the Institute had acted with too much subtlety. Could it be the strange, cloudlike entity that was summoned beneath Verney Castle?

    Whatever that creature was, its goal was clear.

    It was after Valdemar, Marianne pointed out the obvious. And considering how it appeared in Paraplex at the same time as the first wererat infected, Shelley and the entity might be acting in concert. It will try to get in again.

    It wont, Amie replied with a shrug. But Lord Och wants us to deal with it anyway, before it makes an attempt.

    A sensible decision. Even if neither Shelley nor any summoned Qlippoth could enter the fortress, they might start attacking its staff whenever they ventured out. The longer Shelley was left free to act, the more trouble he would cause.

    As for Valdemar himself

    Marianne looked up at the shadow of the Institute overseeing the city. The fortress now looked like a prison to her, jailing the child of a Stranger with terrible potential. Her duty demanded that she report to Lord Och and let him make the final decision about his apprentice.

    But What if the lich was ying with forces too dangerous even for him? Lord Hagith already suspected Valdemar of being more than he looked, and the more word of Shelleys activities would spread, the more the Verney heir would gather attention. What would happen when the Church of the Light figured out what Marianne had learned and called for Valdemars head? Surely Shelley had to know that his murderous antics would endanger his precious Red Grail...

    Marianne suddenly froze in ce, causing Amie to raise an eyebrow at her.

    Thats what he wants, the noblewoman muttered as she examined the wererat. He knows he cant get in.

    She had thought that Shelley intended to thin out the Institutes defenses by starting a gue and stretching them thin. But threatening a Dark Lord was a daunting task, and Och had ess to near-limitless resources and manpower. As long as Valdemar enjoyed the lichs protection, Shelley and his patron would never get within a meter of him.

    But as Lord Hagith had shown, thest Verney couldnt escape his familys shadow. The more atrocities Shelleymitted in the cults name, the more news would spread. Inquisitors and imperial citizens would suspect Valdemars involvement. The alienated sorcerer would be an even greater object of distrust, isted and vulnerable. And from what little Marianne had seen of him, Valdemar might even decide to confront his familysst cultist to get rid of the stain for good.

    Shelley wasnt trying to get inside the Institute.

    He was trying to lure Valdemar out of it.

    Mariannes apartment felt colder without Bertrand.

    After she made her report to Lord Och and received her newest mission, the lich had offered her a golem servant to rece her retainer. Marianne had politely refused. If anything, using a mindless thrall in Bertrands ce felt like an insult to his memory.

    She still remembered theirst discussion before leaving Pleroma. Bertrand had mused that his mistress would ruin herself in tea shops without him, and now that she had to prepare her brew herself, the noblewoman realized he had been correct. Her drink tasted bitter to her lips and burnt her tongue.

    Sitting behind her table, the noblewoman gazed at the hedge maze beyond her window with longing. After spending days on the road with little but sorrow to show for it, stopping to rest felt odd to her. Lord Och had given her a day off before her transfer to Sabaoth for her new mission, but Marianne couldnt focus while her first job remained iplete.

    She had begged the Dark Lord to reconsider his decision, asking him to give her a task force to hunt down Shelley, Bertrand, and whatever creature had escaped the castle; or at least keep Valdemar safely inside the Institute for the moment.

    The lich had denied her wishes.

    <em>The forces after my apprentice are relentless,</em> the Dark Lord had told her. <em>The wererat is but a thrall to a higher power, easily receable. I will not always be here to protect my apprentice, and he cannot spend his existence inside these walls until the day he dies if he can even perish. He has to grow strong enough to defend himself. Besides, if you stay with him, young Marianne... you might get to conclude your hunt.</em>

    Yes, she would. If Shelley dared to attack Valdemar on her watch, Marianne would greet him with steel and fire.

    And there were no better warriors than Verney''s chosenbat instructor. Even Bertrand had suggested that she go to Sabaoth to perfect her swordsmanship, and Lord Och implied that his former apprentice would dly give her some tutge too. And while Marianne hated to admit it, she did need to be stronger.

    If she had been a better fighter, she might have saved Bertrand.

    Marianne heard a knock on her apartments door. You maye in, she said, I left the door open.

    She had expected his visit.

    The noblewoman listened quietly as her guest opened her door, closed it behind him, and explored herir. His steps were hesitant, and she heard him briefly stop to examine the crests in her training room.<em> Its his first time entering a womans room uninvited,</em> Marianne guessed. <em>He feels out of ce.</em>

    When the smell of tea lured him to her, Marianne had set a second cup for him. However, his eyes paid more attention to her novel collection.

    <em>The Leaden Moon</em>? Valdemar Verney asked as he sat on the other side of the table. Its not the authors best.

    I havent finished it, Marianne admitted. I read halfway through before I left the Institute. But I do admit <em>The Clockstoppers Dilemma </em>is my favorite so far.

    You know the publisher is working on a picture book version? Marianne nodded slowly, making Valdemar smile. You''re not a casual reader, but a true fan.

    Marianne chuckled in embarrassment. I like pulp novels, even if others look down on them.

    Have you read <em>The Pirate King</em>? Its not the best novel out there, but I think it would suit your tastes.

    Ill check. <em>I didnt know he liked to read novels, </em>Marianne thought as she stared at her visitors face. Valdemar clearly hadnt slept in days, and though his smile was genuine, she noticed the wariness in his gaze. He had changed since theirst encounter; he dressed like a schr and seemed more confident.

    Above all else, Valdemar Verney looked human.

    When she outright asked Lord Och about her theory about his apprentices origins, the lich had simply chuckled and said, <em>Stranger things happened in the past.</em>

    But the way he answered, like a teacher congratting a child for giving the right answer the noblewoman knew she had guessed correctly.

    Valdemar shifted in his seat, and Marianne quickly realized she had been staring at him in silence for several seconds. My apologies, she excused herself. My mind wandered off.

    I know the feeling, he replied as he examined his teacup. You learn so many earth-shattering truths in too short of a time span, and you struggle to process them all.

    Marianne looked at him withpassion. Lord Och told me about your grandfather, she admitted. The lich hadnt given her all the details, but enough to fill the many holes in her investigation. Im so sorry for you.

    For what? You werent here when I was born.

    Marianne nced through the window and back at the hedge maze. I wont say our situations are the same, but believe me when I say that I understand what you are going through. I too was born a tool, only valuable for my body.

    Valdemar finally grabbed his cup, letting it warm his fingers. For what purpose?

    To make children, Marianne admitted. Ever since I was born a girl, my father decided that my only purpose in life would be to strengthen our familys political ties and give him a grandchild. A <em>male </em>grandchild, worthy of our ancestral de.

    Since youre here, I assume your familys ns didnt work any better than my own.

    Except Valdemars father looked more determined to get back in his childs life than Mariannes sire. Should she even tell him? His faith in his maternal grandfather, who he admired, was already shattered. Learning about his paternal parentage might drive him over the edge.

    They didnt, Marianne replied, thinking of Jrme. Though it cost me greatly.

    Its never easy to stand up for yourself, Valdemar replied. He should know, he had been sent to jail for going against imperial regtions. For all its worth, I dont believe gender should determine your worth. I cant believe sexism still exists in a country ruled by an immortal empress.

    You can get away with many things with immense arcane power.

    Ive seen that with Lord Och. Valdemar sipped his tea. He appeared to enjoy it more than Marianne herself. He is sending us to Sabaoth. To meet with Lord Bethor.

    I heard, Marianne replied before locking eyes with him. I swear by my rapier, nothing will happen to you so long as I am with you.

    She thought her words would reassure him, but they only made the sorcerer tense. I dont want your coddling. I want the truth.

    Of course he did. Marianne knew he would confront her about her investigation the moment she returned to the Institute.

    Where is your butler? Valdemar asked, making Marianne wince. His eyes immediately widened in surprise. Is he

    No, Marianne replied with a sigh. Not yet.

    His expression turned sympathetic. Is there anything I can do?

    I dont know. Amie didnt think much could be done for Bertrand, but if Valdemar had inherited even a part of his fathers power perhaps he could do the impossible.

    Lady Reynard

    Call me Marianne, she interrupted him. I will act as your bodyguard for the Dark Lord knows how long. We might as well work on a first-name basis.

    Valdemar processed her words for a moment as he finished his cup. Very well, he said. Marianne, what happened? What did you find? What happened to your retainer?

    Do you truly wish to know? she asked him in return. His answer was a slow, but firm nod. What has Lord Och told you?

    Only details about that wererat cultist. Valdemars scowl deepened. Did he forbid you from sharing your findings with me?

    No, he did not. Though he did suggest that Marianne wait until after they reached the Domain of Sabaoth. But you already suffered mental scars. Im not certain I should add more to them.

    Do you remember what you told me on the day of your departure?

    Of course she did. That I would share what I learned. That you were entitled to learn about your origins. I still believe in my words.

    And I appreciate you for it, Valdemar said, making her chuckle. Marianne, I have been lied to since the moment I was born. Im done with it. Even if the truth hurts, it will still be better than willful ignorance. And I cant help you with your problems if I dont understand them.

    Marianne blinked. My problems?

    You said it yourself, I might help with whatever happened to your retainer. Valdemar smiled at her confused reaction. What, you thought I would refuse? I will still try to help even if you dont tell me everything.

    Marianne observed that strange sorcerer for a moment. Why?

    Valdemar shrugged. Why not?

    Because whether I like it or not, I am part of the system that imprisoned you, Marianne pointed out. And you would gain nothing from it. Bertrand didnt even like you.

    You got me out of that jail, didnt you? Valdemar shook his head. Lord Och believes all interactions are self-interested, but I dont want to y that game. You have been honest and straightforward with me since day one, and it is reason enough for me to help you. Even if your retainer disliked me.

    Marianne thought back about her investigations, and the people she met. From Lord Hagith to Captain Lopold, every offer of help came with strings attached. Even Inquisitor Penhew only epted an interview in an attempt to convince her to have Valdemar in; a position that Marianne had derided at first, but almost started believing in too.

    And yet, Marianne couldnt detect any hint of deceit in thest Verneys eyes.

    He truly meant everything he said.

    Lord Och had told her his apprentice hadnt hesitated to defend Institute personnel from a derro attack in Sabaoth. Even on the first day they met, he had willingly shared information about his research with her in the hope they would improve mankinds chances to settle in another world.

    Valdemar Verney had a good heart.

    Others would call him an idealistic fool, but not Marianne. If anything, she saw a little of herself in him. No matter the reasons behind his birth or what disaster he might bring, Valdemar Verney deserved a chance to life. Judging him on his origins rather than his actions simply felt wrong.

    Even if Marianne might end up killing him to protect others... she would give the man a chance to prove he could avert his fate.

    Valdemar. Marianne cleared his throat. I dont know what the future holds in store for us, but I can promise you one thing.

    The summoner listened in silence.

    We will uncover the truth, Marianne swore. About who you are. Whatever the obstacles thrown at us.

    You shouldnt make promises you arent certain of delivering, he said with an amused smirk. I guess I should make one myself, to make us even. I swear, however impossible it might sound, that we will save your retainer. And more to the point as long as you have my back, I will have yours.

    Valdemar offered Marianne his hand.

    After a moment, the noblewoman shook it. His fingers felt warm against her own, his grip was as solid as steel. A deal had been struck, and woe to those who would try to break it.

    So, Valdemar asked after breaking the handshake. Where do we start?

    And so, Marianne recounted her case from the very beginning to her new partner.

 Chapter 25: Case Review

    Chapter 25: Case Review

    The eyes were looking at him through the window.

    The walls of Lord Ochs fortress kept them away, but as they infested the Domains ceiling like moss, he couldnt escape them.

    Val mar

    They had watched him since the moment he was born, though he couldnt see them then. He thought his grandfathers death had left him orphaned, but in truth, he had never been alone in his life. Not for a single second.

    His family had followed him everywhere.

    Valde mar?

    Valdemar looked away from the eyes outside and locked his gaze with a smaller pair of them.

    Valdemar? Marianne asked him with concern. The teapot between them let out a small puff of steam. Are you alright?

    No, he replied, his throat dry. Are you certain of it? About

    <em>About my father.</em>

    I cant be sure, Marianne admitted. But its the most likely exnation from the clues that I gathered so far. Shelleys facility and the the clones inside point in that direction.

    They cloned his mother.

    They made a cup out of her bones.

    Was his mother even the original Sarah? Had his two grandfathers cultivated her in a sk like a homunculus? Was <em>Valdemar </em>born inside a womb, or a vat of ss? A piece of eldritch flesh wrapped in human skin? Maybe the derros werent such pioneers after all.

    Marianne had been true to her word. The investigator told him everything with unflinching bluntness, though she had looked more and more concerned as she went on. By the time she was halfway through recounting her case, Valdemar took everything in stoic silence. He simply couldnt muster the strength for emotional distress anymore.

    He thought it would have been impossible to top the Silent Kings revtions, that he had reached an emotional bottom. But as it turned out, you could always dig deeper.

    Val mar?

    Valdemar blinked as he realized he had zoned out again. Im sorry, he apologized. Its a lot to take in.

    I understand. Mariannes eyes wandered to his hand, as if she considered taking it into her own. But she hesitated. Perhaps she thought it would be inappropriate? While they had agreed to work together, they werent friends either. We can continueter, if you need rest.

    As if sleep would be any escape. If anything, Valdemar was afraid of slumber like never before.

    He would dream of the well again.

    When you visited the false Vernburg... he rasped. What hour was it?

    Marianne frowned. I cant tell exactly. We arrivedte, and explored the vige for a few hours until morning. Why are you asking?

    I dreamed of you while you were away, Valdemar admitted. I was at the bottom of a well, and you were looking down on me.

    Mariannes curiosity turned to unnerving focus. You were at the bottom?

    And when I tried to reach you, the well copsed on me.

    His bodyguard digested the news in silence, her gaze thoughtful. Whats your sleeping schedule? she asked, having reached the same conclusion.

    I have an irregr sleep cycle due to nightmares, but I usually go to bedte and wake up early, Valdemar admitted. I have been dreaming of the well you saw since I was little. Sometimes I had nightmares of rats watching me from above, or tossing me bones and meat.

    Shelleys rats, most likely, Marianne said, joining her hands. So you have a mental connection to the Nahemoth trapped inside the well.

    If it <em>is </em>a Nahemoth, Valdemar pointed out. It would fit, but he was now considering another, darker possibility. What do you know about oneiromancy?

    I have a well-protected dreamscape, but oneiromancy is not one of my strong points, Marianne confessed. I was only ever interested in defending my thoughts rather than invading others. I have started to research the subject after learning more about the Outer Darkness though.

    I couldnt learn the basics, because my dreamscape is dysfunctional. I havent been able to shape my own dreams. Frigga and Lady Mathilde said it was because of my personality and subconscious thoughts, but now Valdemar nced at the hedge maze beyond the window. Now I wonder.

    From what I read in the Bestiary, the Primordial Dream shared by mankind is a self-defense mechanism created by sentient life to protect itself from the Qlippoths, Marianne said. Valdemar made a note to borrow and read that bookter, if only toplete his own knowledge. Maybe thats why? You can ess the dream world as a human, but since you share a connection to the Qlippoths, the collective unconscious fights off your attempts to alter it.

    That, Valdemar said. Or I have a fully functional dreamscape, but I dont materialize it in the Primordial Dream.

    Mariannes eyes widened in shock. The Vernburg vige disappeared when you woke up from your nightmare.

    Valdemar nodded. Now the question is do I have a connection to a Nahemoth and passively summon him when I dream, or is the thing at the bottom of the well my unconscious self materializing the Qlippoth hamlet as a physical dreamscape?

    What difference would it make?

    <em>A big one. </em>In one case, Im a mere summoning conduit, a living portal. In the other, my unconscious mind warps reality itself and births Qlippoths into existence.

    Marianne didnt respond. Her expression became a nk mask as the implications dawned upon her.

    Valdemarsughter broke the silence.

    It surprised him and startled Marianne too. For it was notughter of joy, or even sadness. It was augh that burst out of his lips uncontrobly, like water overflowing out of a broken cistern. The kind ofugh that left the throat dry and the soul sickened.

    I mean, thats funny, Valdemar continued, unable to stop himself as heughed maniacally between each sentence. Frigga mocked me for having a defenseless, unremarkable dreamscape, but I conjured a whole town with Qlippoths as private security! They y humans in my head! Like me! If its not my subconscious at work, I dont know what

    A sh of anger passed over Mariannes face as she raised her voice. Dont say that!

    Her sudden reaction startled Valdemar, theughter dying in his throat. Say what? he asked.

    That you <em>y </em>human, instead of being one, Marianne said. Because you <em>are </em>one.

    Im not, Valdemar replied grimly. Never was.

    A monster like Shelley is not human, Marianne insisted. The creatures inside the Vernburg vige arent human. You might have inhuman origins and peculiar abilities, but you breathe like a man, behave like a man, eat like a man.

    Shit like a man? Valdemar thought back of his grandfathers echo, and how he had wished it could be the real one. Even if a pictomancer made the perfect portrait of someone and breathed life into the pigments, it would still be a painting rather than the real thing.

    But Marianne wouldnt back down. But what if the portrait has a soul? If the copy has emotions and dreams, then its life has value.

    The inquisitors would say otherwise, Valdemar gazed down at his empty cup. He felt just as hollow. Why am I even alive, Marianne? By imperialws, you should have given me up to the inquisition or executed me yourself.

    She frowned. Inquisitor Penhew suggested that I execute you because you were too dangerous to live. That was before I visited Vernburg, and all that followed. If word of what I learned reached his ears, the Knights would hunt you down.

    And for once Valdemar was tempted to agree with them. His very existence might serve as a portal for interdimensional monsters. Many had been executed for less.

    I am not a Knight, Marianne dered. I will not execute people because they <em>might </em>threaten the empire, but only if they <em>do</em>.

    Valdemar looked away to avoid her fiery gaze. Somehow the eyes outside seemed less oppressive. I nearly killed you while <em>dreaming</em>.

    But I survived your nightmare, and you had no control over it. Besides, Lord Och wouldnt let you run around if you were a lost cause. Instead of dissecting you or transforming you into an Earthmouth, he tutors you. Why do you think so?

    Obvious. Because he has ns for me.

    Because he thinks you can master your abilities. Marianne sighed. A Master once told me that centuries of undeath had divorced Lord Och from human emotions. He ys with us like were ants, because it amuses him. But when ites to genuine threats? He is a supremely rational being. Many Dark Lords havee and gone over the centuries, but Lord Och was never dethroned. He has in everyone who ever endangered him.

    Valdemar couldnt help but snicker. So you say he didnt kill me because Im not that huge of a threat?

    I trust Lord Ochs ruthlessness and survival instincts. If he tutors you, it means he intends to exploit you in the long-term and he believes the risk is manageable.

    That that was the kind of cold logic Valdemar expected from the lich.

    The summoner gathered his breath and tried to consider things rationally. He was not fully human. There was no denying it. After surviving multiple lightning bolts, he wondered if his regeneration would even let him die. The Qlippoths bent to his will, he could dream a vige into existence, and open doors to other worlds. The Stranger that masterminded his birth wanted him to serve some mysterious purpose he couldnt fathom yet.

    Imperial safety demanded that he die.

    But Lord Och knew all of this and yet decided to spare him. Though callous, the lich had umted centuries of experience and wisdom and seemed dedicated to protecting the empires status quo; even if for purely selfish reasons.

    Marianne had a point. If Valdemar were a lost cause, Lord Och would have killed him the moment he stepped inside the Institute. Instead, the lich cultivated his apprentice like a flower and encouraged him to seek answers on his own. And even though Valdemar was only half a man, he was close enough to humankind that inquisitors never identified his unholy origins.

    <em>Theres hope for me, </em>the summoner realized, though a cynical part of his mind told him hope could only carry you so far.

    But what if Och is <em>wrong</em>, Marianne? Valdemar asked. What if my dreams or my very existence cause a disaster, and I have to be put down for the good of everyone else?

    If we cant find another solution Marianne nced at the rapier attached to her belt. Then yes, I will do what must be done. But it wonte to that.

    Hopefully not.

    Valdemar had too many things left to do. Too much to learn.

    Where sadness once filled his heart, anger took over. He refused to be a pawn in someone elses game, whether his grandfathers, Lord Ochs, or the Strangers. No more. He would cut all the strings pulling him, and for that, he had to find them.

    Mariannes expression softened. To go back to our first topic of discussion as far as Im concerned, youre a human being.

    Half of one, Valdemar said with a dark chuckle. At least I took more from my mother and only have two eyes.

    Is that supposed to be a reference to something? Marianne asked. If so, its lost on me.

    Wait, havent you taken an Elixir of True Sight?

    No, she admitted. I can request Lady Mathilde to make one if needed.

    <em>Lady Mathilde she took the elixir and was close when the eyes all looked at me, </em>Valdemar thought. <em>No way she didnt notice our interaction. Yet she said nothing.</em>

    His thoughts turned to the private interaction between Och and Loctis. How they had cast a silence spell to prevent Valdemar from hearing anything. <em>Some of the Masters are in on it, </em>he thought. The Dark Lord had given them instructions.

    Plots within plots, and he had to figure them all out. Then you havent seen the eyes outside, Valdemar said.

    Her confused face told him everything. I would like more details, Marianne said as she sheepishly checked her teapots temperature. Do you want more tea?

    With pleasure, Valdemar replied. You prepared it well, even if it was your first time.

    Did I? Marianne asked as she sheepishly poured tea into their empty cups. Im relieved.

    <em>Youre such an open book</em>. It astonished Valdemar that this woman could fight a man-eating wererat in close-quarters without flinching and then get embarrassed over something so trivial as teamaking.

    Your expression gave it away, the summoner said while sipping the brew. Between us, I could never afford this kind of tea. Too expensive.

    I let Bertrand deal with shopping duties. Mariannes gaze wandered to the hedge maze outside, her lips curving into a sorrowful scowl. Master Malherbe doesnt think she can cure him.

    Now it was Valdemars turn to cheer her up. Even if shes an expert, its still just one persons opinion and she doesnt have the full picture. If we trust your theory, the same ck blood runs through my veins. Maybe we couldpare samples and find a cure.

    I hope so, she replied with a sad smile. Do you have any idea what this blood belongs to?

    As a matter of fact, he did.

    Valdemar spent the next minutes enlightening Marianne on the true nature of reality. To her credit, she took the news remarkably well. Valdemar guessed that after seeing the walls of Undend bleed beneath Verney Castle, learning that an invisible creature upied the tunnels didnt sound all that surprising.

    This is disturbing, Marianne admitted, her eyebrows arching as she sipped her tea. I will take an Elixir of True Sight to see it for myself. I never progressed past the Potion of Insight due to the risks involved, but I will need it toplete the case.

    So we think as one. The eyes and the bloody wound you saw beneath Verney Castle both belong to the same entity.<em> To my father, </em>Valdemar thought, though he doubted the entity even had a gender.

    It would make sense. And this Stranger is connected to the Qlippoths somehow. Marianne sipped once more from her cup. If the Knights Bestiary is correct, then they are psychic manifestations of this enormous creature. And if the Primordial Dream appeared to protect sentient life from them

    Then this entity has been coexisting with us since the beginning of life in our world. It had been here before men crawled into the depths of Undend. It had watched the Pleromianse and go, witnessed empires rise and fall.

    But if it is hostile to us, why do we still exist? Marianne asked in confusion. If it covers the entire world as Lord Och implied, then we literally live inside its bowels.

    Valdemar didnt know. The eyes were everywhere, with no ce to hide from them. Yet Shelley had been blissfully unaware that his red grail had survived the purge. What did the wererat say when the entity manifested?

    That the<em> master of masters </em>finally answered his prayers, Marianne quoted from memory before putting the two and two together. Ah, I see. The entity ignored Shelley until that moment. It never informed its agents on the ground.

    Maybe it cantmunicate. The eyes did blink when Valdemar directly addressed them, but it could be because they were rted. The Stranger might have considered lesser entities beneath its notice. Or not the way we humans do.

    I dont think so. The Verney cult received instructions from their patron, though they must have been vague or misunderstood. They mistook their red grails vessel for a cup rather than a

    Than my mother, Valdemar said bluntly as Marianne struggled to find the words.

    His answer made her wince. A womans purpose does not stop at her reproductive organs.

    The story hit close to home for her.

    Valdemar shivered, as he suddenly wondered if his mother had been born only for the purpose of creating him. He wouldnt put it past his two grandfathers to go to such lengths.

    <em><strong>ABOMINATION.</strong></em>

    Maybe she had never wanted him in the first ce.

    But whether she had been the original Sarah or a clone, his poor mother had been a pureblooded human; a frail woman consumed by mental illness in herst days. She didnt share her sons peculiar abilities, and the coroner never noticed anything wrong when she perished. Sarah Dumont had been a mere human, used to fulfill a dark purpose and then discarded.

    But what Valdemar should make of her appearance in Astaphanos? If he checked Mariannes timeline of events, it happened soon after the copse of Verney Castle. Could that have been a surviving clone of her?

    Valdemar brushed off the possibility. The Domains of Astaphanos and Horaios were located on opposite sides of the empire. Unless the clones could teleport, they could never have made it in such a short amount of time.

    Wait a minute

    You said Shelley moved unnaturally fast? he asked Marianne.

    She took the sudden change of subject in stride. Even if he used a modified rat to transmit his gue inside our walls, it shouldnt have crossed such a vast distance faster than a riding beetle. I still cant exin it. He was quicker than a man when we fought, but not nearly as much as a trained mount.

    Valdemar had only ever seen Lord Och being capable of teleportation, a feat made possible because he spent the Light knows how many years coating his fortress in advanced spells. He wondered if it would be possible for a summoner to call a wererat to their location from afar, before deciding against that possibility. The Dark Lords protected vital areas of their territory with wards or detection spells.

    The fact Valdemar saw a vision of his mother right after Marianne shattered ab full of her clones couldnt be a coincidence, though the nature of the connection escaped him for the moment.

    Maybe another clone of his mother had escaped Shelley in the past and taken refuge in Astaphanos? It struck him as far-fetched, considering the wererat could only make malformed copies. Or maybe the eyes had toyed with his mind, as Hermann suggested?

    Valdemar didnt know what to think of it. The idea of his mother being alive in some form should have been cause to rejoice, but his gut told him that her appearance only heralded troubles toe.

    So, to summarize, Marianne said, eager to change the subject. The entity canmunicate with its cult, but its instructions are either vague or very rare.

    Maybe its restricted somehow, Valdemar guessed.

    Restricted by what? Magicalws?

    Maybe. Even Qlippoths couldnt enter the material realm without a summoners help, although their godlike progenitor upied every inch of Undends tunnels. I dont know, Valdemar admitted. Thats the root of the problem. Unless we understand what that entity is, we wont figure out what it can do or even want.

    We can surmise thetter, Marianne pointed out. To reach Earth.

    Valdemar shook his head. Im not so sure. That was my grandfathers intention, yes, but the cult wanted power and immortality alongside their promisednd.

    The Silent King had shown him a vision where he transformed into a monster. Something unlike the Earthmouth his grandfather nned to turn him into.

    Marianne crossed her arms and hung back in her chair. Valdemar could almost see gears turning inside her head. Could it be she whispered.

    You figured out something?

    Someone betrayed Aleksander Verneys cult soon after your birth and made the purge possible, Marianne exined. Inquisitor Penhew never learned their identity, nor why your grandfather and mother were spared by the Knights. How could I miss it

    No way You think my grandfather sold out the cult?

    Marianne nodded. Inquisitor Penhew thought that your rumored father, Isaac Verney, betrayed the cult to save your mother. Maybe he was right about the motives, but wrong about the culprit. If we assume that your two grandfathers had diverging agendas, Pierre Dumont makes an ideal suspect. It would exin why he and your mother were spared from any kind of retribution by the inquisition, as he would have negotiated an amnesty.

    It fit. So the fate the cult had in store was even worse than turning me into a gate between worlds, Valdemar deadpanned. Wonderful.

    Maybe, Marianne said with a softer voice. Or he wanted to protect you because you were his grandson.

    Valdemar snickered. The Silent King

    Showed you why you were born. But did your grandfather ever try to prepare you for the sacrifice?

    He nursed me with tales of Earth, until I believed in his dream. Until Valdemar would do anything to achieve it.

    But he never tried to indoctrinate you into pursuing the Earthmouth ritual. As Lord Och told you, you only need to consent to it. Age is not a barrier. He raised you to adulthood without ever crossing the line, even after your mother perished.

    Valdemar frowned in disbelief. What nonsense was that? Couldnt she see the obvious, that his grandfather manipted him since the day he was born? That the strings had been subtle? What are you implying? That he changed his mind?

    Maybe, Marianne replied. Maybe your mother talked him out of his n. Mine said that parenthood changes people, for good or ill.

    Valdemar wasnt a parent, so he couldnt tell. <em>Maybe she has a point,</em> he thought. His grandfather had been nothing but kind in their time together.

    Or maybe Valdemar simply had a hard time reconciling the happy memory with the unsavory goal his grandfather created him to fulfill. Whether or not he changed his mind, Pierre Dumont worked with a Stranger cult to turn his grandson into a gateway between worlds. Valdemar wasnt sure he could ever forgive him for this, even if he balked out halfway through.

    I cant say, the summoner replied, trying to banish these thoughts from his mind. They only made it harder for him to focus. The echo inside my portrait cant answer half my questions.

    Could it answer this one? Marianne gathered her breath. Who is Crtail?

    Crtail? Valdemar raised an eyebrow. You mean <em>Crteil</em>? With an e?

    I think it was with an a, though I may have misheard. One of the Qlippoths in Vernburg spoke of a child with that name, probably you.

    Crteil was my grandfathers hometown on Earth. Its not one of my names. Valdemar tried to remember in which context he learned that information. I always bugged grandpa about it.

    Did your mother ever use that word? Marianne asked. Im grasping at straws, but any clue, no matter how circumstantial can help.

    Grandpa never used the word in her presence, Valdemar replied, wincing at the mere memory. The one time he did, it caused a crisis.

    A crisis? Valdemar looked away, causing Marianne to clear his throat. If this is sensitive

    My mother was unstable. The summoner shifted on his chair, the memories painful to remember. She she was very kind and gentle, but moody. Sometimes she cried without warning, or she didnt answer when called. At the end of her life, she spent most of her time in an asylum for treatment.

    Im sorry to hear that. She sounded genuine too. How old were you?

    Old enough to understand what was happening, too young to do anything about it. Valdemar gazed at his reflection in his tea. I thought she was ill, but knowing everything you told me I think she was just traumatized by what she went through with the cult. It cant have been easy.

    She probably didnt even consent to having a half-Stranger for a son.

    <em><strong>ABOMINATION.</strong></em>

    Maybe Valdemar had just been a burden she had to take care of.

    While I apologize for unburying painful memories, I believe we should investigate that <em>Crteil </em>lead, Marianne said, oblivious to Valdemars dark thoughts. Call it gut feeling, I believe its an important detail.

    Ill look for it inside the journal, Valdemar said as he rose from his seat. And investigate that creature you saw being summoned in Vernburg Castle. I have my suspicions about its nature, but I need more time to confirm them.

    Well, itste, Marianne said with a chuckle. I think you should go to sleep. We have been at it for hours, and we leave for Sabaoth tomorrow.

    I cant sleep until Iplete my Painted Field, Valdemar pointed out. Or I might manifest the hamlet.

    I have potions that can give you a dreamless sleep. Ill give you a few, since your metabolism will shrug off weaker doses. Marianne smiled sadly. I have nightmares too.

    About your family?

    In a way. Marianne fidgeted like an imprisoned animal trying to shake off her chains. I I know it sounds hypocritical after we discussed your family history, but

    You dont have to tell me if you dont want to, Valdemar replied with a chuckle. Unless one of your parents is a Stranger? Then we could work on solving that case too.

    Not yet at least, Marianne mused. You have a pretty dark sense of humor.

    He had to.

    When faced with pain, he would ratherugh than cry.

 Chapter 26: Vermillion

    Chapter 26: Vermillion

    Friggas workshop looked more like a nobles boudoir than ab.

    It was a bitrger than Valdemars own room and far better decorated. Deep red carpets covered every inch of the ground while beautiful tapestries and paintings upied the walls. Most represented triumphant scenes of dokkars conquering each other in wars, founding cities atop the skulls of defeated troglodytes, or engaging in orgies just barely short of the Pleromians depravity.

    Only one painting remained hidden behind a velvet curtain: Valdemars newest piece.

    As the summoner entered the workshop with Marianne in tow, he was surprised to notice workbenches, shelves full of parchments, and strange clockwork contraptions in a corner of the room right next to a king-sized bed. While appearing as a mere dilettante, Frigga seemed to take her studies to heart.

    Speaking of the dokkar, she awaited her guests around a table, alongside Iren, Liliane, and Hermann, and a host of strange desserts and pastries. Among the banquet, Valdemar noticed a pumpkin cooked in a cream pot, jelly spiders, and a hound-sized bat stuffed with candies. Drinks included tea, dokkar wine, and cocktails that the summoner didnt recognize.

    Finally, Frigga said before offering Valdemar her hand. The dark elf had chosen an elegant spider-silk dress for the day and put a silver brooch in her hair. I was starting to wonder if you had spurned my invitation.

    Not for anything in the world, Valdemar replied with falseness as he kissed her hand.

    Valdy, so good to see you again, Liliane said as the summoner greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, before shaking hands with Iren and Hermann. Thetter looked ill-at-ease with his hosts choice of decoration, ring at the portrait showing his ancestors defeat.

    And I see you brought a friend, Frigga said as she observed Marianne. Valdemar noticed that the dark elf didnt offer her hand and that she had already set a chair for the swordswoman. <em>She is well-informed,</em> he thought.

    Do not mind me, Marianne replied with formality. Lord Och asked me to serve as Mr. Verneys bodyguard until a certain issue is resolved. I will be invisible.

    Nonsense, take a seat! Liliane smiled at Marianne before waving a hand at the pastries. Come, theres enough for everyone.

    I cannot turn away the heir of a noble house, Frigga added with courtesy. Of course, the dark elf would try to strengthen her political ties.

    A disgraced heir, Marianne replied as she and Valdemar sat at the table. I am unwanted in Sas.

    I know someone who could help with that, Iren said while giving a wink to Liliane.

    I could always give word to Dad, the witch admitted. But its considered impolite for noble houses to meddle in one anothers affairs.

    That is true among dokkars too, but we do it all the same, Frigga replied before giving a charming nce at Iren. Dear, please serve drinks to our new guests.

    I knew you didnt invite me for my pretty face, Iren deadpanned before pouring a mix of mole rat milk and herbal brew into everyones cups. To Valdemars delight, he hadpletely recovered from his encounter with the derros. Its fine. Im d our friend here decided to leave his room atst.

    I Valdemar cleared his throat without touching his drink. I apologize for shutting you all out.

    Iren snorted. Friend, you dont have anything to apologize for.

    Its fine Hermann cleared his throat. You feel better thats what matters.

    Valdy, its alright, Liliane said with a warm smile. After what you went through, its normal that you needed some time for yourself.

    Valdemar had worried about his friends reactions, and hearing their responses filled him with relief. <em>Its nice to be understood,</em> he thought, <em>without judgment. </em>He resolved to be a better friend to them in the future, especially if they ever faced simr troubles.

    I shall forgive you for your rude behavior if I like the result, Frigga replied while ncing at the painting hidden behind the velvet curtain. I will give you this, Valdemar, you did fulfill your obligation on time. Im still thinking about the other favor you owe me.

    She would never let him forget it. Sure, but only if you fulfill your end of the bargain, Valdemar said. Marianne and I may have found the reason why my dreamscape is faulty.

    Oh? Frigga put a finger on her lips while Marianne sipped from her cup without a word. Do tell.

    Later, in private. Better not spread the word to too many people yet. I would need your oneiromancy expertise to verify our theory.

    While he didnt like her, Valdemar couldnt deny that Frigga was a dream-expert; and since she worshiped a Stranger, she was no more friendly towards the inquisition than he was. He doubted that she would spread the information, if only because he knew she would rather use it for concessions and her soul-contract with Lord Och prevented her from acting against his interests.

    The dark elf chuckled. In private? My, are you inviting me for a secret tryst?

    No, Valdemar replied tly without taking the bait.

    Valdy is above that kind of thing, Liliane added with a happy chuckle.

    Not with everyone, Iren said with a yful smirk. Liliane, in an eminent show of maturity, answered by sticking out her tongue.

    Hermann, always insightful, immediately put the two and two together. Is it linked to our experiment?

    Or the wererat cultist running around? Iren asked.

    Valdemar sighed. Does everybody know about thest part?

    The Knights of the Beast issued orders and a bounty, Marianne said before ncing at the pastries with apprehension. She looked like a house pet ncing at dinner, but unsure if she would take a bite.

    Frigga smiled before taking a piece of jelly spider, wordlessly inviting everyone else to do the same. I cant even use the Earthmouths without a health check-up, sheined. Even though I am a dokkar and immune to diseases. The sooner your Knights catch this animal, the better.

    Is it going to be alright, Valdy? Liliane asked with a worried face. I mean, I dont doubt your abilities Lady Reynard, but

    Call me Marianne, she replied. Your friend has nothing to fear.

    It is only a matter of time, Valdemar insisted, though he didnt truly believe it. He started with a piece of the cake, delighting at the aroma and swiftly changing the subject. Liliane, is this yours?

    You like it? Liliane beamed with pride when he answered with a nod. Good. He knew she would start to feel anxious for his safety if they kept talking about Shelley. You better. I dont think youll get any cake in Sabaoth, so its yourst moment of joy for a while.

    Dont expect meat either, Iren mused as he assaulted the pastries with relentless culinary brutality. The soldiers in Sabaoth all eat the same protein-vitamin bars, while the workers must do with gruel.

    Surely officers have privileges? Frigga asked with a raised eyebrow. Valdemar noticed Marianne listening in silence as she took a bite of the pastries.

    Those who try to skirt the rules get punished in front of their units, Iren replied. Lord Bethor doesnt tolerate insubordination. <em>Any </em>form of insubordination. To him, overlooking any form of corruption leads tock of discipline down the line.

    It sounds like you visited the ce, Valdemar pointed out.

    I did. Lord Och often uses me as an intermediary to deliver goods to Bethors army. Im sure Ill get to say hello before the end of your stay.

    Maybe I will visit you soon too, Valdy, Liliane said while biting into a jelly spiders leg. Dad owns many of Sabaoths foundries. Im sure I could sneak in to say hello.

    I appreciate the thought, Valdemar replied, but you should focus on your studies.

    His friend smirked. Thats the best part, I can do both! Lord Bethormissioned many projects to Lady Mathilde, especially about reverse-engineering derrotech alchemy bombs.

    How are things on that front? Valdemar asked, shivering as he remembered the trapped brains and skinless corpses in the derros undergroundbs.

    The inquisitors still dont understand how the infiltrators managed to fool psychic scans, Iren exined. Its one thing to disguise oneself, but the Knights of the Mind routinely peek into the minds of people to detect heretical thoughts. Derros have an innate resistance to mind-magic, but they arent immune to it.

    Maybe they use special dreamcatchers? Liliane suggested. If a magical item can protect dreamers from oneiromancers, another could block mind-magic.

    But derros cant use magic, Iren pointed out. Where would they have found these hypothetical magical items?

    I dunno, they could have stolen them? Liliane asked. Its just a theory.

    The dwarves do not need dreamcatchers since they cannot dream, Frigga said while snickering. They have no more connection to the Primordial Dream than to the Blood.

    This piece of information caught Valdemars full attention; Marianne, who had been reserved so far, turned her head in the dark elfs direction. I thought all sentient life shared a connection to the dream world? the swordswoman asked. As a defense system.

    Ah, you heard of that theory? Frigga smiled ear to ear. This is true of all natural life with a nervous system in our world.

    Valdemar didnt miss the implications. <em>Natural</em>?

    There are theories Hermann cleared his throat. That derros started as artificial lifeforms.

    Let me tell you something, Frigga said, eager to retake the spotlight. We dokkars descended into Undend long before your kind did. In this era, we found Pleromian ruins, the troglodytes, even the asional talkative dragon or mindworm. Each of these races, lesser or greater, left clues of their presence.

    Valdemar noticed Hermann squinting at herst words, a subtle jab against his own kind.

    It wasnt lost on Liliane either. Dont say that, she scolded Frigga with an angry re that Valdemar had never seen her use.

    Say what? the dokkar asked with a raised eyebrow.

    That there are lesser or greater races. Its wrong. Everyone can do great things.

    My dear Liliane, you cannot put a dragon and a rat on the same pedestal.

    Are you the rat or the dragon, Frigga? Valdemar asked coldly, causing Iren to burst intoughter. The dokkar red at him in response, her mask of affability faltering for a moment.

    Who cares? Liliane asked as she raised her voice. They are both sessful in their own way, just not by the same metrics. Dragons can breathe fire and live for thousands of years, true, but there are ten million rats for each of them. Mice colonized every corner of Undend, while were pushing the dragons further and further down. Which of them is better?

    I understand your point, my dear Liliane, Frigga replied though Valdemar doubted that she meant it. But all civilizations are made of hierarchies. Even this Institute who wees all species has a lich at the top and everyone else at the bottom.

    Your species is as endangered as mine, Hermann spoke with eerie resignation. There is little ce for us in the world the Dark Lords are building.

    Frigga opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out of it.

    Instead of arguing further, the dark elf fell into a deep, sullen silence; for Hermann had beaten her with the truth.

    And as he observed Friggas thoughtful face, Valdemar suddenly wondered if her arrogance and cultural posturing took root not in her pride, but denial and insecurities. The dokkars were an empire in decline; and might very well suffer the same fate as the troglodytes if they couldnt turn the tide.

    Alright, I see your point, Frigga conceded when the silence became unbearable. Each of these species left clues of their presence.

    But not the derros? Liliane asked, eager to put the argument behind them.

    No, my dear, Frigga replied slowly, regaining a little of her previous confidence. We knew you humans existed and your push below ground, while unexpected, wasnt truly surprising. The derros though? They poured out of unexplored tunnels without warning like savages. They hadnt developed the toys that make them dangerous today, so we thoroughly crushed them.

    But they still took you by surprise, Iren guessed.

    We missed an opportunity to exterminate them. Frigga sighed. I believe the Pleromians are to me. Im sure the derros are the mongrel descendants of a ve race they left behind in stasis, woken up when the Whitemoon disturbed ours tectonic activities.

    But they can still be affected by spells, Valdemar pointed out, having telekically thrown derros around in Astaphanos.

    Of course, Frigga replied with a hint of smugness. Like your warbeasts, the Pleromians always made their thralls unable to fight back against their control. The fact that derrosck the ability to dream makes it harder for a mind-mage to target them as they appear thoughtless at first nce, but a truly talented magician always finds workarounds.

    Like you, darling? Iren asked with a sarcastic tone.

    I have picked derros minds open in the past, though I wouldnt rmend it. Their emotions are as dull and gray as their skin. Theyre natural ves drawn to a strong leader. The dark elf chuckled. Maybe thats why they steal others brains.

    Has anyone figured out why the derros needed them? Valdemar asked, remembering Lord Ochs discussion with Master Loctis.

    Not yet Hermann admitted. Master Loctis is investigating though.

    Maybe well get to explore the subject in Sabaoth, Liliane said. Its the frontier with the Derro Kingdom after all.

    I I will pass, the troglodyte said. He alone hadnt touched any of the food. I am sorry Valdemar, but another project requires my full attention.

    The Painted World? Valdemar guessed.

    Yes, Hermann rasped with a nod. The Silent King showed me how I might create a true pocket dimension. A world for my kind.

    Truly? Frigga asked with a sly smirk. If you seed, would you kindly share your findings? I know a few people who would pay a great deal for a private universe to indulge themselves.

    Hermann red at the dark elf with a hint of disgust. No.

    Come on, my scaled friend, dont be so close-minded. Certainly making a new world will need resources you cannot get on your own.

    I have all the necessary tools except one. Hermann nced at Valdemar. I would need your help in the future if you agree.

    Of course, Hermann, his friend replied. I suppose you want to summon a Qlippoth as fuel?

    Yes, but Hermann shifted in his seat. Not any of them will do.

    Valdemar sipped his drink and shivered as he put the two and two together.

    A Nahemoth.

    His Painted World needed a Nahemoth to work.

    It made sense, since these entities had unimaginable control over reality and could create lesser Qlippoths from nothing; including the Collector that the two pictomancers used to fuel their Painted Room.

    You realize no one has managed to bind them to servitude? Valdemar asked his friend with skepticism. Even though he and Marianne suspected that a Nahemoth was trapped at a wells bottom, the summoner wasnt sure if it was truly imprisoned or simply unable to fully manifest in Undend.

    Im sorry, Hermo, Liliane said with a frown. But that n of yours sounds highly dangerous.

    Do not call me Hermo please Hermann pleaded. The Silent King showed me the way I can create a special painting that oncepleted with the right ritual will trap the Qlippoth with no possibility of escape.

    Mariannes eyes nced at Hermann while Valdemar thoughtfully considered his friends words.

    Forgive me if this sounds like a stupid question, Iren said, but wouldnt destroying the portrait release a dangerous creature into the world? Sounds pretty risky to me.

    Oncepleted the Painted World will be near-indestructible, Hermann replied. An invulnerable door to a self-constructed Domain.

    Unknown to the troglodyte, Valdemar might very well need to deal with a Nahemoth in the near future; and a trap capable of holding it woulde in handy. Could you trante this ritual to paper? he asked Hermann. So I can examine it?

    I would like to do the same, Liliane joined in. I know you are smart and talented, Hermann, but you shouldnt use a ritual taught by an otherworldly creature without checking it extensively.

    Yes, of course, the troglodyte agreed with a nod. I already showed Master Loctis and he was very interested too.

    So you would share that knowledge with a pile of insects, but not me? Frigga asked with a frown. I feel disrespected.

    You are, Hermann replied bluntly while ring at the painting showing his kindred being massacred. I know you put it on disy to mock me.

    The dokkar chuckled. Fine. I guess it was not elegant on my part.

    It wasnt, Liliane said.

    My dear Liliane, friends <em>support </em>each other.

    Yes, which is why Im trying to change your mind, Liliane replied inly. Im friends with both you and Hermann, and I want you to get along.

    A lost cause Im afraid, Iren said with a chuckle. They mix like oil and water.

    I am not interested, Hermann said with a sneer.

    Maybe, but I have to try, Liliane replied with surprising determination. If I cant get you two to bury the hatchet, how will our species? It has to start somewhere.

    Marianne smiled, as did Valdemar. Liliane? he began.

    Yes? she answered.

    Youre a good person.

    Liliane blushed, though Valdemar couldnt tell if it was out of happiness or embarrassment. Thanks, Valdy.

    Aww Iren said with an eminently <em>punchable </em>expression. That is so cute.

    You shut up, Liliane said while ring at him. How about we unveil Valdys new painting before I p you?

    Yes to both, Frigga said before winking at Valdemar. I leave the honor of unveiling the masterpiece to the artist. I havent even peeked at it yet.

    Valdemar rose from his seat, held his breath, and pulled the velvet curtain.

    His action was met with gasps as he unveiled <em>The Nocturne</em> to the world.

    Finishedst night with pigments and blood, the portrait showed a naked Frigga riding a giant dragon-bat with only a sapphire ne for decoration. Her posture oozed eroticism, her ashen skin glistening thanks to the advanced light and shadow effects, her sly smile and gaze enough to condemn a mans soul to damnation. But though Frigga had asked for skulls and macabre sights as a background, Valdemar settled on something else as he finished his work in the dead of the night.

    He had painted the worlds surface.

    Friggas mount flew above the frozen wastnd that the Mask of the Nightwalker had shown Valdemar, with the Whitemoons ghastly light shining upon the ruins of fallen human empires; the destructiveoids crater-eyes oversaw the dark elf below, as if she were the herald of the end times. Every crater, every star in the dark sky, had been painstakingly reconstituted to the smallest detail.

    In a way, <em>The Nocturne</em> was probably one of Valdemars best works short of the <em>Painted Door</em>. Though she had a rotten personality, Frigga was a lovely model who perfectly fit the macabre aesthetics of the surface world.

    Valdemar nced at his audience. Lilianes skin had turned scarlet and she looked about to faint. Iren examined the painted Friggas curves with undisguised lust. Hermann examined the portraits background with fascination. Marianne covered her mouth in embarrassment.

    But it was Friggas reaction that surprised Valdemar the most. He expected criticism if she found the workcking, or self-congrattions upon seeing her own beauty if it pleased her.

    Its beautiful, the dokkar said with a weak voice, a single tear falling down her left cheek.

    Instead, she looked sincerely moved.

    To his surprise, Valdemar didnt notice any hint of falseness in the dark elf; a first since he met her. She rose from her seat, her hand trailing against the paint. The portraits lighting shifted as she did, the stars blinking in and out of existence, shadows moving between the ruins.

    You used pictomancy Hermann rasped. Indeed, Valdemar had merged his own blood with the painting to better represent the vision he saw through his mask.

    Its Liliane trailed off as she recovered from seeing her friends naked form and paid attention to the rest of the painting. Inspired.

    Haunting, Marianne added upon clearing her throat, her eyes wandering to the Whitemoons terrible beauty. Its like you went to the surface yourself.

    If only she knew.

    By the Light, are you genuinely crying? Iren asked Frigga in astonishment. And here I thought you could only fake it.

    It is hard to move me, I will agree, Frigga said as she wiped away the tear running down her cheek. But it happens.

    It is surprising, Hermann agreed. From a tasteless creature

    Your cubic drawings are trash, Hermann, and a child could do better, the dokkar replied while the troglodyte choked on his indignation. But this? This is true beauty.

    Its a masterpiece, but if you show this painting in public I dont give it two hours before it gets burnt, Iren pointed out. Then again, thats the goal no?

    Frigga shook her head. I wont show it.

    Valdemar raised an eyebrow in her direction, after checking if Hermann intended to murder her first for insulting his artistic skills. <em>Unfortunately</em>, Liliane had managed to calm him down with gentle words. I thought you wanted to cause a scandal?

    I cannot. Frigga took a step back to better admire her painted copy and the cosmic darkness behind her. The plebeians wont understand. This is true beauty, Valdemar, the kind only an elite few can appreciate.

    So you will keep it for yourself? Liliane asked with a sigh of relief. Good. Its beautiful, but it will scare people.

    Her nakedness would make everyone run away, Hermann said with bitter disdain.

    Aw, and here I wanted to see how people would react to our favored elfs naked glory, Irenined. Way to ruin my mood.

    There will be other opportunities, Frigga replied dismissively. But this kind of work is something you change your mind for.

    Valdemar was quite pleased with the result, especially since he didnt need more public attention with Shelleys activities.

    Still, as his eyes wandered to the Whitemoon looking down on the world below he wondered if he would have the opportunity to walk on the surface one day. Not see through a mask, but observe the world above with his own two eyes.

    Somehow, he had the feeling that many answers awaited him there.

    Marianne had thought that they would travel to Sabaoth the old-fashioned way, but Lord Och had other ideas. The Dark Lord personally teleported them all the way from the Institute to his allys pce, bending space more than four hundred kilometers.

    Marianne didnt even know that mages could teleport so far. She thought that Lord Och could only do so in his Domain because he had altered it with magic, but such a disy of sorcery made her rethink her hypothesis.

    Here we are, the lich dered as he lifted the veil of space and time and revealed their destination: a cyclopean dome of steel supported by soulstone Reliquary pirs. Enormous phantom projectors manifested hundreds of ghostly visions on the ceiling, each representing a different location across the empire and beyond: from Lord Ochs fortress to Empress Aratras pce. Metal statues of gigantic, clockwork humanoids stood watch over a central ss and steel elevator, the only exit Marianne noticed.

    There is no door? she asked Lord Och.

    This ce can only be essed by teleportation, the lich dered as he stepped towards the elevator, his subordinates in tow. While Marianne had traveled light, bringing only her rapier and a new rifle to rece her old weapon, Valdemar carried a bag of sorcerous artifacts and the packed-up portrait of his grandfather. And it is only open to a select few. This teleportation line is avable to me alone.

    The fact that it led directly into the heart of Lord Bethors fortress spoke volumes about the level of trust between the two archmages.

    Marianne knew that Sabaoths master had been one of Lord Ochs apprentices and that the two kept a cordial rtionship, unlike what happened with Lord Phaleg. Lord Bethor had since then be the empires lead general and one of the most powerful magicians in the realm.

    Some say the most powerful, Lord Och said, having read Mariannes mind. The elevator, aplex device of ss windows held together by mechanical arms and cables, opened to let them in. Though they never came to blows for fear of mutual annihtion, if young Aratra and my former apprentice came to blows

    The elevators door closed behind the group with a squeaky noise and it began its ascent.

    I would bet on thetter.

    Marianne shivered. She had seen a hint of Empress Aratras power in the past, and to imagine anyone besting her in battle defied reason.

    All of the Dark Lords had visited Empress Aratra at least once in Mariannes lifetime; all but Lord Bethor. They said he only ever left his Domain for the Dark Lords secret gatherings or for war. Nothing else interested him.

    Is that why there are no guards? Because he doesnt need any? Valdemar asked with a frown. I sense blood everywhere, but no undead or living being besides us.

    Blood?

    Marianne closed her eyes as she focused on her psychic sight, and realized that her partner was right. She sensed blood in the walls around her, but diffused, like invisible veins coursing through the metal.

    As the elevator continued its ascent beyond the fortress confines, she received a glimpse of the truth.

    The ss windows showed her the outside world and the Domain of Saboath. The elevator ascended towards the tip of a titanic metal tower, bigger than any structure Marianne had ever seen; Lord Ochs Institute and the teau supporting it would have looked small if put side by side. The building upied the center of a fortress-city of brass, steel, and obsidian belfries, of burning forges fueled byva pits drawing heat from the very heart of the world. Volcanic hills vomited rivers of molten metal next to factories pumping alchemical fumes into the air, the smoke purified by trapped wind elementals. Armies of undead toiled on assembly lines overseen by armored knights.

    Do you see that? Valdemar whispered, as he pointed at a red circle surrounding the metal tower.

    Yes, she did.

    Rivers of thick blood flowed in the towers moat, before coursing through ss veins and pumps. The structure absorbed the fluid into itself, channeling it towards the tip.

    Whose blood is it? Marianne asked, slightly disturbed. How many hundreds of thousands had it taken to fuel this river?

    All the people my former apprentice slew, Lord Och replied absentmindedly. Those whose bodies his soldiers managed to recover. Lord Bethor rarely leaves more than ash.

    The elevator reached the peak of the tower, its gates opening into the Dark Lordsir.

    Marianne felt his terrible presence long before they reached that point. An invisible pressure had built up as they ascended, simr to the one that crushed her mind beneath Verney Castle; but where the worldwound had been alluring, this one promised only a swift death.

    Marianne felt the taste of blood on her tongue, the feeling of doom looming over her. Valdemar sensed it, his fingers clenching as he carried his grandfathers portrait. They had reached the den of a terrible and fearsome creature. A droning noise echoed in Mariannes head, while her entire body struggled to stand still. Her survival instincts screamed at her subconscious, telling her to turn away, to turn back. She was a bat courting death by entering a dragonsir.

    Even the presence beneath Verney Castle hadnt felt so menacing, so <em>deadly</em>.

    Lord Och didnt care though. He stepped into the room, his subordinates slowly imitating him.

    Lord Vr Bethor awaited them while floating above ake of boiling blood.

    The Dark Lord of Sabaoth had no need for a throne room. Hisir was instead a dome of ss housing a pool of boiling blood wider than the Institutes hedge maze; perhaps the entire tower had been created to channel it to this ce. Only a single metal tform outside the elevator remained afloat.

    Lord Bethor himself floated above the pool, meditating in a lotus position. It was the first time Marianne saw him in the flesh; she had seen descriptions and statues of the man wearing his intimidating armor, but this time he wasnt wearing anything.

    Not even skin.

    The thing before her looked humanoid, butcked skin of any sort. His surface was an ever-shifting ocean of dark and red blood, mixing like oil and water. Small tendrils rose in some points before copsing back into the body. Marianne didnt hear any breathinging from the figure.

    For a second, she dared to glimpse at him with her psychic sight only to be instantly blinded by a deadly crimson light. In it she sensed only cold fury and burning rage, so overwhelming that she had to cancel her ability before it could shatter her mind.

    This man was a volcano. A burning power stirring in its deep slumber, ready to erupt at the first provocation. She nced at Valdemar, only to find him gulping in dread and anxiety.

    If this <em>man </em>found them wanting, they would never leave this room alive.

    Only Lord Och remained quietly confident, evenfortable.

    Lord Bethor, the lich said with an emotional tone that Marianne had <em>never </em>heard him use before: <em>fondness</em>. Forgive me for interrupting your meditation. I have brought you new students.

    Lord Bethor opened his eyes and the tower trembled.

 Chapter 27: With a Caring Hand

    Chapter 27: With a Caring Hand

    Power.

    Valdemar had long wondered what made a Dark Lord who they were. Their immortality? Their ability tomand vast armies? Their unrivaled magical knowledge? Their awe-inspiring spells?

    Now he knew.

    As he opened his eyes, the aura that came from Lord Bethor dwarfed even Lord Ochs at his most intimidating. The lichs defenses had taken the shape of a mist, mysterious, stealthy, and difficult to fight. Much like his body was a puppet controlled from his phctery, Lord Ochs magic was difficult to grasp and counter. When he had briefly experienced a glimpse of the lichs unrestrained might, Valdemar thought he had seen the pinnacle of Blood magic.

    He had been mistaken.

    As Vr Bethor opened his eyes and the tower shook from his awakening, Valdemar realized that he had never understood what true power was. Lord Bethors defenses werent a mist but a volcanic eruption; his will was an earthquake. One could disperse mist in theory, at least for a time. But natural disasters could only be survived and suffered through.

    If Valdemar were to be honest, he had only ever felt the same way in the Silent Kings presence.

    This sorcerer had reached such a level of power that he rivaled the Strangers themselves.

    The sclera in Lord Bethors eyes was as ck as night, the irises a bloody red and as they manifested, the very fabric of space rippled around the Dark Lord. Tiny cracks appeared in the air, opening and closing almost too fast for the human eye to notice. Crimson bolts of lightning red up from the boiling pool beneath this absolute incarnation of strength, and Valdemar sensed his own blood echoing the phenomenon. His own bodily fluids wriggled beneath his skin, preparing to erupt out of his veins; whether to flee or fight, the summoner couldnt say.

    Lord Bethor stood up as he emerged from his meditation. As his feet hit the boiling pool beneath him, the blood surged to cover him and crystalized. Crimson te armor more intimidating than any Knights covered him entirely, with a crown of spikes atop the helmet. Only his eyes peered through the visor.

    <em>Hes stronger than his old master, </em>Valdemar realized, utterly intimidated. The lich was wiser and more knowledgeable, but his former apprentice had eclipsed him in sheer magical firepower. Much like a volcano, Lord Bethor needed to sleep and meditate to keep his own power suppressed lest it destroy everything around him.

    And he was <em>huge </em>too, short of two meters and a half with his armor on. When the Dark Lord walked to the steel tform the others stood on, Valdemar and Marianne had long knelt in submission.

    Only Lord Och remained on his feet. The lich and Lord Bethor faced one another, thetter two heads taller than his master.

    Lord Och, the giant said with a deep voice, and the respect of an old student greeting a favored teacher. You visit me earlier than I expected.

    Time is a luxury for us, my old friend, but one that shouldnt be squandered. Considering the forces moving against us, I thought it wise not to waste any second of your time or mine. Im sure you will find these two new students quite promising.

    Though Valdemar didnt dare raise his head, he sensed Lord Bethors eyes looking down on him. Do you need them alive? the younger Dark Lord asked his elder.

    I would prefer alive, the lich said with a light-hearted chuckle, but I can settle for undead.

    Valdemar grit his teeth in frustration even though he had expected such an answer. He noticed Marianne clenching her fists at his side at Lord Ochs jape.

    Good, Lord Bethor replied, his tonecking any amusement whatsoever. I shall return them to you, one way or the other.

    I would appreciate it. If they cannot survive you, they wontst against Blutgang but I know you shall know what to make of these two. Lord Och said. After you are done with this trifling matter, you should visit my abode. I have new breakthroughs that will certainly interest you.

    I shall consider it.

    Then I leave you to teach these two the ways of our dark brotherhood. Lord Och happily patted a silent Valdemar on the back. Do not worry, apprentice. Lord Bethor teaches with a gentle, caring hand.

    Valdemar doubted that.

    The lich left without a word through the elevator, leaving his apprentice and Marianne alone with Lord Bethor in a room without exit.

    For a long, agonizing moment, no one uttered a word. The only noise in the room came from the crimson bolts surging from the blood pool and the spatial cracks caused by Lord Bethors mere presence. Valdemar nced at Marianne, neither of them daring to stand up.

    Look at me, Lord Bethor ordered. Both of you.

    Valdemar and Marianne raised their heads to meet the Dark Lords gaze.

    What is your name? Lord Bethor asked Valdemar. You who follow in my footsteps?

    The summoner cleared his throat. Valdemar Verney, Lord

    Snap.

    A sharp pain erupted in Valdemars left elbow, so strongly and so quickly that his mind barely registered it. Warm blood sshed his cheek and covered the metal ground beneath his feet. His left arm started to itch like that time the derros lightning struck him. His fingers no longer answered his mentalmands.

    Because he had lost them.

    Valdemar coughed, his breath trapped in his windpipe as he looked at his severed left arm wriggling on the ground among pieces of flesh and bones. Mariannes eyes had widened in shock, her skin turning pale.

    What is wrong? Lord Bethor asked, his red eyes peering through his helmet. He hadnt even moved. This is but an arm. Reattach it.

    Valdemar hadnt even sensed his attack. The Dark Lord hadnt shattered his psychic defenses and magical protections; he outright <em>ignored </em>them.

    Realizing his life was on the line, the summoner gritted his teeth to ignore the pain and telekicallymanded his arm to return to him but his blood refused to obey him.

    A sharp pain erupted in his left knee, his flesh and bones rupturing beneath his schrly robes. This time, Valdemars jaw failed him and he let out a snarl of pure pain as he copsed on his chest. Only a phantom sensation remained from his left leg.

    I shall cut one limb each minute, Lord Bethor warned with eerie serenity, until I either severe them all or you seed

    Mariannes rapier lunged at the gap in the Dark Lords visor.

    Lord Bethor didnt even move, as Marianne crashed against the dome above the blood pool. The strength of the impact cracked the ss, while telekic force kept the swordswoman pinned against it. An invisible hand tightened around her neck and started choking it.

    Marianne! Valdemar shouted, only for another psychic attack to sever his right leg and his words to turn into a snarl of pain.

    You should have struck before I even cut the first limb, Lord Bethor scolded Marianne with scorn. If you had paid attention, you would have sensed my violent intent.

    I Marianne rasped through her tightening windpipe. I wasnt sure if I could even strike a Dark Lord

    But Vr Bethor wouldnt hear any excuse. A bodyguards only duty is to keep their charge safe from threats, <em>any </em>threat. Even if it costs them their life. Even if it means fighting a Dark Lord. That your attack would have failed anyway can be forgiven; your failure to act immediately cannot.

    <em>Hes insane, </em>Valdemar realized in horror.<em> Hes going to kill us both.</em>

    Marianne grabbed the rifle around her belt and attempted to open fire on their assant in a mad disy of bravery. The Dark Lord scoffed, and the noblewomans fingers released the weapon against her will.

    Valdemar tried to think rationally. Could he manipte his body fluids like ropes, to reattach his limbs? Should he fight back instead? Summon a monster to

    His right arm, thest limb he had left, exploded at the elbow in a burst of blood and bones. This time Valdemar bit his tongue rather than let out a sound.

    If you have time to plot my demise, you have more than enough to seed, Lord Bethor said. This is yourst chance. The neck is next.

    He couldnt defeat this monster.

    <em>Think, Valdemar, think</em> he instinctively turned his necks skin to steel to protect himself, only to realize that not all of his abilities were restrained.<em> If I can manipte my skin, maybe the flesh too?</em>

    That was how biomancers reshaped bodies like y.

    Closing his eyes, Valdemar called upon his reserves of power. Instead of telekicallymanding the blood in his severed arms, he instead focused on reshaping the flesh in his stumps. It was new and difficult, but he managed to create tendrils of veins and muscles. They erupted from his shattered left elbow and reconnected to his severed arm, bringing it back into the fold. The summoner had his extended veins and muscles stitch back to his limb like a cloth.

    Valdemar expected Lord Bethor to behead him anyway, but the Dark Lord didnt strike him. However, he didnt release Marianne. The noblewoman struggled so much to breathe that her face had turned almost blue. Her strength left her until she dropped her rapier on the metal tform, her precious weapon out of reach.

    <em>Ive got to save her,</em> Valdemar thought as he gritted his teeth and ignored the pain. More tendrils erupted from his other stumps, reattaching his limbs. It was shoddy work; some bone parts were missing and the summoners knowledge of his own anatomy wasnt perfect. But though they appeared broken, his arms and legs had returned to him.

    When Valdemar finally stitched back hisst limb, Lord Bethor finally released Marianne. She fell on the tform,nding on the metal next to Valdemar as she desperately gasped for air.

    Good, the Dark Lord said, before stopping.

    A blood bullet had stopped within an inch of his helmet and now floated in midair. Valdemars left index bled below the nail, the skin closing to cover the wound.

    What was that for? Lord Bethor asked, somewhat amused.

    You deserved it, Valdemar replied coldly.

    He hadnt expected to actually hit that maniac, but it was the thought that counted.

    I suppose I did. I admire your spirit, though not your recklessness. The Dark Lord turned the blood bullet to dust with a thought, before ncing at Valdemars steely skin. Why only cover the neck? I could have lied and hit another spot.

    A teacher Valdemar gasped. He had reattached his limbs but they still hurt at the joints. Told me that I should only cover my weak points to avoid exhausting my resources.

    Vr Bethor snorted. That is the logic of a weakling. Do only what you must to not exhaust yourself? You should instead go beyond expectations and push back your limits, until this armor bes as easy to wear as a second skin.

    Valdemar ignored the reproach before ncing at Marianne. Her face had regained its old colors, though her voice was raspy as she breathed. He put a hand on her shoulder to cast a healing spell, to help her recover faster.

    And as he used his magic, he realized that Mariannes psychic defenses were intact. The fact he could outright ignore shields and wards was the truly frightening part about Vr Bethor; even Lord Och needed to power through them first.

    You have much to learn, Lord Bethor said with contempt as he focused on Marianne. Your spirit is crippled by regrets and hesitation. Your task as a bodyguard was clear, but you hesitated. Just as you failed to make a decision when your retainer needed you most, or how you cannote to terms with your past.

    I Marianne struggled to make words. My duty is to serve the Dark Lords.

    It wasnt your duty that made you hesitate, but fear for your life. I could have been a cultist as well as a public official. Would you have let me kill him then? Where do your loyalties lie? Lord Bethor nced at her sword and rifle. Your hesitation reflects in your choice of weapons. There is nothing wrong with using tools, but you use them as crutches instead of force multipliers. You had many ways to escape my grasp. You could have used bone bullets, attacked with telekic force, or used the pool. Instead you relied on borrowed power rather than your own mastery of the Blood. How can you protect others if you cant even believe in yourself?

    Marianne looked down at the metal tform and didnt meet the archmages gaze.

    Lord Bethor didnt expect a response anyway, and quickly nced at Valdemar next. As for you, you possess limitless potential but in your obsession to reach this ne of Earth, you failed to tap into it. You do not know your own bodys limits, and worst of all, you fail to grasp the true nature of the Blood. You cannot even establish dominance over your summoned thralls.

    I would like to see you, Valdemar hissed through his teeth as he tried to use healing spells to regenerate the missing bones in his arms. Tame a Gnawer

    Lord Bethor took his remark as a personal challenge. The archmage waved his hand, and a small rift in space opened at his left. The tentacled shape of a Gnawer emerged from the crack, hissing in hunger.

    <em>He doesnt use a summoning circle?</em> Valdemar thought as he watched on, astonished. <em>Impossible</em>

    Even more spectacrly, the Gnawer didnt attack anyone. These incarnations of hunger could barely be kept in check by wards and otherwise attacked everything in the vicinity. But the mass of tentacles before Valdemar coiled like a calm snake, waiting for orders. It looked

    It looked tamed.

    If a dog disobeys, the fault lies in his master, Lord Bethor replied as he snapped his fingers, the Gnawer turning to dust instantly. These creatures exist to serve us. But how can you hope to dominate them, when you havent yet mastered your own flesh and mind? You have talent, Valdemar, but you have only scratched the surface of the summoning arts.

    Valdemars jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

    Lord Bethors tone softened, but only a little. Thankfully, you both passed my test. Though you took your sweet time and should have opted for a better strategy, Marianne Reynard, you did attempt to fight a Dark Lord to protect your charge. This takes great bravery. As for you, Valdemar Verney, you did understand andplete my exercise within the allocated time which is more than I can say for most of my would-be apprentices.

    Valdemar nced at the pool, and suddenly wondered how much of the blood within belonged to people who failed to impress the Dark Lord.

    We shall begin with an aggressive training regimen to bring out the limitless potential I see dormant within you both, Lord Bethor said as tendrils of blood slithered out of his armored gauntlets. By the end of it, you will either be counted among the empires finest mages or its obituaries.

    It wasnt even a threat, but a promise. If Valdemar and Marianne didnt improve, this Dark Lord would kill them and forget their existence. Unlike Och, he didnt even care about their potential usefulness.

    A creature of his strength had no need for tools.

    Lord Bethors tendrils searched through Valdemars possessions, examining his grandfathers packaged portrait and the journal, before grabbing what interested them.

    The Mask of the Nightwalker.

    Its dangerous, Valdemar rasped.

    And yet you kept it for study just as I kept mine, when the Nightwalker sent me a gift. The tendrils brought the mask to Lord Bethors hand. If you want to be a true summoner, you will make its power your own too.

    Lord Bethor pped the Mask of the Nightwalker against Valdemars face without any warning. The summoners skin turned cold as the artifact merged with it, transferring fresh air into his lungs.

    What you call your human form is an illusion, a prison, Lord Bethor exined. The Blood allows one to reshape their body like y, even transcend physicality. I have two legs and two arms only because I wish to, and my former master now exists as a possessing spirit. I shall teach you to reshape your body as you will, Valdemar Verney but to be remade, you must be destroyed first.

    The Dark Lord telekically lifted Valdemar above the blood pool. The summoner looked down at the substance as his own wounds fueled it, steam rising from this burningke.

    A long fall awaits you, Lord Bethor exined. This is the main artery of my tower, with the heart waiting at the bottom. The boiling blood will devour your skin and counter your regeneration; if you want to rise back to this room, you will have to heal with outside resources. But my tower will resist your attempts. To use its power, you must conquer it. You must understand the true nature of the Blood.

    Shit, Lord Och was the <em>kind one</em>.

    As he epted his fate, Valdemar exchanged one nce with the horrified Marianne. I have a question, Lord Bethor, the summoner said.

    The archmage snorted. Go on.

    Did this happen to you? Valdemar asked sharply.

    To his surprise, the summoner could have sworn he saw a sh of thoughtful sorrow pass in the Dark Lords cold eyes. Yes, Vr Bethor admitted with a grim voice, but with dragonfire.

    He released his magic and Valdemar fell into the boiling blood while Marianne could only watch.

    The summoner attempted to control it telekically, only to be met with psychic resistance. The boiling substance pulled him down, devoured his robes, and ate away at his skin. Valdemar was brought back to his hospital bed in Astaphanos, suffering the exact same agony.

    The world turned crimson and he sank.

    Marianne woke up blind.

    Only darkness and a cold floor weed her when she emerged from unconsciousness. She felt sick, her throat still sore from Lord Bethors strangling spell. She tried to rise up and almost stumbled. Her gloved hand hit a wall to her left; one made of stone from the texture.

    Her hands instinctively reached for her sheathed rapier, only to find it gone alongside her firearm. Even the smaller des hidden in her boots had vanished.

    She had only been left with the clothes on her back.

    <em>Even less than that</em>, Marianne thought grimly as she touched her face. She sensed her eyes, open and yet useless. The noblewoman didnt know if she should be relieved that Lord Bethor only took her sight.

    Valdemar? Marianne called. She didnt remember how long she had been out; her memories were a blur. Valdemar, are you here?

    Her words echoed around her, but she received no answer. Marianne was in some sort of metal tunnel from the sound. Somebody?

    She attempted to use her psychic sight even without functioning eyes, but the darkness around her remained imprable. She sensed the warmth of artificial light on her skining from above, even if her magical senses were as crippled as her physical ones.

    Had she been drugged with a potion crippling her abilities? For what purpose?

    Your sight will be returned to you, Lord Bethors voice startled Marianne. Once you prove worthy of eyes.

    Marianne tried to look at the Dark Lords direction, only to realize his words came from everywhere at once. Maybe they only existed inside her mind, the mental whispers of an insane warlord invading her neurons.

    <em>This was worse than anything I expected,</em> Marianne thought as she massaged her throat. Is Valdemar alright?

    You can check for yourself once you get out of this maze.

    Marianne gritted her teeth. She had to find Valdemar and get the hell out of here, Lord Ochs orders be damned. The lichs former apprentice had clearly gone insane. Bertrand she whispered, her throat hurting. My retainer thought that I should go to you to improve.

    You will, the Dark Lords voice said without malice. This may surprise you, Marianne Reynard, but I deeply respect people like you. You let go of love and wealth for the sake of your martial pride; this is admirable. Your only fault is that you cannote to terms with the sacrifices you made along the way.

    Is this a lesson, or a punishment?

    I do not punish, I teach.

    The noblewoman let out a sigh. Marianne had expected a harsh training regimen, but the Dark Lord had exceeded even her worst fears. She had heard rumors about his iron discipline, but this was a treatment she would have expected from the dokkars or the derros.

    I only give this training to warriors I expect great things from, the Dark Lord said.

    Still, Marianne found it a little excessive.

    Yourfortable existence is exactly why you have stopped improving, Lord Bethor scolded her with scorn. You have used your retainer, Lord Ochs patronage, and your weapons as crutches. You let your thoughts fester like an open wound, obsessing over the past and constantly second-guessing yourself. You have shackled your beautiful spirit, and we will free you from these doubts as we strengthen your magic.

    How will blinding me teach me anything? Marianne protested.

    Your sight, your hearing, your touch <em>all </em>of your senses can be refined through the Blood and be used offensively. Touch will let you sense weak points in your foes body. Your understanding of hearing will allow you to disturb others ears. Smell and taste will tell you more than sight. I will teach you how to refine your senses to perfection one at a time. Then we will move on to moreplexbat spells.

    Fine. Marianne could see the logic, though she questioned the violence of the methods.

    Mankind is threatened on all sides, Lord Bethor replied. Some of the foes you shall face in the future surpass you in power and cunning. A few may even match my strength. If you cannot survive these tests, you will not stand a chance against them and death at my hands will be kinder fate than what awaits you should the forces behind the wererat prevail.

    Marianne winced as she remembered Bertrands mutation into a monster.

    Time is a luxury you cannot afford, the Dark Lord said before adding another difficulty. I shall release a creature in this maze soon. It could be in ten minutes or an hour. It will hunt you down like a dog, and if it catches you you will not die, but there will be pain.

    Charming. Unlike Hagith, Lord Bethor was clearly fonder of the stick than the carrot.

    What must I do then? Marianne asked as she walked into the tunnel, using a hand to stand against the wall. Maybe if she focused on her hearing, she could find her way. That was how bats locate objects in dark caverns, from what she understood. Escape before it catches me?

    You must find the exit using the spell I shall teach you. The creature only adds an additional motivation to learn more quickly. Lord Bethor marked a short pause. If you listen well and prove as talented as my old master believes, you will escape unharmed. However, I must warn you that even my best soldiers get caught at least three times.

    Marianne forced herself to smile defiantly.

    I will break this record, she said. I am ready.

 Chapter 28: The Tree of Life

    Chapter 28: The Tree of Life

    It took him hours to reach the bottom.

    Valdemar had long stopped feeling pain by then, or anything else for that matter. The boiling blood had consumed his skin and his pain receptors along with it, leaving nothing but the yed meat underneath.

    Any other person would have perished from the experience, the flesh stripped from their bones. But even this charnel pit could only counteract Valdemars regeneration. His body generated biomass faster than the boiling blood could erode it, but not fast enough to let him recover.

    There was no denying his inhuman origins now.

    The Mask of the Nightwalker had survived the descent as well, pumping fresh air into his lungs. Its icy surface contrasted with the searing warmth of the bloody pit and its magical vision allowed Valdemar to see even in the deep darkness of Bethors tower. In this case, blindness might have been a mercy.

    The Dark Lord said that hisirs hearty at the bottom and Valdemar thought he meant it figuratively. He wasnt.

    The summoner hadnded on a pulsating, beating bed of meat. Countless bodies had merged together, their flesh intermixing into a vast field of arms, eyeless faces, and festering blisters. Bloated wound-pits inhaled the boiling blood only to pump it back into slimy arteries above. The tunnel through which Valdemar had fallen was only one of many.

    All the corpses whose blood fueled the tower had fused in its core. Derros, dokkars, humans, troglodytes, warbeasts, surface monsters Lord Bethor did not discriminate. Valdemar even noticed the rotting skull of a colossal dragon peeking out of the structure, its bleaching bones half-sunk by fleshy tendrils. The gtinous, quivering structure spanned as far as Valdemars vision could see; maybe it ran underneath the entire Domain.

    And if he couldnt escape, the summoner would be part of it.

    <em>At least nobody is looking, </em>Valdemar thought as he observed the ceiling. Flesh and organic material covered the bloody arteries and walls of the tower, but none of them had eyes. Not even the gods would gaze into this dark hell, this deadly abyss.

    Valdemar attempted to redirect the blood to lift himself back to the surface but he felt resistance. An opposing force pushed back against his will, denying his magic, denying his power, denying him. Valdemar thought that Bethor himself had stripped him of his magic, but the more he struggled, the more he doubted.

    The <em>blood itself</em> refused to obey.

    Without his magic, Valdemar attempted to swim back to the surface the old-fashioned way. His body was too weak from the descent and refused to move.

    <em>Maybe I should reshape my arms,</em> Valdemar thought. His own bodys resources were already strained countering the boiling of his flesh, so he turned to the festering heart for sustenance.<em> I could reattach my limbs. Maybe I could create more.</em>

    Hands grabbed his yed arms.

    Valdemar looked on, horrified, as the eyeless faces of the abyss looked at him. Before he knew it, the heart of the tower started pulling him into itself, adding his flesh to the whole.

    <em>No,</em> Valdemar panicked, trying to break free. But the more he struggled, the deeper the heart pulled him in.

    <em>We are one.</em>

    These words were not words. No mouth uttered them. They were just chaotic feelings that his empathic mind struggled to trante.

    The hateful flesh carried the malice of the dead.

    Valdemars true sight told him that the souls were long gone, but their grudges still infested their remains. Their lingering feelings had coalesced into a shapeless force; not a soul, but a haunt, a resentful will at the very heart of the world.

    And now, it wanted Valdemars flesh too.

    <em>Let me go, </em>the summoner asked. When his plea went unanswered, he started giving orders with his will backed by magic. <em>Let me go, I said!</em>

    But though Valdemar was skilled in the Blood, the collectives power dwarfed his own.

    <em>Your lord has no power here, red prince, </em>the hateful flesh replied. <em>Our king cast you down with us.</em>

    The hateful flesh existed in fear of the Dark Lord above. It hated and worshiped him in equal measure. Vr Bethor was a god and the corpses were his throne.

    What was one more body buried beneath the foundations?

    Time lost its meaning.

    Valdemars face had joined the living tapestry at the towers bottom, only his mask peeking out of the flesh. The word body meant nothing to him anymore. Without skin, all the flesh looked the same; the sinews, the veins, the nerves and the organs had interconnected with a thousand pathways. He had be a cog in a living machine.

    And yet his mind endured.

    Maybe it was the Mask of the Nightwalker that allowed Valdemar to keep his sanity. Something in it repelled the hateful flesh. Or maybe it would be a gradual process, his will eroded over the years until he surrendered his individuality.

    It would never happen.

    <em>We are one, </em>the flesh said.

    <em>Without me, </em>Valdemar thought as he tried to focus. His mind pushed back the whispering cacophony.

    Should he sleep and dream? Close his eyes and think of the well? Would his nightmare startle even this hateful flesh and make it recoil?

    <em>No connection here, </em>the collective replied as it sensed his n. <em>No escape. Only walls.</em>

    Valdemar couldnt sleep. To dream meant to dive into the collective unconscious shared by all living things, but the tower acted as an impermeable skin of steel keeping his mind walled in.

    This entire ce worked simrly to his Painted Field; an enclosed realm separated from the outside world. A pocket realm, made of flesh rather than paint. Neither could he summon anything. Nothing could enter or escape this cage, not even calls or pleas. Like a bottle of wine, a lid kept everything inside.

    A gatekeeper called Vr Bethor.

    Though this abyss had many arteries, they all converged at one ce at the summit. The Dark Lord heard Valdemars attempts to call interdimensional outsiders to his side and cast his demands back into the abyss.

    But were all paths truly closed to the summoner?

    Valdemar focused on the mask he wore, losing himself in the cold. This time, he didnt even need to sleep to dream of the surface.

    The boiling abyss of Bethors tower vanished, swallowed by an even deeper darkness. A cold frozen wastnd of snow and flensing wind expanded before his eyes. The ruins of an elven cityy buried beneath a great cier next to a frozen sea. The biting cold could turn steel brittle and chill the soul.

    The Whitemoon overlooked him from the night sky and answered his existence not with whispers, but silence. Sometimes purple auroras red in the heavens, only for the darkness to drown them as soon as they appeared.

    In truth, Valdemar found the experience oddlyforting. The silence and mental separation from the hateful flesh eased the burden on his mind, allowing him to rest and recover mentally. The silence came as a relief.

    Valdemar looked around himself, but found the world smaller than in his first dream. He towered over frozen houses identical to those he saw in the Silent Kings realm, although his steps produced no sound. The winds flowed around him as if he were part of the atmosphere itself, a living void.

    He moved towards the frozen sea by no will of his own. His body, if it was even his own, walked by the will of another. Only when Valdemar reached the shore did he stop and kneel. His ckened, wed hand swept snow aside, polished the ice underneath, and looked at his own reflection.

    The visage that faced him didnt belong to a man or any creature native to Undend. Its shape vaguely reminded Valdemar of a gaunt humanoid, but with elongated legs, crooked horns, and too many arms for a man. He couldnt see the creatures skin within the darkness, though he noticed patches of white fur and ck scales. A spiraling white crater marred its face, a cold volcano oozing mist rather thanva. Valdemar observed as the reflection opened its vertical maw, but he saw neither fangs nor throat; only the ckness between stars and icicles bent into the shape of tentacles.

    The Nightwalker.

    As Valdemar looked through the Strangers eyes, so did it peer through the mask.

    <em>What are you? </em>Valdemar thought. <em>What do you want?</em>

    For a moment, he thought the ancient entity couldnt hear or understand him. That the mask only stopped at letting them share their sights.

    But then the creature raised a wed, crooked hand and pointed it at its reflection.

    <em>You? </em>Valdemar thought, trying to understand the creature.<em> You are me?</em>

    Another hand covered the creatures crater of an eye, but only half of it. A wed finger pointed at the obscured side of its face, then back at the reflection.

    <em>Half? Half of me?</em>

    No. Not halves, but sides.

    <em>You are the me from another side? </em>Valdemar tried to trante. The Nightwalker hadnt made a sound so far, and appeared unable of vocalization. <em>Which other side?</em>

    The Nightwalker looked up, and Valdemar gazed at the Whitemoons ghoulish visage. Only then did Valdemar realize the truth in all of its horrors.

    The Whitemoon was more than a rogue moon.

    It was a Stranger with a herald of its own.

    And since sides implied a conflict of some sort Valdemar guessed he might have found the answer to an ancient question that bothered countless mages across history: why had the Whitemoone to this world?

    To wage war on another Stranger.

    Maybe it had tried to freeze the worlds surface in an attempt to y the creature upying Undends tunnels, only to find it warmly hidden beneath the worlds crust; out of reach from the cold and the alien horrors the rogue moon brought with it.

    The Dark Lords knew the truth too; or at least Lord Och and Bethor certainly did. Had they covered it up to prevent a panic? To avoid revealing the existence of the eyes and their immense reach?

    <em>What does it have to do with me? </em>Valdemar thought, knowing the Stranger would hear him.

    The Nightwalker focused back at the frozen sea, before raising a hand and shattering the ice with a mighty blow. The Stranger gazed at its cracked reflection.

    Break the ice?

    Valdemar thought for a second that the creature meant it literally, before putting the two and two together. The Dark Lords had set a barrier separating the surface from Undend below, allowing only a few explorers to pass through. Whitemoon cultists regrly attempted to break these wards and receive blessings from their alien masters above.

    The Nightwalker wanted him to follow in their footsteps.

    <em>No, </em>Valdemar replied, knowing better than to let this ancient horror descend into Undend. Monsters from the surface hungered for warm blood, and from its cultists actions, this creature was no different.

    And even if it was only interested in ying the eyes, the Whitemoon hated life itself. It had caused the extinction of countless species and the survivors sheltering in Undend would suffer the same fate if it had its way.

    Sensing his refusal, the Nightwalker raised its many hands at the skies. The freezing winds swirled above him, carrying snow and shards of ice. Purple auroras came to life above them and joined the storm, their lights bending into a dancing spiral that swallowed the skies. So terrible was the weather that the frozen city in the background trembled, the cier copsing from the sheer power of the battering winds.

    It was a powerful spell if Valdemar had ever seen one.

    But not one from the Blood.

    It was a form of magic unlike any Valdemar had ever seen; not one that focused on manipting life and death, but forces that were never alive in the first ce. The wind, the cold, even cosmic radiation. He tried to understand how it worked, to analyze how the Nightwalker manipted the elements, only for the Stranger to cancel his spell. The snow fell down to earth as the winds calmed themselves and the auroras died in the skies. The Nightwalker had given his audience a demonstration, but it asked for something in return for more.

    Power.

    The Nightwalker promised Valdemar magical secrets and power in exchange for his cooperation. It was a bribery attempt in all its crudeness. <em>Even so, what would I use this magic for in a world of the dead? </em>Valdemar asked rhetorically.

    The Nightwalker once more covered half its face, a finger moving from one side to the other.

    Switch sides? Was the Nightwalker offering Valdemar to be one of the alien creatures inhabiting the surface? To cast away his humanitywhat little half he had inherited from his motherand embrace the cold?

    It might have been an appealing offer to a depraved cultist eager for power, but not to Valdemar. He didnt bother trying to deceive the Nightwalker either; if it could understand the summoners thoughts, then lies wouldnt work.

    Still, it cost nothing to be polite. Valdemar thanked the Nightwalker for the information it had shared, but firmly denied his offer.

    The summoner sensed no anger from the Stranger, nor did he receive threats. The creature simply looked at its cracked reflections without a word.

    The creature was patient. Cold could turn even the hardest steel brittle with time and it was unchanging as ice. It would wait for Valdemar to change his mind.

    The summoner closed his eyes and the connection with it, his mind returning to the bottom of Bethors tower. He meditated on what he had learned and tried to make sense out of it.

    There was a war going on, with mankind caught in the middle.

    The Blood was a connection, life; even the undead were half-alive. This Cold that the Nightwalker used relied on forces that were never alive in the first ce. It reminded Valdemar of how elementals manipted fire or wind. The Blood and the Cold were opposites.

    <em>But my tower will resist your attempts. To use its power, you must conquer it. You must understand the true nature of the Blood.</em>

    Lord Bethor said that Valdemar could only escape by figuring out this riddle. He thought he already knew what the Blood was, namely that it was an esoteric force of magic; but the existence of sorcery beyond the usual framework called that into question.

    And if the Blood was truly linked to life and death, why couldnt Valdemar use it normally in this pit of flesh? Even if magic created sympathetic connections between individuals, the summoner should have been capable of tapping into his own bodys reserves to cast spells just fine.

    Unless unless he had misunderstood his magic entirely? That no matter how strong he could be, he still needed to tap into an outside element to use the Blood at all? Something that the tower cut him off from? But what? What was missing?

    Valdemar opened his eyes, his buried mask facing the fleshy walls.

    The eyes were missing.

    A ck pool that transformed life into something else

    A primordial dream acting as a subset of arger Strangers reverie, protecting sentient life from the raw emotions of the Qlippoths

    Something that had existed long before mankind delved into Undend from the very dawn of the world

    <em>Its </em><em><strong>its </strong></em><em>Blood, </em>Valdemar realized in horror.<em> The blood of our progenitor.</em>

    Separation was an illusion. All life in Undend shared a single lineage; they were but pieces of something farrger than themselves.

    <em>The cancer theory seems to be the likeliest exnation for the biological oddities we observed, Lord Och; mutant cells breaking off from the body, weakening it and causing a reaction.</em>

    It all made a grim kind of sense now.

    But what was Valdemars ce in all of this? A tool to destroy the infection? A way to reincorporate it? Or an unforeseen mutation, a cosmic biological weapon?

    <em>You are the me from the other side.</em>

    These were questions forter. Valdemar would have all the time to ponder them once he escaped this hellhole.

    Now that he understood the true nature of the Blood, the summoner considered the hateful flesh with new eyes. He had tried to control it the way a master brought a dog to heel, but you couldnt inspire fear and obedience in your own hands or feet. Either it was a part of you or it wasnt.

    His mistake was to see this heart of corpses as an outside element he had to bend to his will; instead of a separated part of himself that he had to reincorporate into the whole.

    This time, Valdemar stopped struggling. The flesh weed him at first, weing him into the whole.

    Only when the summoner sprung the trap did it try to reject him, and by then it was toote.

    This ce was a cancer separated from the Blood outside, a mass of corrupted cells lumped together and cut off from the body outside by walls of steel. It would exist forever in istion, growing with each piece it absorbed. You didnt sew a tumor into a healthy body, and so Valdemar didnt try.

    Instead, his will became a virus. His nerves spread to the corpsework trying to consume him and his ckened blood with it. Valdemars consciousness infected the hateful flesh, and where strength had failed, subversion prevailed.

    <em>My consciousness isnt in my brain, </em>Valdemar realized as eyes opened on the fleshy walls. Not those of his progenitor, but his own. <em>Its in every cell of my body.</em>

    He was not a human, but the blood of a god incarnated into a man-shaped vessel. As long as a single part of him remained, his soul would remain anchored to this ne.

    No wonder Lord Och advised him against leaving severed arms around. With time they would be mindless cancers of their own.

    Valdemar could have probably infected and subverted the entire tower given time, but it would take more mental effort than he was willing to invest. It would change him too, and he might stop thinking of himself as human and be something else. Something like Vr Bethor or his father.

    So Valdemar stopped once he had assimted enough flesh to rebuild a body of his own; albeit onerger and capable of carrying him back to the surface. His human self was buried in a three-meters tall armor made of harvested corpses lumped together. A hundred hands worked as one to carry him upward through the artery leading back to the summit.

    The boiling warmth of the blood around him eroded it slowly, until nothing but a husk remained once he saw the light above.

    At longst, Valdemars hands, his real hands, emerged from the boiling pool. Air hurt as his nerves reformed, veins pumping ck blood regenerating through his arms. He lifted himself onto the metal tform as he cast away his borrowed flesh-suit, letting it fall back into the towers artery. If anything, Valdemar felt like an amphibian crawling onnd for the first time.

    Lord Bethor was meditating in the middle of the pool, his armor gone and his eyes were closed. Valdemar didnt interrupt him. He instead rested on the steel tform, waiting for his native regeneration to kick back in and rebuild his skin.

    The process took only minutes.

    Once he had fully recovered, Valdemar removed the Mask of the Nightwalker and put it aside. He didnt care if he was naked. He was just happy to breathe true air again.

    Do you understand now? Lord Bethor asked without opening his eyes. What the Blood is?

    Valdemar sighed. This is a body, he whispered, and we are cancerous cells.

    And the Dark Lord confirmed his theory. All life native to Undend was born from the ck blood your bodyguard saw, primordial slime that slowly evolved into humans, dokkars, dogs, and dragons over eons. We began to develop a consciousness separated from our godly progenitor, walling our minds off from its dreams and nightmares. I daresay our existence was aplete ident.

    Valdemar blinked as a crack in space opened right above him and fresh mage robes fell through onto hisp. The summoner didnt even know teleportation could work with lifeless matter alone.

    Ialdabaoth, Lord Bethor said as Valdemar clothed himself. The word resonated in the summoners mind like a dark promise, an ominous echo. That is the name the Pleromians called our maker. It dreams, Valdemar. It mindlessly manifests the Qlippoths in its slumber, but though it often shows shes of awareness they neverst. It is a sleepwalking god, almighty, unaware, unconscious.

    We only wield a piece of its power, Valdemar whispered, the clothes feelingfortably warmpared to the boiling blood of the tower.

    Yes. Though our skills in magic vary from the strength of our souls and bodies, we all borrow a sliver of our makers magic to a degree. It can affect even life from outside its lineage to a degree or call to other dimensions, as your meeting with the Silent King showed.

    And it had attracted foes from the darkness of space.

    How do I fit in all of this? Valdemar asked. Why was I born?

    Unlike his teacher, Lord Bethor deigned to give a straightforward answer.

    You are a bridge, he said. Not only between worlds, but between our progenitor and mankind. Perhaps you were meant to unite us back with Ialdabaoth or to destroy us, the way we burn tumors. I do not know, and what the gods want does not matter. You are cursed with free will Valdemar Verney, as we all are.

    Valdemar wondered if he could infect other beings of flesh with a single mind. Maybe that was the purpose that the Verney cult intended for him, to serve as a weapon to return castaway parts into the whole.

    If so, he wanted no part in it. Valdemar liked his free will and didnt want to take it away from anyone else.

    <em>No wonder the Primordial Dream reacts badly to me,</em> the summoner thought with a grim form of amusement. He had a strong connection to it by virtue of his mixed parentage, but he was a subversive element inside a rebellious corner of the dreands. <em>I truly need to build a new Painted Field here.</em>

    Lord Bethor, why did you create that thing at the bottom? Valdemar asked as he moved back to his feet. What insight did you hope to gain?

    That will be a discussion for another day, Lord Bethor said. Clearly, he wasnt one for idle chatter. Now that you understand yourself and transcended the limits of a human form, we shall focus on body-modification and shapeshifting spells. We will alsoy the groundwork for you to learn advanced summoning arts. You will be like a dragon, aspetent in melee as at range. But first

    Yes?

    You will get some rest. Tiring you out beyond what is necessary will only make you slower, and the first ritual I shall teach you cannot suffer a failure. It will influence your entire summoning career.

    This time, Lord Bethor opened his eyes.

    It is time that you summon your familiar.

 Chapter 29: The Death of the Senses

    Chapter 29: The Death of the Senses

    The machine was right above her, stalking her, <em>hunting </em>her.

    Marianne could hear the <em>clinks </em>and <em>nks </em>of its armor reverberating through the thin metal ceiling separating them. Though her gaze remained obscured by blindness, her mind visualized the creature from the sounds it made: a gaunt, two-meters tall skeleton of steel, with syringes and needles for fingers and a metal mask for a face. She heard the gears and servos grinding in its elongated limbs and the biomechanical organs pumping nutrients into its artificial brain. Her Blood-enhanced nose smelled the scent of oil and rust that followed it everywhere. Her hand sensed the sound of the machines feet traveling through the walls.

    But the only taste in her mouth was that of her own fear.

    Lord Bethor had guessed correctly. Pain was a great motivator to learn.

    A drop of blood traveled down her cheek, but Marianne didnt dare to move. She was already holding her breath the best she could, in spite of the scars, the bruises, and the metal needle in her chest; a parting gift from herst encounter with the monster.

    The noblewoman knew that running wouldnt save her. She had tried before, when the creature cornered her after Lord Bethor taught her how to use her hearing to walk straight and find her path. First she attempted to fight, only to discover that neither her fists nor bone bullets could get past the creatures iron shell; it didnt even have enough blood in its synapses for a telekic strike.

    Marianne had tried to escape after realizing how outmatched she truly was. But the machine moved with superhuman speed. Even after she called on the Blood to strengthen her legs and lungs, it swiftly caught up to her. Its metal hand had grabbed her head, smashed it against a wall with enough force to break her nose, and carved a scar on the left side of her face; one deep enough to scratch the cheekbones.

    It mauled Marianne the same way a cat would have yed with a rat, tossing and kicking her around. And when it got bored after a full minute of that brutal treatment, it stabbed her in the chest with a metal needle right between the ribs. It hadnt struck any vital area, but it impaired her breathing and hurt whenever her muscles contracted. Marianne hadnt been able to remove it and doubted that anyone but a trained surgeon could.

    Afterward, the machine had stopped beating her and fell inanimate for a few minutes. It gave Marianne a short window of time to put some space between them.

    How long had she haunted this maze, unable to find an exit while pursued by that <em>thing</em>? Hours? Days? With only Lord Bethors asional advice to rely on, Marianne had long lost all sense of time.

    She controlled her breathing and slowed her own heartbeat to a crawl. It wasnt a skill Lord Bethor taught her, but one that she developed on her own while trying to avoid the machine. Its hearing acuity was downright superhuman.

    Mariannes efforts seemed to pay off, the machine walking along the tunnel above without any change in behavior.

    Then the drop of blood fell from her face and onto the cold iron floor.

    Marianne immediately heard the machines servos grinding to a screeching halt, its metal head snapping down to look in her direction. Could its eyes see through the floors and ceilings? Marianne didnt think so but she felt its gaze all the same.

    <em>Think, think,</em> she thought as the machine froze like a cat trying to hear a mouses breathing. Marianne called upon the Blood, and though a ceiling of steel stood between her and her foe, her magic ignored it.

    There was little to target though. The machine had no heart, only pumps; no veins, only cables. In a way, it was the perfect killer. It didnt need to feed or sleep, and it had no higher thoughts to distract it from its purpose. It had none of the usual frailties of a physical body, nor an opening to exploit.

    But it still had a brain and synapses. And if it could hear Marianne, it must have had ears.

    Desperation gave her new strength and allowed her to focus like never before, with even the pain in her cheeks and chest unable to distract her. Using her enhanced hearing inbination with the Bloods psychometric insight, she formed a biological map of the machines nervous systems. She noticed the neurons linked to a biomechanicalbyrinth of steel inside the creatures head; its inner ear.

    The Blood couldnt alter metal nor the sound that entered this artificial organ but it could alter the signals traveling to the brain. Marianne was no neuromancer or illusionist. She wouldnt be able to make an borate deception.

    <em>I just have to slightly alter what it hears, </em>Marianne thought as another drop of blood fell down from her face. <em>Same sound, different direction.</em>

    She imagined the drop falling up rather than down, reaching the ceiling above the machines head rather than the floor underneath its feet. She clung to this illusion so much that she started to hear it inside her own mind, the Blood echoing her lie. <em>Believe, believe</em>

    The drop fell onto the floor and the machine looked up.

    This time, it didnt remain still. It crawled down on all fours, the joints in its limbs twisting until the creature looked more like a lizard than a humanoid form. It dashed at impressive speeds through the tunnels, but in the wrong direction. Believing Marianne to be above itself, the machine moved further and further away from her.

    Once the machine was too far away to hear hera distance she had learned through trial and errorMarianne allowed herself a breath of relief.

    Good, Lord Bethors voice echoed in the corridors. You have learned this spell well.

    Marianne knew better than to answer. While the machine ignored the Dark Lords words, it <em>always </em>picked up on her own.

    Her teacher hadnt expected a back-and-forth anyway. Illusion magic and telepathy are not so different, Lord Bethor exined. In both cases, you must conceptualize the input that the individual must receive and send them to their brain through the Blood. Obviously, it is easier to trick a fellow human than a dragon, as these beasts use different senses than our own.

    Which implied that the machine had been intentionally designed to be targeted by illusions.

    The more you can put yourself in your targets shoes, so to say, the better your illusions. To function, telepathy and mind-reading demand you understand the signals in the targets brain and the oscitions of the soul. Enhancing your senses is a necessary step towards mastering both arts.

    When Marianne grew certain that the machine was many rooms away, she returned to exploring the maze. She gasped as her chest ached each time her muscles contracted to breathe, the metal needle embedding itself deeper and deeper into her flesh.

    <em>Turn left and go deeper</em>, Marianne thought as she remembered her mental map of the maze. She had explored a good chunk of it, though each dead-end made her paranoid. She always wondered if the machine would sneak up on her from behind, leaving her with no way out.

    This ability to gather information through the five senses and tuning it with the Blood can go beyond mapping a monsters innards, Lord Bethor continued to dispense his wisdom. It can be used to learn the history of an object by studying its structure in-depth. If you escape this maze, I expect you to refine this power. You will find it useful for your investigations.

    <em>If </em>she escaped.

    The Dark Lords words said it all.

    <em>I mustnt lose heart, </em>Marianne thought. <em>Despair is the death of the spirit.</em>

    She <em>refused </em>to bleed and starve away in this tomb of metal with only a mindless machine forpany. Marianne hadnt epted death beneath Verney Castle and she wouldnt start now.

    Her quest led her into a single corridor longer than all the others so far. Marianne considered changing her route, as it was too long for her to detect where it led. For all she knew, it might be a dead-end, a trap.

    But her Blood-enhanced senses detected a few things. The smell of blood. Hair on the floor. The distant sound of a thick liquid traveling through plumbery.

    <em>Corpses were dragged here, </em>Marianne thought. <em>More than one.</em>

    Lord Bethor had said that the machine caught the best of his students three times. Which meant the facility had been used by multiple people in the past; and considering the Dark Lords methods, not everyone had made it through the process alive.

    Which meant the corpses had to be disposed of. Lord Bethor didnt waste resources so Marianne doubted he would use an incinerator. In all likelihood, his failed students remains would be repurposed into undead soldiers or their blood extracted to fuel his tower.

    Maybe the corridor led to an exit. Maybe it led to a bloody pit. But it was a potential escape route all the same.

    Marianne walked into the hallway with a steady rhythm. She had grown better about walking without her sight, relying on her inner ear to keep her bnce. The echo of her footsteps bounced off the steel walls, giving her a crude vision of the room.

    Marianne wondered how the world would look once she recovered her sight. Her eyes itched to the point she had to blink repeatedly to avoid crying tears. She thought Lord Bethor had taken her sight with a spell, but now she was convinced he had instead used an alchemical concoction. She had noticed foreign substances traveling through her eyes and blood, altering the frontal areas of her face.

    She worried the blindness might be permanent if she didnt escape. Her enhanced senses could cover this handicap but sightlessness would cripple her swordsmanship. That was her greatest fear. To see all her efforts and sacrifices she made to be a warrior worthy of the Reynard legacy go to waste.

    <em>Is that what matters most to me? </em>She thought. <em>Not to honor Jrme or to protect Valdemar as I promised but to be the best? When stripped of everything, is that all that remains inside me?</em>

    Her questions went unanswered.

    Or rather, Marianne knew the answer within herself but she was afraid of vocalizing it. She didnt want to face the selfish desire inside her heart, the one that lurked beneath her words of remorse or her promises to help others.

    And for now, it didnt matter. Questions would wait until after she secured her escape and survival. Lord Bethor had been right, doubts and hesitation didnt have their ce in a dangerous situation. Her mind had to remain clear as freshwater.

    After a few minutes, Marianne finally reached the corridors end. As she worried, it led to a dead-end but not the kind she had feared. Her fingers slowly trailed on a reinforced door of steel so thick that artillery would struggle to bring it down. She knocked on it with her fingers, focusing as the noise traveled through it and echoed a wide space beyond.

    She had found the exit.

    But it was <em>locked</em>.

    No, she whispered as her hands traveled along the door. She tried to find a handle to seize, a lock to pick, a hole, anything. But the exit was airtight and smooth as a mirror. No

    The door only opened from one side, and she was on the wrong one.

    This had all been a trick.

    I must make my own exit, Marianne realized out loud. Could she break down the door? Could she reinforce her body enough to bend its steel? What other choice did she have?

    Lord Bethors voice echoed through the maze, but he neither confirmed nor denied her conclusion. Instead, he only harshened the tests difficulty.

    I will remove the fetters binding my warbeast, the Dark Lord dered. Now it will hunt you to the full extent of its abilities. And if it catches you, it will kill you.

    Now that Marianne hadpleted one part of the test, he moved the goalpost further ahead.

    The noblewoman held her breath as her enhanced ears picked up a clicking noise echoing through the maze. Was the machine trying to intimidate her with mechanical roars or cries? Somehow Marianne didnt think it was capable of scare tactics. Its mind was unclouded by emotions or distractions. If Lord Bethor had given it the order to kill Marianne, all its actions would serve this end.

    But how would making noise help that creature locate its prey?

    <em>Bats,</em> Marianne realized in horror. <em>Echolocation.</em>

    The machine was sending noises across the tunnels and analyzed how it bounced back. Marianne tried to hold her breath and remain still, to no avail. Unlike when the machine tried to detect her by listening to the noise she made, it didnt matter what she did. Sounds bounced off her body and the creature registered a human-shaped item hiding in a tunnel.

    The clicking noise turned into a strident cry and the machine started chasing her.

    Marianne turned around and put some space between her and the exit. She knew that she would never get out of the corridor before the machine caught up to her location, but she couldnt afford to have her back against the wall.

    Lord Bethor wanted a fight.

    He would get it.

    Marianne adopted a fighting stance even as she struggled against the pain in her chest and cheeks. Blood dripped on her lips as she reinforced her fists with ayer of bones. She wasnt as good with her hands as with her rapier, but she had to use the tools avable.

    <em>Wait </em>Marianne thought as she looked at her right arm with her enhanced senses, examining the bone beneath the flesh. <em>I have a sword.</em>

    Marianne clenched her teeth and struggled against the sheer pain in her arm, as she drew upon the Blood and her bodysst reserves to grow a new bone. The sharp end of a de erupted from her forearm, centimeter by centimeter. Blood and bone bullets caused much pain, but <em>nothing </em>like this.

    Fuck, she whispered, tears raining down her cheeks and mixing with her blood. Fuck

    By the time she managed to get a bone rapier out of her right arm, the machine had already entered the corridor. Marianne grabbed her weapon, its hilt closer to a fingerbone than anything she had ever wielded, and prepared herself to fight for her life as blood poured out of her wounds.

    The machine caught up to her in seconds while running on all fours.

    It moved as fast as Shelley, but unlike the unskilled wererat it struck with lethal precision. The machine didnt shriek a threat or offer a warning. It simply rose on its two back legs and aimed for its targets chest with its ws.

    The motion took less than a second, but to Marianne, it seemed tost forever. She heard the sound of the servos, sensed the vibrations in the air, and smelled the oil. Her mind gathered all these sensations into a perfect picture.

    Marianne dodged by sidestepping to the left and struck back with her rapier.

    Her bone de was as strong as steel and her aim true, but the weapon bounced off the creatures armored chest. However, at the moment of contact, Marianne enhanced her sense of touch to analyze the vibrations. Her mind visualized the results and mapped out the internal workings of the creature. She saw the weaknesses in the joints and how the biomechanical organs all fit together.

    <em>It has a brain and spine, weak points</em>, Marianne thought as the machine raised both of its arms and tried to find a hole in her defense.<em> I have to strike the joints in the neck and sever it.</em>

    To allow the creature to turn its head, the builders made the neck flexible, fragile. One strike at the weakest point would do the deed.

    Like a true duelist, Marianne waited for the machine to attack and leave itself open to retaliation. Its left hand twisted to attack from below, but as it moved the noblewoman noticed that the joints didnt move as they should.

    A feint!

    The true attack came from the right and aimed for her head. Metal needles lunged for Mariannes carotid with enough force to behead her. The machine had reached the same conclusion as she did and identified the neck as a weak spot.

    Wagering everything in this one strike, Marianne let the monsters weapons approach as close as possible before dodging. The needles grazed her skin and hair without drawing blood, like a razor brushing against an invisible beard. Carried by its momentum, the machine moved a step forward just as Mariannes rapier lunged for its throat.

    The de struck true.

    Guided by herplete awareness of the space around her, Marianne hit the machine in the weakest part of its gaunt neck. Her rapier hit the spine between the joints and went through it. The noblewoman let out a roar of sheer anger as she used the de like a lever, wagering all her strength and weight in the motion. She felt the needle already inside her chest tear through her muscles and draw blood, but she powered through.

    Her sword cracked along its de, but the machines neck broke first.

    The head went flying like a bottle cap and bounced off the walls, while the decapitated body lost its bnce. Marianne took a step back as it copsed on the ground before her feet, her broken de showered in oil and spinal fluid.

    For a moment, the noblewoman could only breathe loudly, her body as tense as a cable. She almost expected the beast to rise back to its feet and strike her by surprise once again.

    It stayed down.

    And Marianneughed.

    All the stress umted in thest hour left her body, reced with joyful ecstasy. A rush of endorphins traveled through her body, filling her with pleasure and the satisfaction of a perfect victory. She basked in her senses, and even the blood dripping from her chest, cheek and arm felt as pleasurable as a warm water shower.

    Do you understand, Marianne Reynard? Lord Bethors voice asked with a hint of satisfaction. The lesson I meant to teach you?

    Marianne breathed heavily, before calming down enough to answer. I was so distracted looking for an exit that I failed to study my foe closely.

    If she had focused on fighting back instead of trying to escape the creature, she would have noticed the structural weakness earlier.

    Yes. The beast defeated you in your first encounter because it focused entirely on one task at a time. Its mind was unclouded by judgment or distractions. It decided the goal it would pursue, and when it did, it dedicated all its strength towards achieving it.

    Though she couldnt see, Marianne turned her blind eyes to the beheaded machine. The head was alive, desperately trying to move to get at her. In spite of the damage it suffered, it <em>still </em>wanted to kill her. You want me to be <em>that</em>?

    Of course not. Tools cannot learn and improve. In our ability to innovate and think, we humans are superior to animals, mindless golems, and auto-machines. I do not ask that you relinquish your intellect or self-awareness. Only that you focus them on what truly matters. A de cannot cut left and right at once. You must direct all your energies in one direction if you hope to prevail.

    Marianne chuckled, though she didnt even understand why herself. <em>I dont even have enough strength left for a healing spell,</em> she thought. I broke your record.

    You did, Lord Bethor conceded. You have passed this first round of training and your sight shall be returned to you. You may see small changes in your visual acuity.

    Slowly, a veil was lifted off Mariannes eyes. She saw the lights above her head, the iron walls, the white metal carcass at her feet, and the ck oil dripping from its wounds. <em>Its like that pool,</em> she thought as she remembered Verney Castle.<em> Its wrong</em>

    It was wrong.

    Something was wrong.

    She saw the ripples in the oil and the blond hair on the machines ws. She saw the veins in the creatures biomechanical red eyes and the slight traces of rust around them. She saw the slight weaknesses in the ceiling, the tiny cracks in the steel.

    What Marianne looked at her bloodied hands and the tiny microscopic hairs growing out of them. She noticed the countless lines on her skin, every single tiny scar. Her mind started counting them all, her eyes unable to look away. What is this?

    You were fed a mix of the Elixir of True Sight and other alchemicalponents through your eyes, Lord Bethor exined. It will heighten your visual acuity and reflexes to near-perfection.

    Marianne saw the microscopic ck spots in her blood, and the tiny eyes looking back at her inside them. <em>Its inside us,</em> Bertrands words echoed in her head as the wound in her chest ached. She saw the colors of the eyes as droplets of blood fell on the floor, spreading the infection further.

    Its its too much Marianne closed her eyes, but what little light filtered through her eyelids still caused her pain as her mind processed all the colors making up the visual spectrum. She put her hands over them in an attempt to cast her gaze inplete darkness. Its too much!

    She was seeing <em>everything </em>in perfect detail, all at once.

    Too many things Even her eyelids had eyes looking back at her. I cant I cant think

    Your struggle will not be to learn how to use your sight but to process the information, Lord Bethor said without any warmth. Valdemar will take care of your wounds as you rest and figure it out. I will give you some time, and then we shall resume training.

    Marianne let out a scream as her eyes itched so much that she struggled against the urge to tear them out.

    By the time the door opened, her nails had sunk into her skin.

 Chapter 30: Only Human

    Chapter 30: Only Human

    The bed was cold and Valdemars fingers were warm.

    Marianne grunted as they stabbed into her back like daggers. Although he had used some kind of healing spell to lessen her pain, her enhanced sense of touch reduced its effectiveness.

    If you could please stop moving, Valdemar asked. While Marianne kept her eyes closed, she visualized him perfectly with her other senses. He had to kneel beside her bed to operate on her naked back, his teeth grinding as he tried to extract the machines needle from her chest. Her upper clothesy on the steel floor and close to the only door. The more you strain your muscles, the harder it is for me to remove the needle.

    Ill try. Marianne breathed slowly as she did in the maze, trying to rx the best she could. But when Valdemars fingers touched the needle, she had to bite her pillow to suppress the pain. The bandage on her facial wound started to itch, and the Soulstone around her neck felt as if it burnt against her skin.

    Vr Bethor afforded his apprentices no morefort than the smallest of his soldiers. He had given them a single room with bunk beds, a small desk, a shower, and toilets. The cellMarianne couldnt call it anything elsebarely reached nine square meters with a window too small for someone to jump through.

    Valdemar had started redecorating it though. The few times Marianne had managed to open her eyes, she had seen expanding paintings on the walls representing moths, foxes, flowers, dunes, and alienndscapes. This Painted Field would help Valdemar sleep, hopefully without summoning a phantom hamlet.

    I am going to remove the needle very slowly to avoid causing internal damage, the summoner said. I need you to exhale as I do it. Think of something pleasant and rxing.

    Like what? Marianne asked dryly. She didnt want to sound snappy, but she had had a rough day.

    I dunno, a warm hot bath? Reading a novel? Valdemar hesitated. Making love?

    Marianne couldn''t help but turn her head and re at him before instantly closing her eyes as the visual stimuli overwhelmed her. She buried her face in the pillow once more.

    Was the suggestion so ridiculous? Valdemar asked with a sigh. The first thing thates to mind for me is painting, but I dont think you do that to rx.

    <em>I will think of the warm bath, </em>Marianne thought while she tried to imagine warm water on her skin. Now that she thought of it, could she cast an illusion on herself? Trick her own mind to ignore the pain?

    As it turned out, lying to oneself came more easily than deceiving a killing machine. Marianne imagined herself in her familys manor bathroom, enjoying a warm bath with only shes bringing her back to reality.

    <em>Hes fusing his hand with my back, </em>Marianne realized as she wavered between dream and reality. She had to bring down her own psychic defenses to prevent a bacsh from the operation, but her enhanced senses gave her a detailed picture of Valdemars activities. His hand had turned into roots digging between her bones and muscles, extracting the needle inch by inch.

    As their flesh briefly became one through the medium of his hand, Marianne noticed the subtle abnormalities in his biology. Valdemar looked human, with human organs, but his blood moved seamlessly even without his heartbeat. The heart <em>helped</em>, but it wasnt <em>necessary</em>.

    <em>A grail, </em>Marianne thought, <em>a gods blood in a human-shaped container.</em>

    One, two, Valdemar whispered, before swiftly extracting the needle. The sudden pain made Marianne grit her teeth and dispelled her own illusion. Three.

    His fingers magically knitted her flesh together, closing her wound. Marianne let out a breath of relief, made even better with no metal needle to impair her lungs.<em> It feels better than the warm bath,</em> she thought. Thank you, Valdemar.

    Its longer than my index finger, the summoner said as he examined the needle. Im surprised you could even talk with something like this so close to your lungs.

    And Im surprised you could survive in boiling blood without your skin.

    Im sure I would have been appetizing once fried, Valdemar said, and Marianne couldnt help but chuckle. Ill let you rest before we operate on your face.

    No, she said before clearing her throat. Sorry, umm if you are willing to, I would like to be done with it as soon as possible. If Im not asking too much.

    As you wish. Give me a few minutes to clean my hands.

    Would that change anything? Marianne asked as she grabbed her clothes and put her shirt back on. She sensed a slight change in Valdemars blood pressure before he turned his head away. <em>How can he be embarrassed after painting Frigga naked?</em> Marianne wondered with amusement. Still, she appreciated his gentlemanly behavior.

    The needle and the des that cut your face were infected with special bacteria, Valdemar exined as he put the needle on the desk. They disrupt blood pressure and clotting. If you couldnt use the Blood, you would have probably be paralyzed or bled out.

    I I didnt know, Marianne admitted, surprised and disappointed in herself. I didnt notice any poison.

    You wouldnt have unless you had either ess to biomancy spells or perfect awareness of your body, Valdemar replied as he moved to the shower room. Your healing spells are passable, but not good enough to expunge that kind of infection.

    Marianne sat on her bed, her back against the steel wall. I was never good at healing magic, she admitted. Valdemars remark had put her in a sorrowful mood. When I was young, I thought it didnt matter. That I should instead improve my strength so much that I wouldnt need to heal in the first ce.

    What changed your mind? Valdemar asked over the sound of running water, washing his hands over a small sink.

    I saw someone I loved bleed out in front of me. The sight of Jrme agonizing in a puddle of his own blood, life leaving his eyes as his shed throat turned into a red fountain Marianne would never forget it. He looked at me. His eyes begged me for help. And all I did was panic.

    Valdemar closed the water. Marianne heard him look at himself in the bathrooms mirror as he tried to find an answer.

    <em>He</em> was your fianc, wasnt he? he guessed.

    Yes, she admitted as Valdemar returned, kneeling in front of her. His left hand brushed against her facial bandage before slowly removing it. Im still not sure I could have saved him with my current spells.

    Dont do that, Valdemar said as he put her bandage aside and examined the scar. Dwell on what could have been. It leads nowhere.

    I know. Vr Bethor thought the same. Valdemar?

    Yes?

    Do you believe it is alright to make sacrifices for your dream?

    Of course I do, Valdemar said as he cast a spell on her.

    Marianne focused on his magic, and as she did she realized he was expelling the machines leftover bacteria from her wound. Even if the sacrifice in question is someone else?

    Depends if the goal is noble or not. If I had to kill one person to save ten with no third option in sight, I wouldnt hesitate. Valdemar paused for a moment. Youre not asking me, but yourself.

    Marianne sighed. Should she tell him? She had only ever discussed this with Bertrand, but her friend and retainer wasnt here anymore.

    I told you before, Valdemar reminded her as his fingers touched her facial wound. The de had cut to the bone, leaving it exposed. You dont have to say it if you dont want to. Everyone is entitled to their private life.

    No, its alright, she said while clearing her throat. But I would be thankful if you did not repeat what Im about to tell you.

    Instead of continuing with the surgery, Valdemar knelt and joined his hands. He didnt say a word and waited for Marianne to speak.

    I loved him. Jrme. Even if our betrothal had been arranged. Unknown to their parents, they hadnt even waited for the wedding to consummate their rtionship. But there was one thing about him that I <em>hated</em>.

    That he wouldnt let you wield the rapier?

    The mere mention of her missing weapon made Marianne feel naked and iplete. Lord Bethor hadnt returned it to her. He wouldnt give it back unless she learned to stop relying on it.

    He said he would let me borrow it behind closed doors, the noblewoman replied. Jrme My father chose him because he was everything he had wanted in an heir. A dashing young man, well-loved, with a promising military career among the Knightly Orders and a talent for swordsmanship. He was someone mindful of appearances and he knew that my ancestors rapier was a regalia of the Reynard family. That whoever carried it was its head.

    Valdemar listened without a word and Marianne was thankful for that. It was easier for her to articte her thoughts without interruptions.

    Even though we loved each other, the marriage between our families was a political alliance first and foremost, Marianne exined. Jrme was meant to inherit both my fathers titles and his own estate. He was afraid that if he let me wield the rapier, then others wouldnt recognize him as the true new head of House Reynard. That it would weaken him politically.

    Marianne sensed movement in the air around Valdemars face. Using the Blood, she identified his expression as a sneer of contempt.

    I know, she said. Thats how I felt too. Eventually, we had an argument and I demanded a duel to settle the rapier issue. I said I would give my all. We met in the gardens when everyone was asleep or upied, with Bertrand as our only witness and referee.

    Valdemar finally spoke. You didnt warn anyone else?

    No, Marianne replied. Nobody would have sanctioned the duel, and our retainers would have warned our families to prevent it. Even Bertrand wanted to speak up until Jrme and I ordered him to remain quiet.

    Valdemar didnt offer any condemnation. How did the duel go?

    I dominated him from start to finish. Jrme had been good and gave his best, but he was never her equal in battle. At one point I saw an opening to disarm him. He tried to stop with his sword, but his parry identally drove my de through his throat. As he fell on the ground with his neck bleeding, I realized he wasnt wearing his Soulstone. Because he trusted me.

    She sensed Valdemars body tense up, the paint on the walls rippling. <em>Hes angry, </em>Marianne realized to her shock. <em>At me? </em>She tried to ignore the reaction as she continued her tale. Bertrand was no expert healer, so he asked me to stay with Jrme while he looked for help. By the time doctors arrived, he had already perished in my arms.

    It was an ident, Valdemar whispered while trying tofort her, though Marianne still sensed an undercurrent of suppressed anger in his voice.

    The Empress ruled it in that sense too, but my father told me in no uncertain terms that the noble families of Sas wouldnt want to associate with the Reynards so long as I remained. I was Marianne cleared her throat. I was so ashamed and guilt-ridden that I didnt even daree to Jrmes funeral. Bertrand he felt guilty too. He never said it, but I know this is why he followed me into exile.

    You are ming yourself for the wrong thing, Valdemar said firmly. You didnt sacrifice your fianc, you simply threw away the life you could have had with him. You didnt make the choice to y him.

    Did I? Marianne asked grimly. I was happy to beat him, Valdemar. To give him bruises. When I struck him, I wondered if a part of me

    A <em>part </em>is not the <em>whole</em>, Marianne, Valdemar interrupted her harshly, to her surprise. She had never heard him use such a harsh, venomous tone, not even when he spoke of the inquisitors who arrested him. Did you strike Jrme with the intent to kill? Did you want to murder him when you raised your sword?

    N-no, she blurted out. Of course not.

    Then its settled, Valdemar grunted. Poisoning your husband to inherit their fortune is not the same thing as identally pushing him down the stairs in an argument. The result may be outwardly the same, but the context is wildly different. Intention matters as much as the expected result.

    Yet youre angry at me too, Marianne pointed out.

    Im angry, the summoner admitted, but not at <em>you</em>.

    Marianne froze, before tensing up. Say it.

    You wont like it, he warned her.

    We agreed to tell the truth to each other, Marianne reminded him as she clenched her fists. Say whats on your mind.

    Valdemar took a long, deep breath before speaking. It was beyond foolish to walk to a duel with a master swordswoman without a Soulstone. As stupid as walking into a fire.

    Mariannes nails sunk into her palms so deep, she worried they might draw blood. Dont say that.

    Do you even know the cost of a Soulstone? Valdemar asked with a hint of envy. Marianne, if I had been rich enough to buy one I would have carried it everywhere. Everyone in my family would have done the same, just like youre doing right now. This is a chaotic world and death visits as it wills. Your fianc courted it.

    He <em>trusted </em>me, Marianne snapped back angrily. <em>Why am I raising my voice?</em> She thought, surprised by her own reaction. Jrme trusted me and died for it.

    What does trust have anything to do with it? Valdemar marked a short pause. Did you wear your Soulstone during the duel?

    Marianne gritted her teeth.

    You did, Valdemar stated. Because you knew there was a chance Jrme <em>could </em>win, even if you were better than he ever was. Because you respected his abilities.

    You imply he didnt respect mine?

    Thats how ites across to me. Duels are restricted for a reason, Marianne. Walking into one without any protection, even if its a supposedly friendly one Valdemar shook his head. That doesnt sound like trust to me. More like <em>arrogance</em>.

    I bested him in practice, Marianne hissed, her tone cold as ice. He knew I was better.

    Then why didnt he carry the Soulstone?

    Because he thought I wouldnt have hurt him! By now, she was shouting.

    So he thought you would go easy on him even though you were ready to throw your marriage away for the prize? Valdemar snorted. Did he truly know you?

    Marianne recoiled as if pped.

    Marianne, we <em>barely </em>know each other and I can tell you always give your all in a fight, Valdemar argued. Enough to attack a <em>Dark Lord</em>. Jrme must have been willfully blind to think you would pull back your punches or truly conceited.

    Marianne tried to keep her calm, and failed. You know nothing.

    Ive never been in love with a woman, so I cant say about what Jrme felt but I loved my grandfather enough to defend Earths existence even in the face of mockery and criticism. Why wouldnt he bear the burden of shame and let you bear that sword?

    His political career

    Exactly, he interrupted her. Because he cared more about his <em>self</em>-<em>image </em>than <em>you</em>.

    Marianne opened her eyes.

    The overwhelming visual stimuli caused her pain, but it didnt overwhelm her. She could have been pierced with needles everywhere and her re would have remained unwavering.

    Valdemar stood before her, with his human face twisted into worry, his human eyes full of concern, and her blood dripping from his fingers.

    Why are you looking at me like that? Marianne asked with anger, restraining herself from pping him. She couldnt stand pity.

    Because you are trying to see things that werent there, Valdemar replied with a sigh. Like I did. Nostalgia blinds us to the bad parts of the past.

    Is that what this is about? Marianne asked as she nced at the covered portrait in a corner of the room. Youre projecting your disappointment with your grandfather on me.

    This time, it was Valdemars turn to wince. He lowered his head and looked at the floor with bitterness. Marianne instantly regretted her words, but didnt find the strength to say so out loud. She closed her eyes, a tense silence settled between her roommate and her.

    Maybe, he admitted. Probably. But that doesnt make what I say untrue.

    Marianne gritted her teeth, but didnt answer.

    The noblewoman should have brushed his words aside like Captain Lopolds but she couldnt get them out of her head, to her surprise. <em>Did I truly misunderstand everything? </em>she thought. <em>Jrme cant have he respected me.</em>

    Marianne thought back of all her moments with her fianc, trying to look for any hint of contempt behind the smile, searching for any hidden meaning behind his words when they discussed with other nobles. She knew he was always eager to boast about his skills in battle, about how only his future wife could make him sweat. Marianne thought he had been boasting for the both of them, but had it been a subtle mockery instead?

    It had been years since that duel, and she had been young and lovestruck beforehand. Had she glossed over Jrmes ws? Idealized him? Maybe Marianne was the one who didnt know him at all.

    She was mulling over her own memories when she noticed Valdemar was speaking out loud.

    If I had spent all the time researching summoning and Earth on biomancy instead, maybe I could have healed my mother from her mental illness, he said with surprising gravitas. I could have created a Soulstone by studying necromancy or stolen another. Thats how I tortured myself after she died: by thinking of the roads I hadnt taken.

    Now it was Mariannes turn to listen. He had given her that courtesy, she would return it.

    After a while Valdemar sighed. Hard as it sounds, I realized that I put my dream above my mothers well-being. I loved her, but I wanted to show everyone the sun even more. I regret I couldnt save her <em>and </em>continue my research, but I made my choice. Just as you chose to duel Jrme even knowing the possible consequences, because you prized your warriors pride more than marital bliss.

    You still want to reach that ce? Marianne asked, trying to clear her own thoughts. Even knowing your grandfather might have deceived you.

    Valdemar nodded slowly. Yes. Even if the dreamer wasnt perfect, the dream is worth following. Because no matter what my grandfather raised me for, our people still deserve better than this tomb of stone and flesh.

    His next words were heavy with determination.

    We deserve better than <em>the eyes</em>.

    Only then did Marianne realize that they had stopped looking back.

    Even when she closed her eyes before, they had been there in the darkness, peering through the blood vessels in her eyelids. But they had vanished. For how long?

    <em>Since Valdemar touched my cheek, </em>she realized. She thought he had only expelled the machines bacteria but he had instead removed the eyes <em>inside </em>her eyes.

    To make her feel better.

    Mariannes anger vanished, like waste cleared by water. I need to think, the noblewoman said, unsure how to react.

    She heard Valdemars nod, his head moving through the air. His hand touched her cheek while his magic fixed her bones and knitted her flesh and skin together.

    Is this your first time operating on someone? Marianne asked, trying to change the subject to something lighter. I could tell you were ufortable during the surgery.

    I raised and restored corpses as undead for clients, Valdemar said, before clearing his throat. Operating on a living subject is a harder task, but I think Im good at it. I find biomancy surprisingly easy to grasp.

    <em>Like almost all fields of the Blood,</em> Marianne thought. She couldnt help but feel slightly jealous of him, even though she knew it was irrational. He needed an entire magical apparatus to even sleep normally.

    By the end, Marianne touched her own unblemished skin. Her festering wound had closed without even leaving a scar.

    You know, Valdemar said as he rose back to his feet, I would like to paint you one day. You have a very beautiful face.

    Im not sure how I should take that remark, Marianne said with a thin smile. But it would be with pleasure.

    Take it however you want, you are quite graceful, Valdemar replied with a shrug. Are your eyes

    Im getting better. She could take a look for a few seconds before all the visual information overwhelmed her. Before she couldnt even open her eyes. You look normal.

    She heard him freeze in ce. What do you mean?

    My eyes see everything now, but you look the same as you always did, she exined. Human.

    I see, Valdemar said when he meant <em>thanks</em>. Marianne didnt need enhanced senses to notice his palpable relief. You know, Im supposed to summon a familiar tomorrow. From what I read, the creature reflects the summoner.

    Marianne could read between the lines. <em>Hes afraid the familiar will take more after his fathers side of the family. </em>Im sure it will be a good friend and creature, she tried to reassure him. If intention matters as much as action, then surely nurture counts as much as nature.

    I hope so. Valdemar let out a sigh before raising his hand, paint spreading to cover the window outside. We better go to sleep. Lord Bethor is going toe wake us up in six hours.

    Alright, Marianne said, exhausted herself from both the operations and her own tests. Shey on her bed and covered herself with a bedsheet. Good night.

    Good night, he replied before climbing on the bunk bed above her own.

    A few minutester, when Valdemar was snoring lightly, Marianne opened her eyes. She gazed at the darkness of the room and the painted forms dancing on the walls, at the blood coursing through the alienndscapes. Then she looked up at the bed above her.

    She hoped that Valdemar had better dreams than her own.

 Chapter 31: Unfamiliar

    Chapter 31: Unfamiliar

    He dreamed of rats that night.

    They crawled in a grotesque pit dug in ck oily stone, squeaking and gnawing on the flesh of the innocent. Hundreds of sharp teeth sank into the bones of unbelievers, breaking it down to feast on the marrow. Their bloodshot red eyes saw movement in the darkness, their ws unable to let them climb the smooth walls of the pit outside.

    A bat-like monster enjoyed a feast of its own at the pits edge, drinking the blood of a human maiden it had caught by surprise. Its fangs had torn apart her neck and shattered her skull, but it wouldnt let a single drop escape its ravenous thirst. Once the beast had reduced its prey to a dry husk of skin, it tossed it in the pit and let the rats feed on the leftovers.

    The underground temple was asrge as a cathedral. Once it had been the chest and innards of a giant creature whose bones and flesh had turned to stone. Rib-like pirs held the ceiling in ce as cultists prayed before a central ck monolith covered in eyes and grasping maws.

    <em>His </em>altar.

    His eyes observed his congregation. Fifty of them were in attendance, but he heard many more praise his name. Most were humans, but not all; lycans walked among them, whether they bore the rat gue or the wolf one. Their minds were fragile, wavering between the meandering illusion of humanity and the animal instinct. Even a few dark elves were in attendance, while a wererat apostle led the sermon.

    Lepers desperate for release. Dregs of society, left to rot in the gutters with no one to care for them. Jaded aristocrats searching for forbidden pleasures only a god could offer. Old men wishing for new youth, and young girls asking for love. When they wore their red robes and pallid masks, they all looked the same.

    No matter where they came from, they were of but one flesh.

    They had heard his call, and <em>listened</em>.

    Ialdabaoth! They chanted. Our progenitor, Ialdabaoth! Father of All!

    They prayed for many things. For power, for love, for pleasure. For release from the pain, the illnesses, and the ravages of age. For immortality and eternal youth. For rapture.

    For <em>more</em>.

    As his apostles gue spread among the downtrodden and his handmaidens dreams tempted the minds of the elites, more asked to join the brotherhood. Followers of false idols abandoned their faith to turn to the true god. His power grew with each new piece of rebellious flesh returning to his embrace.

    His mother watched the proceeding from a dark dais. She was younger and more beautiful than ever, her white skin unblemished, her raven hair as lustrous as the deepest darkness. Her eyes had turned bloody red, gazing down on the congregation with the cold curiosity of an alien, soulless thing. All the worshipers desired her fiercely, but none dared to approach her. She existed as an object of desire, a forbidden fruit: tempting, but forever beyond reach.

    The time to feed was at hand.

    Who shall offer his life to the Master of Masters? the rat apostle asked. Who shall prove their faith?

    Many whispered, but none obeyed themand. They were new. Tempted, but not loyal yet. The chosen had taught them fear and desire, but not faith.

    Atst, a man stepped forward, revealing the fur and the tumors beneath his red hood, the animals face beneath his mask. He had lost his teeth and his skin had been wrinkled by time, homelessness, and alcohol. Mankind had cast him out long before the apostles gue took root in him, and his life had been forfeited to lung disease.

    Take me, the man rasped, his hands trembling. Save me. Please

    Do you submit to the knife? The rat apostle asked, revealing a sacrificial athame hidden beneath his robes. Only the faithful will be rewarded.

    But the man submitted all the same. His faith was born out of despair and loneliness; this man had nothing left to lose but his life. The mutant knelt before the altar, and let the apostle do his work.

    The faithfuls screams filled the temple, as the knife peeled the skin off the sacrifices flesh.

    Other cultists trembled and recoiled at the temple, though his mother continued to watch with unblinking eyes. Fear filled their weak hearts and some nced at the bat beast; only fear of retaliation prevented them from running away. Others watched on with curiosity and fascination.

    Skins were prisons. They split individuals from the whole, denying him the brotherhood of the united flesh. The skin let minds build barriers from the darkness of <em>his </em>dreams and allowed the soul to lie to itself. It allowed the rebellious flesh to imagine a future away from <em>him</em>.

    At longst, when the sacrifice had shed his skin like its clothes, the altar deemed him worthy. One of its mouths opened wide, a ck tongue slithering between sharp fangs. The yed sacrifice offered no resistance as the organ coiled around his waist and pulled him down the maws gullet. The altar swallowed him whole while the rat apostle took the skin for future use.

    <em>He </em>felt the sacrifice inside him, gnawed and chewed by his altar. The mans flesh joined with his own, returning from which it came. And as this willing soul embraced his authority, his magic started to reshape him. His soul surrendered its shell of humanity and weed the eldritch kinship.

    After a minute of gnawing and chewing, the altar spat out the reborn sacrifice.

    Gone was the twisted, sickly mutant that came in. A naked man stood before the altar, tall, strong, healthy, and vigorous. His muscles were stronger than steel, his skin a smooth and perfect disguise. His body radiated power and sexual maism. His hands could shatter stone and no weapon could im his life.

    The cultists watched on, their fear reced with veneration, lust, and desire. Before them stood the pinnacle of mankind, the ideal man. The sacrifice had walked into the altar a piece of worthless lead and walked out made of priceless gold.

    Worthy! the rat apostle shouted in ecstatic delight, his words echoed by the congregation. Worthy!

    His mother was pleased as she watched. The flocks fears were gone, reced with hope and ambition. Their faith had been strengthened. All of them would lie, and steal, and kill to join the worthy. For the promise of power and immortality. And in due time, all would forswear their souls and flesh.

    They were themselves, but they were also him.

    They were masks for him to wear, husks through which his will manifested.

    A god with a thousand faces and a million limbs.

    You will never grow old, his mother said as she descended from the dais to congratte the faithful. The cultists all fell silent to hear her prophetic words. You will be young forever. Your seed will take root in any soil, and no woman will resist you. Death will never im your soul, so long as your faith remains true.

    Thank you, the sacrifice said as he touched his perfect skin with his fingers. This feels better than <em>anything</em>.

    His mother smiled. It looked perfect and genuine, but it was anything but. In truth, she looked down on these creatures so easily led astray. They entertained her, like sheep greeting their master before walking into the ughterhouse.

    She was a higher being, a handmaiden of the Nahemoths, and among the greatest of the Qlippoths. Her god had willed her into existence for a mission, and she would fulfill it. No matter how many lives she had to take.

    She nced at her flock of sacrificialmbs. All of you can be the best version of yourselves through the will of Ialdabaoth, his mother said. All of you can be reborn, if you swear loyalty to the Red Grail and the Holy Blood who are one!

    I swear! an old man said while raising his hand, eager to escape the icy breath of death.

    I swear! a nobleman joined in, lusting for the forbidden knowledge and power no money could buy.

    I swear! a lovestruck woman dered, desiring the beauty that would catch her crushs eyes.

    All swore one after the other, to his mothers pleasure.

    Go forth and spread the word! shemanded them. Shepherd the faithful into our flock and subjugate the unbelievers! Cast down the false idols of the Dark Lords and their thralls! Exterminate the gray dwarves who would deny our fathers will! Only by proving your faith shall you join the worthy and the Promised Land!

    Her electric words filled her flocks hearts as she waved her hand. Space bent around the cultists, letting them slip from the temple and back into the world outside. Go kill in his name, his mother ordered the sacrifice. Stalk the night and teach them fear. Show them that as long as they hold the prince away from us, their subjects will pay the price. Let our enemies howl in despair, for we have returned.

    As you wish, the sacrifice said with a smile, his teeth pointed like a great beasts fangs. The former human relished the task; society had rejected him, and now he had the power to strike back. Vengeance always tasted better when sweetened with blood.

    His mother teleported the sacrifice away, remaining alone in the temple with the rat apostle. Her pet bat came to her, submitting to her will.

    Their faith is weak, the rat apostle rasped with contempt, his athame still covered in blood. Good Shelley doesnt trust them. They do not <em>understand </em>yet.

    They will serve all the same, his mother replied while scratching her vampire pets head. But I agree that you alone were faithful without expecting anything in return. As a reward for your devotion, I shall grant your wish.

    Good Shelley licked his lips. How many more skins?

    Twenty more at least, with the right age and sex. Women will help sew it, but they cannot contain the male essence. Once it is done, I shall guide it back from the beyond and the mortals shall know fear.

    Good Shelley has awaited this day for years, Mdy, the rat apostle rasped. It shall be done. The good Shelley lives to serve.

    I know. His mother smiled and looked at the altar. See how devoted he is, my prince? All that we do in your name?

    His countless eyes blinked.

    I know you are watching, the <em>thing </em>disguising itself as his mother said with soft lips. I cannot stop you. This world is your birthright.

    He is watching us? Shelley cackled in delight and knelt. Good Shelley begs for forgiveness, my lord! He thought you were dead, dead like Crtail!

    Crtail?

    Come to me, the woman whispered, as softly as a lover. I am here. I was made for you, to guide you, to serve you. To lead you to your glorious destiny. I am your handmaiden, your ve. Come to me. I will show you true pleasure.

    He felt her words echoing in his mind like twisted temptation. The sensation filled him with a mix of horrid lust and horrible revulsion. How did this <em>thing </em>dare to use his mothers face and offer him such a thing?

    The Dark Lords are deceiving you, my prince, the creature whispered, her red eyes haunting as they peered into his own. They will use you for their own selfish gain and then they shall discard you. Dont you want to know who is at the wells bottom? He is in great pain, my prince.

    He closed his eyes, and Valdemar woke up gasping for air.

    Valdemar? Marianne asked from the bed below his own. Valdemar, what is going on?

    The summoner didnt answer immediately. Instead, his eyes fixated on the painted ceiling above his head. Once it showed pictures of moths and the Silent Kings realm. Now the surface had changed, representing the twisted temple of the flesh and its terrible congregation.

    His mother stood at the center of it all, looking back at him.

    They are rebuilding their cult? Lord Bethor asked, his eyes peering through his armors helmet.

    Valdemar nodded as he finished drawing the summoning circle on the ground with his own blood. It was his mostplex one yet,bining hexagrams, alchemical symbols, ancient runes, and multiple other symbols forming borate patterns. If anything, Valdemar was thankful for the ritual. He needed something to take his mind off the dream.

    Due to the risks involved with summoning familiars, Lord Bethor had elected to run the ritual in an isted chamber in his towers bowels though Valdemar wouldn''t go as far as to call it a room. It was a cube of steel with only one door for exit.

    <em>This man allows himself no pleasure,</em> the summoner thought as he observed Vr Bethor. He had yet to see any kind of decoration in the tower that didnt serve a functional purpose.

    Marianne kept her arms crossed, her back against a wall. She had barely spoken since she had noticed the transformed Bertrand among the painted congregation.

    What I dont get is why I dreamed at all, Valdemar said as he finished the circle. He thought his Painted Field would prevent it. It was even worse than the well.

    The Painted Field works as an artificial dreamscape, Vr Bethor pointed out. A dreamscape protects you from intrusions from the Primordial Dream and the Outer Darkness. However, I suspect that by mentally closing yourself to these two realms, your power sought release through another medium.

    The Blood, Valdemar guessed as he looked at his own hand.

    No matter how hard he tried, he couldnt escape his bloodline.

    Yes, Lord Bethor said. We have no reason to trust the Liliths words, but if she is speaking the truth, then she cannot prevent you from observing them. This could prove invaluable to gathering information on their activities.

    A Lilith? Marianne asked with a frown. I read about them in the Bestiary.

    Theyre the handmaidens of the Nahemoths and the second strongest Qlippoths, Valdemar exined while clenching his fists in rage. They embody lust, especially the perverse and the taboo kinds; but unlike other Qlippoths they dont have a stable form. Instead, they possess living vessels, devour the soul until only a husk remains, and then spread madness and destruction.

    Marianne took the information and quickly put the two and two together, biting her lips. Theb, she whispered. That cloud thing that emerged from the ck wound and attacked me

    She was trying to possess you. Valdemar gritted his teeth in rage. And when she failed, the Lilith settled on an easier vessel.

    That disgusting creature had jumped into one of his mothers clones, despoiling her flesh and taking it as a host. She had then teleported to Astaphanos to haunt him, only to retreat and avoid exposing herself. She must have contacted Shelley afterward, masterminding the wererat gue and turning her attention to recruiting new cultists. With her powers, it would have been childs y to find vulnerable, ambitious people and entice them with promises.

    Though the thought of attacking his mothers image filled him with revulsion, Valdemar knew what he had to do when they crossed paths. He couldnt let that foul monster make a mockery of his genitor.

    And the vile way she had tried to tempt him the thought still left a disgusting taste in his mouth. <em>Ill kill her,</em> Valdemar promised with a heart full of anger.<em> Ill add her to the cohort of the dead.</em>

    <em><strong>Dead like Crtail.</strong></em>

    Shelleys words still haunted Valdemar, alongside what the Lilith had said.<em></em>He<em> is suffering? </em>The summoner thought. <em>Nahemoths dont have a gender. It makes no sense.</em>

    Had the cultists been trying to confuse him and tempt him with knowledge? Or maybe Mariannes gut was correct, and this Crtail word mattered more than it seemed.

    I still dont get how they can teleport, Valdemar admitted. Liliths have multiple abilities, but bending space isnt one of them.

    I think I can guess how, Marianne said softly, catching Valdemars gaze. Its the same way Lord Och moves around. He soaked his fortress with his blood and teleports by using it as an anchor. Since Ialdabaoths body covers all of Undend and his messenger leads the cult

    They can ess any tunnel that we Dark Lords didnt ward with powerful magic, Vr Bethor finished. Clever.

    Valdemar frowned. You do not sound surprised, Lord Bethor.

    This was one of the theories I entertained when gue cases started appearing in areas under my purview without triggering the Earthmouths rms. The Dark Lord immediately thought about a war n. We need to destroy this Lilith. Once the rat and his mistress are gone, the rest will follow. They are lost weaklings led astray by empty promises, damned souls that wont do anything without a strong master to whip them into action.

    Do you think you could locate their temple? Marianne asked Valdemar, though she was clearly unsure of herself. I this would be risky, but

    But it might be the only way to find Bertrand, Valdemar finished her sentence, causing Marianne to look away. Its alright. I promised I would help.

    I shall be present next time you sleep, Lord Bethor dered. Bybining our powers, we shall coax out the Bloods secrets. <em>After </em>you summon your familiar.

    Valdemar couldnt help but chuckle. This man was relentless.

    Marianne protested though. Lord Bethor, shouldnt we focus on the dream connection instead? If they can look back into him the same way he can observe them

    They cannot, Lord Bethor replied dryly. Or else they would have already contacted their prince long ago. A wise ve does not see the world through their masters eyes.

    Marianne didnt look convinced, but knew better than to argue with the Dark Lord further.

    Focusing on the task at hand, Valdemar touched the circle with his bloody hands and chanted the words of power. Oh, nes of power, he recited the forms. I beseech you, listen to my call!

    As the circle brightened and the Blood called to the nes beyond Undend, Valdemar remembered his discussion with Vr Bethor about familiars.

    <em>A familiar is a living conduit between its summoner and the nes, </em>the Dark Lord had exined him.<em> By binding yourself to one, you will bypass the need of a summoning circle. However, familiars are attuned to specific dimensions and entities. Some will even refuse to summon creatures whose nature they abhor.</em>

    <em>Do you have one, Lord Bethor? </em>Valdemar had asked, having seen him summon a Gnawer without a circle.

    <em>Yes but pray you never meet it.</em>

    I call thee, my other half! Valdemar shouted as space started to bend inside the circle. Cross the veil and join me! I offer thee my blood if you would share my life until all is dust!

    What is he calling? Marianne asked, slightly anxious as crimson lightning erupted from the circle and illuminated the room. An animal? A demon? An elemental?

    This ritual calls the creature best suited for the summoners nature, Lord Bethor replied. Fools try to use catalysts to call a specific familiar, but true mages should only rely on their own power.

    What if he summons a Qlippoth or something hostile to humans?

    Valdemar had asked himself the same question. Besides the difficulty in summoning one, the reason why familiars were umon was that they <em>weren''t </em>under the caster''s control. Sometimes they even actively resisted the bonding process, with many summoners having perished at the fangs and ws of their ''partners.''

    I will kill it, the Dark Lord replied dismissively, and he shall try again. It will tear out a part of his soul each time, but eventually he will summon a good match.

    Even so, from what Valdemar had understood, summoning the familiar was only half the work. Afterward, the sorcerer would have to attune his soul to it and strengthen the bond between them. A process that could take days, months, or <em>years</em>.

    Thankfully, the summoning spell wouldnt take so long.

    <em>Im sensing it, </em>Valdemar thought as he looked into the circle. The veil between the nes grew thinner, images crossing through the boundaries between universes. Pictures of endless waters beneath dark skies formed in his mind, alongside the twisted geometries of abyssal cities. <em>A dark ocean</em>

    Something swam in the waters on the other side, sensing his call and answering it. A telepathic presence contacted Valdemars mind, cold and alien. The summoner felt invisible, squamous tentacles brush against his brain as they tried to figure out how it worked. Whatever the creatures nature, it had clearly never encountered humans before.

    Valdemar didnt detect any hostility in the mental contact; only childish curiosity and yfulness. <em>Im here,</em> he thought as space rippled inside the circle. <em>Just a tiny bit closer and I will show you a whole new world.</em>

    His familiar happily epted and broke past the veil.

    Space shattered for a brief second, and a creature the size of a human baby stumbled through. It disrupted the summoning circle as it rolled on the ground, the magic in the air dissipating in a bright sh of red light.

    Valdemar locked eyes with his familiars. All six of them.

    <em>Is this my other half? </em>Valdemar thought as the creature looked up at him with curiosity. He had never seen such a strange chimera. The alien entity was vaguely humanoid, but with blue-green skin and the head of a squid. Its tentacles moved around independently as they touched the steel ground, while two batlike purple wings pped in its back. The creature had tworge ck eyes around the same ce as humans, and four more on the sides of its head. It was clearly a baby of some sort, with short, underdeveloped limbs and four webbed fingers.

    It was

    It was quite cute.

    Lord Bethor? Marianne asked with a chuckle. She clearly found the familiar as strangely adorable as Valdemar himself. What kind of creature is this?

    But the Dark Lord squinted behind his helmet, his tone wary. I do not know.

    Neither did Valdemar. The creature didn''t resemble any Qlippoth or outsider that the summoner was aware of. Perhaps it came from the elemental ne of water? Or a dimension close to it?

    The Dark Lords cold response instantly put Marianne on her guard, but Valdemar simply looked at his familiar with curiosity. The beast tried to stand on its tiny legs before touching its summoner with its tentacles. They were cold and salty to the touch, but they wriggled in happiness when Valdemar scratched the creature on the cheeks. <em>Pretty friendly for an alien entity,</em> the summoner thought with amusement.

    Ct The creature started to make noise with its strange voice. He sounded like a human speaking underwater. Hu lhu

    You can talk? Valdemar asked with a frown, ignoring the wary gazes Lord Bethor and Marianne sent him. Whats your name?

    Whether because it had learned the human tongue through their brief mental contact or something else, the creature seemed to understand his words and gave an answer.

    Ktulul! The creature said with its tiny hands. Ktulhu! Tulu!

    Was that its name? Ktulu? Though it might be wearing a disguise of some kind or grow into an abomination, Valdemar found it hard to keep his guard up in the familiars presence. It radiated that aura humans felt in the presence of babies and that inspired protective urges.

    If the creature was a reflection of himself, then Valdemar had to hope it was good inside. For both of their sake.

    Ktulu, the summoner said as he grabbed his familiar and cradled him like a child. The creature was no heavier than a cat, and just as affectionate. I will call you Ktulu.

    Valdemar wondered how it would look once all grown-up though.

 Chapter 32: Calling Card

    Chapter 32: Calling Card

    Ktulu loved water.

    Ever since Valdemar introduced his familiar to his bedrooms shower, the alien child had spent his time smashing its button to enjoy the feeling of water on its skin. Ktulu liked it cold rather than warm, perhaps because it reminded him of his native ne. To cut costs on water, Valdemar had set a basin aside and created a small-toy ship from his bones so his familiar could y with it.

    <em>Hes too clumsy to take care of his toys,</em> the sorcerer thought, having been forced to repair the toy twice already. Ktulu usually cradled the ship too tightly, his small body belying his inhuman strength.

    Valdemar knew that his familiar was more likely an it, but somehow he couldnt help but see the alien as a little baby boy.

    I could watch him all day, Marianne said, as she and Valdemar observed Ktulu swim in the basin while cradling his toy with one hand. The noblewoman had a small, adorable smile on her face. Valdemar suspected that seeing Ktulu brought her back to a happier childhood. Do you think he understands what we say?

    I think he does, or at least a few words, Valdemar replied while sitting on the floor next to the basin. But he cant speak ournguage, maybe because hecks lungs. It doesnt seem like he needs to eat or breathe either.

    Marianne nodded slowly. I dont hear any internal organs at work and his scent is unlike anything Ive ever smelled.

    Neither could Valdemars psychic sight analyze the creature. Ktulus body was made of otherworldly matter from another dimension, one unbound by thews of the Blood. It probably made him highly resilient as well, although the summoner didnt want to put that to the test.

    For now, Valdemar had focused on building up a bond with his familiar. The spell that called Ktulu to the material ne slowly formed an empathic link between their souls, one that would eventually be unbreakable. ording to the document given to him by Lord Bethor, Valdemar would even learn to sense the alien childs emotions and summon him to his side anytime.

    Ktulu identally tossed his bone-boat over the basin. Ktululu! the alien child squealed as he clumsily fell over his tub''s edge while trying to grab the toy. Ktulus tentacles wriggled around while he curled up on the ground, disappointed. Ktulu fhtagna<em><strong></strong></em>

    Its alright, Valdemar said as he rose from the floor and grabbed his familiar in his arms. Ktulu didnt resist, his tiny wings pping while he cuddled against his summoners chest. Its alright

    Somehow, Mariannes smile grew ever wider. I think its the first time I saw you smirking like this, Valdemar noted. You want to hold him?

    Im sorry, she said while trying to correct her expression. Its unbing of me.

    To smile, or to hold him?

    Marianne blushed. I should act better than a young maid swooning over a stuffed doll.

    Ktulu squinted at her with his six eyes, as if daring her to resist his charms. After a moment, Marianne raised her gloved hand with an embarrassed look. Can I she asked, but didnt dare finish her sentence.

    Pet him? Valdemar asked with a chuckle. Sure, if he lets you.

    Marianne shyly stretched her arm and scratched Ktulu beneath his tentacles with her fingers, making him wriggle in happiness. Im sorry, she apologized to Valdemar. I look ridiculous.

    You dont, Valdemar replied, before noticing that she had kept her eyes open during the entire discussion. Are your eyes feeling better?

    I can keep them open for hours, Marianne admitted. And I can rest by closing them thanks to you.

    Youre wee. The more his knowledge of biomancy increased, the more Valdemar realized just how far Ialdabaoths reach extended. The entity had small, invisible eyes in everyones blood and flesh. It was truly a god: omnipresent, omniscient, and maybe even omnipotent.

    Thankfully, Valdemar had found it easy to manipte the eyes inside people. It was no different than sewing open wounds shut. <em>Can all biomancers do that? </em>he wondered. <em>Or is this a privilege of my birth?</em>

    Lord Bethors voice echoed through the room, as steely as an executioners ax. Reynard, meet me in the training maze in five minutes for your osteomancy lesson. Verney, you will practice summoning in the ritual room. I wille to you in a few hours to delve into your dreams.

    Marianne pulled back her hand and regained herposure. I will see youter, she promised to Valdemar. If I still have bones left.

    Same, if I havent been eaten by a monster. Valdemar nced at his familiar. You wont eat me, right?

    Ktulu wganag ftag! his familiar squealed in happiness, the noise iprehensible to human ears.

    Retreating to the same ritual room where Valdemar first summoned Ktulu, the sorcerer carefully dropped his charge on the ground. The alien child sat and looked up at his partner with curious eyes.

    Do I frighten you? Valdemar asked as he put on the Mask of the Nightwalker, letting it pump his lungs with fresh air from the surface. Ktulu simply tilted his head to the side in confusion. Ill take that as a no.

    ording to Lord Bethor, Valdemars familiar should act as a dimensional beacon and let him summon creatures without a magical circle. The sorcerer had worried that his mask might interfere with the process somehow, and so decided to run tests with and without.

    Hungry thralls of the Nahemoths and members of the first caste, Valdemar chanted. I summon you from the depths of the Outer Darkness!

    As he cast the spell, the magician sensed a summoning link re up between him and Ktulu. The familiar stood between his partner and the nes like a gatekeeper, ready to open the doors at a moments notice.

    But he refused to.

    Valdemars prayer went unanswered and the doors to the Outer Darkness remained shut.

    You dont want to summon Qlippoths? Valdemar asked his familiar. Or to summon at all?

    His familiar responded by blinking with his six eyes.

    Sighing, Valdemar decided to try summoning another creature. Remembering the brief vision of his familiars native ocean, the sorcerer attempted to call a water elemental next. Since it probably shared a ne with Ktulu, the alien might be willing to summon one.

    Once more Valdemar sensed a magical link re up between himself and his familiar. This time, the doors opened. Space rippled behind Ktulu and a form of solid water flowed into the material realm.

    Valdemar immediately noticed something unusual with the summoned elemental. Gallons of water assembled into a bulbous shape with half a dozen tentacles, each ending with a lure-like shining eye. The elemental appeared like a handrge enough to squeeze the sorcerer like a fruit.

    As hecked a summoning circle, Valdemar prepared to beat his summoned thrall in submission if it turned out to be hostile. The creature didnt move, and the sorcerer sensed an invisible connection between the two of them; a lesser version of the bond binding him to his familiar.

    Raise a tentacle, Valdemar whispered.

    The water elemental waved its central limb in a gesture that the sorcerer found quite obscene. Ktulu, however, childishly pped his hands in response. After letting out a sigh, Valdemar returned the water elemental to its home ne.

    After a few more experiments, Valdemar confirmed that wearing the Mask of the Nightwalker had no impact on what he could summon through his familiar. However, Ktulu was awfully picky as far as summons were concerned. The alien child refused to call fire, wind, and earth elementals, the entire Qlippoths repertoire, and even minor spirits. Even if Valdemar retained the ability to call these creatures himself with a proper summoning circle, he couldnt help but be disappointed by his familiars obstruction.

    It would be easier if you could tell me what you will <em>let me call</em> than what you <em>dont want</em>, Valdemar pointed out to his confused familiar.

    Ktulu looked at him in silence for a moment, before raising his tiny hands and making iprehensible noise. Gokrugug! Ibu!

    Valdemar sensed his familiars cold, alien intelligence clumsily brush against his mind through their link. Unlike a Dark Lords precise psychic attacks, the mental contact was rough and awkward. The sorcerer opened his brain to his familiar and let foreign thoughts into his mind.

    Blurry images of a ruined stone city on the shores of a greatke formed in Valdemars mind, under a sky of alien stars and a moon red as blood. What remained of the architecture reminded him of a troglodyte settlement, though the settlement waspletely uninhabited and most of the buildings had copsed. The visions shifted to theke near the city and a shadowy shape beneath the still waters.

    <em>He cant summon anything by himself,</em> Valdemar realized. <em>I see. He can guide my words through the infinite worlds to their intended recipient, but its my might that will call an intruder to Undend.</em>

    The vision grew more and more precise, revealing the shape of a colossal lizard sleeping underwater. The creatures length reached from one side of theke to the other, and considering the size of the nearby city

    No, Valdemar said immediately.

    Gokrugug! Ktulu insisted while pping his wings.

    I wont summon something I cant put down. Considering the creatures sheer size, it would almost certainly destroy all of Lord Bethors tower if it were called. Not to mention that Valdemar didnt dare to wake up a monster sleeping right next to a <em>destroyed </em>city

    The mental images dissipated abruptly, while Ktulu mmed the ground with his tiny hands in frustration. Then he turned his back on Valdemar while making an angry noise.

    <em>Even interdimensional squids can sulk, </em>the sorcerer thought in amusement. Ktulu cautiously looked over his shoulder as if to check if his summoner was regretful, but avoided his gaze. <em>Truly a child.</em>

    Valdemar walked around his familiar to face him, only for Ktulu to look away. Something smaller, the sorcerer pleaded as he knelt before his familiar. Something that can fit in this room.

    The alien child cautiously looked at his summoner like a cat afraid of being tricked. Kluthulu?

    Whatever you wish, Valdemar promised before tickling the squid. Although his familiar attempted to look impassive, he couldnt resist for long and his tentacles wriggled in pleasure. If it fits inside the room.

    Cajoled to death, Ktulu opened his mind to Valdemars. Instead of pictures of an alien city, the familiars thoughts now showed a vast expanse of absolute darkness. The pitch ckness was not the shadows cast by Undends ceiling, or the sea of space illuminated by the stars. This darkness was a primeval abyss of cold and nothingness, a void within which no life could survive.

    And yet Valdemar noticed <em>something </em>moving in the darkness. A sinister creature that wasnt undead, because it had never been alive to begin with. An entity that hungered for warmth and despised light.

    How odd. He had thought Ktulu could only summon water creatures, but here he had opened up a summoning link to a ne of primordial darkness. <em>Maybe he only wants to call creatures that remind him of his homeworld, </em>Valdemar thought, <em>or specific breeds of creatures.</em> He needed to investigate further.

    Before Valdemar called the creature into the room, he immediately cast additional wards around himself and Ktulu. Although the towers magical defenses dwarfed anything he could create inplexity, it didnt hurt to be careful.

    Come forth, messenger of the void between worlds, Valdemar uttered, although the words werent his own. Although he understood their meaning, they came to him in an ancient tongue he didnt remember studying. A memory he never had guided his lips. You who haunt the darkness, I call thee to thend of light and shadows.

    The veil between worlds rippled and darkness seeped into the room. Candles were blown away and magical lights extinguished. A chilling cold spread in the air and made Valdemar shiver. He could barely see his own hands, let alone his familiar. Even his psychic sight couldnt pierce through the thick shadows.

    <em>Valdemar, </em>Mariannes voice called from behind Valdemar. <em>Look at us.</em>

    The sorcerer almost turned around on instinct, but froze upon hearing the us part.

    <em>Turn around </em>the thing in the darkness whispered, this time mimicking <em>Lord Ochs</em> voice. <em>Look at us, child</em>

    Valdemar heardrge wings p behind him. Though the sorcerer couldnt see it either with natural or magical senses, from the strength of the breeze it caused, it must have been asrge as a giant beetle.

    <em>A Haunter</em>, Valdemar realized. The creatures behavior matched the description of these entities from the Void Between Worlds. Powerful archmages usually bound them as hidden assassins or deadly guardians, a task in which they excelled. Haunters envied the living and hungered for warm blood; like a shadow, they feared the light and thrived in the dark.

    Valdemar had never dared summon one himself, because they were notoriously vicious and dangerously intelligent. To meet their baleful gaze meant bing their prey.

    Lord Bethors words came to his mind. <em>If a dog disobeys, the fault lies in his master. These creatures exist to serve us. But how can you hope to dominate them, when you havent yet mastered your own flesh and mind?</em>

    If you try anything, Valdemar whispered back without turning around, I will kill you.

    If this creature was smart enough to speak, then it could be threatened into obedience.

    The cold breeze ended, as did the whispers and the pping of wings. Valdemar sensed the Haunters tense gaze on his back. Perhaps the creature imagined tearing its summoner limb from limb, or weighed its options.

    As the silence stretched on, Valdemar prepared to send the summoned darkness back to its home ne. Before he could do so, the Haunter whispered a demand to its summoner with his own voice<em>. I require cold fright and warm blood.</em>

    You will get them, Valdemar replied while trying to channel Lord Ochs callous arrogance and Bethors overwhelming authority, but not mine. Not unless I allow it. Disobedience is death, or worse.

    To illustrate his words, Valdemar focused on the summoning link and mentally pictured his previous capture of the Collector Qlippoth. He remembered the creature being dragged into Hermanns painted ce, forever enved and used as fuel by mortals.

    The mental image did wonders, and the darkness in the room immediately receded. <em>I will wait for the hunt,</em> the Haunter whispered as it sank into Valdemars own shadow.<em> But not forever</em>

    As the rooms lights returned, Valdemar gazed down at his shadow and found it darker than ever. Three red eyes briefly appeared on its chest, before closing abruptly.

    After waiting a few seconds of tense silence, Valdemar nced around the room to locate Ktulu only to find his familiar in the arms of a familiar undead.

    What a strange and careless creature, Lord Och said as he lifted Ktulu by the back of his neck with one hand and carried a grimoire in the other. The alien squid had frozen in fear like a helpless kitten. Beware, my apprentice. There is nothing more dangerous than a child with too much power.

    Lord Och? Valdemar expected an illusion, but his psychic sight quickly confirmed that he was facing the real deal. What are you doing here?

    Is that a way to greet your teacher, young Valdemar? Especially when hees bearing gifts?

    Valdemar looked at the grimoire that his master carried, identifying the leather cover as a mix of human and derro skin stitched together. Gifts or homework?

    What difference does it make? You will benefit from it in either case. Lord Och dropped Ktulu, causing the alien child to immediately run behind Valdemar for protection. He is quite shy, isnt he?

    Valdemars familiar hid between his summoners legs and avoided the lichs gaze, making a whining noise all the way. The lich <em>terrified </em>him. <em>Even Lord Bethor didnt cause such a reaction, </em>Valdemar thought.<em> Is it because Lord Och is an undead? </em>Why are you here, my teacher?

    I only dropped by for a short visit, the lich replied absentmindedly. As Lord Bethor could not identify your familiar, he called upon my expertise. I admit I couldnt suppress my curiosity and decided to see that creature myself. Imagine my surprise when I saw you had summoned a Stranger as your familiar.

    A Stranger? Valdemar was almost shocked as his incredulous gaze wandered to his familiar. Ktulu locked eyes with him, all six of them.

    Or at least the child of one, the Dark Lord said. Any creature can be a familiar, if they ept the bond, but you are the first to bind yourself to a Stranger this way. Congrattions.

    <em>A Stranger,</em> Valdemar thought as he grabbed Ktulu in his arms. The baby squid didnt resist, his tiny hands and tentacles reaching for his summoners cheeks. I cant believe that hes in the same ss as Ialdabaoth or the Silent King.

    Lord Och chuckled at the mention of Ialdabaoth. And why not? By the virtue of your birth, you are a Stranger yourself. The Silent King was old, and you are young. A caterpir needs time to grow into a flying moth.

    Even knowing his fathers true nature, Valdemar could scarcely believe he would be mighty enough to rule his own private world the same way the Silent King did. Nor was he interested in it. Opening the pathway to Earth was enough for him.

    Any sufficiently powerful sorcerer is indistinguishable from a god, young Valdemar, Lord Och said before delivering his grimoire to his apprentice. This is aption of forbidden texts from Stranger cults. Owning that book means death and damnation ording to Church doctrine, but you should find a few useful ves unmentioned in your politically correct summoning grimoires; thralls that your familiar will deign to contact on your behalf.

    Death to anyone but you, my teacher? Valdemar asked as he grabbed the book with one hand and held Ktulu with the other. His familiar had found enough bravery to re silently at Lord Och, who found the reaction eminently amusing.

    The Church and the Dark Lords have a symbiotic rtionship, my apprentice. For a country to be stable, temporal and spiritual powers must work hand in hand. We protect the Church of the Lights spiritual integrity, and in return they forgive all our sins. I am purer than any saint.

    Do as I say, not as I do? Valdemar asked mirthfully.

    Differentws exist for the weak and for the powerful, Lord Och replied with a darkugh. In any case, although he will never tell you, Lord Bethor is quite impressed by young Mariannes progress and yours most of all. I believe his fondness for you borders on the paternal.

    Valdemars legs started to itch at the spot where Lord Bethor severed them.

    Come, what kind of elder does not discipline the young now and then? It teaches them wisdom, and the chain of apprenticeship that binds the three of us is stronger than a severed limb. Lord Och sounded strangely nostalgic as he spoke. Or so I hope.

    Youre thinking of Lord Phaleg, my teacher? Valdemar asked with a frown, and took Lord Ochs silence for a confirmation. What happened between the two of you?

    Why do you want to know? Lord Och snorted. That is all in the past.

    By your own admission, no knowledge is harmful, Valdemar pointed out. Maybe satisfying my idle curiosity will grant me useful insight.

    His answer pleased the lich, who opened up a little. I gave my former apprentice too much, too early, Lord Och admitted with a hint of bitterness. Remember this lesson, young Valdemar: adversity builds character and teaches the value of gratitude, but if you spoil a child too much, he will grow slothful, take your help for granted, ande to see what you own as his by right. If you do not set boundaries early, all your future attempts to establish discipline will fall t.

    Are you giving me insight into your past, or advice for raising Ktulu? Valdemar couldnt help but ask. His familiars head perked up at the mention of his name.

    Students and children inherit our mistakes, young Valdemar, as well as our sesses. They are what their elders make of them.

    Truthfully, Valdemar was quite skeptical. Having first-hand experience with Lord Ochs methods, he couldnt help but wonder if Phaleg had grown weary of mind-games or simplycked the patience to put up with the lichs casual cruelty. Nor did Valdemar want to believe that kindness was wasted on anyone, whether they were children or adults.

    Lord Och shrugged. In any case, I shall take my leave now. I have received worrying news from my spies in the Derro Kingdom and I need to investigate.

    Lord Och, before you go, Valdemar said, Have you any news from Hermann and Liliane? What about Iren? Are they alright?

    Young Hermann is making progress on his Painted World project, and his master is happy with him, the lich replied. Young Liliane and Iren intend toe to Sabaoth soon, I believe. I doubt Lord Bethor will allow visits until you finish your training, so take it as an encouragement to work harder.

    Valdemar smiled. Have I ever disappointed you?

    Do not get cocky, young Valdemar, the lich replied before teleporting away. You havent reached the hard part yet.

 Chapter 33: Bones of Steel

    Chapter 33: Bones of Steel

    Swords shed and Mariannes weapon broke first.

    Her bone de, crafted from her own harvested forearm, cracked above the pommel as it parried Lord Bethors strike. The shattered edge of her weapon went flying and bounced off a steel wall. Marianne barely had the time to take a step back to avoid a strike to the throat and manifest a new sword from her bloodied forearm; the fourth since the beginning of the training session.

    The process was starting to take a toll on her. Although she had been fed on a steady diet of calcium and nutrients before the fight, osteomancy couldnt vite thews of conservation of mass. The bones had toe from <em>somewhere</em>, and now she was drawing material from her own ribs.

    Use the environment, Lord Bethor admonished her as he chased her through the metal maze. His armors heavy, steady footsteps echoed across the steel walls, his stance showing no weakness. Strike from unpredictable directions.

    <em>Hes toying with me, </em>Marianne realized. She was giving her all, wasting not even a single breath, while the Dark Lord could afford to chat. His physical might eclipsed hers by a colossal amount, to the point that she often dropped her weapon when their des connected. While her hand remained strong, her bone des instead cracked or shattered.

    And to add insult to injury, Lord Bethor was beating Marianne with her familys own rapier.

    Unlike his students aggressive, fast-paced style, the Dark Lord favored a slow and methodical approach to swordsmanship. His defense was impable, his movements calcted and deliberate, his thrusts mighty enough to pierce through steel. Marianne felt like she was facing a cier, an imprable block of ice creeping in on her inch by inch. And unlike his pet machine, the Lord Bethor shrugged off illusions before they could take hold.

    <em>At least he has the grace not to hold back his punches,</em> Marianne thought. Some of his strikes could have easily killed her had they connected. The noblewoman had managed to survive for now, but she couldnt afford to let the Dark Lord push her back further. She had grown familiar enough with the maze to know that he was slowly forcing her towards the closed exit, where she would find herself with her back against a steel door.

    Deciding on an aggressive strategy, Marianne gritted her teeth and lunged at the weak spot in her foes helmet. Her enhanced senses gave her a perfect vision of the battlefield. She could hear Lord Bethors muscles contracting, sense his<em>her</em>rapier push air, see the slight inflections in his armor indicating which way he would move next. She could even observe the changes of ambient temperature from the lights reflection in the air.

    Lord Bethors weapon moved to match her own, and Marianne ignored the pain as she called upon the Blood. One of her ribs vanished as a second bone sword burst out of her wrist, shooting a spurt of blood as it came out. Grabbing the new weapon with her free hand, Marianne struck from below by surprise. She moved so fast that even her enhanced eye struggled to keep up with the strike.

    She thought Lord Bethor would parry her first sword and leave himself open to the second.

    Instead, Marianne noticed the slight inflection of his feet as he adjusted his stance and she instinctively stepped to the left. The motion saved her life, as Lord Bethor forewent defense for a surprise lunge aimed at her stomach. The tip of the Reynard familys rapier grazed against Mariannes shirt, cutting a thin line across the cloth but failing to reach her skin.

    <em>Why?</em> Marianne thought angrily as she found herself stepping back <em><strong>again</strong></em>. <em>Why cant I hit him? My senses and reflexes have never been sharper!</em>

    Your swordsmanship matches mine in finesse and you have experience in all basic styles, Lord Bethor scolded her. Your weakness lies not in yourck of experience, but in yourck of imagination. You rely on speed, skill, and strength to overwhelm your opponents, yet inevitably you will face foes who are faster than humanly possible, stronger than you, or skilled enough to predict your attacks.

    He raised the rapier at her in a stance that Marianne found chillingly familiar. In a blink of an eye, the crimson knight before her vanished, reced with a handsome noble with long ck hair and piercing blue eyes.

    Now die, vile woman, Jrme said.

    Mariannes heart skipped a beat, and the shock almost cost the noblewoman her life. Her fiancs ghost lunged at her so fast that even her enhanced eyes struggled to keep up; the Reynards rapier turned into a blurring sh of steel hungry for her blood.

    Acting entirely on reflexes, Marianne raised both her swords in a cross formation and pushed Jrmes sword towards the ceiling. The inhuman strength behind the blow almost tossed her backward, and the tip of the de cut through her left cheek even as she deflected it. Mariannes blood dripped on the ground with a thunderous sound.

    But though the ploy and the pain unsettled her for a second, the noblewoman quickly regained herposure. <em>This is not Jrme, </em>she thought,<em> and even if he were I should not hold back.</em>

    However, although her defense didnt copse, Lord Bethor proved relentless. He unleashed a flurry of blows and forced Marianne back. From the echo of their des, she realized he had pushed her into the dead-end leading to the exit.

    Poetic, he said with Jrmes voice, his words as sharp as his blows, you will perish by the same sword you killed me for.

    <em>I cant maintain an effective defense against him,</em> the noblewoman thought as she remembered Bertrands lessons. Like most of Mariannes fencing teachers, he had put emphasis on controlling the de, timing, and distance to maintain an equilibrium between attack and defense. She had been taught to anticipate angles of attack and control her opponents center, waiting for a gap in the defense tounch a counterattack.

    But Lord Bethors stance had no weakness. Trying to defend was only buying her time with no progress.

    Youre wrong, Marianne said, her eyes squinting dangerously.

    About what? the ghost asked. You didnt y me?

    The false Jrme lunged at her again as if expecting her to back down again.

    I didnt fight you for the sword, Jrme.

    Instead Marianne surprised him with an aggressive flurry of blows. Wrong-footed, the Dark Lord found himself on the defensive for the first time in the training.

    I fought you for <em>myself</em>.

    Memories shed before her eyes with each sh of their weapons. Once happy memories of ballroom dancing in Sas, of drinking tea alone with her fianc in the gardens. Once Marianne had looked at these moments with maiden-like innocence. She had always seen Jrme through the prism of nostalgia.

    But now?

    Now, she could see the smugness and ambition walking side by side with the pleasantries and the kindness. Valdemars words had recontextualized many hints that Marianne had done her best to ignore.

    I would have been happy to be a dutiful wife, if only you had let me be <em>myself</em>, Marianne said bitterly what she had thought deep down for years. Was that too high of a price to ask?

    <em>Use the unpredictable,</em> the noblewoman thought as she attacked again and again with both des; she dropped all attempts at defense to fully focus on offense. <em>Dominate the fighting space to keep the initiative</em>.

    It was a dangerous strategy as she left herself exposed to a counterattack. The moment her assault weakened and Lord Bethor regained the initiative, he would strike back with lethal force.

    The moment came quickly.

    Was my life worth your freedom? the false Jrme replied angrily.

    The words hurt more than any sword, but Mariannes resolve remained strong as steel.

    The Dark Lord regained his footing and raised his rapier to parry her right de. Instead of holding her weapon tight, Marianne loosened her grip on it. Lord Bethors parry disarmed her, her first bone sword flying above her head.

    But unlikest time, the de remained intact.

    I paid no price, Marianne said angrily as she quickly grabbed her weapon in midair while Lord Bethor was busy parrying her second de. You preferred to throw your life away rather than let me follow my dream!

    Swiftly recovering her first sword, she struck from the upper right in a diagonal motion. This time, Lord Bethor had no choice but to take a step back to dodge. The first time he had done so in the entire training.

    A familiar, pleased smirk appeared on the false Jrmes face. Now, we are getting somewhe

    Without wasting any time, Marianne called upon the Blood. A bone needle erupted from her forehead, using her own skull as fuel and piercing through her skin. It was thin, but sharp as a scalpel and fast as a bullet.

    The false Jrme blinked in surprise, his rapier deftly deflecting the needle in midair and allowing Marianne enough time to close the distance between them, both swords raised in a scissor motion. Blood dripped from her forehead where the needle had erupted, but it didnt impair her aim.

    Jrmes neck started to bleed before the des even connected. His face twisted into an expression of horror and fear, the same he wore on that fateful day.

    Marianne gritted her teeth as she mentally relived this horrible experience again but struck all the same. Jrme was dead, and trying to keep his ghost alive in her thoughts and emotions wouldnt bring him back.

    Her swords moved to behead her former fianc.

    Her des never reached their target.

    An invisible force restrained her hands as the des were within an inch of the neck.

    An innovative tactic, Lord Bethor congratted her as he dropped the illusion. Mariannes dead fianc vanished, reced with a knight in crimson armor. I did not expect the needle.

    You suggested that I strike from unexpected directions, Marianne reminded him as he released the spell holding her, allowing the noblewoman to lower her swords

    Before swiftly raising them back and parrying Lord Bethors sneak attack.

    Good, he said, the tip of their swords testing each other. A true battle only ends when your foe is well and truly destroyed. Even disarmed or surrendering, an enemy can prove dangerous. Never lower your guard, for where strength fails, treachery often triumphs.

    Only then did Lord Bethor lower his de for real. Tell me what you have learned today, Marianne.

    To prevail, I must have fear and confusion on my side, Marianne replied. You attacked my resolve to weaken my arm. This is why you used my own rapier against me and then cast your cruel illusion.

    Watching her familys weapon used against her had unbnced her mind and left it open to further deceit.

    Though she only saw his eyes past the helmet, Marianne could tell that Lord Bethor was pleased with her answer from his posture. Students focus on technical skills, but the masters understand that a body is like any sword; only as strong as the will that moves it. Breaking someones resolve is the same as shattering their spine, and sometimes far easier. Whenever possible, Marianne, you must study your prey, probe their emotional weaknesses with words and illusions, and <em>then </em>engage them. No mind is a perfect fortress.

    Not even yours? Marianne asked as she cast a healing spell on her face to close her wounds.

    No wise warrior believes themselves perfect, the Dark Lord replied with surprising humility. His helmet shimmered in the light of the metal maze, transforming into Jrmes face. A few days ago, you would have faltered upon seeing this mans face. What changed?

    Marianne examined herte fiancs face. He was exactly like her memories, perfectly recreated from them. A part of her wanted to apologize to him for taking his life and another to p him for foolishly throwing it away in the first ce.

    I have been reevaluating my rtionship with Jrme, Marianne admitted. I will never be at peace with his death, but a friend told me he was looking down on me, and the thought has been gnawing at my mind like a worm in a root.

    Do you believe him?

    <em>I dont know, </em>Marianne wanted to reply. That would have been the easy answer, the nomittal one. But Valdemars words had opened her eyes. She still believed Jrme had loved her in his own way but never as an equal.

    Whether he was correct or not, in the end I fought Jrme for myself, Marianne whispered as she looked at her ancestors rapier. Not for this weapon. It was just an excuse I told myself. I did it for the sake of my pride and who I wanted to be. I did it for <em>me</em>. And even if the consequences were painful to me, I dont regret standing up for myself.

    Lord Bethor listened in silence as his mour spell vanished. His ck and red eyes looked at Marianne through the slit in his helmet, his gaze indecipherable. Marianne felt him judge her thoughts and actions, like her father did when he banished her. She stood strong and met his gaze, refusing to avert it.

    Finally, the Dark Lord held the Reynard rapier with both hands and presented it to Marianne. Take it.

    Marianne blinked in surprise. Lord Bethor, you said you would only return it at the end of our training.

    I <em>said </em>I would give it to you when you prove yourself worthy of it; when you make it a force-multiplier rather than a crutch. Once, you saw this de as the golden prize you sacrificed your old life for. It was the one thing that excused your crimes and sesses, the measure of your self-value. But now, what do you see?

    Marianne looked at this weapon she had killed so many people with, this heirloom from generations of the Reynard family. Once she had revered it with almost religious importance, but now now she saw it for what it was.

    A sword, Marianne replied. One that is important to me for what it represents and the martial values it embodies. But the sword doesnt make the swordswoman strong. It is the swordswoman that makes the sword strong. All weapons will shine in my hands.

    Lord Bethor nodded respectfully, as Marianne reabsorbed her bone swords back into her body to recover the organic material. Then she grabbed her family rapier, finding that it felt lighter than ever. <em>How good it feels to have it back </em>she thought. <em>Like a missing arm grafted back on my body.</em>

    Lord Bethor, if I may ask, she said, suddenly emboldened. What do you fight for? What pushed you to be what you are?

    The Dark Lord appraised her question with a calcting gaze. And what am I?

    Marianne cleared her throat before answering. Power.

    Lord Bethor crossed his arms, his eyes turning distant as if remembering a terrible memory. Have you ever been burned, Marianne Reynard?

    Briefly, she admitted. But never for long.

    Be thankful then, the Dark Lord said, his voice grave and haunting. I have been wounded by countless things, but none of them ever felt as painful as being burned alive. Once they have taken hold of you, mes eat you alive. They spread through the skin and melt the flesh, boil your blood in your veins and dry your eyes. Beasts leave when they are satisfied with their meal, but a fires hunger knows no bounds.

    You told Valdemar that you had your own baptism by dragonfire, Marianne remembered with a deep frown. Did you

    Lord Bethor looked up at the ceiling, as if he could see something invisible Mariannes enhanced eyes couldnt perceive. Long ago, I was an arrogant battle mage who believed himself invincible. I had defeated other mages, derros, and monsters aplenty. Bing a dragonyer sounded like the next step of my military career. The feat would shower me in glory. So I ignored the warnings of my superiors and ventured into forbidden tunnels known for leading to a dragonsir. The caverns floor was littered with the bones of all the would-be dragonyers who had preceded me, but I paid them no mind.

    Marianne listened in silence. She had heard tales of famed dragonyers, but she had always wondered how many had perished before one could triumph. The history books did not record the names of losers.

    We find the Strangers terrifying because we do not understand them and dragons scare us because we know <em>exactly </em>what they are, Lord Bethor said. We humans have deluded ourselves into thinking we stood at the apex of the food chain of this stone shell of a world, when we are but an intermediary chainlink. The moment the dragons head emerged from the cavern, the instant I firstid my eyes on it, I understood the simple truth: I was <em>prey</em>, and it was a <em>predator</em>.

    To hear a Dark Lord say that left Marianne unsettled. They were the benchmark of strength in the empire; mages so powerful that they could control an entire Domain unchallenged. To have one admit weakness shook her to the core.

    The beast answered my spells with fire so hot that none of my wards could stop it, Lord Bethor said. My nerves were set aze, and the pain I felt that day has never left me. Nor the memory of my bones shattered as the beast casually swept me away. If I hadnt fallen into an underground crack too difficult for a giant beast to ess, I would have died. It took all of my magic to keep my soul anchored to my burnt husk of a body.

    Mariannes own escape from Verney Castle now looked like childs y. <em>To survive without skin and flesh </em>she thought. Lord Bethor was alive, so he hadnt embraced the cold apathy of undeath.

    Yet I knew that the dragon could have devoured me if it had made any effort, Lord Bethor continued. But you do not eat a flea biting your skin. You squash it and forget. That was its mistake. Though it took me three days of agony, I crawled my way back to civilization. But it wasnt my survival instinct that allowed me to survive.

    His eyes brimmed with cold fury.

    It was <em>hate, </em>Marianne, the Dark Lord whispered. Not for the dragon, but for myself. For being weak. After that day, I swore never to feel so helpless again. I would elevate myself above even the gods and stand at the apex of the world like that beast of legends.

    And now, the Dark Lord ruled his own world from atop a spire, looking down on the mortals toiling in his forges Lord Bethor had surpassed his fear by bing it. What happened to the dragon? Marianne dared to ask.

    Lord Bethor scoffed. I killed it, he answered as if it were obvious, his voice echoing with quiet satisfaction. I shattered its skull with my hands and showered myself in its blood. Then I raised this tower over their the animal once called home.

    Marianne shivered, as she remembered that Valdemar had mentioned seeing a dragons bones as being part of the towers heart. Had it been the first corpse added to the foundations, the Dark Lords greatest trophy?

    Take this as a lesson, Marianne Reynard, the Dark Lord said. Pain and fear are the fires that light the human will. One who has never suffered a defeat will not fight as hard as one who has experienced helplessness.

    I know, Marianne replied. She had had her own defeat when she had watched Bertrand turn into a monster, helpless to do anything. That feeling will never leave me.

    Then you are ready to learn mybat spells, Lord Bethor dered. You are middling in the Blood, correct, but you have a keen understanding of your body and a flexible mind. Osteomancy is perfect for you.

    He raised his left hand, his armors gauntlet turning into blood. A long, flexible chain of spine erupted from his wrist, covered in spikes. He swung it like a harsh taskmaster with a whip, cutting through the air.

    This is the <em>Spine-Chain</em> spell, Lord Bethor said, before materializing a skull at the end of the chain. And the <em>il </em>upgrade. The skulls density is such that although it feels light, the impact will break stone and pierce through armor.

    To illustrate his point, he swung his weapon at a wall. The ils head bent the steel on impact, causing the entire room to shake.

    You have mastered the sword, but it cannot solve all problems, the Dark Lord scolded Marianne. A true warrior must use the appropriate weapon for each encounter. The spear when you need a greater reach, the il when you need the power to shatter armor too thick for your enchanted rapier. Osteomancy can manifest all of them, and I shall teach you how.

    But at what cost? Marianne asked warily. My body only has so much bone and calcium to draw from.

    Do you think my body holds as much blood as amoner? Lord Bethor asked with a hint of disdain. The Blood requires nutrients to work its spells, yes. But with magic, you can train your body to hold more than humanly possible.

    Wouldnt it make me heavier and slower?

    I will teach you to alter your bones density and malleability. Though you may weigh more than others, by adjusting your mass you will move faster than they do.

    Lord Bethor let out a growl, and two enormous batlike wings erupted from the back of his armor. Mariannes senses told her that they were made of hollowed bones bound by thin cartge. The Dark Lord now looked like a demonic knight in an armor of blood.

    A human-shaped dragon.

    Osteomancy can do more than manifest weapons and armors, Lord Bethor said. By manipting your bone density and altering them in a specific way you will even learn to fly.

    I could fly? Marianne blinked in shock. She knew some powerful mages could by lifting themselves up with telekinesis or by shapeshifting into beasts, but due to her own middling spellcasting, the noblewoman had long given up on achieving the same feat.

    If you train to. Lord Bethor appraised her silently. As a reward for your efforts, I shall let you pick your first choice of weapon to train with.

    Mariannes thoughts turned to Bertrand and the beast he had be.<em> If I could fly</em> she thought, trying to imagine herself chasing her old friend in the air. What would be the best weapon to save him?

    The chain, Marianne said after some consideration. To catch a friend.

 Chapter 34: The Future Past

    Chapter 34: The Future Past

    The whole ne was alive.

    Valdemar had never seen a jungle, though he had read of them in the ancient texts detailing the world before the Whitemoons arrival. He had imagined them as lush and verdant forests of mushrooms and moss like those found in Undend; but the one he was seeing right now couldnt be more different.

    Alien, multicolored flowers with teeth and eyes grew on every inch of the ground. This world had grass and vines for the ground, flies for air, and mucus for streams. Protosmic oozes slithered alongside twisted snake men and murderous alien spiders, roaming innards-like tunnels in search of prey.

    The seers who had observed this ne called it the <em>Green Hell</em> and believed that it was the origin of all life in the universe. A chaotic, primal realm of creation of pure organic matter, a gigantic superorganism whose innards were inhabited by countless monsters. One of them sensed Valdemars gaze observing the dimension and rose from a mucuske in response. An enormous green mass of slime asrge as a house slithered on the ground, its acidic surface melting the foliage. Hundreds of red eyes opened all over its surface, ncing at Valdemar through the veil between dimensions.

    Shoggolu! Ktulu squealed as the vision ended and Valdemar returned to the summoning room. Jigulhu!

    Ill keep it in mind, Valdemar replied as he returned to his book. All around them, a menagerie of summoned creatures waited trapped insideplex summoning circles meant to keep them imprisoned. A four-armed, furred humanoid with a mouth splitting vertically to reveal rows of sharp teeth surrounded by cunning eyes, that warlocks called a <em>Gug</em>; a <em>Weaver</em>, a nightmarish white spiderrger than a giant beetle with a baleful human visage in the middle of its eight red eyes, capable of spinning nightmares as well as webs; and a <em>Croaker</em>, an enormous toad with mouths and eyes all over its body, its dozen tongues testing the invisible barrier keeping it imprisoned. This creatures maddening song was more dangerous than its hunger, but the spell blocked sound as well as flesh.

    So far, these entities were the only ones Valdemar had been capable of somewhat keeping docileor what could pass for docile for an otherworldly monsteralongside water elementals, oozes, and chronovores. The rest were simply too dangerous to be summoned except in the direst situation.

    Lord Ochs <em>Book of the Strangers</em> had proven to be a wealth of information not only on the eponymous creatures, but also countless nes and their denizens. Valdemar hadnt heard of any of them even in forbidden texts banned by the Church of the Light; of the mysterious teau of Nightmares and its vering inhabitants, of the Green Hell and the fear-fueled realm of the Mistwoods.

    Of course, there was a reason for this censorship. All of these nes inhabitants were <em>exceedingly </em>dangerous, and many of them served Strangers. Worryingly, Ktulu was capable of summoning a great many of them if he wished.

    After much experimentation, Valdemar had narrowed down his familiars summoning focus: namely destructive natural forces, monstrous animals, water, and darkness. All of the creatures that Ktulu could summon were associated with Strangers and if not mindless, then uninterested in conversation.

    Unlike the Qlippoths, who could understand mortals emotions and speak theirnguage, there was nothing <em>human </em>about Ktulus otherworldly friends.

    <em>He could probably cause an extranar disaster and not even notice, </em>Valdemar thought as his familiar suddenly started humming a strange tune to himself, tilting his head one side to the other as per the rhythm. The trapped Croaker imitated the childs movement, as if they were singing in tune. The Gug mindlessly barrelled its fists against the barrier in a vain attempt to escape, while the Weaver observed with unnatural patience. <em>I still wonder why he refuses to call any Qlippoths though. Is Ktulu part of this other side that the Nightwalker hinted at?</em>

    Speaking of the Nightwalker, the <em>Book of the Strangers</em> had a full chapter dedicated to it, including texts gathered from cultists. Though Valdemar wasnt sure what was true or not, the information in the book fascinated him.

    ording to the Nightwalkers worshipers, Undend wasnt the first world that the Whitemoon had visited. The rogue moon traveled across the cosmos to annihte the warmth of life that it despised, leaving only cold and empty space behind it. The Nightwalker served as a herald to the Whitemoon, guiding its otherworldly master from one civilization to the next. This destructive process might take thousands of years but couldnt be averted. Even destroying the Nightwalker was only a temporary measure, for its masters power would bring it back from the darkness. The only way to survive, ording to the cultists, was to transform into a cold form of existence pleasing to the Whitemoon.

    Most fascinating, it appeared that high priests of the Nightwalker often wore masks representing their deity in an attempt to channel its persona and power bing avatars of a sort. Eventually, they hoped to ascend into bing Nightwalkers themselves.

    <em>So thats how it is, </em>Valdemar said as he removed his mask and examined it. <em>The longer I wear this artifact, the more I will be like the creatures on the surface.</em>

    Could <em>he </em>even transform though? The Nightwalkers priests believed that they could ascend to be like their patron, but Valdemar was only half a man. The other didnt interact well with the Whitemoons power.

    <em>Youre the me from the other side.</em>

    Valdemar hadnt found anything rted to Ialdabaoth in the book, which implied that someoneeither the Dark Lords or Ialdabaoths own cultshad done their best to destroy any evidence of its existence to an even greater degree than the other Strangers.

    He did find references to the Stranger worshiped by the Dokkars, this so-called Mother of All. Valdemar had immediately noticed the simrity with one of Ialdabaoths titles, the Father of All, and investigated a possible connection. ording to text, the Mother of All was a life elemental that birthed the first animals of Undend. She was asionally described as a tentacled horror, a beautiful woman, or a Dokkar, but in all cases a female form was amon trend among her avatars. Celebrations in her names involved orgies and animal sacrifices, so fresh blood could fertilize the earth.

    There were many simrities with Ialdabaoth, especially if it truly was the origin of life in Undend. Was this Mother of All a hybrid simr to Valdemar? Or simply another name for Ialdabaoth? Though he would rather ignore her, Valdemar would have to ask Frigga for rification.

    He could also infer much from the Nightwalkers words. If this entitys purpose was to act as an herald of the Whitemoon and lead it to new worlds to destroy, and if Valdemar shared a simr purpose then it suddenly became clear why the Verney Cult had sponsored his grandfather in his attempt to open a path to Earth.

    After offering this world to their god, they would serve him another.

    <em>Was that why my grandfather sold out the cult?</em> Valdemar wondered.<em> Because he learned that they would destroy his homeworld?</em>

    Valdemar would have to consult the portrait for answers eventually, even if he detested the thought of it. No matter how much Marianne had asked him to reevaluate his grandsires intentions, the sorcerer couldnt find it in him to forgive him.

    As for the Nightwalker, Valdemars experience in the towers heart had shown him that connections were two-way streets and could be subverted. The sorcerer wasnt certain if the cultists ravings about their masters immortality were correct, but it wouldnt hurt to put that theory to the test.

    <em>It would have to wait until tomorrow, </em>Valdemar thought as he closed the book and groaned. Sleeplessness was taking its hold on his mind. With a word, he returned his summoned thralls to their homes. Ktulu let out a dejected squeal. Ill bring new friends tomorrow, Valdemar promised his familiar. Humans have to sleep, you know?

    He doubted his dreams would be peaceful though.

    His Painted Field had transformed since this morning.

    The everpresent moth motif had grown more and more grotesque with time. The insects were ck and crimson, the motifs on their wings showing skulls, tears of blood, and inhuman visages. Alienndscapes that Valdemar had seen through visionspleted the tapestry, all of them inhabited by ancient and terrible beings.

    But the part that bothered him the most was the gray spot.

    It was norger than a fist, but Valdemar couldnt help but feel unsettled whenever he looked at it. A ssh of metallized paint had appeared out of nowhere in a corner of the room, covered in shining veins coursing with electric pigments. This spot contrasted greatly with the rest of the dream tapestry, and Valdemar couldnt help but think that it <em>shouldnt be here</em>. Whenever he tried to wash it away, it reformed somewhere else like a cancer.

    It is time, Lord Bethor dered as Valdemarid on his bed. Though Ktulu didnt cower in fear like he did in Lord Ochs presence, the familiar had quickly joined his partner beneath the bedsheet and cuddled against him like a cat looking for warmth. We shall delve into Ialdabaoths dreams.

    Forgive me, my lord, but is that wise? Marianne asked as the Dark Lord sat on the ground next to the bed in a lotus pose, stripping himself of his armor to reveal the boiling blood and darkness underneath. They could affect him through the bond somehow.

    If they try, I will destroy them, Lord Bethor replied as he closed his eyes. His sheer arrogance matched Lord Ochs own, and Valdemar couldnt help but find it somewhat invigorating. Nothing short of a Nahemoth may match my might on the astral ne.

    Its alright, Marianne, Valdemar replied with a smile. Im ready.

    His partner looked more concerned than reassured. Is there no way I can follow? Marianne asked. I am not an oneiromancer, but I am well-versed in dream defense.

    This is not a dream, Lord Bethor replied, the surface of his body twisting like raging waters. By closing himself to the Primordial Dream, his mind will anchor itself into the waking world where you cannot follow. You would need to learn astral projection to assist, and you are very far away from it.

    Marianne clenched her jaw, crossed her arms, and remained silent. Of course she disliked the situation. She was a bodyguard unable to protect her charge, and Valdemar knew she worried that he might end up like Bertrand.

    The summoner closed his eyes. He needed to focus on the task ahead, to clear his thoughts and let sleep take him. Ktulu started to utter a strange, yet soothing noise as he started falling asleep too.<em> A luby,</em> Valdemar realized. It reminded him of his mothers music box.

    The sorcerers world went dark, but the song was drowned out by the silence. His sense of self diluted into something greater than his human flesh, his errant thoughts expanded into a great singrity whose power no man could understand. The abyss swallowed him and he became one with it.

    He was no longer a man, but the mask of a god.

    <em>He </em>tried to look for his handmaiden, his ve, but she was so small and he was so big. She was but one of the germs inhabiting his belly. He had a hard time finding her among the colonies of errant cells who dared to think themselves separated from his glory. They were sick, everyst one of them. They suffered from an illness called individuality, and in their madness refused the cure that he offered.

    But in time, he would cradle all of them back into his weing arms. One day he would shatter the chains keeping him sealed inside this shell, and the many would return to the one.

    Time and space meant nothing to him. His dreaming mind turned downward, in the blurry sea of the past. He looked for the handmaiden and found his mother instead in a cave, dressed all in white. She was younger then, a maiden freshly flowered. Yet no man had been allowed to have their way with her.

    She was a gift fit for a god.

    The faithful had gathered before the holy blood underneath their prophets castle. The Verney prophet smiled in triumph, his ratling familiar crouched on his shoulder. Cultists observed in religious silence as theymuned with their master, begging for power and immortality. They had awaited this moment for generations, guided by the whispers of his divine messengers.

    His grandfather Pierre stood next to her; he whispered kind words as she trembled in fear, telling her that she would see the sun and the blue sky. He was a man too, but from the <em>hylic </em>lineage. A breed so <em>inferior </em>that it had lost all psychic connection to its maker, and the higher truths of the cosmos. This lowly ape was untouched by the fathers thoughts nor protected by this cancerous shell of a dream. To the god, this creature was y, fit only to be reshaped into something greater.

    But like how earth could be the fertile ground for a mighty seed, this mans blood had value to the god; for this creature had so degraded that it now existed outside the untouchable wards keeping his progenitor chained. The Dumonts blood had mixed with that of the prophets daughter, begetting a woman of two worlds beholden to neither.

    Take the cup, Aleksander Verney told Sarah, as a hooded cultist offered her a grail of bones. She took it slowly, but without hesitation. Though she was afraid of failure, she had been prepared her whole life for this moment.

    The maiden approached the pond of ck blood which had birthed all life. She trembled as she moved, knowing what would happen to her if she was unworthy. Many had tried their luck, hoping to gain power and favor from their god; but none of them survived his deadly embrace. Their blood was too thin and unable to contain his essence.

    Please, God She prayed to another deity, the one of her father, for protection. The prophet narrowed his eyes in displeasure, but said no word; he knew this foreign god would not hear her. This was the womb of darkness where no light held sway. Virgin Mary, protect me.

    The god watched her kneel before his pond, tempted by the promise of youth and vigor, but scared by the unity it offered. <em>He </em>didnt care. She had been born and bred for a single purpose, and she would either fulfill it or perish. He observed her with his many eyes, smelling her flesh, trying to see if his long wait hade to an end.

    Would she be the one?

    Slowly, the maiden put her cup in the ck blood while careful not to touch it herself. She was still afraid and wary, watching her half-filled grail with anxiety before looking at her father for reassurance. Pierre Dumont slowly nodded, a smile on his face, while Aleksander Verney and his rat watched with cold, empty eyes.

    The maiden brought the ck blood to her lips and drank.

    And as his ck blood dripped down her throat and infected her flesh, a frenzy overwhelmed the trapped god. Like a predator woken from its torpor by the smell of meat, so did he tremble in his slumber. The walls trembled as his body stirred with trepidation, and even the cursed dead moon above shivered. His dreams in the Outer Darkness let out a howl that shook the nes.

    Escape atst.

    But it wasnt enough. Her body was too weak. Although she didnt transform, Sarah Dumont scoffed as her throat turned sore.

    What is happening? Pierre Dumont asked, his former confidence reced with fear for his child.

    What was meant to be, the Verney prophet replied with a triumphant smile, his rat familiar squealing at his side. Worthy!

    Worthy! the cultists chanted.

    It burns, Sarah whispered.

    Carry on, my dear, Aleksander Verney said, his former coldness reced with jovial delight. You must drink, drink, <em>drink</em>.

    Sarah gathered her breath and mustered her courage as she emptied her cup. And as the gods ck blood spread through her veins, he knew she was the one. He had finally found a vessel fit to bear his brood, a red grail to contain his almighty blood. She would birth an avatar that could act beyond the wards keeping him trapped in this endless nightmare.

    At longst he would break out to win the Great War and consume the cosmos.

    But instead of submitting to her glorious destiny, Sarah Dumont let fear ovee her. It hurts she said before dropping the cup. I I cant

    Its okay, sweetheart, her father reassured her. Well continue after you recov

    No.

    He had waited eons. He would not waste any more time.

    His ck blood boiled with rage, and Sarah let out a scream of fear and surprise. She ran away from the pond, her feet stumbling on the cold stone floor. The maiden fell on a knee, scratching it deep enough for a drop of her blood to fall off her skin.

    He didnt let her escape his grasp. Not so close to freedom.

    Tendrils of thick ck blood rose from the primordial pond and grabbed her by the leg, intent on dragging this lowly ape back into his embrace.

    Sarah! Pierre Dumon shouted, his confidence reced by fear. His daughter looked over her shoulder as more tentacles grabbed her.

    Father! She screamed in pain as he dragged her across the floor towards the pond, her nails scratching the stone while his cultists shouted in jubtion. Father!

    Stop it! Stop it! And when none moved, Pierre Dumont threw caution aside and tried to stop the inevitable. He attempted to make a mad dash to his daughter, trying to prevent what he had sacrificed so much to achieve.

    He didnt make more than three steps before cultists grabbed him by the shoulders. He punched one in the face with enough strength to force him back, but others caught him by the arm and restrained him.

    Sarah! Pierre shouted.

    You wanted this, the Verney prophet whispered softly, hands behind his back as his men kept Pierre bound. This is a blessing.

    Pierre Dumont red at him, his eyes sinking into his eye sockets from the fury and the impotent rage. She is your granddaughter!

    I know, Aleksander Verney said, a tear running down his cheek. His words were full of joy. I am so proud.

    The god ignored them, the screams of Sarah and the shouts of worthy. He only had eyes for his prey struggling in his countless arms, as he dragged her into his ck blood. Tears of fear rained down her cheeks, her lips prayers to a god that wouldnt hear her.

    <em><strong>ABOMINATION.</strong></em>

    <em>No!</em> Valdemar screamed internally, as his tentacles his arms<em> No!</em>

    This wasnt him! This wasnt real, this was all a dream, but he couldnt wake up! He was himself, but he was also the thing in the pond, the very blood of the world!

    His mother tried to scream, only for his ck blood to coil around her neck to silence her. His tentacles turned into his hands pressing on her naked throat. He felt her salted tears on his skin, smelled her terror

    <em><strong>She never wanted to have you.</strong></em>

    But we did, the Lilith whispered through his mothers lips. Her eyes were red as blood, her skin a deathly pallor.

    Valdemar let out a roar of rage echoed by the dream, his fingers turning into ws. He hit her face, and a secondter it turned back into his mothers teary face. The image shook Valdemar to the core, his fury instantly reced with guilt.

    Mother, Valdemar whispered. Mother, Im sorry!

    Dont approach me! she screeched while crawling away. Dont touch me, you monster!

    Mother, I I swear I didnt Valdemars voice broke in his throat, the dream turning into a blur. I didnt want any of this!

    The cavern copsed around him, as did the illusions of his regretful grandfather and the Verney cult. The sad song of a music box echoed as the world transformed into a shadowy vige near the Lightless Ocean.

    Valdemar was himself again, a ghost from another era standing next to an old well. A familiar well.

    His mother was here too. Gone was the innocent maiden she had once been. She dressed all in ck, her cheeks creased by age and torment. Her eyes were red-rimmed from too many tears as she looked into the darkness of the well. A small form was wrapped in cloth in her arms, lulled to sleep by a music box.

    No Valdemar whispered, his heart turning cold in his chest. No, please, dont

    <em><strong>She hated and feared you.</strong></em>

    His mother threw the child into the well, down into the darkness.

    Valdemar could only stand and watch as he heard a thump sound at the wells bottom. The ghost of his mother looked into the well without a word, and after a few seconds of silence turned away.

    Valdemar approached the wells edge and looked into the abyss inside. He couldnt see the bottom. Only darkness.

    You are lying, Valdemar whispered through his teeth. My mother She was always so kind to me. She would never

    She did, his mothers specter said before turning to face him, her irises as red as blood. But you cannot die.

    You lie! Valdemar snarled angrily, his fists hitting the ground. This is just an illusion!

    No, my prince. This is the truth. But it doesnt matter. She kissed him on the cheek, her lips both warm and cold all at once. <em>We</em> love you. We wouldnt exist without you. We are your dreams.

    Valdemar took a step back to escape her vile touch, before casting a spell. He attempted to crush her neck with telekinesis, but neither his body nor the Liliths had blood. He tried to contact Ktulu through the summoning link. It was still here, but diffuse, as if the veil separating the nes stood between them.

    Shit, he <em>hated </em>dream magic!

    It is alright, my prince, the Lilith said before making a noble reverence. I will give you good dreams, if you wish.

    Will you die if I dream it? Valdemar replied angrily, refusing to believe what she had shown him even if he felt the seed of doubt growing in the back of his mind.

    Was this truly a dream? His Painted Field should have kept him away from the Primordial Dream, so how could the Lilith ensnare him in it? <em>Or we are in reality,</em> Valdemar thought as he looked at the well.<em> My dream manifested itself somewhere in Undend. But why cant I sense my familiar then?</em>

    What would it change? the Lilith asked and sounded genuinely puzzled. Great Ialdabaoth would just make another me. Even then, my intervention is not necessary. I only clean the stage before the final performance. The forces at y were set in motion long before your birth, my prince. They cannot be halted. Why try to fight?

    Why try to convince me at all then? What was Lord Bethor doing? Had he overestimated his abilities? Or was the Lilith stronger than she looked?

    Because you are in pain, she replied with false kindness. Your human life is a nightmare. When you wake up and cast off this false skin to reveal your shining true self, it will be all over. Why fight for lesser creatures? They created you to serve their selfish desires and continue to exploit you. You are better than this.

    You try to use me too, Valdemar pointed out. And youre far worse than the Dark Lords will ever be.

    Use you? My prince, we exist to serve you. We act on your behalf, even if you cannot see it yet. All we want is for you to be happy.

    As far as speeches go, Ive heard better. Though Valdemar had no love lost for inquisitors, he had friends he cared for in Marianne, Liliane, Hermann, Iren he was even starting to get used to Lord Och, of all people! Why even try to wake up Ialdabaoth? If you are his dream, you will cease to exist once he awakens.

    The Lilith silently observed him for a few seconds, and as she did Valdemar noticed the left side of her face wriggle for a split second. Something inhuman crept underneath his mothers skin, ready to burst out at a moments warning.

    Do you know, she asked, The distance between the sun humans worship and this barren rock we stand on?

    Valdemar frowned. No.

    Millions of kilometers of nothingness, she replied. Now, if you were to look at the darkness above for another world, millions turn to billions. A vast expanse of darkness filled with a few inds of lights and barren rocks. And among these countless grains of sand, only a handful house the seed of life.

    Your point?

    The universe is full of death, the Lilith replied coldly. Death is the natural state of the cosmos, and life is the wonderful exception. The life that is Ialdabaoth. Awake or dreaming, we are a part of its divine will. Your will. His awakening is inevitable.

    Valdemar didnt buy it. Then why do you try so hard to iste me from others, and to convince me to go along with you? If Ialdabaoths awakening was inevitable, you could sit back and watch. If it could do everything on its own, I wouldnt even be here.

    The Lilith smiled, her teeth pristine as ivory. She looked like his mother, but the way she moved was unlike her. She looked <em>false</em>. Who doesnt love to y with the food?

    I dont believe you, Valdemar replied, having pieced it together. There are some limitations that neither you nor Ialdabaoth are capable of oveing, and you need me to help break them. But what if I choose not to do anything? What if I just say <em>no</em>?

    The Lilith kept smiling, but her eyes no longer did. The silence stretched on, as oppressive as a Dark Lords aura, while Valdemar heard movementing from the well next to him.

    <strong>Then your stubbornness, </strong>she said, her voice twisting into an inhuman echo, <strong>Will be met with relentless despair.</strong>

    Valdemar spat on the ground. Bring it.

    The Lilith raised her hand, perhaps to cast a spell or castigate him only to let out a gasp as an invisible force coiled around her neck and lifted her above the ground.

    You talk too much, Lord Bethor dered as he manifested out of nowhere in full armor. His hand was raised into the void, his fingers slowly closing as he telekically strangled the Qlippoth impostor. Whore of the Outer Darkness.

    Lord Ochs words came to mind.

    <em>The gods do not deserve our worship, let alone our suffering.</em>

 Chapter 35: Kinship

    Chapter 35: Kinship

    Vernburg.

    He was dreaming of Vernburg.

    Valdemar never went to this ce, but the dream around him fit Mariannes description to the letter. Crumbling old houses surrounding the well under a ceiling of stone. Was this the false vige that Valdemar had dreamed into being or a mere mimicry?

    Whatever the case, it was slowly falling apart. The viges houses copsed one by one before sinking into nothingness. The ceiling above the summoners head cracked like an egg as thin red lines spread in the very fabric of the dreamscape.

    <em>Its him, </em>Valdemar realized as he looked at Lord Bethor. The Dark Lords magic poured out of his spirit likeva, his power dwarfing that of the Liliths. The creature that had led Valdemars spirit astray so easily was now at his mercy. <em>His mere presence destabilizes the dreamscape.</em>

    This is not a dreamscape, Lord Bethor said as he restrained the Lilith with the mere power of his mind. This is the other side.

    Valdemar shivered as he looked up through the cracks in the sky. He peered at the biggest rift and gained a glimpse of the universe beyond. A red light shone through it, and the roars of the Qlippoths echoed from the other side.

    The Outer Darkness.

    No wonder Valdemars link with Ktulu felt so weak. Multiple nar boundaries separated them.

    It seems that when you closed yourself to the Primordial Dream, you instead strengthened your connection to your progenitors nightmares, Lord Bethor said as he telekically moved the Lilith above the well. The creature wearing the face of Valdemars mother struggled against her binding, something crawling beneath her skin as if threatening to burst out at any moment.

    <em>My Painted Field prevented me from dreaming and created a mental buffer, </em>Valdemar put two and two together, his eyes fearfully gazing up at the fragmented ceiling. <em>Instead of manifesting in the material ne, this ce reformed on the other side.</em>

    And by doing so, Valdemar had left himself open to psychic attacks by Qlippoths. <em>Damned if I do, damned if I dont,</em> the sorcerer thought before ring at the Lilith. She had lied about being unable to influence him, all to make him lower his guard and fall into a trap.

    Even though Lord Bethor choked the life out of her, she was grinning ear to ear.

    Lord Bethor, we have to go back to reality now, Valdemar realized as the cracks spread to epass the entire ceiling. This ce, whatever it was, kept the Qlippoths outside at bay for the moment but not forever. If I dont wake up

    You will, but not before we get what we came for. Answers.

    Tendrils appeared behind the Lilith, binding her legs together and expanding her arms. The sight of his mother being crucified like this sent shivers down Valdemars spine, though he quickly suppressed this feeling. This wasnt his mother, just a monster copying her.

    Will you kill her? Valdemar asked the Dark Lord.

    It wont stick unless we destroy her personal vessel, Lord Bethor said dryly. But I sense a connection between her and a dark force at this demines core. We can at least find out what it is.

    A demine? So this was indeed the false Vernburg. Even as this false reality fell apart, the well remained undisturbed; the evil within scared away even the Qlippoths. Since Liliths were the handmaiden of the Nahemoths

    <em>Dont you want to know who is at the wells bottom? </em>the Lilith had said the first time he dreamed of her. <em>He is in great pain, my prince.</em>

    The creature sealed in the well was obviously a Nahemoth, but the way the Lilith spoke of it a doubt wormed its way into Valdemars mind.

    The illusion of his mother tossing him into the pit shed in Valdemars mind like a dire warning. The secret inside would hurt him, maybe even destroy him. Something in his subconscious told him to look away from a truth he was never meant to know.

    But Valdemar had gone too far to back out now. He gazed into the well, and found the pit deeper than anything he had ever seen. It made him dizzy simply to look at it, and his eyes couldnt see far past the darkness at the bottom. Symbols covered the stones, though most had be blurry and indistinguishable.

    Wards.

    Valdemar recognized some of them, having used simr inscriptions in his summoning circles. A few of the symbols, representing eyes, stuck out from the rest. <em>They were in my grandfathers diary, </em>Valdemar thought as he recognized some of the runes. His True Sight had revealed them on the pages.

    But not all of the runes were meant to keep summoned creatures imprisoned. Others were wards against the undead and corrupted ghosts. Why would anyone use them to bind a Nahemoth?

    As Valdemar asked these questions, he heard a crack above his head and the noise of shattered ss.

    And as he looked up from the well and watched the ceiling copse entirely, the sorcerer finally got a good look at the Outer Darkness

    As it turned out, it wasnt dark at all.

    A swirling vortex of crimson light swallowed the dreams ceiling and covered the skies as far as Valdemar could see. It was a whirlpool of magic whose eye was a blistering nuclear chaos, a burning abyss of light and mes. Countless Qlippoths, from the lowly Gnawers to mightier Collectors, emerged from this cradle of nightmares and floated in the void above the demine. They roared and screamed as they descended towards the well, crossing the impossible distance separating it from the abyss.

    But it was the vortex itself that made Valdemar stare in shock.

    For it was not made of water or blood, but of souls.

    Countless hollowed husks were joined together in this mad sea of stitched flesh. Humans, Dokkars, troglodytes, and all the children of Ialdabaoth were gathered in this macabre abyss. They tried to crawl away, fighting and screaming and begging but they couldnt escape the nuclear chaos irresistible gravity. The souls were dragged into the central furnace, and the steady stream would keep it alight for all eternity.

    There were millions of them.

    This is hell, Valdemar whispered in horror. An afterlife for corrupted souls.

    Oh my prince the Lilith whispered even though Lord Bethor crushed her throat. You are wrong. This is not <em>an </em>afterlife.

    Her tongue morphed into a tentacle as it licked her lips.

    This is all there is.

    They all returned to the Blood. Innocents or sinners, they all returned to the Blood and their dark fathers jaws. <em>Mother, grandfather </em>Valdemar froze in fear as he peered into the burning abyss. <em>Everyone</em>

    Focus! Lord Bethors voice was sharp as a de. She is deceiving you!

    The thunderous voice, and the screams of Qlippoths descending towards them like a flock of bats, snapped Valdemar out of his paralysis. <em>Yes, thats a lie, </em>he thought. <em>Its a lie!</em>

    And as his mind cleared, Valdemar suddenly noticed an anomaly in this chaos. But even from this sea of chaos, an ind of order had risen. A gray spot was growing far away from the maw of the abyss, a cancer of metal rather than souls. Familiar pylons grew out of this surface, the lightning erupting from them zapping the Qlippoths whenever they got too close.

    Something didnt add up.

    Look down into the pit before it is toote! Lord Bethor ordered as his magic coiled around the captive Lilith like a serpent. Let there be light!

    The Lilith shrieked as the Dark Lords spell took effect. The voice turned from that of Valdemars mother into an inhuman, gargled sound that banished the darkness.

    And for the briefest of seconds, Valdemar nced at the thing at the bottom; at the monster that gave birth to this nightmare, the creature that shared his dreams.

    It was a child.

    A malformed, bloated baby with corpse-like skin, sleeping on a bed of bones and dried blood. It must have been no more than a few days old, malformed and twisted. ck ooze poured from scars on the stunted hands and limbs, while a severed, dark umbilical cord wriggled out of its belly. The corpse didnt breathe nor did it make a sound. It was as dead as Valdemar was alive.

    <em>He thought you were dead, </em>Shelleys words echoed in his mind,<em> dead like Crtail.</em>

    Crtail, Valdemar whispered.

    The child opened his eyes as his name was called, revealing a gray hue identical to Valdemars own gaze.

    The corpse looked up at the sorcerer while tentacles erupted from the corpses scars. The lips twitched and widened as the creatures jaw expanded into a fiery maw full of eyes and teeth. The entire demine, this cradle of demons, shook with its awakening.

    A stillborn Nahemoth.

    His other half.

    The creature roared and the dream shattered like ss.

    Valdemars scream echoed the monsters into the waking world, his body trembling. His throat let out a shriek that could wake up even the deaf, while his hands shook uncontrobly. His heart burned and beat against his ribs in an attempt to burst out of his chest.

    Valdemar! Mariannes warm hand squeezed his own, her voice barely audible over his own scream. As he kept howling his despair for all to hear, her fingers moved to his cheeks and turned his head in her direction. Calm down! Look at me, this is over! You have woken up!

    Valdemars screams died in his throat as his eyes met Mariannes. The visions of the Nahemoth blurred with her face, but he managed to focus on her eyes even as his body kept shaking beneath the bed sheet.

    Im here, Marianne whispered, her voice banishing the fearful visions. Youre safe. Youre <em>safe</em>.

    Valdemar gathered his breath, his hands still trembling. Marianne held one, and his familiar another. Although his screams had woken Ktulu, the child held onto his partner tightly. Ktulhu, it gargled, his tentacles licking Valdemars cheek like a dogs tongue. Ktulhu.

    They were gone. The Qlippoths, the thing, the abyss they were all gone like a bad dream.

    Its over, Marianne kept whispering as her partner slowly calmed himself. Its alright. Im here.

    No, he wasnt. He wasnt alright. His heart was slowing down, but it still hurt in his ribcage. And the dream this cradle of a nightmare

    I saw it, Valdemar whispered slowly as he squeezed back her hand. Whos at the bottom of the well. I saw it.

    The well? Vernburgs well? Marianne frowned as she released Valdemars hand. She quickly used a healing spell on him and the pain in his chest receded. His limbs were his own once again. Gather your thoughts. What happened?

    Im Im not sure myself. The sorcerer looked at Lord Bethor, who was still sitting in a lotus position on the floor. Have you managed to track them down through the link?

    No, the Dark Lord answered, his eyes closed in meditation. The Nahemoths awakening and the disturbance in the Outer Darkness disrupted the link. You have seen it too.

    Valdemars eyes nced at his Painted Field and the gray spot growing in one of its corners. Since the magical apparatus strengthened the summoners connection to Ialdabaoths mind and the Outer Darkness, he suspected that it echoed what happened on that ne.

    The metal cancer, Valdemar muttered. I''ve seen those pylons before. Its derrotech.

    Yes. Lord Bethor finally opened his eyes. I suspect that this phenomenon and the thefts of brains in our territory are connected. I cannot say how yet. In any case, I have wounded the Liliths essence and she will not trouble you in the near future. However, you will have to disable your Painted Field while you sleep from now on.

    Valdemar winced as Ktulu silently sat at his side, silent as a tomb. This will bring back the nightmare, he pointed out. And let the demine creep into our world.

    A lesser evil than giving the Qlippoths a doorway to influence your mind directly, the Dark Lord replied dryly. The wards keeping the Nahemoth imprisoned remain active. We still have time before it breaks out.

    <em>Before </em>it breaks out.

    Not <em>if</em>.

    Please, Marianne said with a frown, as she tried to understand the conversation. Can you go back to the beginning? What did you see?

    <em>My mothers vition, a Liliths temptations, and Crtail,</em> Valdemar thought darkly. I dont know what was true or false.

    I do, Lord Bethor said coldly as he opened his dark eyes. The reason for your malformed dreamscape, Valdemar, is that your soul is intertwined with a Nahemoth since the moment of your birth.

    Marianne bit her lower lip. They are one and the same?

    Not quite. Their spirits are The Dark Lord considered the appropriate term. Conjoined, like malformed twins sharing a body. Only one of the two spirits may exist on the material ne at once.

    Valdemar clenched his jaw. Mortal life created the Primordial Dream to protect itself from Qlippoth intrusions. When I sleep, my mind takes refuge in the Primordial Dream; since it cannot follow me here, the Nahemoth manifests in our reality instead. But if I do not dream

    The two spirits converge in the Outer Darkness and the connection strengthens, Lord Bethor finished. A process that may permanently damage your soul. If the Nahemoth weren''t bound, it could have merged with your essence.

    Valdemar would have undergone a metamorphosis and shed his humanity.

    <em>Thats their n, </em>he guessed. The Lilith was trying to weaken the wards keeping the Nahemoth imprisoned, to break down the barrier separating the man from the Qlippoth until a new horror emerged. <em>A red prince shaped in his fathers image.</em>

    And from what he had seen, the wards were slowly weakening.

    His fear must have been written all over his face, because Mariannes gaze hardened. That will not happen, she said firmly. If the two of you arent one and the same, then the connection can be destroyed.

    The destruction of the wards will not cause an immediate fusion, Lord Bethor added. So long as you keep your human ability to dream and take refuge in the Primordial Dream, your spirits will remain separate.

    But it will allow the Nahemoth to fully manifest in imperial territory, Valdemar said darkly.

    Where it can be in or sealed again, Lord Bethor replied with unshakable confidence.

    But how will it affect Valdemar? Marianne asked with a frown. If the bond isnt severed, it could damage his soul.

    To Valdemars worry, the Dark Lord had littlefort to provide. I shall consult my old teacher on the matter. Lord Ochs knowledge of souls surpasses mine.

    He had to know something. As a lich, he had achieved immortality by severing the soul from his body and binding it to a phctery.

    <em>This is all there is.</em>

    Did Lord Och know what awaited beyond the veil between life and death? <em>I have to know, </em>Valdemar thought as he shivered. Everyone had failed to call back a soul that had already passed into the Beyond, and now he feared to learn why.<em> I have to know. I cant I need the truth.</em>

    A detail bothered him. Who put in those wards in the first ce, in the very heart of the demine? Valdemar muttered. I saw the runes in my grandfathers diary.

    You answered your own question, Marianne said softly. He was trying to protect you. To prevent you from bing the cults tool.

    Valdemars jaw clenched in frustration. Why did she keep defending his grandfather? My grandfather couldnt cast spells.

    Marianne mulled over her answer, before asking another question, Could your mother?

    The words hit Valdemar like an arrow to the chest. His mother, using magic? That was absurd! She died a sick madwoman, unable to distinguish reality from delusion. Valdemar had never seen her cast a spell before her death.

    But he couldnt forget the horrible memory of the ck blood taking a hold of his mother and twisting her. Now, he understood that this vition had caused her depression and illness. But could it have given her powers too?

    The illusion of his mother tossing a child into the well

    <em>But you cannot die.</em>

    <em>Like conjoined twins.</em>

    <em>Dead like Crtail.</em>

    <em>He is suffering, my prince.</em>

    An ugly picture formed in Valdemars mind. Ktulu sensed his distress and held onto his arm, his tentacles wriggling in concern.

    As Valdemar remained silent, Marianne sensed his unease and changed the subject. The Lilith only appeared recently even though Shelley spent twenty years praying, she pointed out. Nahemoths represent Ialdabaoths creative impulses, so we can assume that the one in the well manifested her. This may be a sign that the wards are weakening.

    Shelley was trying to disrupt them, Valdemar whispered as he remembered his childhood nightmares and the rats haunting them. He tossed corpses into the well in the hope that it would feed the Nahemoth as if it were a living beast. He was never trained in magic, so he made assumptions.

    Since he thought you dead, he probably believed that he could salvage the cults ritual by creating another grail, Marianne guessed before ncing at Lord Bethor. How long do we have until the wards break?

    Enough time to find a solution, the Dark Lord replied dismissively. I cannot say the same for the nar anomaly in the Outer Darkness. Whatever the derros are nning, we shall investigate it at once.

    We? Valdemar and Marianne asked both at once.

    Yes, <em>we</em>. You have trained enough to be passable battle mages. I was already nning a punitive expedition into derro territory for their recent raids, and you shalle with us. Prepare yourself to leave on a moments notice.

    Not one to waste words, the Dark Lord teleported immediately afterward, leaving Valdemar alone with Marianne and his familiar. The sorcerer petted Ktulu beneath the tentacles, the alien child squealing in happiness. Someone had to rejoice here.

    How do you feel? Marianne asked with concern.

    Terrible, Valdemar replied before ncing at his Painted Field. He would have to tear it down to dream again and let the nightmares return. I can say goodbye to sound sleep.

    Marianne seemed to hesitate about making a proposal for a moment, before mustering her courage. I could help with it, she said. Maybe.

    Valdemar raised an eyebrow in skepticism. How so?

    I I am better at defending my dreams, but I do know the basics of Oneiromancy. I could Marianne cleared her throat. I could enter your dreamscape and help you strengthen it. Like a dream bodyguard.

    Valdemar processed her answer for a few seconds. Was she offering to enter his subconscious and patrol his innermost dreams?

    Mariannes cheeks reddened in embarrassment. Im sorry. The proposal was inappropriate, I shouldnt have

    I wouldnt mind, Valdemar interrupted her.

    She blinked in surprise. You dont?

    I let Frigga in, the sorcerer admitted. I trust you far more than her. Besides, youre right. I have notoriously terrible mental defenses, so any help on that front is wee.

    I thank you for your trust, Valdemar. Marianne cleared her throat. I know most people would balk at letting someone else inside their dreams.

    Well, there wont be much to see. He had offloaded the worst of his nightmares to the Nahemoth. Its just a barren wastnd.

    Good, she said, that should make it easier to defend.

    Valdemar nced at Marianne, trying to see if she was making a joke or truly serious. Whatever the case, that wasnt the answer he had expected.

    Truly embarrassed, Marianne broke the awkward silence and changed the subject. Valdemar?

    Yes?

    Why did you say who? she asked with a concerned voice. You said <em>who </em>was at the bottom of the well, not <em>what</em>.

    Of course she had been perceptive enough to pick up that detail. Valdemar gathered his breath, as the vision of his mother throwing a child in the well and the creature looking up at him blurred into one.

    You remember what the viges Qlippoths told you about a certain Crtail? Valdemar asked her. A very special child that was always hungry?

    Marianne squinted. It wasnt a false name for you, was it?

    No. The name belongs to someone else.

    <em>Dead like Crtail.</em>

    Lord Bethor said it himself. We are spiritually conjoined twins from birth. The Nahemoth is, <em>was</em>, a human once. The wards included protections against restless spirits.

    <em><strong>She never wanted to have you.</strong></em>

    I wasnt the first, Marianne.

    <em>But </em><em><strong>you </strong></em><em>cannot die.</em>

    The thing at the wells bottom is Crtail, Valdemar whispered. My sibling.

 Chapter 36: Thicker than Blood

    Chapter 36: Thicker than Blood

    How long had it been since Valdemar had faced his grandfathers portrait?

    Days? Weeks? Time passed so quickly in Lord Bethors tower, especially since Valdemar had spent his time training or practicing magic. His painting had waited covered in cloth all this time, its own painter unable to face the ghostly echo within.

    Valdemar and Marianne had put the portrait on a wall after disabling the Painted Field. Ktulu was busy ying in the bathrooms sink, leaving the two humans alone with the ghostly echo.

    Valdemar? his grandfathers painted remains asked with an oblivious look in his eyes. Are you off ying outside again? Dont wander too far, or your mother will worry.

    <em>He doesnt remember anything, </em>Valdemar thought as he red at his grandsires echo. Even so long after the Silent Kings revtions, watching the mans face filled his grandson with rage and bitterness. Learning the countless atrocities he had made himself an aplice of through the Verney Cult had only reinforced his loathing.

    And yet and yet Valdemar had seen his grandfathers panic during his daughters ordeal beneath Verney Castle. He had tried to save her from Ialdaboaths attention and failed. Had he been deceived too?

    Valdemar? Marianne asked while his grandfathers echo looked around in confusion.

    I cant do it, Valdemar whispered. Just looking at the portrait made him confused.

    You can, Marianne replied, you just dont want to.

    No, he didnt. Valdemar knew the right questions to ask, but he was afraid of the answers. He was scared to see his doubts validated; to know that the family who had raised him only ever saw him as a curse, a tool, and a burden. That the cause for which Valdemar had dedicated his life had been a lie from the very start.

    Lord Ochs words came to mind.<em> All I offer is the truth, but it is true what fools say. Ignorance is bliss, and the path we walk is not a happy one.</em>

    Back then, Lord Och had said that his apprentice didnt understand his words. But now he did. Valdemar had been happy with his eyes closed, but the more he opened them, the greater his anguish. Each new revtion had left him feeling worse and more lonely than thest.

    <em>But its no longer about me,</em> the sorcerer thought.<em> Its about the world.</em>

    Why?

    The word came out of his mouth on its own.

    His grandfathers painting looked at him in confusion. Why, Valdemar?

    Why was I born? Valdemar asked as he cleared his throat. Was I only a way home for you?

    The silence stretched on for a few awkward seconds, the portraits face as still as a lifeless painting. For a moment, Valdemar thought that his grandfathers echo had fallen into another cognitive pitfall and simply couldnt process the question.

    Yes, you were.

    His grandfathers words were full of remorse, but they hurt all the same.

    Valdemar clenched his fists while the portraits gaze turned hollow and distant. You sold out your own daughter to a Stranger to create a pair of doors, the sorcerer condemned his grandfather, his body shaking with rage. You condemned this entire world just for a ticket back home?

    I was desperate, the painted ghost admitted, his voice breaking. I wanted to go home again. To my fianc and real family. This ce this ce is <em>Hell</em>.

    Your real family? Valdemar snarled. Because my mother and I were only tools to you? Mom was just a grail to use and discard?

    I didnt know His grandfathers echo sobbed as he held his head in his hands. I didnt know I didnt know Sarah would I didnt want any of this

    You knew this would happen the moment you threw your lot in with a Stranger cult! This this cowardly trash watching him made Valdemars blood boil in his veins. How could he ever have looked up to him?

    Mr. Dumont. Mariannes voice was softer, devoid of rage. Did you inform the authorities of the cults activities?

    His grandfathers painting kept sobbing, heedless of the world around him.

    He cant hear you, Valdemar replied angrily. He can only answer my questions.

    Then ask him. Marianne locked eyes with her partner before he could protest. Please, Valdemar. Ask him.

    What would it change to know that part? Valdemar argued bitterly.

    A lot, and you know it. She let out a sigh. Are you so afraid of the truth?

    Biting his tongue, Valdemar turned back to this shitstain of a painting. Did you rat out the Verney Cult to the Church of the Light?

    The portrait twitched briefly as he dried his tears. The ghostly echo was fragile and raw emotions weakened its stability. I did, he confessed. I promised the inquisitors that I would tell them everything if they let us go. Me, Sarah, and you

    But you didnt tell them <em>everything</em>, Marianne pointed out as she nced at Valdemar. Or else the inquisitors would have executed him, promise of amnesty or not.

    <em>He was just protecting his ticket home,</em> Valdemar thought angrily, but he asked the question anyway at Mariannes urging. Why didnt you tell them about me? To protect your gateway to Earth?

    No, I his grandfather shook his head. Sarah she made me promise.

    This time, Valdemars eyes widened. Mom?

    I wanted to tell the inquisitors the truth to have the demon spawn destroyed, but Sarah She said she would kill herself if I did. She didnt want to lose you. Not like

    Valdemar looked down in sadness. Not like Crtail?

    It wasnt his fault, his grandfather sobbed. He was born wrong. Too much like his father, they said. He was hungry, but it was never enough. Your mother She lured him to sleep with the box. That was the only way to make him behave. But one day he he didnt wake up. But even in death, he he kept dreaming.

    <em>But you cannot die.</em>

    So you tossed his corpse in a well and tried to bury his restless spirit? Valdemar asked. He wanted to be angry, but he could only feel sorrow and pity for the brother he had never known.

    Your mother there was no other way. She was the only one safe. He hated the living, and he wouldnt sleep The ghost of Pierre Dumont looked lost in his memories. Your mother she hoped they would find a way to help him rest one day, but we we never could.

    His mother his mother sealed Crtail hoping it would let his tormented soul rest.

    <em>Mom wanted us to live?</em> Valdemar thought in disbelief. <em>Even though we had been forced on her? Even though we were monsters, she wanted to save us?</em>

    Why didnt you turn me into a gate after she died? he asked with a frown. Did she make you promise no harm woulde to me?

    I I couldnt bring myself to continue. Though he no longer cried, his grandfather kept sobbing. The weight of his guilt and sins had caught up to him. I have done so many terrible things I ruined my daughters life before it even began I made a pact with demons even though I already damned myself twice-over, it had to stop somewhere.

    With me? It stopped with me? Valdemar clenched his jaw, his teeth gritting together. Couldnt you stop <em>earlier</em>?! You had plenty of chances to stop earlier! You said it yourself, you would have given me to the inquisitors! Why did it take Mom for you

    He felt Marianne put a hand on his shoulder, but she had the grace not to say anything. Valdemar looked at her, and she shook her head. Thats enough, Valdemar.

    How can you say that after hearing this? He <em>knew</em>. He knew all along, sold his daughter to Ialdabaoth and

    Valdemar, take a good look at him. A long, good look.

    Valdemar bit his lips, but followed her advice. And as he did so, he began to see his grandfathers portrait in a new light.

    Before his death, his grandsire had appeared so wise and paternal. An elder who had seen more worlds than anyone else alive, and carried the loss of his home in his heart without giving in to despair.

    The creature in front of Valdemar was anything but a wise elder.

    The painting showed an old man prematurely aged by loss and regrets, his wrinkles as deep as rifts. His eyes betrayed his terror and iprehension at the terrible world he had found himself trapped himself in. He didnt look like the maniptor his grandson wanted to see him as; his back was crumpled, his hands trembling with shame. He looked

    He looked <em>lost</em>.

    Hes not the viin you want him to be, Marianne said softly. He is an old ghost full of regrets. He could have avoided this mess, this is true. But in the end he did the right thing. Can you truly keep hating him after knowing that?

    And yet, Valdemar was still furious. The anger smoldered beneath the surface, his blood boiling whenever he nced at this shitty old man. The mere sight of this this self-pitying wretch

    <em>No, </em>Valdemar realized as he looked at his own trembling hands, still full of the same fury. The rage came from somewhere else entirely.

    Valdemar wasnt angry because he hated his grandfather.

    He was angry at himself because he <em>didnt</em>.

    <em>Why?</em> he thought while ring at this painted ghost.<em> Why couldnt you be an asshole too? Why did you have to bring Mom into this?</em>

    He didnt know what to think.

    I need fresh air, Valdemar said.

    As Lord Bethor had promised, his students had been allowed to leave the tower after their training.

    The only way in and out of the fortress was through teleportation, but the Dark Lord had wisely setplex blood circles that could transport people in and out of his tower. Only those with proper authorization could use them, and he had allowed his students to venture outside to gather weapons and supplies.

    However, both Marianne and Valdemar had to go wearing metal helmets to avoid identification. Lord Bethors spells protected them from magical tracking by the cult of Ialdabaoth, but it didnt hurt to be discreet.

    As befitting of their reputation, the weapon markets of Sabaoth were closer to open forges than markets. The merchants included sentient golems, humans, troglodytes, and even the asional Dokkar. Undead workers toiled in smelters and forges to deliver swords, shields, and guns to clients on the spot. Smoke was omnipresent in the area and quickly purified by bound air elementals. Fire ones fueled the forges and furnaces with their own bodies.

    Undead knights regrly checked the clients for identification, though thankfully none of them interrogated Marianne and Valdemar. She suspected that Lord Bethor had given his soldiers a special way to identify the duo, with orders to leave them alone.

    It was strange, to go outside. Her enhanced senses picked up everything now; the smell of sweat, the scent of alchemical powders mixed with metal, the clinks and nks of hammers hitting an armor te. Marianne had to focus constantly to filter out the ambient information without getting overloaded. Even looking at the smoke gave her headaches, as her enhanced vision picked up every grain of ash in the air.

    Are you looking for something in particr? Marianne asked her partner as they traveled down an alley with chimneys and ovens on both sides. The air was hazy with smoke, while soldiers dutifully transported crates of supplies from the forges to the barracks.

    Not really Valdemar replied sullenly, the bag he carried on his back growing quite agitated. And Ktulu doesnt like it here. Too hot.

    I warned you, Marianne replied with amusement. Why did you bring him along?

    He forced his way into the trip. As Valdemar spoke, the cloth bags opening briefly widened to reveal a ck eye inside. Ktulu peeked outside, before immediately retreating back inside his hideout before someone could see him. I think he wants real food.

    Marianne couldnt me him. Lord Bethor had golems serve them the same awful gruel and water for days now. Although she knew it was the standard food for soldiers and full of nutrients, she would rather eat something with <em>vor</em>.

    We can go check the food after I get a new firearm, Marianne replied as she examined the stands. Although rifles, flintlocks, and gunpowder weapons were rare and expensive, Saboaths forges sold plenty of them. However, they mostly sold heavy weapons like blunderbusses or heavy rifles; although Mariannes strength had increased since her training, she would rather use something adapted to one-hand. My reloading flintlock was good enough, but it jammed all the time.

    A rifle, Valdemar argued. Flintlocks cant reload automatically.

    A reloading flintlock, Marianne insisted. Something in his tone had turned her defensive. Why does everyone say it was a rifle?

    Because it was a rifle and you made a mistake?

    Marianne sighed beneath her helmet. Alright, I will get a single-handed rifle.

    Truth be told, she was happy Valdemar had enough life left in him to argue with her. She had expected him to fall into sullen silence or depression after his encounter with his grandfather. But the truth had only made him thoughtful.

    <em>I think he had doubts from the start,</em> Marianne thought.<em> It would have been easier if the world was ck and white. </em>You were afraid your mother didnt want you, were you not?

    Yes, he admitted while ncing at the stands. From the way he looked at their wares, Marianne was certain that he had never wielded a weapon in his life; Valdemar Verney had only ever trusted magic. Im not sure what to think now.

    I cannot say I truly understand how you feel, Marianne admitted. But, for whatever it is worth, I have despised my parents too after they disowned me. This pain is sharper than most.

    Does it ever go away?

    No, Marianne replied bluntly. But no matter the circumstances of your birth, your mother and grandfather made the choice to treat you as a member of their family rather than a hellspawn. I know you want to see your grandfather as evil because it would be easier to hate him but he wasnt. You have seen what true evil is like, Valdemar. Can you trulypare your grandsire to that Lilith?

    He still had plenty of opportunities to prevent things from degenerating this far.

    True, and that makes him wed. But in the end he stopped and tried to make up for his mistakes. Shouldnt that point count in his favor?

    Her fellow sorcerer crossed his arms and didnt answer.

    And <em>now </em>she had made him sullen. Marianne sighed as she looked at the firearms avable, her eyes wandering from a rifle to another. She noticed one with three small barrels, the device barelyrger than a hand. Ive never seen this kind, she muttered to herself.

    The shopkeeper, a stone golem using a carved funeral mask for a face, turned to face her. This is a new one-handed weapon we recently reverse-engineered from the Derro Kingdom, he exined with a deep, bellowing voice. We call it a revolver. The range is smaller than a flintlock and the damage is mediocre, but it is easy to disguise and draw.

    Interesting, Marianne said as she grabbed one, an exquisite steel weapon covered in dragon symbols. What about the munitions? How many shots can it fire before you have to reload?

    Three. It is reliable, but I suggest using a rifle if you want more power. You can mitigate the problem if you turn it into a soulbound weapon and purchase enchanted bullets, but it will cost a fortune and you will need connections.

    I could pay to have a soul bound to a weapon? It surprised Marianne. Soulbound items were excessively rare, since people needed a soulstone in the first ce to manufacture them. Individuals wealthy enough to purchase one usually chose to be revived as undead or golems rather than have their spirit bound to a weapon or firearm.

    Yes, if you have the militarys authorization, the golem replied with a nod. Lord Bethor does not waste resources. Prisoners with the death penalty unfit for military service have their soul extracted to power weapons, and their body is repurposed into a mindless undead thrall. The souls of murderers make especially good firearms, since their bloodlust carries through the bullets.

    A soulbound revolver would probably pierce through Shelleys skin. Although Marianne had trained to rely on her own strength, having a back-up weapon that wouldnt tap into her bones for projectiles couldnt hurt. How much would it cost?

    The military will need to ce an order on your behalf for a soulbound revolver. Report to your superior, but I doubt they will agree. Such weapons are usually reserved for the best units.

    I will try my luck all the same, Marianne replied. She believed Lord Bethor wouldnt mind, especially since she intended to enchant the bullets herself. She had an idea in mind that could prove especially deadly to the likes of Shelley and other wererats.

    <em><strong>Bullets wont work, Marianne</strong></em>

    The voicean inhuman, shadowy whisperechoed in her head while a chilling feeling took root in her mind. Invisible hands wormed their way into her brain and wove words from her thoughts

    Mariannes head immediately snapped around her, trying to locate the source of the voice. The alien feeling in her mind vanished as if had never been here, the strange words drowned out by the noise of the forges. Ktulu briefly peeked through the bags opening as if startled by her reaction, but quickly hid back inside.

    Did you hear that? Marianne asked.

    Valdemar emerged from his thoughts long enough to answer. Hear what?

    Since the golem looked just as confused, Marianne kept her mouth shut to avoid appearing like a madwoman. Had her mind yed a trick of perceptions on her? Or had she misheard something from the forges?

    In any case, she took the forgemasters coordinates to ce an orderter and left with Valdemar for the food stands. They were few and far between, offering little more than smoked meat.

    <em>I would kill for a vegetable te</em>, Marianne thought as she examined a stand of dried and fried fish. An undead worker had gathered an unusual collection of salmon, tuna, and strange creatures, but none that interested either Marianne or Valdemar.

    <em><strong>He requires fish, Marianne</strong></em>

    This time, Marianne looked straight at Valdemars bag. As she suspected, Ktulu was discreetly peeking out, his six cute eyes looking insistently at her. Ktuluh, it whispered while pointing a finger at the salmon among the various products. Ktulhu.

    Shush, Valdemar whispered back, the familiar hiding back inside the bag before someone could see him. Ill take a few, I promise.

    Marianne wondered if Ktulu was the source of the voice, until she remembered that it said <em>he </em>rather than<em> I. </em>She nced down at Valdemars shadow, noticing three red lights briefly ring on the shades head before being swallowed by darkness.

    <em>So thats how it is, </em>Marianne thought as she focused back on the stand. I will buy six salmon, she said.

    <em><strong>I will keep you safe, Marianne</strong></em>

    Strangely, Valdemar seemed blissfully unaware of his pet monsters antics. I didnt take you for a fish person, he told hispanion. But I can cook something with mushrooms when we get home.

    You can cook? Marianne asked in surprise.

    Yes, of course. I have been on my own for a while. Valdemar turned his head in her direction, his eyes piercing through the helmet. You never learned to?

    I Marianne sighed in embarrassment. To my shame, I did not. Bertrand always cooked for me.

    What is there to be ashamed of? Valdemar asked as he paid the undead worker, and received the tribute of fish in a separate bag. Ktulu grew agitated inside his own, perhaps displeased to have to wait to eat his dinner. I will teach you.

    That would be kind, Marianne replied.<em> And it will help you take your mind off your family.</em>

    As if he had heard her thoughts, Valdemar turned to gaze at Lord Bethors tower. The iron building could be seen everywhere in Sabaoth. Marianne?

    Yes, Valdemar?

    Do you think Crtail is a monster? he asked as they walked through the noisy alleys. Even after all you have learned?

    Marianne considered her answer carefully. She thought back of Vernburg, of the Qlippoths ying humans inside its borders, of all the evidence she had gathered across this long and deadly case.

    No, she replied. I think theres still a trace of humanity left inside.

    His head snapped in her direction. Why?

    The viges Qlippoths yed humans, and the most lifelike of them was Crtails nurse. The one who took care of him alongside your mother. If your sibling is the demines source, why wasnt he dreaming of horrors? Why was he dreaming of someone who he thought of as a motherly figure?

    Why was he dreaming of Qlippoths ying human instead? Why did its Lilith handmaiden choose his mothers appearance as her vessel?

    Your mothers music box lured him to sleep too, Marianne pointed out. I havent heard of any monster that behaved this way. His behavior is more that of a child with great powers than a destroyer of worlds. But Valdemar, someone who spent twenty years trapped at the bottom of a well, is <em>never </em>going to be normal again.

    I know. I have seen him. He is a tormented soul full of pain and hunger. But He shook his head. Do you think there could be another way to deal with him? Outside of murder?

    Do you think there could be another way to save Bertrand than killing him?

    I already answered that before.

    Then you answered your own question. Killing is the easy way to solve a problem, but its not the only one. Or else our entire society wouldnt exist. Marianne put a hand on his shoulder. I dont think you can turn him human, not after all he went through but a better option than murder might present itself.

    Valdemar looked at her hand in silence, before nodding to himself. Im not going to destroy Crtail. He is innocent in all of this; just another victim of that filthy cult. Destroying him is not what my mother would have wanted.

    He clenched his fist with determination.

    Im going to save him.

 Chapter 37: The Forgotten Saint

    Chapter 37: The Forgotten Saint

    Hi there Undenders,

    A very important notice for next month. Some of you may not know, but one of my webnovels, <strong>Vainqueur the Dragon</strong>, is receiving a webtoon adaptation that will be out on <strong>Tapas </strong>at the end of March. With the iing release, my work schedule is getting tighter for that month.

    Currently, I am publishing two stories at once: <strong>Undend</strong> and <strong>Kairos: A Greek Myth LitRPG</strong>. Each of them receive two chapters a week for a total of four chapters. Due to the iing Vainqueur webtoon release and with both of my stories approaching their final arcs on Patreon, I''ve decided to reduce that total to three chapters a week to better focus on the webtoon''s release; a Patreon poll was held this week-end to decide how I would adjust the publication schedule.

    So starting with next week/March, <strong>Undend''s </strong>update schedule will move to <strong>one chapter a week on Thursday</strong>; at least until Iplete Kairos on Patreon, after which I''ll fully focus on Undend with three chapters a week until it finishes. I wish I could duplicate and keep the current schedule, but that''s the best alternative I''ve found.

    Best regards,

    Voidy.

    The cavern could shelter an army, and yet it was barelyrge enough to house the monster.

    When Lord Bethor summoned his students for the raid into Derro territory, Valdemar had expected to travel on foot or on the back of giant beetles. A subtle, discreet infiltration into enemynds. But of course, Lord Bethor didnt do anything <em>subtle</em>.

    This is the Excavator, the Dark Lord exined as he waved a hand at the biomechanical titan in front of them. The spear that will pierce the Derro Kingdoms hide.

    And what a spear it was. The creature reminded Valdemar of a gargantuan centipede, albeit one nearly half a kilometer in length and as thick as a fortress. Although the lower half of the body had chitinous legs and a carapace, the upper parts had been reced with a thick mechanical shell. Instead of a face, the chimeras head ended with the biggest, mostplex drill mechanism Valdemar had ever seen. Hydraulic mechanisms supported the entire apparatus while chimneys let out vapors at the creatures tail.

    Its a living fortress, Marianne whispered as she noticed reinforced doors and stained windows on the upper parts of the centipede allowing entrance into its interior. A horde of undead workers and golem engineers welded the finishing touches on the shielding.

    The Knights of the Shroud, Lord Bethors personal knightly order, stood watch over the Excavator. Each and every one of them was a mighty undead warrior d in imposing ck armor, with a crimson gaze piercing through their closed visors. Their helmets ended in a crown of spikes and each of them carried a Soulbound weapon of some kind. Most of them wielded short swords adapted to fighting in enclosed spaces, but a few specialists had settled for axes and polearms. As the empires elite fighting force, they deserved the best equipment Ant had to offer.

    <em>Death rides with us</em>, Valdemar thought as he remembered the orders infamous motto.<em> Death hase to the Derro Kingdom.</em>

    Valdemar and Marianne hade equipped as well. Lord Bethor, perhaps to congratte his students on graduating, had given them new clothes woven with protective spells: a red hooded cloak in the style of the Pleroma Institute for Valdemar and slim leather armor for Marianne. Thetter had also received the Soulbound revolver she asked for, a handheld gun with three ck barrels and a bone handle.

    Ktulhu, Valdemars familiar said in his bag. The welders tools warmed up the cavern, and he didnt like the temperature. Ktulhu.

    It will be cooler inside, Valdemar replied. Or at least he hoped so. The Mask of the Nightwalker on his face gave him fresh air, but he didnt think that letting Ktulu try it would be a good idea. Two Strangers interacting might have unforeseen consequences.

    Im sure my old apprentice prepared some refreshments for the trip, a familiar voice mused to Valdemars side. Lord Ochs sudden appearance surprised neither Valdemar nor Marianne. By now, they had grown perceptive enough to sense him teleporting in their midst. I see your biomancers outdid themselves, Lord Bethor. Are you sure you want to unveil it now?

    It is a calcted risk, the younger Dark Lord replied to his master while Marianne politely bowed before Och. Valdemar himself simply crossed his arms and listened in silence. I do not expect to reach the capital before the Derros figure out a counter, but we should storm the city-fortress of Stahlstadt. Otto Blutgang left General Stahlherz to garrison it, but his forces will be no match for me.

    Cavern warfare was long, tedious and difficult. Unlike the colossal domains, most of Undends caves and tunnels were low and narrow; advancing meant moving from one choke point to another, each of them bitterly contested.

    So Lord Bethor had found a novel alternative. Instead of disputing existing tunnels with Derro garrisons, he would create a new pathway for his army.

    Still, when the Dark Lord had spoken aboutunching a<em> punitive expedition,</em> Valdemar had expected a small raid instead of a full blown military offensive. The summoner guessed that Lord Bethor had higher standards than most as far as violence was concerned.

    I will drop you on the designated area midway through our advance, Lord Bethor said as he observed his troops boarding the centipedes inside through a metaldder. I trust you shall be able to return to civilization on your own, my old teacher.

    Of course, the lich replied with a chuckle before gazing at Marianne and his apprentice. Will you be strong enough to guard a feeble old man like me?

    Valdemar shrugged, refusing to y his teachers game. Marianne, however, simply nced at Lord Bethor.

    I said you would either count among the empires best mages or obituaries, Lord Bethor said. I did not lie. You are now adequate battlemages by my standards. There is still much for you left to learn, but you will prove sufficient.

    It sounded almost like apliment too.

    Though he believed he wouldnt be so lucky, Valdemar hoped they wouldnt face too much opposition. Lord Ochs goal was to investigate the region where his grandfather first appeared in Undend in an attempt to either locate a potential Pleromian portal or find out if the Derros had discovered internar transport technology. Valdemar and his group would tag along with Lord Bethors expedition until they reached this ce and then split off to do some archeological digging.

    Of course, the Derros wouldnt take an intrusion into disputed territory lying down and would fight back.

    Such a shame we will have to leave before your friends visit Sabaoth, my apprentice, Lord Och said as they moved towards thedder to board the Excavator. But with diligence, we shall return in time to meet with them.

    Valdemar looked forward to it. It felt like a lifetime ago since hest met with Liliane, Hermann, Iren, and the others. If I may ask, the summoner asked his mentor. Has there been news on the Beast gue front?

    There has been a rise of incidents and a few outbreaks across the empire, but nothing we couldnt contain, Lord Och replied evasively. However, it appears the Verney cults new headquarters is located somewhere near Ariouth.

    Lord Phalegs Domain? Marianne asked with a frown as she climbed the irondder first. Of course the cult would take refuge in the part of the empire most hostile to Lord Och.

    Now, youre seeing my issue, Lord Och replied. I am sure my old apprentice has little awareness of whats happening under his nose, as he keeps it buried too deeply in his books. Unfortunately, to avoid a potential and costly conflict between us, we will have to address the subject on neutral ground.

    The Dark Lords Sabbath, Valdemar guessed as he climbed after Marianne. Thedder led to an open st door giving way to a warm metal chamber. Ticking clocks and alchemical devices covered the walls, while pipes transported blood to the beasts organic parts and oil to its artificial ones. Valdemar noticed many other cluttering contraptions. Although he didnt understand what half of them did, he did recognize some repurposed Derrotech.

    Yes. Lord Och, unlike his student, simply teleported inside the metal room. What a show off. Young Aratra will host us all in her pce, we shall raise a toast to the new year, decide which cavern we will invade, and then settle the Verney question.

    The wording sent a chill down Valdemars spine. My question, you mean?

    Hagith put your case on the agenda, Lord Bethor said gruffly as he teleported into the chamber. The st door started closing behind him, the beast preparing to take off. Aratra will almost certainly summon you and Reynard for an audience.

    And much like his old master, Lord Bethor dared to call the empress of Ant by her name without any honorifics.

    Her Majesty? Marianne didnt hide her difort. But I was disgraced.

    Young Aratras attention is fleeting like mist, Lord Och mused. I suspect she had long forgotten you before Young Hagith mentioned your name.

    This didnt sit well with Valdemar. Lord Bethor and Och clearly knew about Ialdabaoths true nature, so he had to assume the other Dark Lords did so as well. Some might wish to exploit the situation to their advantage, but others would probably rather choose caution over ambition.

    And Valdemars head would be on the line.

    The chamber trembled as its devices thrummed and the ground shook beneath their feet. Valdemar almost stumbled as a quake spread through the structure, Marianne catching him by the arm to help him stand upright. Muffled noise echoed through the machinery as the drill activated and started digging into the stone skin of Undend.

    Valdemar closed his eyes and activated his Psychic Sight, analyzing the biomechanical Excavator through the flowing blood. From the presence of surgical scars all across the body, the biomancers and engineers of Sabaoth had cultivated the creature until it had reached its adult size. They had then removed its intestines, brain, and nds before recing them with technological and alchemical recements. Even most of the blood cirction system was now mostly made of iron pipes.

    Valdemar marveled at the effort it took to grow and modify this thing in secret. Lord Bethors spellcasters must have spent years working on this project, and no hint of it ever reached the outside world.

    Lord Bethor took his leave at this moment to move up to the machinesmand center while ordering Knights of the Shroud to escort his guests to their quarters. When Valdemar prepared to go with Marianne, Lord Och stopped him. Young Valdemar, please be kind and entertain me on our journey, the lich rasped before ncing at Marianne. I am sure your bodyguard wont mind.

    Marianne frowned, but epted the dismissal with dignity. Is there a room where I can practice my shooting? she asked a Knight and received confirmation. Then I will retire there for the moment. See youter, Valdemar.

    See you soon, he replied as he watched her vanish into the iron corridors of the Excavator. Valdemar struggled to exin why, but he felt diminished without her nearby. He had grown used to her presencetely, almost as much as Ktulu.

    Do not look so fraught with disappointment, my apprentice, Lord Och said as Knights guided them through the maze of pipes and corridors. Everywhere engineers worked tirelessly to keep the machinery running. I may not be a noble maiden, but I can be goodpany.

    Will you cut off my arm if I say I preferred Mariannespany? Valdemar deadpanned.

    Are you bitter about your training? Lord Bethor was right then, I coddled you too much.

    The Knights of the Shroud introduced them to what Valdemar believed to be Lord Ochs private quarters: arge lounge containing couches, cushions, and bookcases filled to the brim with texts. Knowing his old masters true nature, Lord Bethor had scoured the chambers of basic amenities like a kitchen or bathrooms. A vast stained window embedded in a wall allowed the upants to see the world outside.

    Lord Bethor set up these quarters just for me, the lich dered as he sat on the couch, the knight closing the door behind Valdemar. He knows my tastes in books as well. I have already read most of them, but it is the thought that counts.

    The fact that the utilitarian Dark Lord of Sabaoth had set up a room inside his superweapon spoke volumes about the esteem in which he held his old master. From the way Lord Och himself spoke of his apprentice, Valdemar guessed they were probably as close to friends as creatures like them could be.

    Is it true that a lichs memory is foolproof? Valdemar asked as he opened his bag and let Ktulu out. His familiar nced warily at Lord Och before bing fascinated with the world outside the window. The Excavator melted stone as it advanced, leaving fiery marks on the tunnels outside.

    It is. Though it may take me a while to remember details. Lord Och nced at his students shadow. Valdemar sensed his hidden Haunter growing uneasy with the lichs attention, like a predator sensing the gaze of another. I am very pleased with your progress. Your skills have sharpened, and you have taken many leaps into understanding the true nature of our world.

    Valdemars thoughts turned to the Outer Darkness, and the horrors he had witnessed within it. My teacher, I would like to discuss facts that I have uncovered.

    You wonder if a Stranger will eat your soul after you die?

    <em>Its not my soul I fear for, </em>Valdemar thought, shivering at the mere idea of his mother finding herself trapped in that screaming vortex of souls. Please, my teacher.

    Lord Och scoffed. Shouldnt you know already what happens to the dead? You worked for years to try to bring back your grandsires soul from the beyond.

    I did, but no one knows what awaits beyond the Veil between life and death. Valdemar turned to re at his mentor. Or if they know, they arent telling.

    The Church of Light tells everyone the way to absolution, the lich replied mockingly. It is your fault if your faith iscking, Young Valdemar.

    His student red back at his teacher, but did consider his words. Was the old lich suggesting that the Church of the Light had a point?

    As he had told Lady Mathilde in Pleroma, Valdemar had never been truly religious nor believed in the cult. He did, however, know the basic ts of the faith. <em>The Light will return to Ant and the Whitemoon shall be banished once the world is free of sin,</em> he quoted the Scriptures of the Church. <em>Only by believing in the Light and dedicating ourselves to it will our souls findfort. Those who do not believe will be cast into the darkness, where they shall wander for all</em>

    Valdemar froze. Cast into the darkness? As in, the Outer Darkness?

    Lord Ochs skeletal grin only confirmed his hypothesis. What do you know about the Church of the Light? the lich asked his apprentice.

    That it was the sessor of the sun-worshiping religions of the old world, Valdemar replied with a frown. It was an underground but popr cult until Empress Aratra made it the official religion and banned the Stranger Cults. And of course, the Church and the Dark Lords go hand-in-hand.

    It is true that the first believers of the religion were members of the sun-priests of the surface, Lord Och said with a chuckle. But the true origin of the faithes from another source entirely.

    The ancient archmage joined his fingers together, his empty eye sockets ring with ghostly light.

    Have you ever heard, he asked with a gleeful tone, of the tragedy of Sophia the Unwise?

    Ktulus head briefly perked up at the name, but the familiar quickly focused back on the window. Valdemar took note of his reaction, though he himself had never heard the name. No, I have not.

    It is a very old legend going back to when the sunlight still shone on the surface and humans knew nothing of the Blood. We lived in ignorance, blindly worshiping the sun above our heads. And yet, this Sophia is the one whoid the foundation of the Church of the Light, the Empire of Ant, and the exodus underground.

    Lord Och patted a cushion, silently inviting his student to sit and listen. Valdemar obeyed without a word, knowing that his master truly wanted an audience.

    Sophia was a saint, a holy woman with miraculous powers, Lord Och exined with a deep, wise tone. He was an experienced storyteller, with the perfect voice to match. Everywhere she went, she preached a new, unconventional faith. She imed that our was the creation of a vile deity of flesh and matter. A spawn of chaos cast down from a higher reality alongside its brethren and lured to sleep by powerful wards.

    She meant Ialdabaoth? Valdemar interrupted his master, unable to suppress his curiosity. But if it has brethren

    You have already met one, my student. It evenmissioned you a portrait.

    The Silent King?

    Valdemar remembered his confrontation with the Stranger. As he had climbed the stairway to the Silent King with Hermann, he had briefly glimpsed a colossal entity inside that worlds ck sun. Now that the summoner thought of it, he could see the simrities with Ialdabaoths sunlike siphon of souls.

    Why would the Silent King call Valdemar an abomination though, if they were rted? Was that because he was the child of two worlds? An unnatural urrence?

    <em>There is a war in heaven.</em>

    Or maybe the Strangers simply didnt get along. They might share amon origin, but their objectives and nature varied wildly. The Silent King seemed content to serve as a curator of dead civilizations, while Ialdabaoth yearned to break free to devour its progeny.

    These Strangers to our reality had created life in this universe to serve and worship them, Lord Och continued his tale. Our very bodies were prisons of matter. Only our souls could truly hope to break free by casting away their worldly desires and attachments. Otherwise, they would return to their progenitor, to be consumed and reincarnated anew.

    Was the Dark Lord suggesting that a soul could escape the Outer Darkness through spiritual strength? Though he didnt buy into the faith parts of the religion, Valdemar guessed it made sense. If life could create the Primordial Dream to shield itself from the Qlippoths, it meant that Ialdabaoths power was not absolute.

    If onepared the Outer Darkness to a whirlpool, then a powerful enough soul could perhaps swim away to freedom but where would it end up then?

    But how would Sophia know that? Valdemar asked in skepticism. No ones returned from beyond the Veil yet. Even ghosts simply never passed on in the first ce.

    A wise question, Lord Och replied. Sophia pretended to be one of the entities that banished the progenitor from the higher realms. These beings were emanations of a cosmic Light, the masters of the spiritual, but they could not manifest their full power in the material world where the Strangers ruled as kings. Sophia, who had taken pity on her enemys creations, thus incarnated into a woman of flesh and blood. Her goal was to free us from this cycle of suffering before a terrible disaster came from the skies to wipe us all out.

    A story that was, of course,pletely unverifiable but a true scientist couldnt disregard any possibility, and the tales implications were fascinating. She had predicted the Whitemoons arrival? Valdemar asked.

    She did, long before astronomers confirmed its arrival in our sr system.

    It doesnt mean much, Valdemar replied. She could have been a normal mage with precognitive abilities, or someone influenced by a Stranger. They tend to gather cults around themselves.

    Many doubted her as you did, but as the Whitemoon approached her words received much credibility. In times of despair, men instinctively look for a savior. But you are correct. Sophia was a sorceress, and in her quest she gathered disciples and taught them many things. And here

    The lich chuckled darkly.

    Comes the <em>Unwise </em>part.

    By now, Valdemar had learned enough of human history to guess where this was going.

    Sophia taught her disciples secrets of the universe and knowledge of magic, Lord Och exined. She preached that by delving into the higher mysteries, meditation, oneness, and letting go of worldly fetters, mortal souls could free themselves from the shackles of this world and ascend with her to the Light. She believed so much in humans potential for good, that she became blind to their darker nature.

    At this point, Ktulu walked back to Valdemar and made noise. The summoner put the familiar on hisp so he could listen to the tale. They turned on her, didnt they? Valdemar guessed.

    Shush, be patient Lord Och hushed him as he continued his story. Optimism is like a rock on a shore, Young Valdemar. It is strong, but as it is battered by waves after waves of ingratitude, cowardice, and treachery, it grows brittle. As she watched people abuse her knowledge, suffered the ruling ss using her as a scapegoat for all the worlds ills, and despaired as her followersmitted crimes in her name, the prophets resolve wavered.

    Of course. The lich loved cynical morals to a story.

    When the Whitemoon came to cleanse this world of life, Sophia lost faith in mankind and prepared to return to the Light with her believers. Everyone who didnt follow her teachings had condemned themselves to a cruel fate at this point, or so she thought. Her worshipers were all happy to follow her n

    The lich raised seven fingers.

    Except for seven of her disciples.

    Ktulu looked at the lichs hand with rapturous attention, and Valdemar listened with attention. He had already put the two and two together. <em>No way, </em>he thought as he examined his undead mentor, <em>but if so that means</em>

    Why? Valdemar asked. Why did they refuse paradise?

    Because they wished to save the world and all its inhabitants, Lord Och replied with surprising gravitas. Led by a charismatic noblewoman, they begged Sophia to teach them how to repel the Whitemoon. The Unwise Saint, who believed that attachment to this hopeless world would only dy their spiritual ascension, denied them. And so, feeling betrayed, the seven disciples conspired against their benefactor.

    The lich raised a hand and mimicked strangling an invisible neck.

    Together, theymitted an unspeakable crime against Sophia in an attempt to steal her knowledge. Lord Ochs skeletal face was the perfect picture of the cold embrace of death. A sin that forever barred them from ascending to the Light. <em>If we have been condemned to eternal darkness,</em> their ringleader said, <em>then we shall rule over it</em>.

    Ktulu! Ktulu cheered, as he really seemed to like this part very much. Cthulhuhu!

    Valdemar himself listened in silence. The bored, clinical way his mentor recounted the deed was more chilling than any threat.

    In the end, the Whitemoon came anyway and forced mankind underground, Lord Och shrugged as if discussing the weather. The seven disciples used their knowledge to lead their kind, while the teachings of theirte master were preserved in a lesser form. Some holy souls did manage to escape their progenitors grasp, as Sophia had wished. The others were either devoured, lost in the darkness, or bound to this world. Some of the seven betrayers died only to be reced, while others endured across the centuries.

    The Dark Lord finished his tale with a wicked grin. And all lived unhappily ever after.

    Ktulu pped with childish enthusiasm. Valdemar himself was at loss of words, his mind busy processing the implications of this dark tale.

    Now, his mentor rxed on his cushion. What lesson is there to take from this story?

    Valdemar considered his words carefully. May I answer your question with another?

    Only if it is a good one.

    How did you go from trying to save the world and its inhabitants, Valdemar examined the Dark Lord from head to toe, to <em>this</em>?

    The lichs ominous silence turned even Ktulu quiet. The room grew colder, with chilly mist rising from Lord Ochs eye sockets.

    I should cut out your tongue for your insolence, but I find your boldness somewhat refreshing. I shall let it slide this once. The Dark Lord joined his hands. Your mistake is to believe that I have changed. I have not. I have grown wiser and older and more powerful, but I was always like <em>this</em>.

    Then you embellished your tale, Valdemar replied. Though your methods remain questionable; your goal was noble and you truly wanted to save people. Now you care nothing for your own kind.

    My goal was to save the world, but not for the reasons you think. The lich nced at the window and the stone walls beyond it. I never sought salvation, Valdemar. It was freedom from the rules that govern this universe that I craved. In truth, I detest all overlords, whether they are wise or not. When one said I should either sacrifice the world to achieve paradise or vice-versa, I asked<em> why </em>and decided I would have it my way. I would have it all.

    But you failed to do either, Valdemar pointed out. You couldnt save the world and you couldnt achieve paradise.

    True, but you misunderstand the storys lesson. It is not that I couldnt seed, but that I wasnt prepared enough.

    How humble. But it took a certain kind of bleak determination to remain unrepentant after so many centuries. Valdemar didnt feel an ounce of remorse in his mentors old bones.

    The summoner reyed the story in his head and tried to read between the lines. The noblewoman Lord Och had mentioned was almost certainly Empress Aratra. The co-conspirators were the original Dark Lords, who had fallen and been reced across the centuries. As for Sophia

    What happened to Sophia? Valdemar asked, more questions flowing out of his mouth one after the other. What was the unspeakable crime youmitted? Was she truly a higher being? If so, how could you even fight her at all? What is the nature of this Light? Is it another Stranger? How much of this story was true? Did you embellish some parts?

    The lichs teeth morphed into an ugly smile, and Valdemar understood he would get no answer today.

    Now that you heard this tale, apprentice, the Dark Lord whispered. Do you hate me for my choices?

    I would have fought for this world too, Valdemar replied grimly. If you had seeded, you could have saved us all, so I cannot condemn you. Still, I think you could have chosen another way. There had to be another option.

    His mentor let out a sound that could pass for a sigh. I told myself the same, he confessed. But s, there were none.

    I dont believe it, Valdemar replied. Impossible is but a word. I do not hate you, nor do I believe you havent changed in the years since.

    Valdemar might be wrong, but he had the feeling that the old lich was trying to convince himself rather than his apprentice.

    I truly wonder how long your navet will resist the test of time, Lord Och replied with a hint of disappointment. I have seen prophets cast down by friends and families. The waves of human nature break even the strongest resolve.

    Valdemar shrugged. I told you, my teacher. I wont be like you.

    Realizing it was hopeless, Lord Och changed the subject. But to go back to your question about souls, I wouldnt worry about your maternal family. Whether his humanity descend from another Stranger or resulted from our progenitor seeding another world long ago, your grandsire was so distanced from Ialdabaoth that he could not feel the Bloods call. Hence, his soul probably passed on to the Light or somewhere else. With luck, your mother was in the same situation.

    With luck? That wasnt very reassuring. How can you be so sure, my teacher?

    Because Ialdabaoth would have used her soul to torment you, instead of sending a Lilith imitation, Lord Och replied bluntly. Any fool can see using her as a hostage would have ensured your cooperation.

    Thats what you would have done if you could? Valdemar guessed with a snort. What kind of cold logic was that?<em> The one a Qlippoth would use,</em> he thought grimly. Since he couldnt contact his mothers soul for answers, he had to pray that his teacher was right and that she passed on safely. But if they didnt end up devoured by Ialdabaoth, then where did their souls go?

    This is a question to which I have no answer. Take it as an encouragement to continue your studies.

    Still, on the question of souls if Lord Och had been honest about his story, the authenticity of which Valdemar couldn''t verify then he had probably turned to lichdom to avoid the Outer Darkness and eternal damnation.

    Which begged the curiosity of what phctery he had chosen. Somehow, Valdemar had the intuition its nature was connected to this story.

    In more ways than one, Lord Och had given him a window into his soul.

 Chapter 38: Dreams of Steel

    Chapter 38: Dreams of Steel

    A quick reminder that this is thest chapter before the change of schedule. <strong>Undend </strong>will now update on Thursday until Iplete <strong>Kairos: A Greek Myth LitRPG</strong>. After which I''ll focus full-time on <strong>Undend</strong>.

    This story doesnt match historical records, Marianne said as she sipped her tea. Not at all.

    Valdemar considered her answer as he drank his own cup, his face unreadable. A slow-paced piano song resonated across Mariannes apartments, sung by invisible musicians. The noblewoman had heard it only once in her life at one of Sas many balls, but it had left such an impression that she remembered it to this day. Instead of a hedge maze, the world beyond her window had transformed into a copy of the Lightless Ocean with a colossal shape ying with a ship on the horizon. Marianne found the sight strangely soothing.

    I have studied imperial history in-depth, Marianne continued. Instructors had drilled texts into her young head one book at a time. The Blood was only discovered around 300 B.E. through contact with troglodyte tribes years into the Descent. Mankind waspletely disunified back then, with warlords trying to carve out pockets of civilizations. The first recorded case of necromancy was in 243 B.E., and Lord Och himself is first mentioned in historical records in 129 B.E. as a powerful necromancer fighting against the fallen Dokkar Kingdom of Nidavelir. There was no telling he was even a lich back then, though its likely considering his lifespan and magical might. Even history books aren''t certain if this was a namesake.

    And Empress Aratra? Valdemar asked with a frown. I know she invented the Bloodstreamwork of Earthmouths in 18 B.E. and then proceeded to conquer the human enves in the War of Unification.

    Which was the first time the term<em> Dark Lords </em>appeared in historical records. In fact, the title belonged to the sorcerer-kings who pledged to unify mankind under Aratras leadership. Marianne put her cup aside. Official records say that the empress was born in the mes of the Sack of Nielson during the First Dokkar Wars in 191 B.E., leading mankind to victory at the age of sixteen in 175 B.E.

    Waves crashed against the window outside, though no water stained the ss.

    All of this to say that however ancient they are, the Dark Lords appeared long after the Whitemoons arrival, Marianne exined. As for the Church of the Light, although it was already a major underground faith, it was only officially consolidated into the organization we know today in 24 After Empire. There is no mention of a Sophia in the scriptures, and the faith generally considers the First Enlightened One Marcel Moonstone as its true founder.

    You have done your research, Valdemar said with an amused smile. I didnt expect such a wealth of details.

    Marianne blushed a little. I should have spent more time reading magic than history and religious books.

    All knowledge is useful, he replied before squinting. If its not too private Do you believe in the Light?

    Yes, Marianne confirmed with a nod. If anything, facing the likes of Shelley had only strengthened her faith. Although I dont support the inquisitors zeal and witch hunts, the Church has lighted my way many times. Lord Ochs tale is unlike anything Ive heard before; heretical even.

    Yet I suspect that for all the embellishments and possible falsehoods, there is a nugget of truth in it. Valdemar scratched the back of his head. Who else but Lord Och and Empress Aratra were among the original Dark Lords?

    Only Lord Och and Empress Aratra sessfully defended their titles from death and usurpers. As for the nature of their immortality, one is a lich, and the other keeps the secret of her eternal youth well-hidden.

    And who writes the history books youve been reading?

    Marianne smiled as her partner had put his finger on the root of the problem. The Knights of the Chain.

    An order that infamously burns books spreading dangerous ideas and imprisons free-thinkers like yours truly, Valdemar replied while returning her smile. Are there any living or undead witnesses to the era before the empire still atrge?

    Marianne considered the question. The Oldblood nobility in Sas had earned its peerage by supporting the Empress during the War of Unification. However, Aratras inner circle was a tight-knitmunity that rarely left the confines of Sas imperial pce and faced increasingpetition from new generations of sorcerers.

    Some of Empress Aratras officers have survived as undead since the empires inception, she replied to Valdemar. But I dont think any of them predated its foundation by much. Lord Och invented Soulstones making mass-producing sentient undead possible in 39 B.E., and I think vampires emerged long afterward.

    Which would leave Lord Och and Empress Aratra as the only survivors of the ancient era. They could have easily rewritten history and doctored official documents to hide their true origins.

    Even if they modified human history, Hermann himself confirmed that the first humans learned the Blood from troglodyte shamans, Marianne pointed out. The Empire has absolute dominion over its texts, true, but troglodyte tribes keep their own records. So do the Dokkars.

    The Nightwalker showed that there are other forms of magic than the Blood, Valdemar pointed out. This Sophia, if she truly existed, might have used another. It might also exin Empress Aratras immortality.

    Even if part of the story is true, how does it help us right now? I support solving the mysteries of our past, but we have more pressing problems right now.

    Valdemar yed with his cup. Finding the truth about that story could help us deal with Ialdabaoth.

    Marianne put the two and two together. Ah, I see. Youre thinking about the wards keeping Ialdabaoth imprisoned. If Lord Ochs story is partly correct, then they were put in ce by a rival entity. The more they weaken, the more Ialdabaoths power grows.

    This being probably used a different magic than the Blood. If we could reverse-engineer the spell, then strengthening the wards to keep Ialdabaoth asleep would be a genuine possibility.

    If we can use this magic at all. Marianne stroked her chin thoughtfully. If the Light could truly empower its worshipers, why does only the Blood hold sway in our world? Because of the unspeakable crime that the Dark Lordsmitted?

    I dont know, Valdemar replied with a sigh. And I dont know where to look for answers either. Maybe I should ask Hermann and Frigga topare their historical records with ours.

    The forbidden archives in the Pleroma Institute should have what we need, Marianne suggested. They are only essible by Masters and high-ranking members of the Knights of the Tome, but they include a copy of all imperial texts, including original, uncensored volumes. If you could convince Lord Och to give you permission

    The room trembled, the duos cups falling off the table and breaking on the floor. The tea inside evaporated instantly into fine particles alongside their containers parts. The music stopped, instantly drowned out by an alien cry.

    Valdemar instantly rose from his chair and rushed to the windows, opening them to gaze at the ocean beyond. Are you kidding me? he muttered in astonishment. <em>Again</em>?

    Marianne joined him, and immediately covered her mouth to hide herughter at the sight.

    An enormous, squid-like giantrger than the Pleroma Institute cried in the middle of the imaginary ocean. His squamous hands held the remains of a broken ship against his chest, while shards of the vessels sank below the waves. The giants six eyes let out a flood of tears.

    Valdemar put his palm over his face in embarrassment. Even in our dreams, he still finds ways to break his toys.

    How many does that make? Marianne asked with a wide grin as she rested her hands against the windows stool. If we count the ones in the waking world?

    Valdemar had made it a habit of turning his bones into makeshift toy ships for his familiar to y with, but none of themsted for long.

    Ive lost count, Valdemar sighed as he turned his gaze to the ocean. The strange Nightmare of Kazat could be seen deep below the dark water, a sunken city buried underneath a sea of dreams. Thankfully, the oceans level doesnt rise with his cries.

    I wish I could dream him a recement ship, Marianne confessed as she watched the depressed familiar in the distance. Though she had knowledge of oneiromancy, she was morefortable with raising mental fortresses than weaving dreamboats into existence. Im still sorry for turning your dreamscape into my apartment. This was the shape I was mostfortable with.

    Its fine, and way better than the wastnd that came before. Valdemar looked at the depressed Ktulu cradling the ship with a deep sigh. Im sadder that my familiar has more power over the Primordial Dream than I do.

    The fact he can interact with the dreamworld at all means he has nothing to do with the Qlippoths, Marianne reassured him. And you have an additional guardian.

    Despite her words, Marianne felt Ktulu might cause more trouble than he would solve. She certainly hadn''t expected the familiar to take the form of a colossal giant in the dreamworld rather than the manageable baby he was in the flesh. Even the ocean surrounding the apartments was the creatures doing rather than Mariannes.

    I could conjure decorations more to your liking, Marianne suggested to Valdemar.

    Dont bother. I would rather learn to create dream objects by myself. Valdemar gritted his teeth as he raised his hand towards a corner of the room. Perhaps he was trying to create a new shelf or a painting. Whatever the case, he failed. Though it may take a while.

    Marianne watched him exhaust himself for a moment, before moving behind and putting her hands on his shoulders. The sudden physical contact left him startled, but he didnt push her away. Marianne herself wouldnt have tried if they hadnt grownfortable in each others presence.

    Close your eyes, the noblewoman said softly, and though he looked doubtful, her friend followed her advice. Think of home.

    Home?

    Home. The idea of home helped Marianne focus on her dreams, though it saddened her that her apartment in Pleroma felt a safer sanctuary than her family manor.

    Valdemars expression twisted into a frown. I dont have one.

    Youre wrong. Home is not a ce, its a feeling. Its the music that makes you feel at peace, the smell of familiarity, the people you want to share your life with and the objects that symbolize their affection for you. Now think of what brings you that feeling.

    Valdemar listened to her words, his face rxing. He waved his hand at an empty spot and Marianne watched as the dream answered his desire. The substance of the dreamscape shifted, the floor turning muddy as the very ne resisted his influence. Mariannes oneiromancy teachers would have shaken their head at the poor disy, but the noblewoman had faith in her friend.

    And her trust paid off. The dreams substance gathered into a new shape as Valdemarmanded. His mothers music box appeared out of thin air while singing a luby.

    See? Marianne whispered. Valdemar opened his eyes and stared at the box in surprise. It wasn''t so hard.

    Though he was half a Stranger, it was the other half that counted. Valdemar would never be a good oneiromancer or mind mage, but he wasnt a hopeless case either.

    It was hard, but easier than I thought, Valdemar replied as he looked at the box. I could never do that with Frigga.

    You had just arrived in an unfamiliarnd, Marianne said as she removed her hands from his shoulders. You were still struggling to find your bearings. I dont think its a coincidence you managed to summon your mothers music box after getting proof that she truly loved you.

    Yes but I think I feel morefortable with your guidance than Friggas. He smiled warmly at her. Youre starting to feel like home too.

    Marianne met his gaze without a word, unsure what to answer to that. <em>Is is he making a pass at me? </em>the noblewoman wondered. And if he was As a friend, you mean?

    Yes, as a friend, of course, Valdemar said quickly as he realized his behaviors implications. Marianne couldnt believe someone so brilliant could be so oblivious. I mean, I let Frigga in because I needed to, but with you I did it because I trust you as much as Hermann and Liliane now.

    Yes, I I figured as much, Marianne replied, her own awkward tone surprising her. Why was her voice trembling? You are a friend as well.

    Marianne felt almost thankful as another tremor shook the dreamscape and interrupted this awkward moment. Is it Ktulu again? Valdemar wondered as he looked through the window, only to find his familiar still cradling his broken ship.

    No, its outside, Marianne replied as the tremors grew stronger and more frequent. We have to wake up.

    Valdemar answered with a short nod and the dreamscape copsed around them. Marianne woke up in a bunk bed below her partners, sharing a cramped iron room in the heart of Lord Bethors Excavator. Ktulu slept soundly against his summoners chest, his tentacles wriggling as he snored.

    Quickly putting on her armor and grabbing her weapons, Marianne opened the bedrooms door to find Knights of the Shroud rushing through the corridors. Are we under attack? she asked.

    Not yet, an undead swordsman replied without sparing her a nce, but we have pierced through fortifications of some kind. Prepare for battle.

    He didnt need to tell her. Marianne always slept with her weapons within arms reach.

    Valdemar quickly joined her with his awful mask on, keeping the sleeping Ktulu in his bag. They went to Lord Ochs room for answers, only for the lich to meet with them in the hallway.

    We are going to climb down from this ship now, the Dark Lord rasped as he guided them towards the tail of the Excavator. Her True Sight allowed Marianne to see his true skeletal self and the thin mist that surrounded his ancient bones. Was Lord Och truly older than the Descent? Lord Bethors weapon will soon be the target of enemy attack. It would be a bother if we were caught in the crossfire, and we can walk to our destination.

    What kind of fortification have we gone through? Marianne asked. To her surprise, Valdemar seemed awfully quiet and tense.

    A metal shell of some kind. Lord Och stopped before the same st door they had used to move inside the Excavator. Two Knights of the Shroud were in the process of opening it already, while four more waited nearby. Im afraid the Excavator will not stop for our little group, so I will teleport us and a small contingent of troops to the ground.

    You can teleport withoutcing an area with your blood? Valdemar asked.

    All of Undend is one through the Blood, my student, Lord Och replied. It is no different than the method your worshipers use to move around, although I am limited to my line of sight.

    Marianne was thankful for it. Considering the speed at which it moved, jumping from the Excavator while it was on the move would be risky even with body enhancements.

    The moment the st door opened, the group held hands with Lord Och and the six Knights of the Shroud present as space twisted around them. The teleportationsted for but an instant, but Mariannes enhanced sight noticed every detail, every crack in the fabric of space. She watched thick ck blood spread around her to form a tunnel between the groups current position and the darkness outside the Excavator, absorbing the kic energy to make the transition as seamless as possible.

    <em>It is everywhere, not just in the walls,</em> Marianne realized. The tunnels were Ialdabaoths arteries and the very air she breathed was tainted by its influence.

    When the spellpleted, the group hadnded on a vast tunnel with a dizzyingly tall ceiling. A thick sheet of ck metal with strange golden lines covered every spot of stone as far as Mariannes eyes could see, radiating a faint glow keeping the area in a dim light. The air smelled of rust and oil; the floor was as cold as ice. Besides the grinding sound of the Excavator digging its way through the tunnels walls to make a new path for itself, Marianne didnt hear a sound. Nothing but the echo of pumps and grinding gears.

    Lord Bethors machine kept digging its way into a wall before them, melting its surface and shaking the ceiling as it continued its journey. Though metal proved harder to drill through than stone, the Excavator still cut through it like a knife through butter and forced a way forward. The machine quickly disappeared from the groups view, though they still felt the tremors it caused.

    Marianne nced at the open path the Excavator left behind. The machine had pierced through a simr tunnels walls before, leaving only a hole of molten steel behind; in a way, the Excavator had turned the ce into a crossroad. Darkness covered everything beyond this point, but the group should be able to walk all the way back to Sabaoth from this point. No doubt human troops would soon arrive to im the area before the Derros arrived.

    There are no eyes, Valdemar whispered as he looked around. The metal covering the walls also obscured Ialdabaoths flesh. No eyes.

    Marianne unsheathed her rapier and cocked her revolver as she confirmed his words, while their knightly escort prepared themselves for an ambush. There are no Derros either.

    Even if they had bypassed the Derro armys usual chokepoints, guards should be swarming these tunnels upon hearing the Excavators loud approach. Neither did the noblewoman see any mushrooms or bats. The area felt as dead and lifeless as a clocks inner mechanisms.

    Establish a defensive perimeter and check our surroundings, one of the Knights ordered his five fellows as they spread across the crossroads of tunnels. The soldiers immediately drew summoning circles on the ground and called a small swarm of grotesquelyrge flies, before having them spread through the tunnels.

    How curious, Lord Och said as he examined the golden lines running through the steel walls. What a strange apparatus this is.

    Marianne approached her gloved hand from the surface, and immediately took a step back as she felt a jolt. Lightning courses through them, Lord Och.

    In the same direction as our destination too. The lich stroked his skeletal chin while muttering words to himself. Marianne hadnt seen him so interested since Valdemars initiation test. I see. No doubt a portal would demand an enormous amount of power, too much to be manufactured in one ce fascinating

    Lord Och, we shouldnt stay here, Marianne warned. She knew that the Dark Lord could get so engrossed in his interests that he neglected the world around them. Reinforcements mighte at any moment. We should stay on the move.

    Patience, Young Marianne, the Dark Lord replied as the Knights fly swarms returned to them. The summoned insects buzzed words in anguage Marianne couldnt understand before dissipating into smoke. So the way is safe?

    The Derro garrisons should have established choke points further south, my lord. The knightmander straightened up, his Soulbound sword firmly in hands. But Lady Reynard is right, it is only a matter of hours before troopse to check on themotion. Shall we escort you and your student to your destination?

    Young Marianne will suffice to protect us, the Dark Lord replied with absolute confidence. Even though she wasnt certain if he meant it or not, the noblewoman found the lichs response ttering. You shall fortify this area and make sure that our dwarf neighbors do not attack us from the rear.

    Very well, we shall await your return. The knightmander turned to his troops and instantly barked orders at them. Summon earth elementals and raise fortifications. I want the Derros to fight for every patch of ground.

    After watching his allys troops with a hint of amusement, Lord Och turned to face Marianne and Valdemar. Nowe, children. Lets not waste precious time.

    Leaving the Excavators holes behind, the group followed the lines deeper into the metal tunnel while the Knights fortified the choke point behind them. Only the noise of their breathing and footsteps echoed around the group, while the tremors grew weaker and eventually vanished. The golden lines glow allowed them to see a few meters ahead of them, but little more.

    Marianne focused as she walked, ready to strike at the first sign of ambush. Her enhanced sense of touch and hearing allowed her to visualize her surroundings, to sense the cables inside the walls. Oil coursed through pipes below the floor and grinding gears turned above her head, their noise muffled by the steel shielding.

    These arent fortifications, Marianne whispered in case anyone listened. She didnt understand half of what the hidden devices in the walls did, and she worried that the Derros could hear their words. This is a mechanism of colossal size.

    An infection of metal in the flesh, Valdemar whispered back. Like in the Outer Darkness.

    Altering the body shouldnt affect dreams. Unlike his two protgs, Lord Och made no effort to lower his tone. Unless, of course, this apparatus main goal is to attack the nervous system with machinery.

    Was that why the Derros stole brains? Valdemar asked. To understand how our minds worked and use this insight to affect Ialdabaoth? What purpose would it serve?

    Who knows? As I told you once, Otto Blutgang is a rare genius whose mind works on a different level thanmon mortals''. He ys for higher stakes than conquest.

    The admiration in his voice surprised Marianne, who had grown used to backhandedpliments at best. What stakes, my lord?

    If I had to guess Lord Och chuckled. I would say <em>transcendance</em>.

    Transcendance? Valdemar asked, but the lich only answered with a chuckle.

    Transcendance? From what, the mortal condition? Derros couldnt use the Blood, so the path of undeath was closed to them. Was their king trying to achieve immortality through technological means instead?

    How long did they walk through this tunnel without encountering anyone? Minutes? Hours? While Marianne and Valdemar were tense, Lord Och spent his time ncing at the walls line with a thoughtful look. An outsider would have mistaken him for a researcher on a stroll through a garden of exotic flora rather than an archmage infiltrating enemy territory. <em>This is what absolute power looks like,</em> Marianne thought.<em> The easy confidence of invulnerability.</em>

    As she focused on her sense of touch and echolocation, Marianne noticed subtle oddities in the metal. Small inds of ss in a sea of steel, hidden from view in the darkness outside the glow of the golden lines.

    Look, Marianne warned as she pointed her sword at an imperceptible orb of stained ss growing out of the steel. A machine eye of some kind.

    Its not alive, Valdemar confirmed, slightly unnerved by the device. And I see others in the darkness.

    They know we are here, Lord Och replied before mockingly waving a hand at the ss eye. Please be a good guest and say hello.

    Valdemar pointed a finger at the ss eye and sted it to pieces with a blood bullet. Shards fell on the ground, and Marianne heard a subtle clicking noise echo through the tunnel.

    No Derro came to intercept them, but the ss eyes always watched them. Marianne could feel their gaze all around her. The feeling was different from the fleshy, alien eyes of Undend, whocked reason and intelligence. These ss devices had been made with mortal hands, and Marianne was certain that something cold and calcting watched the intruders through them.

    Why dont they intercept us? Valdemar whispered, just as unnerved as she was.

    They want us to move forward, Marianne whispered with a frown. Somehow, she would rather have faced opposition. This whole journey reeked of a trap. If anything happens, move behind me. Lord Och will revive no matter what happens, but if the situation degenerates beyond control, retreat to the checkpoint while I cover your rear.

    I can defend myself, her partner replied, and I wont leave you behind. We either leave this ce together or not at all.

    Though his concern touched Marianne, she squinted at him in disapproval. What good is a bodyguard whose charge runs heedlessly into danger?

    You are more than a bodyguard to me.

    <em>I trust you as much as Hermann and Liliane now.</em>

    Marianne should have rejoiced at these words. So why did they leave her feeling <em>disappointed</em>? <em>I cant think like this,</em> the noblewoman told herself. She and Valdemar had grown to trust each other, but anything more would interfere with her duties.

    Eventually, their long walk ended before a fortified steel gate not unlike those in Lord Bethors tower. A strange window of ss stood above the threshold, but it led to nowhere. Nor did any guard watch over this obvious checkpoint.

    Marianne put a hand on the doors surface, trying to guess its thickness with her enhanced touch. At least two meters in depth, she said. I cant sense anything beyond.

    Do not fret, Lord Och replied as he looked at the windows. They will wee us soon enough.

    Click.

    Click.

    <em>Click.</em>

    Marianne raised her revolver at the window while Valdemar prepared to cast a spell at any moment. ss eyes turned to gaze at them in the darkness and the golden lines turned red.

    The window glowed.

    Its ss surface projected distorted colors and images. A shadowy humanoid figure appeared in the middle of a white glow tainted by gray lines. A buzzing sound erupted from the window, half a screech and half a whisper.

    <em>What spell is this? </em>Marianne wondered, slightly disturbed as the figures features distorted uncontrobly.<em> An illusion? No, I should have seen through it this is real. But I dont sense any sorcery at all. Its not a phantom projector either</em>

    Red lightning coursed through the walls lines and the door rose with a thunderous noise.

    Marianne immediately moved in front of her charges, weapons raised at the gates. As this steel curtain slowly rose, she expected to face an army of golems and Derros on the other side.

    But no enemy awaited beyond the threshold.

    As the pathid open before her, the distorted figure at the ss window vanished. Lamps lit up beyond the door, revealing a lengthy corridor.

    Trap? Valdemar asked warily.

    Worse, Lord Och replied. His jovial demeanor had abated, reced with caution. An invitation.

 Chapter 39: The Iron King

    Chapter 39: The Iron King

    The Derro facility had fallen into a state of disrepair.

    An overwhelming stench of putrefaction went hand in hand with the smell of alchemical reagents. The sprawling chambers of metals had grown dark and unweing, as strange crystalmps flickered above the groups heads. The ceiling, adapted for the dwarf-like Derros rather than taller humans, was low enough that Valdemars hair grazed against it. The sorcerer couldnt help but feel a sense of ustrophobic unease as he followed Marianne through narrow corridors.

    <em>What happened here? </em>Valdemar wondered. Half the pipes running along the metal walls were leaking either steam or oil. Shattered pylonsid broken on the ground next to dried residues of alien, unknowable origin.

    And the brown traces on the floor werent rust, but dried blood.

    The door closed behind us, Marianne warned ahead of him. She had put her revolver back around her belt, keeping a hand free. I heard it in the distance.

    I am disappointed by the absence of a weingmittee, Lord Och mused at the groups back. I expected at least one ambush or a trap, if only for protocols sake.

    Valdemar noticed that Ktulu was growing agitated in his bag and the Haunter disguised as his shadow flickered. They sensed something wrong in the vicinity, a force that startled them. Someones watching us, the sorcerer muttered under his breath.

    Not <em>us</em>, Marianne warned. The ss eyes are everywhere, hidden in the dark or so small you cannot see them but theyre only staring at <em>you</em>, Valdemar.

    The old Valdemar would have been disturbed, but by now he had grown numb to such things. <em>What does that say about me? </em>He wondered. <em>Is it paranoia if everyone is out to get you?</em>

    The corridor led them to a dark chamberrger than any other before, and the stench of mold joined that of putrefaction. Unlike the previous areas, this ce had a higher ceiling adapted to a humans size. One look was enough to tell Valdemar the horrifying reason.

    Broken ss devices provided what little glow illuminated theboratory. Oil dripped from the ceiling, the drops hitting the cold metal floor with a ticking sound. Preserved organ samples, from spleens to ckened hearts, were lined up on a metal table covered in ayer of infectious mold.

    And along the walls were the donors.

    The sight almost made Valdemar vomit. A dozen naked humans, both men and women, had been impaled on biomechanical spikes. The disgusting contraptions had skewered them like pieces of meat on a food stand, piercing through their ass and erupting from their open mouth. Cables connected their exposed skulls to the devices, while the contents of their rib cages were left exposed. Fungal growth had devoured most of their insides, leaving only dead husks behind.

    The four Derros surgeons responsible for this horror show werent in a better shape. Their dismembered corpses had been scattered around the room. One had been cleaved in half at the waist, the torso and legs piled up on a human corpse like a twisted fish skewer. Another had been hit so hard in the chest that the blow turned the ribs and organs to a bloody soup. Only one was rtively intact, his throat shed and eyes removed.

    And the cherry on top of the disastrous sight, an iron golems remains sat in a corner, the brain powering it sttered against a closed metal door.

    What is this Marianne covered her mouth as her eyes looked at the ghastly spectacle. Valdemar pitied her. He already found the scene disturbing and horrifying, but his partners enhanced sight allowed her to see every gory detail. What

    Mmm. Lord Och alone didnt seem concerned as he examined the impaler spikes more closely. This is a new design.

    Even though he had seen worse at the bottom of Lord Bethors tower, the scene disturbed Valdemar. It wasnt the sight of rotten meat and dismembered corpses that bothered him, but the implications of the scene. The massacre reeked of a cold-blooded, intellectual brutality; of a clinical sadismced with an odious kind of curiosity.

    It hadnt been enough to kill.

    The victims had to suffer first.

    Are you alright? Valdemar asked Marianne with concern upon seeing her unease.

    Its No, Valdemar, Im not alright. She shook her head, her fingers tightening her grip on her rapier. An inquisitor told me once that he turned undead because the job never got easier. I understand what he meant now.

    And he had made the right choice, Lord Ochmented with cold nonchnce. Undeath teaches emotional distance.

    Ignoring the Dark Lord, Valdemar put a hand on Mariannes shoulder. Maybe you could cast an illusion on yourself, he suggested, trying to help. Weaken your enhanced senses, filter out the horror.

    I appreciate the thought, but I cant. Marianne gently removed his hand and tried to smile. I cant lower my guard in this ce. Your life, and mine, depend on it.

    <em>Shes brave,</em> Valdemar thought as he answered with a nod. Lets figure out what happened before moving on then, he said. Whatever killed these Derros might still be around.

    Most wise, my apprentice. Lord Och waved a hand at Valdemar. Come over here.

    While Marianne moved to study the Derro corpses, Valdemar joined his teacher in examining the biomechanical spikes. On closer look, the sorcerer noticed that the cables piercing through the victims skulls interconnected with the dead gray matter inside.

    I do not have your experience with derrotech, Lord Och admitted, but I have an inkling of this devices purpose. What do you think?

    Its a neural connection device, Valdemar identified thanks to his knowledge of biomancy and derrotech. Its the same system that allows the Derros to put brains in jars ormand golems from afar.

    But why connect a dying man to a torture device? To record his agony?

    Look at these, Marianne said as she pointed at the most well-preserved of the Derro corpses. Her gloved hand trailed against the shed throat and then the empty eye-sockets. While the lethal wounds were sloppy, the eyes were extracted with methodical, surgical precision. Some of them pre-mortem.

    Valdemar shivered at the implications. Even though he hated Derros after seeing their ghastly work in Astaphanos, he didnt wish such a fate on anyone. What purpose would it serve to harvest the eyes before death? If that was the goal, killing the Derros first would have prevented a struggle.

    You forget the simplest exnation, Lord Och said with a t tone. That there was no practical purpose but self-gratification.

    These murders had been carried out not out of a need for survival, but out of <em>sadism</em>.

    Did they do it to themselves? Valdemar asked as he red at the Derros remains. They grow bored of torturing our kind and moved on to attack each other?

    No, Lord Och replied as he pointed a finger in the broken golems direction. This machine was physically shoved against a wall. I have yet to see a Derro with the strength to do that. Only a warbeast or a powerful golem could have achieved such a feat.

    Marianne tensed up. One of their experiments escaped?

    Perhaps, Young Marianne. The surgical operation you noticed implies a higher intelligence than a savage beast, so we must remain on our guard. Lord Och stroked his chin. Have we been invited for cleanup duty, I wonder?

    Or the figure on the projector we saw was the creature responsible for the ughter, Valdemar pointed out.

    No, it wasnt. Lord Och chuckled. Though it was vague, I recognized the body shape. That kind of wasted effort would be unusual for <em>him</em>.

    Valdemar examined his master. He had grown to know the lich over thest few months, and he knew very well how little Lord Och cared about others.

    To a Dark Lord, there was only one Derro worthy of remembrance.

    But why would he be here, in a destroyed facility?

    Kthulhu. Valdemar tensed up, as he heard his familiar grumble in the bag. Fagthna.

    Valdemar was about to ask his partner what was up, before sensing something in the air. So did Marianne, who immediately looked around. A tension spread through the room, an invisible jolt coursing through the steel.

    Lightning, Marianne whispered. I sense electricity in the air.

    Ktulhulu! By now, Ktulu was growing downright panicked.

    We have to go, Valdemar warned as he looked for the exit. Quickly!

    Its not magic, Lord Och said with a hint of curiosity. I wonder if

    The world vanished in a bright sh of lightning.

    When Valdemar regained his sense of sight, he was in another room altogether.

    The torture chamber had been transformed into aboratory. ss tanks full of brains floating in green liquid had reced the iron spikes. The iplete torso and head of a clockwork golem sat on a strange chair in their midst, its head a pincushion mass of needles and cables. Crystals on the ceiling provided clear, pulsating light, while strange turbines thrummed along the walls. Four narrow doors stood on each corner of the chamber, with one of them topped by the same ss projector located at the facilitys entrance.

    Marianne? Valdemar called as he looked around himself. Lord Och?

    Ktulu? Ktulu asked from inside the bag, his head peeking out to look around. Ktulhuly?

    Is this an illusion? Valdemar activated his psychic sight as he observed his surroundings. He didnt detect either of his allies in the vicinity. Had he been teleported to another area of the facility? But how? He hadnt sensed any spell, any magic brushing against his defense!

    Valdemar could only see one exnation. Somehow, the Derros had managed to replicate the teleportation spell with techno

    Valdemar?

    The familiar voice made Valdemar flinch. The sorcerer nced at the noises source, dumbstruck.

    Thank the Light youre here. The sitting golems two ss eyes made a screeching sound as they nced at Valdemar. You took your sweet time.

    Valdemar stared at the machine in iprehension. He didnt sense any hint of life in the broken, iplete metal husk. Not even a brain to animate it. As far as his Psychic Sight was concerned, he was facing a lifeless pile of junk.

    What are you? Valdemar whispered.

    What are you talking about, friend? the golem asked, though it had no mouth to speak with. A strange form of derrotech produced the illusion of a voice. Help me get out of here. I cant feel my arms and legs.

    What are you? Valdemar repeated, more and more disturbed.

    A short silence followed. The creatures ss eye nkly stared at Valdemar, while electricity traveled through the needles embedded in its head.

    Its me, Iren, the golem replied with the tone an adult would use to speak to a slow child. Look, can we y twenty questions after weve left this ce? The Derros might return anytime.

    Valdemar didnt answer right away, as his mind struggled to process this strange situation. The more he considered it, the more he asked himself existential questions. Was it a mind trick? Or a terrifying answer to the question of what made a human <em>human</em>?

    Whats the name of the biomancer, Valdemar asked slowly. The one who experimented on you?

    How do you know that? Did Och tell you? The voice turned angry and disappointed. That old bastard, I should never have trusted him.

    <em>I heard these lines before</em>, Valdemar realized. You told me yourself, Iren.

    I dont think were close enough to.

    <em>Definitely pre-hospital,</em> Valdemar thought, his fists tightening. <em>The pylons. Must have been the pylons.</em>

    Was that why they had sted Valdemar with lightning? Not to kill him, but to <em>understand </em>him?

    Look, we can discuss that after we get out of this ce alive, the deluded golem insisted. I cant move, so youll have to carry me back outside. Do you know if the Knights areing? This ce is crawling with

    Enough. Valdemar nced at the projector above one of the doors and noticed a ss eye embedded in it. Thats what you were trying to figure out, isnt it? What makes a human <em>human</em>? How do minds and souls work? Your experiments must have been pretty advanced if you could make a copy of Irens brain from his brief detainment in yourb.

    What the hell are y-y-y-y-y-y-y-o-o-o The golems words dragged on, its speech stuttering and slurring. Electricity once again coursed through its head, before the sentence died iplete.

    A droning noise filled the room, as the ss screen above the door lit up. A shadowy figure appeared on its surface, surrounded by bright light. After onest nce at the deactivated golem, Valdemar stepped in front of the door and looked up at the ss eye.

    W-w-what is it that you <em>fear</em>?

    The voice was cold, booming, and reverberating. The words broke and stuttered, as the machinery struggled to trante thoughts into speech.

    Humiliation? Physical pain? Heights? I-I-I only feared one thing, and that was <em>de-e-a-ath.</em> The ss eye rotated above the projector.<em> </em>The loss of my memories, of my experience and intellect vanishing into nothingness. The end of my beautiful ex-ex-existence.

    Is that why you connected yourself to the impaled victims? Valdemar asked. That madman had done it often enough to receive a nickname out of it. So you could experience death through anothers eyes?

    Theories require empi-pi-pirical testing for con-confirmation. I have dreamed and died ten thousand lives.

    Dreams.

    It has bugged me for a while. Why your kind cannot dream, when all life in Undend can. Valdemar had had the feeling that the Derros inability to use the Blood or dream formed a bigger picture, and he reached a conclusion. You Derros have <em>minds</em>, but no <em>souls</em>. Thats why you cannot dream or use the Blood. Both imply a connection to Ialdabaoth, and the Pleromians didnt create you with one.

    S-so close and yet so fa-a-a-ar The figure on the screen twisted and flickered before returning to normal. The Pleromians did not create us. They <em>called </em>us.

    Ktulus head perked up behind Valdemar, while the pieces of the puzzle fell into ce.

    <em>They shouldnt be affected, but they have been here for a while</em>, Valdemar quoted Master Loctis and Lord Och. Their discussion suddenly made more sense. You were summoned to serve as ves by the Pleromians, but youve spent too much time in Undend.

    We did not have souls, but we-we-we are starting to The figure confirmed. The corru-ru-ruption is reaching out everywhere. To all creatures walking across the. Trying to pre-prepare life for ass-simtion.

    Is that why you experimented with portal technology? Valdemar asked while frowning behind his mask. To return home before Ialdabaoth wakes up?

    D-d-do you wish to know? To se-see?

    Valdemar gathered his breath. Yes.

    He knew that discovery woulde at a heavy cost, but he hadnte this far to return empty-handed.

    The door below the projector opened, and Valdemar stepped through it without hesitation.

    Whaty beyond the threshold was a derrotech replica of the vault underneath the Pleroma Institute: a colossal dome of steel whose ceiling simmered with golden lines. A twisted, colossal archway of steel and wires stood at the middle of the chamber. Pulses of lightning raced through its crude mechanical structure, while the device thrummed with an infectious droning noise.

    This wasnt a Pleromian Gate, but an effective imitation.

    The moment Valdemarid his eyes on it, he realized that he stood before the portal that brought his grandfather to Undend.

    Unlike Lord Ochs vault, this dome had another piece of furniture standing before the gate. A throne of metal and steaming pipes, upied by a derro with hair as ck as night and an inhumanly smooth face. The metal circlet around his head pulsated with energy, illuminating unblinking blue eyes. In them, Valdemar saw a glimpse of a dangerous mind, brilliant and mad in equal measure. A strange suit made of a ck, stic substance covered all of his body except for the head.

    I have studied your progress with great interest, anomaly. Your ecto-catcher was an innovative invention. Valdemars host rose from his throne as he introduced himself. I am Otto Blutgang, Godmind of Derrokind.

    Alias Otto the Demented.

    Alias Otto the Nail.

    Show your true self, Valdemar replied coldly as he faced the creature. I know you arent really here.

    When he looked at Blutgang, his Psychic Sight sent him the same feedback as the broken golem outside. He didnt sense any blood coursing through the Derros veins, or any trace of flesh for that matter. Even the lifelike eyes were made of colored ss.

    Otto Blutgangs smirk turned predatory as he raised his left hand over his face. His fingers sunk into his foreheads skin and swiftly tore it down. Half of a mask fell to the ground.

    I-I-Is that better now? the Derro King asked as he stuttered again. Half his face covered in false skin; the other in metal bones and wires. Do you feel morefortable?

    As Valdemar had guessed, this body was just a proxy, a mechanical puppetmanded from afar. As for <em>how</em>

    Ktulu had fallen silent in his back and red at the Derro King with all six of his eyes. Whatever Otto Blutgang had be, Valdemars familiar considered it as threatening as a Dark Lord.

    Where are mypanions? Valdemar asked bluntly as he prepared to cast an offensive spell if he didnt like the answer. Lord Och would be fine thanks to his immortality, but he couldnt say the same for Marianne. What have you done with them?

    N-n-nothing. I care n-n-not for them. They are s-s-safe for now.

    A little blood dripped from Valdemars fingers, ready tosh out. Are you threatening me?

    Must I? The Derro King looked at Valdemar with what could pass for puzzlement. We are si-si-simr beings whose interests align, anomaly.

    Simr beings?

    What are you? Valdemar asked. Not a Derro anymore, from what I can gather.

    My greatest desire was to increase the intellectual capacity of my species. Unfortunately, the p-p-percentage of intellects worthy of preservation is pitifully low. All this neural processing power, wasted on vacuous personalities and base animal instincts. Rather than educate my countrymen, upgrading their mental faculties through overwriting seemed a more sensible solution.

    You wanted to overwrite the minds of yourpatriots with <em>your own</em>? Valdemar asked while staring at this narcissistic king in disbelief.

    Anomaly, the only way to save your species from idiocy-induced extinction is to practice intellectual eugenics. Your society will be way more optimi-mi-mized once you have weeded out weaker minds and repurposed their wasted gray matter with a su-su-superior personality matrix.

    The chilling thing was that he believed every word he spoke. Valdemar could tell from his self-righteous, matter-of-fact tone. His sheer egomania made the Dark Lords look humble.

    But even the sticity of a normal Derro brain could not support my overflow-owing intellect, Otto Blutgang exined. They could support spe-specialized thrall personalities, but a single nervous system was not en-nough for me

    The Derros probably couldnt handle an ego thatrge. <em>He still brainwashed his entire race, </em>Valdemar thought. <em>And all of this sounds pre-nned.</em>

    After countless iterations, I haavee transcendeddd A burst of electricity briefly surged from Ottos facial wires. I have transcended the limits of the cerebral prison and be a being of p-p-pure intellect. A stream of thoughts and mathematics, the perfectplexity of a Godmind.

    The Derro King had integrated his soul into his own machinery. Not quite a lich, not quite undead. A genius loci of wires and lightning, a self-replicating mind inhabiting both flesh and steel.

    And then the full scale of the Derro Kings ambition became clear to Valdemar, as he remembered his trip in the Outer Darkness and the invasive machinery within.

    You want to overwrite Ialdaboath, the sorcerer guessed, hardly believing his own words. To rece its mind with your own. To be a <em>Godmind</em>.

    Valdemar expected the Derro King to reply with a t yes, but the answer was somehow even more chilling.

    Possible, but infeasible. I have dis-discarded this possibility in favor of crea-creating my own improved, circuitry-based vessel.

    Otto Blutgang wasnt trying to rece Ialdabaoth. He wanted to be a better version, one made of wires and steel rather than flesh and blood.

    <em>We were walking inside his bloodstream, </em>Valdemar realized. <em>Inside veins of metal and iron innards.</em>

    Thi-i-is a long-term objective, fraught with peril, Otto Blutgang said. In the meantime, the portal project must continue. I need you to sta-stabilize it.

    So you may send a copy of yourself out there in case Ialdabaoth wakes up before you can take over the world? Valdemar red at this maniac. How did you know I woulde here? Have you been spying on me?

    The Derro King locked eyes with his guest.

    I have been watching your line since be-be-before you were even <em>born</em>, he said, his eyes shining with mania. D-d-do you think your grandfather and his p-p-toon could have made their way to your p-p-pathetic civilization without <em>my </em>permission?

    Valdemar flinched, his blood boiling.

    My grandfather didnt remember, the sorcerer said, his voiceced with burning rage. I thought it was the shock of crossing worlds, but it was <em><strong>you</strong></em>. <em>You </em>erased his memories of his abduction!

    Your ex-existence was unnned, anomaly, but I f-f-followed your gic lineages progress for research, Otto replied, his wires wriggling like rotting worms. I calcted a sev-seventy-three percent chance that you would investigate this portal and your origins. I l-lid the groundwork for your arrival. No-o-ow we will help each other.

    Why would I help <em>you</em>? Valdemar hissed through his teeth. Its not just about the portal, isnt it? Its too much work to bring me here just to help you open a door back to your species home.

    If you do not help me, your ov-ovtion machine will die.

    The blood dripping from Valdemars hands turned into small, boiling tentacles.

    Have I misunderstood? From your do-do-dopamine ratio, I assumed she was distracting you with her womanly pheromones. Be-between us, the thought of being seduced by a female neocortex fills me with dis-disgust. Mental self-duplication is a better way of intellectual reproducti

    Tendrils of blood erupted from Valdemars hands and impaled the psychotic Derro King against his own throne. The crystalized tips of these tentacles pierced through the wires underneath Otto Blutgangs suit and spread inside its artificial avatar, keeping it tightly restrained.

    Where is she? Valdemar hissed. Speak or Ill scrap you.

    What would it change? The Derro King sounded supremely unimpressed. Copies of my con-consciousness are s-s-spread all over my facilities. No-no-nothing but theplete era-ra-radication of Derro civilization will des-s-s-stroy <em>me</em>.

    Valdemar brought the Derro kings face closer to his own, before channeling his best impersonation of Lord Bethor. That can be arranged.

    Though it disgusted him to say it, Valdemar called upon his ancestry.

    I am the Red Prince, the one who can wake up Ialdabaoth and to whom the Qlippoths answer, he said. Do you truly wish to challenge <em>me</em>, you piece of stuttering junk?

    I estimate a three per-percent ratio of probabilities that you will go that far. It is low.

    But it isnt <em>zero</em>. Valdemars tendrils tightened their grip and bent the Derros metal bones. You have enved your own race. Do you think I will hesitate to do everything in my power to utterly <em>destroy </em>you if you cross me?

    Otto Blutgang considered the threat, and suddenly turned more cooperative.

    I have sought to contact a higher in-in-intelligence to perfect the portal, he admitted. But the subject turned out to be vtile. I had to quarantine the guest in the facility, but I have been incapable of getting rid of it without B-Blood magic. With your assistance, I can s-s-send it back and sta-stabilize the portal.

    Valdemar frowned as he read between the lines. <em>First rule of summoning, never call what you cannot put down. </em>What did you summon?

    In response, Otto Blutgang looked at the portal and Valdemar understood.

    He had contacted the only kind of creature capable of helping with portal technology.

    The ones that invented it in the first ce.

 Chapter 40: From Dust

    Chapter 40: From Dust

    The air was unnaturally hot in this part of the facility.

    The surface of the metal walls was covered in scorch marks, while joints had melted into puddles of ck g on the ground. Ruptured pipes filled the corridors with burning steam and thick particles of dust. Marianne struggled to walk at a steady pace without stumbling on scraps.

    <em>How can you call yourself a warrior after falling into such an easy trap? </em>Marianne scolded herself as sweat dripped from her forehead. <em>You lost Valdemar, even Lord Och</em>

    The fact the Dark Lord had been as surprised as she was before the teleportation effect didnt console Marianne. She should have grabbed Valdemar and made a rush for the exit the moment she noticed electricity in the air. Her failure to act was what Lord Bethor had warned her against.

    <em>No more, </em>Marianne swore as she put a hand on the walls, attuning herself to the vibrations through the steel. This maze was nothingpared to the one Lord Bethor had put her through; she would find a way out, rescue Valdemar from whatever force controlled the facility, meet with Lord Och, and leave in short order.

    The teleportation effect had sent her to a hidden floor beneath the original facility; her enhanced echolocation detected the gruesomeb full of Derro and human corpses roughly four meters above her head. Thickyers of steel prevented Marianne from opening a way through, but ording to the various rooms configuration, she suspected the presence of an elevator to the upper levels further ahead.

    Her nose also picked up the smell of dry blood soaking the pipes.

    In all likelihood, the creature that massacred the Derros lurked in the area. The force controlling the facility obviously intended to get rid of Marianne by throwing her into the fire. The noblewoman was determined to disappoint it by living through the ordeal.

    Sheathing her rapier, as it wouldnt serve her in the narrow corridors, Marianne closed her eyes and advanced slowly. She used the Blood to enhance her senses further, her hearing, touch and smell coordinating to help her visualize the rooms ahead. Marianne attuned herself to the thrumming rhythm of pumps toiling in the background, to the steam coursing through the pipes and the lightning saturating the steel. The disordered, ustrophobic machinery suddenly started to make sense.

    <em>This is a body,</em> Marianne realized. A wounded alien body of steel rather than flesh, but a body all the same. The pipes were organized like a bloodstream distributing power to the facility, converging at a central heart of pumps and engines. But beyond the steel, Marianne sensed an organic substance merged with the walls and machinery.

    Marianne?

    Hearing her name spoken startled the noblewoman.

    Marianne, the familiar voice repeated. Lord Och? Are you here?

    Valdemar? Marianne answered as she opened her eyes. The voice came from the engine room, and it sounded so real...

    Marianne? The voice turned happier. Im over here!

    Following the sound, Marianne traveled towards the facilitys heart. The corridors grew wider as she walked, and so did the air grow searing hot. The thunderous noise of hydraulic devices rumbled across the facility.

    Unlike the narrow corridors and small rooms she had visited beforehand, this chamber was nearly a hundred meters in diameter. Five metal bridges extended to join at a vast metal tform hanging above a colossal engine, forming a crossroad connecting various areas of the facility. The whole structure was supported by the strangest steam engine Marianne had seen yet: a vertical turbine digging into a searing hot pit shining like the heart of the world itself.

    And Valdemar was waiting for her at the tforms center. He had removed his spiral mask, his kind face beaming with relief when he saw her. Marianne, thank the Light youre alright.

    Im relieved to see you safe and sound as well, the noblewoman asked as she stepped on the bridge, discreetly casting a few defensive spells under her breath while at it. What happened?

    I dont remember much, he admitted with a contrite face. I saw a sh of lightning, and when I recovered, I was in another room and neither you nor Lord Och were anywhere to be seen.

    <em>To be seen</em>

    Marianne forced herself to smile. I was worried for your safety.

    So was I, Valdemar replied while returning her expression, before ncing at the ceiling. Look at this.

    She did so.

    Her eyes saw something that her other senses couldnt. A beautifulndscape of gemstones embedded in steel covering the dome-shaped ceiling, each of them a different color. Rings of emeralds surrounded rubies and sapphires in aplex geometric tapestry of untold refinement andplexity.

    I didnt know the Derros had any sense of aestheticism, Marianne said as she calcted the distance between Valdemar and herself. <em>One meter and half, maybe two</em>

    Me neither. This is true beauty, dont you think?

    It is.

    Valdemar turned away from the ceiling to look at her with the warm smile Marianne had grown so fond of. The sight made her sick. Marianne, he whispered, I need your help.

    Its notplete, is it? Marianne asked, feeling the growing urge to scratch her eyes. Something is missing.

    These stones are beautiful, but not as much as you, Valdemar said as he stared at her with pale gray eyes. We cant leave this ce without giving it a finishing touch, dont you think? It wouldnt be right.

    Her eyes itched so much that Marianne struggled not to cry. The unpleasantness grew so overwhelming, her mind furiously urged her to scratch her eyelids apart.

    So she shot Valdemar in the forehead.

    A bone bullet erupted from her index finger before he could react, and a second hit him in the chest. The blow made him flinch, but he remained standing. His body turned as still as a statue while ck blood poured out of his wounds.

    You dont understand how I feel, do you? Marianne asked as she took a few steps back. Nor how we humans perceive the world. To you, sight is all there is.

    That was how it had managed to fool her True Sight. It had subtly affected her brain through the Blood, fooling her mind with false stimuli. But her other senses, sharpened through harsh training, had told her the truth.

    For a moment, the false Valdemar didnt answer. Instead, he looked at his chest wound as he touched it with his fingers, his nails sinking into the hole Mariannes bone bullet had made. He stuck out his tongue and let out a moan of pain as blood dripped on the metal tform.

    No, not pain.

    <em>Pleasure</em>.

    That thing <em>enjoyed </em>getting hurt.

    The world around Marianne changed into a grotesque shape as the visual illusion copsed.

    Smashed devices of levers and buttons covered the walls, their surface stained by fleshy secretions and gands of harvested intestines. Thrumming pipes coiled over the ceiling like a thousand snakes of steel, impaling dozens of Derro corpses intertwined with their steel. The beautiful illusory gemstones transformed into eyes of different colors, encased in a tapestry of pulsating flesh.

    This amphitheater was a surgical artists masterpiece.

    Are you ready, the thing asked with Valdemars voice, its hands moving to grab his foreheads skin, to see <em>true </em>beauty?

    The creature ripped his false skin apart and revealed the gruesome horror underneath.

    A powerful telekic pulse erupted around it and almost threw Marianne into the charnel pit below. The noblewoman managed to strengthen her psychic defenses enough to resist as she reached the tforms edge, allowing her to witness the monster in its full glory.

    This humanoid creatures skin was festooned with sharp bone spikes, blood-soaked wounds, and self-inflicted scars. Its stature was skeletally thin and twice as tall as any man, with an impossibly long spine supporting a monstrous torso of exposed organs, glistening veins, and two elongated arms. ck, thorny tendrils coiled around stunted legs barely capable of letting the creature walk.

    The monsters head was split vertically in half, the remains of a humanoid face surrounding a hole of teeth, ck blood and fleshy ligaments. A single loathsome red eye peered at Marianne from within its hideous abyss.

    You want my eyes? Marianne grabbed her revolver. Come and get them.

    The creature shrieked inside Mariannes head, its psychic might crashing against her mental wards while its arms lunged at her face.

    Channeling the Blood through her legs, Marianne swiftly ran around the creature while shooting it in the chest and head. The iron bullets, empowered by her Soulbound weapon, impacted with the strength of bombshells. They pierced through the creatures and hit the walls behind it, goring fountains of blood into its flesh.

    The monster answered with a moan of pleasure, before jettisoning the bone shards embedded in its flesh in all directions.

    Grabbing her rapier in her empty hand, Marianne used it to deflect the projectiles while she kept shooting at the monsters head. Her de cut through the shards like butter and the strength of her projectiles sted the creatures skull to bits. Bits of bones and blood fell off, revealing the red eye at the center.

    On a closer look, Marianne realized that it was closer to a crimson sphere of light than a true organ. The ck blood coalesced around the orb before solidifying in a gruesome mass of necrotic flesh, the very essence of space twisting around the monster. The massive engine below the tform echoed its power and surged with lightning.

    Recognizing the nature of the spell cast, Marianne stayed on the move as space rippled around her. Tears in the fabric of reality appeared all over the tform, sharp des of crystalized blood cutting through them. One lunged at Mariannes head and another at her chest. She dodged both, only for a dozen more to target her from all sides.

    Her enhanced senses analyzed every tiny movement in her surroundings, calcting the angles of attack and where the des would strike. Time seemed to slow down as Mariannes reflexes took over, guiding her body as she gracefully danced around the teleported projectiles.

    The creature hit the ground with its hands, a torrent of ck blood spreading from its fingertips. Marianne hastily fled towards the bridge as tentacles surged from the expanding pool and tried to grapple her.

    Watching her escape to the bridge, the creature let out a roar and vanished in a sh of crimson light. Marianne sensed the air density change above her and backflipped as the monster teleported above her head, two curved des of crystalized blood in hand. The swords hit only the bridge, while Marianne regained her footing.

    The noblewoman and her opponent faced each other on the bridge. The cyclops head had developed a new mouth of sharp teeth, a coiling tongue sticking out and licking the tip of his swords in an obscene manner.

    <em>Murder is all a funny game to you, isnt it?</em> Marianne thought as she put her revolver back around her belt and called upon the Blood. Drawing upon her bodys reserves, she used magic to materialize a weapon of bone: a il made of a chain of spine and with a miniature, hardened skull for a head. Creating the material left Marianne slightly winded, but she had stocked up nutrients and energy for such an asion. <em>Lets test your pain threshold, tough guy.</em>

    Swinging her il with one hand the same way Lord Bethor taught her to, Marianne used the other to make a challenging gesture with her rapier.

    The monster answered by leaping in the air with its swords raised. Marianne dodged the des with a step back as they hit the metal bridge with enough strength to shake it, beforeunching her il at her foes head. The projectile pulverized the monsters skull but phased harmlessly through the red eye.

    <em>Its intangible,</em> Marianne thought as she swung her il, the ck blood regenerating a head around the monsters eye. <em>Is it a ghost manipting a puppet of flesh?</em>

    In that case, a Soulbound weapon should be able to damage it. The revolvers bullets had sted the flesh around the eye previously, but failed to hit it directly.

    The monster let out a furious shriek and wildly swung its twin des at Marianne, striking from all angles possible. There was little grace and skill in this dance of steel, but the creatures strength meant a direct hit would likely tear Marianne in half. The noblewoman slowly fell back while deflecting the blows with hits of her il. Each de her weapon shattered was instantly reced with another, as the creature immediately materialized recements to its hands. Its tongue dripped luridly as the red eye gazed at Marianne with intensity, its moans growing more animalistic while blood dripped from a wound between its stunted legs.

    Suppressing her disgust to focus on the fight, Marianne lunged at the monsters chest with her rapier. The beast raised its des to deflect her own, leaving his legs exposed to a feint. Marianne flung her il at the monsters knees, shattering them with a sickening noise.

    The beast stumbled in surprise, and the tip of Mariannes rapier struck the red eye. The noblewoman sensed her weapon hitting an invisible force and pierced it.

    This time, the psychic shriek that echoed in her head was no moan of pleasure.

    The creature dropped its weapons, as the hands holding them trembled in agony. The beasts scars ruptured open and ck blood poured out of them, the substance dripping off the bridge and into the shining pit beneath.

    Come on, Marianne said with contempt as she twisted her rapier. The monster screamed all the louder. Laugh. Dont you think pain is fun?

    The Derros couldnt hurt this thing for real without a Soulbound weapon capable of targeting intangible foes. Marianne, however, had plenty of experience with exorcizing ghosts.

    Where did you teleport Valdemar? Marianne hissed. I know you can understand what I say. So where is he?

    The beasts eye erupted in a sh of crimson light and reality twisted around them.

    Realizing the danger, Marianne leaped off the bridge and threw her il at the pipes dangling from the ceiling. Her weapon coiled around one of them, allowing her to dangle around the metal tform.

    A mere second after she fled, spacepressed around the metal bridge as bloody des erupted all over it. The surface turned into a sea of spikes, while the creature manifested great wings of bones and skin.

    <em>A direct hit of a Soulbound weapon would have destroyed any normal ghost,</em> Marianne realized as the creature took flight to follow after her. After confirming that the central tform was still covered in tentacles, the noblewoman managed tond on another metal bridge to the left of the destroyed one. <em>What is that thing? A summoned monster? A specter?</em>

    The monster shrieked as it flew towards Marianne, half a dozen arms growing out of its bleeding wounds. The beast quickly turned into a pulsating chaotic mass of bone des and arms centered around the red eye, its wings barely able to support its mass.

    In the end, that entitys nature didnt matter. If it wouldnt answer her questions, Marianne would destroy it.

    I would rather avoid that, Young Marianne.

    Footsteps echoed behind Marianne, as a hooded undead emerged from another part of the facility.

    The noblewoman immediately focused on her enhanced senses, fearing another illusion but no spell could fake the cold, oppressive aura surrounding a true Dark Lord.

    My, thank you for thepliment, Lord Och said as he walked onto the bridge, barely sparing the monster a nce. I would dly watch you finish off this living antique under other circumstances, but science demands that I preserve this specimen.

    The creature let out a shriek. The tentacles on the metal tform twisted and coiled around the bridge, trying to grab Marianne at full speed.

    The Dark Lord waved his hand and the tentacles rotted to nothing. Within seconds, only a thinyer of dust covered the metal tform.

    Your consent is not required, Lord Och said with the same tone an adult would use to scold an unruly child. Im afraid that the pecking order has changed greatly since your civilizations glory days, so I kindly ask you not to make this difficult.

    And like that, Marianne realized the battle was over.

    The creature, however, refused to ept the inevitable. It flew straight at the two sorcerers, ck blood surging from its hands and rupturing the fabric of space.

    Very well. Lord Och pointed an index finger at the flying beast. You asked for it.

    The world brightened in light and fire.

    Marianne had to protect her face with her hands as a torrent of searing hot white mes erupted from Lord Ochs finger, the sheer ambient heat evaporating the sweat on her face. The st swallowed the surprised monster and vaporized it. The mes continued their progress into the wall behind the flying creature, melting a tunnel through the facility.

    Though the creatures red core survived the magical mes, they clearly affected it. The psychic scream that followed the incineration dwarfed all its previous ones in intensity, and not even a single drop of ck blood remained behind.

    The mes died down, a tiny cloud of smoke rising from Lord Ochs index finger.

    Marianne watched at the molten tunnel with shock, trying to process what she had just seen. How did how could the Blood How? she dared to ask.

    Do you remember how our Institutes water reservoir works, Young Marianne?

    Yes, she did. Master Poingcarr turned an elemental into a permanent portal to the ne of water.

    This minor offensive spell uses the same principle, the lich replied casually. It involves temporarily summoning a minor fire elemental with a conjuration spell before immediately<em></em>turning it into a temporary rift to its home ne. Primordial fire then surges into our dimension, sting everything in its path. I have seen very few things capable of surviving a direct hit.

    The red eye flickered as ck particles gathered around it.

    I expected more from a Pleromian, the Dark Lord said with a hint of disappointment as he observed the entity. But you have exceeded my expectations, Young Marianne. Lord Bethor trained you well.

    Marianne examined the creature with surprise. This thing is a <em>Pleromian</em>?

    Impossible. The Pleromians had been a great and ancient people, who created so many wonders. How could such a sick, petty creature be one of them?

    Or at least, this is what the Pleromians have <em>be </em>after millennia of rampant excesses, obscene pleasures, and degradation. Such a shame to watch an ancient and proud civilization reduced to Lord Och nced at the Pleromian with contempt. <em>This</em>.

    The particles turned into drops of ck blood coalescing around the red eye, forming a protective cocoon. <em>Its trying to recreate a body for itself, </em>Marianne realized. <em>It cant escape without one.</em>

    Fascinating, Lord Och whispered as he observed the phenomenon. The Pleromian draws into the very essence of the Blood saturating all of Undend to generate organic matter from nothing. All while its soul remains stuck between two nes. This warrants further testing.

    The Dark Lord raised his hand at the Pleromian, his empty eye sockets shining with a ghastly glow. I suppose I will call upon the elemental ne of lightning and see if it can recover from intense electrocution.

    When she looked at the pitiful, sadistic creature, Marianne realized she couldnt even muster the slightest hint of pity. Lord Och, we need to find Valdemar, she said, trying to stay on track. He could be in danger as we speak.

    Have faith in my apprentice, Young Marianne. Theres no rush. Eventually, this creature will ept its helplessness and well be on our merry way.

    It enjoys pain, Lord Och.

    Good. The Dark Lord grinned cruelly as his hands crackled with electricity. Then well both get to indulge ourselves.

 Chapter 41: The Lost Archive

    Chapter 41: The Lost Archive

    The elevator rattled as it descended into the facilitys depths.

    Valdemar crossed his arms as he did his best to fit in the cramped cabin, which was clearly adapted for Derros and not humans. Theck of space made him ufortable already, but it was the presence of ss eyes in the corners that truly frustrated him.

    Why are you so un-husiastic? a device in the elevators ceiling somehow carried Otto Blutgangs voice through it. Our mu-mutual objectives will be ful-fulfilled once we have established tru-ust.

    I dont see what helping you will bring me besides more headaches. The only reason Valdemar went along this n was to rescue Marianne, assist Lord Och, and prevent a maddened Pleromian from escaping into Undend. If the summoner could smash the Derro king to bits and exorcise his spirit from the machinery, he would have done it.

    Once you ba-anish the Pleromi-i-ian, we can coborate and op-pen the path to the infinite woooorlds The voice stretched on and screeched like a chalk on a board. I will stab-bilize the portal to Earth and le-let you and volunteers through. Or any other wo-orld you wish for.

    Valdemar looked up at a ss eye with skepticism. Would you let mankind use your portals?

    The cosmos is infi-infi-infinite. Our species can-not coexist due tock of space andpetition over resources. Portals will abolish scarci-city and let us share the bo-bounty of endless worlds.

    Valdemar looked at the elevators rusted door, waiting for it to open. A troglodyte friend of mine used a simr argument. He said that this was too small for two species.

    Enmity between us is <em>pointlesssss</em>, Otto hissed like a snake. Co-cooperation will benefit us both.

    That could solve their problems, and the Silent King had portrayed the Derro King as a valid solution for Valdemar to reach Earth. While it meant stomaching Ottos atrocities, co-developing functional portal technology and sharing its use was a good deal on paper.

    But there were a few issues Valdemar couldnt ignore.

    What about the others? he asked Otto Blutgang. Those who wont listen and will elect to remain behind in Undend?

    What about the-them?

    The worst part, the Derro King sounded puzzled that Valdemar <em>cared</em>. Otto Blutgang had be a thing unable to rte to others.

    No, that wasnt right. From the way he enved his own species, the Derro King couldnt feel empathy for anyone else in the first ce. Every interaction was a cold transaction with him, an equation to be solved. Otto didnt understand the value of establishing trust and goodwill, considered his own men resources to exhaust and throw aside for the sake of his ambitions, and didnt care for anyone but himself.

    In a way, that was why Valdemar believed the offer to be entirely genuine. A solipsistic being like Otto Blutgang didnt hold grudges and would consider peacefully shipping potential enemies off-world an easier solution than a costly war.

    But all those who would refuse to take the offer the unbelievers, the skepticals, the fearful, the dokkars and the troglodytes

    They would have no future.

    Ktulu, his familiar whispered from within his bag. Somehow, it managed to sound like a warning.

    <em>I know, </em>Valdemar thought. <em>This deal smells like rotten fish.</em>

    Otto had brainwashed nearly the entire Derro race besides a few personalities worth preserving. While the species had been at war with humans long before Valdemars birth, he couldnt help but feel pity for them. No one deserved to have their mind corrupted by a malevolent intelligence.

    In a way, Ottos actions were no different than Ialdabaoths. He had just traded flesh for steel.

    But what alternative was there? Otto Blutgang controlled the facility, and while he had sealed it shut to prevent the Pleromian from escaping, he could certainly have it reinforced in a pinch. The moment Valdemar attempted to escape or sabotage the portal, Derro troops woulde in. Not to mention the strange teleportation technology Otto had ess to inside the facility.

    <em>Is there a way to free the Derros from their so-called Godmind? </em>Valdemar couldnt help but wonder. He didnt see any, but he had to keep faith. The same way he had to believe he could free himself from Ialdabaoths influence.

    The elevators door opened, and alien screams of agony drew him out of his thoughts.

    Fearing he had arrived toote, Valdemar rushed into a steel corridor as the heat around him increased. The sound of thrumming engines and steam bursting through pipes resounded around him, while his Psychic Sight instantly detected a powerful locus in the Blood further ahead.

    The corridor ended into a vast chamber holding the burning engines fueling the facility, and to the strange sight of Lord Och sting a blob of ck slime with lightning while Marianne watched with a nk expression. The lich clearly enjoyed himself, chuckling as a crimson orb sometimes threatened to emerge from the dark goo.

    Valdemar had indeed arrived toote.

    He had barely taken a step on a metal bridge connecting to the engine rooms central tform that Marianne turned in his direction, her revolver pointed at his face. Easy! Valdemar immediately raised his hands, Ktulu imitating him inside his bag. Its me, Marianne!

    His bodyguard observed him in silence for a moment, before her nk face turned to relief. Im so d to see you safe, Valdemar. Marianne lowered her weapon. I apologize for the frosty wee. The creature tried to trick me before.

    Are there more avable? Lord Och asked as he continued his torture of the slime. This one is almost spent.

    Valdemar examined the scene, both to understand the lichs spell and the nature of its victim. <em>I didnt know you could use portal breaches offensively, </em>he thought, <em>its quite ingenious.</em>

    As for the slime though it was a bizarre shadow of its kinds former majesty, Valdemar recognized its nature from Ottos description of the captive Pleromian. Lord Ochs torture had degraded it to a lost soul barely tethered to Undend by the power of the Blood. It couldnt even manifest a psychic defense or a mouth to scream.

    Lord Och, this is barbaric, Valdemar said with a disturbed frown before noticing the eyes and intestines scattered around the engine room. His sympathy for the Pleromian plummeted as he realized the scale of its rampage across the Derro facility. After consideration, I retract my statement.

    This creature enjoys torturing others, Marianne said as he red at the slime. It deserves worse.

    You will forgive an old man enjoying himself, apprentice. The lich chuckled light-heartedly as he finally stopped sting the Pleromian, letting it recover. Ive primed this creature for interrogation. This is the reason for our presence here, is it not?

    Yes, Valdemar confessed as he observed the pathetic ooze. Otto Blutgang wants it sent back to the hell from where it crawled out, and then to stabilize his portal with my help.

    Mariannes eyes widened, her fingers tightening on her rapier. Otto Blutgang is <em>here</em>?

    In a way. At this point, the Derro King had be one with his kingdom. He said the Pleromian was after you, Marianne, so I rushed to assist as fast as I could.

    A slight blush formed on Mariannes cheeks for some reason. I see, she said. You shouldnt have. Im the one supposed to protect you, not the other way around.

    Valdemar instantly felt remorseful. I didnt mean to imply that I doubted your skills, he apologized. I knew you would be alright, but just in case

    I appreciate the gesture, she replied, clearly eager to move on. What do we do now with the Pleromian? If there is truly a portal here, do we secure it?

    Im certain the dwarf king would dly trade use of his toy for this creatures knowledge, Lord Och said as he observed the Pleromian. The creature had manifested arms from its ck blood, and desperately tried to get away from the lich. It was quite a pathetic sight. But you know my point of view, apprentice. If I had a stomach left, I would rather have my cake and eat it too.

    Valdemar knew all too well what he meant. You want to extract its knowledge before we surrender it to Blutgang?

    That was smart. When dealing with madmen, it couldnt hurt to secure a leverage.

    We? We will do nothing. The lich extended a hand to his student. This is your moment in the spotlight, apprentice.

    Valdemar blushed in embarrassment behind his mask. Im a poor mind mage.

    Oneiromancers infiltrate dreams, but that door is closed to you by virtue of your origins that is true. Lord Och chuckled. And yet, Young Valdemar, through that same token there is another way to learn what that creature knows. You have already witnessed the process alongside my former apprentice, and it is time you put this power to the test.

    The dreadful memory of the Outer Darkness and the abyss at its center red in Valdemars mind. The summoner nced at the Pleromian, its red eye reminding him of Ialdabaoths maw and the countless souls lost to its hunger.

    No, Valdemar whispered as he realized what his teacher had in mind. I refuse. This will destroy it.

    The lich looked at his student as if he had grown a second head. Do you have qualms of conscience for a creature such as <em>this</em>?

    Valdemar, Marianne said softly as she nced at the ghastly chapel of flesh and eyes above their heads. This monster would have added my eyes to its collection if it had the power and probably done far worse. It is mad and a danger to all. It cannot be allowed out of this facility or anywhere else.

    To kill is one thing, but this method Valdemar clenched his fists. It might leave <em>nothing </em>behind.

    His teacher was all but asking him to eat the Pleromians soul like a snack and shit it out once he had learned everything of value. Valdemar wasnt sure if he could do that, and if he could he was afraid of what it meant.

    Maybe, maybe not. Lord Och shrugged. Perhaps it will be up to you. Would you rather give it to our Derro friend without securing an insurance against betrayal?

    Valdemar snorted. No.

    Then try. You can always spit him out before you chew it too much.

    Why not extract its knowledge yourself, my teacher? Valdemar asked. You have the power.

    Because then nothing would remain for you to discover, the lich replied. I believe in encouraging my students to push boundaries, apprentice. You hate the inhuman half of yourself, but it is as important as the other. No good wille out of suppressing it.

    Would you rather that I embrace the monster inside?

    Of course not. Lord Och grinned. I want you to master it.

    When he put it that way

    Valdemar loathed anything that had to do with his fathers side of the family, but there was wisdom in the lichs words. The Lilith had been able to attack him psychically because in his desire to suppress his nature, he had identally made it exploitable. If he didnt test his limits, someone would make use of them against him.

    Valdemar looked at the pathetic, broken horror trying its best to crawl away from Lord Och. At this point, death and oblivion might even be a mercy. He walked to the creatures side while hispanions watched, sensing undetectable pairs of ss eyes gazing at his back. If Otto wanted to stop this, he didnt make a move to.

    The Pleromians red eye emerged from the ck goo to re at Valdemar, right as the sorcerer called upon the Blood.

    Even in its sorry state, the creature attempted to raise psychic defenses, but they copsed almost instantly and they felt wrong all the same. A human built a dreamscape to protect their sleeping mind and mentalyers while awake, coating their essence behindyers of protection. The soul was intertwined with the body, one influencing the other. A healthier body meant a greater mastery of the Blood and thus better defenses.

    The Pleromians spirit worked differently however. The soul was all there was to it; the body it created was a mere ectosmic shell it could discard at will.

    It was closer to a Qlippoth than to a living being.

    A silent battle of wills started between the two souls, as Valdemar attempted to subsume the Pleromian like he did with a Collector in the Institutes Hall of Ritual. It was no contest; one soul was healthy and determined, the other bloated in its corruption and broken through a lichs torture.

    <em>They are themselves, but they are also me</em>, Valdemar remembered his visions of Ialdabaoth through the Blood. <em>A thousand masks for a single face</em>.

    So hollow was the Pleromians soul, that Valdemar had no problem wearing it. The ck blood dried as the crimson, ghostly eye floated inside the summoner. Valdemar digested the spirit the same way his father devoured his children.

    Horrifying visions of a nightmarish realm filled his mind as he began the feast of memories. Glimpses of a terrible world of flesh under a dark sky, of pulsating ravines, and pyramids of corpses.

    Valdemar heard the sickening moans of Pleromians as they raised ves from their own flesh, only to vite them within minutes of their birth. He witnessed artists paintndscapes of tongues and madmen make coats out of their kindreds skins. The screams of the dying were refined into terrible symphonies, their guts into twisted decorations.

    The Pleromians had no need for cities anymore, or even the veneer of civilization. He witnessed shes of a broken portal, its parts harvested to make sickening toys and crude instruments of pleasure. Science and learning had been forgotten in this mad realm, leaving only the most disturbing of pleasures.

    Gone were the majestic titans and cyclops of the Institutes murals. Only twisted husks remained, more interested in sewing themselves new arms and cruel delights than exploring the cosmos. The mad had long ughtered the sane and the civilized, embracing the bottomless abyss that awaited once a mind had shredded the meandering pretense of higher thoughts.

    The Pleromians had so degraded that they had lost most of their knowledge and majesty. They had be little more than savant animals, mad children driven by the instinct to rut and y and hurt. Only asional shes of insight let out the shattered remains of their lost majesty, ever so briefly.

    In their search for eternal ecstasy, the Pleromians had abandoned <em>everything else</em>.

    How long had they been trapped in a cognitive loop of mindless pleasure, unable to perceive the world outside? It was a testament to their immense power that they could wield the Blood at all anymore, the same way bats instinctively knew how to fly.

    After wading through the toxic mud of these memories, Valdemar realized that their selfish madness made the Pleromians all the more dangerous. So long as they were trapped in this nightmarish realm of their own creation, their mind dulled by empty bliss and psychosis, they would remain ignorant of the rest of the cosmos. If they ever remembered the existence of Undend, or received proof that the universe they had left to die had survived they would return to torment its people.

    Otto Blutgang wanted to return the Pleromian home after extracting its knowledge, but Marianne was right. This monster couldnt be allowed to spread the word to its kindred.

    It was beyond saving.

    <em>Eating your soul is mercy at this point,</em> Valdemar thought as the nightmarish memories faded away, reced with a ck empty void. The Pleromian had forgotten more about its existence than most humans would ever know. <em>So little of it remains.</em>

    And yet and yet not everything was gone. A few embers of memory remained, brought back to the surface by Otto Blutgangs summoning attempt. They were blurry and indistinct, but Valdemar quickly gathered them into a shape he could examine. In a way, it felt no different thanpelling a summoned creature to answer his call.

    The oldest memories were unlike the empty cruelty that defined the creatures mind. Valdemar watched through the depthless eye of a cyclops as a line of Pleromians shed their blood in individual pots of stone. The viewer marked each of them with aplex series of symbols as it collected them.

    Lord Och had said that the Pleromians held a breeding program to stabilize their society, determining a citizens role at birth. Could Valdemar be witnessing it?

    The summoner was tempted to look for another memory tied to summoning and teleportation magic, but he stayed his hand. <em>What if </em>he thought, <em>what if its all connected?</em>

    Valdemar was the result of one such breeding program meant to bind multiple worlds together. Had the Pleromians followed a simr logic? Did it somehow teach them how to open their portals?

    Valdemar digested the memories one after the other, but they were so fragmented he only caught glimpses. Sights of shelves upon shelves of blood samples, tightly organized by lineages; visions of Pleromian sorcerers recording increasinglyplex patterns of symbols into endless helix chains; shes of arranged matches of two donors together based on organicpatibility

    This Pleromian was a biomancer, a specialist of the body. Yet the remaining spellcasting instincts veered towards summoning and spatial magic. How odd.

    More to the point, the memories all took ce in a familiar fortress. Lord Och had changed many things since humans took it over, but the walls of the Pleroma Institute had remained intact across the centuries.

    The ck Pir at its center was standing in the memories too. Valdemar watched through the viewers eye as it studied its stony surface. Only then did the summoner notice details that had evaded his human eyes in the past.

    Symbols were carved on the pir. Signs so small, so imperceptibly microscopic, that only a Pleromians peerless sight could identify them.

    The ck Pir of the Pleroma Institute wasnt a mere monument. It was an archive of some kind. The ce where the Pleromian biomancers recorded their studies of life itself.

    <em>Show me,</em> Valdemar thought. <em>Show me what you were looking for so feverishly. Show me the truth.</em>

    The viewer took a few steps back, and Valdemar saw the bigger picture. The tiny symbols assembled into a familiar, eye-shaped design. The same sign that his grandfather had recorded, the eye of Ialdabaoth.

    All of life in Undend, assembled into a greater whole.

    And yet, there were more symbols. They formed a sphere around Ialdabaoths eye, before spreading into chains of signs; into tendrils linked to other circles separated by a dark void. Each of these spheres held aplex set of symbols forming arger one. Some were eyes, simr to Ialdabaoths and yet subtly different. Others looked like maws of teeth, or blooming flowers.

    None were the same, but all were connected through a web of infiniteplexity. Bonds that transcended the void of space and the frontiers of the nes.

    Valdemar was mistaken.

    The Institutes ck Pir wasnt an archive, but a map.

    A map of the universe, and the living worlds that popted it.

 Chapter 42: Dark Designs

    Chapter 42: Dark Designs

    Was there a limit to the universes vastness?

    The purpose of science and magic was to push back the boundaries of human understanding of the cosmos ever farther. But the more Valdemar learned, the bigger the universe appeared. Each new piece of information showcased how little mankind mattered in the great cosmic dance.

    And as he nced at the map before his eyes, Valdemar felt incredibly small.

    The Bloods magic derived from Ialdabaoth, true but the almighty Stranger was only a node in the vast web of life. There were countless of its kind across the nes, connected through the bonds of kinship and lineage.

    <em>There is a war in heaven.</em>

    This map represented one of the sides. The side of aberrant life; the side of the Blood.

    An army of Strangers made of countless smaller lifeforms that had broken off from the whole. Each shaped like a sphere

    <em>The ck sun grew to epass the universe itself, the shadow of eyes, mouths, and tentacles wriggling beneath its surface.</em>

    Could it be Valdemar whispered as he remembered his visit to the Silent Kings alien realm and the brief glimpse of the abomination lurking inside its ckened sun. If it can happen with a star, then

    What about a?

    Lady Mathilde had theorized that the eyes of Ialdabaoth were the signs of a parasite spreading through the tunnels of the world. Considering what Valdemar had learned so far, he was tempted to consider a more worrying hypothesis.

    Ialdabaoth <em>was </em>the world. Not just the people living on it, but the entire.

    Could the world''s heart be made of flesh rather than magma, as geologists believed? What if the crust of the, those depths and surface of rocks and stones, were nothing more than a shell? The remnants of cosmic dust and meteors slowly umting across the eons?

    And if this theory was true, then was <em>Earth </em>a slumbering Stranger too? Was it an egg that would one day hatch and unleash a cataclysmic abomination unto the cosmos?

    <em>No, I cant think like this</em>, Valdemar thought as he focused on the memory. <em>Even if thats true, Ialdabaoths freedom is not inevitable</em>. <em>It wouldnt need outside help if it was.</em>

    At least this exined how the Blood could contact other worlds and nes. The web of flesh transcended Ialdabaoth and had spread its tendrils across the nes. All universes blessed with life were connected by these sentient worlds, bound tightly through a double-chain of polynucleotides.

    And as he observed the map while trying to make sense of it, Valdemar noticed a troubling fact: Ialdabaoth upied a central ce in the web and was linked to many other living worlds. This cement could simply be the result of the Pleromians using their worlds Stranger as the baseline of their map for practical purposes, but somehow Valdemar doubted he would be so lucky.

    <em>Now, Ialdabaoth was sealed long ago and is now trying to break its bindings, </em>the summoner thought as he assembled pieces of the puzzle. <em>If we assume that these wards are somehow connected</em>

    Then Ialdabaoths freedom would start a chain reaction through the web. Its freedom would unleash dozens of its kindred, the ripples spreading through a hundred more across the nes. The Strangers would wake up to im the multiverse as their own.

    They would win the war, whatever it meant.

    <em>You are the me from the other side, </em>the Nightwalker had said.

    But what was this other side?

    <em>Death is the universes natural state.</em>

    Though the map was detailed, Valdemar couldnt help but notice the vast empty space separating each living world from the other. The Lilith had made a valid point, the universe was filled with death. Life was preciously rare, far too much for Valdemars taste.

    <em>Something </em>out there was doing its best to scour the cosmos of its inhabitants. And if the Whitemoon was Ialdabaoths counterpart as much as Valdemar and the Nightwalker mirrored each other, then the rogueoid that cast mankind underground was only an agent of a greater power.

    Show me what you were running away from, Valdemar whispered as hepelled the memories to answer his questions. Show me what you feared so much. Were you worried that Ialdabaoth would wake up? What is the Whitemoon?

    The memories around him blurred. The walls turned to flesh and humanoid figures started writhing everywhere Valdemar looked. The dirty smell of sex filled his nostrils, while the summoner tasted something salty in the air. Even the ck Pir took on a phallic shape

    The memories were riddled with holes and the Pleromian had filled them with disgusting sexual imagery.

    Curse you, you ecstasy junkie! Valdemar whispered in condemnation. All this priceless, cosmic knowledge, and you filled your brain with pointless pleasures instead?

    Words couldnt properly convey Valdemars sheer disappointment. The Pleromians had achieved so many wonders and they threw them all away.

    No matter. Even if the Pleromians memory was faulty, the ck Pir still held the full wealth of his kinds knowledge about the Strangers. Valdemar only had to return to the Institute and decode it.

    He couldnt say the same for the portals.

    Show me how you can open tears between worlds, Valdemar ordered. Tell me how to reach Earth.

    This time, the Pleromians soul answered hismand.

    The memories of orgies and sexual imagery copsed into nothingness. A new vision rose from the depths of the harvested soul, showing a familiar underground dome and an archway of ck stone. Metal cables held the doorway in ce, as they would centuriester.

    The Institutes Pleromian portal had changed little across the eons with one small exception.

    <em>Where are the crystals?</em> Valdemar wondered. Shining red stones were infused into the structure in the current era, but they were conspicuously missing in this memory. So where were they?

    It didnt take long for Valdemar to receive an answer.

    Watching the memory through a single eye, he witnessed a procession enter the chamber. Pleromian blood sorcerers, the memories owner among them, escorted a ragtag line of humanoids. A shirtless and beautiful dokkar prince, attended to by cored concubines; a Derro reeking of drugs and incense; a human so fat ves had to carry him into the chamber; a troglodyte that advanced with an air of grim, but noble resignation; a Pleromian dressed in rich robes of harvested skin, smiling at a silent honor; and many more creatures Valdemar had never seen before, from many-legged humanoid bugs to a shapeshifting doppelganger. All of them bore tattoos showcasing their blood type.

    They looked less like prisoners and more like pampered pets, fattened on warm meals, concubines, and cheap drugs. All of them appeared satisfied with their lots as they walked towards the archway.

    A hooded Pleromian awaited next to the portal with a sharp scythe in his hands.

    Valdemar winced as the dokkar, the first in line, bent before the portal without any hesitation. The Pleromian executioner raised the scythe above the sacrifices neck.

    The de glittered from the light of torches as it fell down.

    The head cleanly rolled on the ground while the decapitated corpse fell against the archway, feeding the metal cables with its blood as if they were a trees roots. The archway pulsated as if alive as it drank the precious fluid, and small red crystals formed all over the structure. Another victim followed, feeding the crystal with their life.

    The hideous reaping stretched on for what felt like hours. Dokkars, humans, troglodytes, Derros, all the creatures popting the world were sacrificed on the altar of progress. Even a few Pleromians lost their heads as they closed the procession, their blood soaking the archway while sorcerers sang incantations. Their headless corpses were piled up until they reached the ceiling.

    None of them resisted.

    Lord Och had once told his apprentice that a victim had to be willing for the Earthmouth ritual to function. Only martyrs could serve as the support beams of bridges linking the worlds together. These people had been raised like expensive cattle, granted every privilege on the condition that when the time came, they wouldy down their lives for the glory of their envers. Their blood and souls infused the site of their execution, bing one with the steel.

    In the end, the Pleromian portals were nothing more than eminently more sophisticated Earthmouths.

    And considering Derros were among the sacrifices, this wasnt the first portal the Pleromians had built.

    But how could these portals be stable? Earthmouths were two-ways streets; you needed one on each side to keep the road open. Valdemar doubted a Pleromian enve awaited on the other side of a nar rift.

    Show me its activation, the sorcerer ordered as he slipped through the memories. The sacrifices corpses vanished, but the Pleromian sorcerers remained as they spoke ancient words of power to the portal. The archway hummed as the Blood grew in power, the fabric of space folding. The crystals resonated together, singing the song of life itself.

    Valdemar watched the process with rapturous attention, taking mental notes as a crimson glow erupted at the archways center. A rift in space widened inside the portal, opening to a screaming realm of gasping flesh.

    Its a resonance! Valdemar realized in joy, as everything started to make sense. Its a resonance, not between two Earthmouths, but between two lineages of life!"

    The Pleromians had fed the portal with a rough approximation of the gic material of the creatures they expected to find on the other side. Though there was no portal on the other side nor anybody to open a breach, blood called to blood.

    Thats how I can serve as an Earthmouth between two realms, Valdemar whispered. I have the two lineages of men inside me. Im a bridge between two mankinds, and Ialdabaoths power provides the energy to stabilize the pathway.

    That was what Otto Blutgang didnt understand. He had managed to rip tears into other worlds through lightning and machinery, but without a sympathetic connection to the other side he couldnt hope to stabilize them. He was trying to create bridges with steel, when it was the kinship between different forms of life and the agony of sacrificed souls that kept portals open.

    Valdemar reyed the memory, memorizing the chants used by the Pleromians. Command phrases, he guessed. I can activate the portal with them.

    They didnt need Blutgangs help. Opening the pathway to Earth would be quicker with his technology, but not necessary. They just had to activate the Pleromian portal with the words Valdemar had memorized, maybe tune it a little with his blood, and they could open the rift to that world.

    At longst, the path to Earth was clear!

    Should I honor the deal with Blutgang?

    Valdemar didnt hesitate for long.

    No.

    The idea of spitting on a functional portal to Earth sickened Valdemar, but using it meant making a deal with a fiend in the process. Even if Otto Blutgang followed through with his end of the bargain and let volunteers start an exodus to another world, he would immediately use the stolen Pleromian technology to subdue those who remained behind and expand his sick mechanical consciousness across the cosmos. He would infect other worlds the same he had poisoned his entire species.

    There was nothing wrong in transcending the boundaries of mortality, but Otto Blutgang was a brain-harvesting parasite willing to lobotomize his own kind. He simply couldnt be trusted with this kind of power.

    It said something that Valdemar would rather entrust this knowledge to <em>Lord Och </em>than the Derros.

    Now, we have to find a way to bury this facility and escape it alive, Valdemar said as he prepared to copse the memory and return to the waking world. The Pleromians soul would remain powerless inside his stomach, though the sorcerer didnt know yet what to do with it. But once its done

    He would finally see the sun.

    At longst, his dream of reaching Earth woulde true.

    <em>The Dark Lords are deceiving you, my prince.</em>

    And the Dark Lords would follow.

    Only now, so close to the altar of victory, did Valdemar wonder about the true cost of his dream.

    Valdemar wanted his kind to see the sun. He had never desired to keep it all for himself. And after seeing the Dark Lords up close, he had no doubt what would follow once they could open pathways to other worlds.

    Empress Aratra, if Lord Ochs tale was to be believed, had betrayed her own mentor and established a tyrannical regime underground for centuries. Valdemar had hoped that the Empire would reform upon finding new worlds full of resources and sunlight, but now he doubted.

    Lord Bethor only believed in strength and violence. To him, sufficient might could solve any problem. He was a necessary evil when mankind faced threats like the Strangers and Otto Blutgang, but against a peaceful civilization? He would shatter any resistance thrown his way with fire, subjugate the weak, and seize all the resources he could. A necessary evil was still an evil.

    As for Lord Och himself, Valdemar refused to let the Liliths words poison his mind. And yet

    And yet he could tell something didnt add up in this scenario.

    Valdemar simply couldnt imagine Lord Och letting his apprentice learn such an important secret without having discovered it himself first. The lich was too cunning, too hungry for knowledge, too careful. He had already butted heads with Valdemar about their respective visions of the world.

    Had Lord Och already extracted the information from the Pleromians mind before surrendering it? Or maybe he couldnt reach the depths of its memories because of how the creatures mind worked, and he had sent his apprentice to sully his hands by eating the soul?

    Valdemars mind red with paranoia as he examined the portals memory. He was certain souls were the fuel keeping it open, and yet he hadnt sensed any within the device when he visited the real one. Had the long centuries degraded them, much like how only the echoes of pain and degradation remained in the Pleromians vaults beneath the Institute?

    In that case, it exined why the portal wouldnt work in the present day. It was functional, but it had exhausted its fuel. And the way to recharge it

    A doubt seized Valdemars mind, and he immediately reviewed the memory of the portal creation. The procession of sacrifices rose from the dead to repeat their execution once again; and Valdemar couldnt help but feel a sense of <em>dj vu</em> in more ways than one.

    The dokkar male walked first to his death, his arrogant, aristocratic way of talking echoing Friggas smug confidence.

    The human followed, bloated andcent like the Empires masses. A troglodyte carried on with the same grim resignation as Hermann, whenever he and Valdemar spoke about their kinds inability to coexist.

    The many-legged bug that walked after them was no Master Loctis, but maybe the living swarm could serve as a substitute?

    And the doppelganger Iren was half of one

    That undead bastard Valdemar whispered in outrage.

    What were the odds that a member of almost all of the species sacrificed to open the portal had been gathered in the Institute? Fed promises of medical treatment, of a better world, or political advantages? Even Frigga had signed a magical contract of some kind to study at the Institute, and the lich could have easily hidden a sacrificial use inside.

    What a heartless <em>dick</em>! Valdemar clenched his fists in rage. He <em>knew</em>.

    <em>Why would I sacrifice you, when I know we shall eventually seed with another method that wont cost you your life?</em>

    The lich had never said it wouldnt cost that of <em>someone else.</em>

    No, wait he doesnt have the Pleromian. Ive eaten the soul. But Lord Och had tried to clone them in the past. He had shown Valdemar theb. He didnt need a Pleromian with powers and knowledge, only someone willing to sacrifice themselves as part of the ritual.

    The lich was immortal. For all Valdemar knew, he could have raised a Pleromian clone in secret and indoctrinated it to serve as fuel for the portal. Lord Ochs apprentice didnt even know where his master kept his true workshop.

    Even the Derro could easily be arranged. The Empire had many prisoners of war in its cells, one would perhaps ept the sacrifice as part of an exchange. Or perhaps that was why Lord Och had insisted on following his apprentice? To negotiate sharing blood banks with Otto Blutgang?

    Maybe Im just being paranoid, Valdemar muttered as he tried to calm himself. How could he have known? He would have needed a living Pleromian to interrogate, or to find instructions. The ruins beneath the Institute didnt have any as far as I know.

    But

    But Lord Och <em>did </em>ess another source of Pleromian knowledge in the past.

    <em>I know of at least another gate like this one in Ariouth, though I havent been able to examine it since my previous apprentice and I had a Lord Ochs voice turned cold as ice. A disagreement.</em>

    The other portal in Ariouth. The one under Lord Phalegs control.

    The lich had always been evasive about the cause of his feud with his former apprentice, ming it on ungratefulness. But knowing Lord Ochs deceitful nature, Valdemar wondered if it had something to do with the second portal. Perhaps the two Dark Lords had found a trove of knowledge and couldnt share, or disagreed about how to use the device. The Institutes vault didnt have any guide to work the portal, but the Pleromians could have left hints in Ariouth.

    <em>I knew he was a snake, </em>the summoner thought, <em>and I still let him bite me.</em>

    Why all this plotting? To get themand word? Or was the lich trying to manipte Valdemar into agreeing with this terrible n, wearing down his reluctance one revtion at a time? Or maybe Lord Och didnt know about the portals requirements, but hade to suspect them through trial and error.

    Whatever the case, Valdemar couldnt ignore the signs. Even if Lord Och didnt know how to activate the portals, he had the means to do so at hand. The lich had kept his apprentice alive because of his unique nature, but Valdemar didnt doubt for a second that he would hesitate to sacrifice less precious assets.

    The moment the summoner returned to the living world, Lord Och would scan themand words from Valdemars mind.

    But the summoner couldnt forget them either. What were the odds that they could capture another Pleromian that knew them? They would need to coborate with Otto and all the ghastly prices that he would demand.

    Valdemar had to register themand words somewhere the lich wouldnt find them, erase them from his mind, and somehow find a way to recover themter with Lord Och none the wiser.

    A highly difficult, impossible task.

    No, Valdemar muttered, his heart full of determination. Impossible is but a word.

    He had an idea.

 Chapter 43: Conflicting Loyalties

    Chapter 43: Conflicting Loyalties

    Valdemar hadnt spoken a word in several minutes.

    The facilitys engines gently thrummed underneath the central metal tform, clouds of steam swirling around the metal bridges connecting the room to other areas; those that had survived Mariannes battle with the Pleromian at least. Although Lord Och had bested the creature and shattered its magic, its grisly handiwork remained. The eyes and guts of in Derros remained hung among the maze of pipes above the tform, and their yer

    <em>Why is it still here? </em>Marianne wondered as she red at the odious sphere of ckened blood facing Valdemar. Both of them upied the center of the tform and seemed locked in a mental duel of some kind. Though Valdemar stood on his feet, she could tell that his spirit had wandered elsewhere.

    Merely gazing at the Pleromians remains filled Marianne with revulsion. Her enhanced sight perceived the true nature of the bubbles boiling on its surface as ghastly eyes flickering in and out of existence.

    <em>This is the same mud that poisoned Bertrand,</em> Marianne thought grimly. Though Valdemar hadnt touched it, his continued silence disturbed her. She was starting to wonder if letting him consume the Pleromians soul had truly been wise. Lord Och

    Be patient, the lich said without a care in the world. While Marianne had moved closer to Valdemar in case she needed to defend him from the slime, the Dark Lord observed the scene from a respectable distance. Good things take time and I have waited many years for this moment.

    Years? Was he speaking about the Pleromians capture, or Valdemars progress? Marianne briefly nced at the Dark Lord of Paraplex, her enhanced senses picking up subtle movements she had never noticed before: bony fingers shaking almost imperceptibly; his mouth slightly opening to let out a pleased rattle; a feverish light ring up in his empty eyes

    It wasnt a look of curiosity, but anticipation.

    <em>He nned this</em>, Marianne realized, much to her disturbance. <em>He nned this before we even set out on this expedition.</em>

    You overestimate me, Young Marianne, the lich said, having read her mind. When you will reach my age, if you ever do, you will realize that no wish everes true. Something unforeseen always ruins the bestid ns of men and gods but with time and preparations on your side, you will seize the opportunities as theye along.

    <em>An opportunity for what?</em> Marianne wondered, though she was wise enough not to speak out loud. She had already noticed the ss eyes in the ceiling watching their every move and listening to their discussion. The air was rife with tension. <em>It can escte anytime</em>

    Holding her rapier in one hand and having reabsorbed her il into her body with the other, Marianne was ready to strike at the first sign of provocation. She was under no delusion that the Derros would let them leave this facility without a fight.

    Mayhaps there will be a fight, but I expect our host shall prove wise enough to let us negotiate like adults, Lord Och said as he observed his apprentice. We are close to the

    The Dark Lord didnt finish his sentence, which Marianne immediately took as a warning.

    Though Valdemar hadnt moved an inch, his familiar was peeking out of his bag. The squid-like face of Ktulu nced at its master for a while, before focusing on the puddle of ck blood left by the Pleromian.

    The creature was as eerily silent as its summoner.

    <em>Something is wrong, </em>Marianne thought, her grip on her rapier tightening. She noticed the air bending around the ck blood, the same way it did right before the Pleromian tried to skewer her with summoned des. The noblewoman sensed the magic suffusing the air.<em> Is the body reacting to the souls demise?</em>

    Whats your scheme, apprentice? Lord Och whispered, his head tilting to the side in confusion. Much to Mariannes surprise, he sounded almost as puzzled as she was. I wonder

    A new voice echoed in the engine room,ing from several ces at once. Mariannes enhanced hearing noticed multiple sources hidden in the walls and pipes above them. Devices integrated into the machinery itself tranting lightning into words.

    I detect unforeseen le-levels of ult eq-equations in your vicinity. The voice sounded vaguely male, but broken, stuttering, and <em>wrong</em>. A normal person wouldnt have noticed the difference with words spoken by a normal person, but Marianne also noticed a metal resonance simr to those produced by musical instruments in the background. Ex-ex-exin yo-o-ourselves

    Lord Otto, you finally deign to speak with us? Lord Och chuckled. This is nothing that should concern you.

    So Otto the Demented was truly in this facility, or close. Marianne wondered if she would have a chance to y him and behead derrokinds government, but quickly squashed these vain hopes. In all likelihood, the mad king had probably put a safe distance between himself and Lord Och.

    A short silence followed, but Marianne noticed movements among the pipes above their heads. She expected assassins hiding among them, before realizing that the metal itself was moving. The air simmered as the rooms temperature increased.

    The analys-sis of bodynguage indicates that you ly-y-ying to <em>meeee</em>

    Marianne shuddered as she sensed an electrical current in the air. This time, refusing to be separated from Valdemar, she grabbed him by the shoulder with her free hand. Wherever he went, she would follow.

    Wake up, Marianne whispered, her heartbeat quickening at thepleteck of response. She began to shake him up like a giant mushroom, to no avail. Valdemar, you need to wake up!

    Only then did she notice that her friends shadow had subtly lengthened.

    The Haunter that Valdemar had summoned as a protector now covered the puddle of ckened slime with its shade. Three crimson eyes flickered like candles on the false shadows surface, the Pleromians blood reacting to them by pulsating like a heart.

    And Valdemar still wouldnt move an inch. His pulse had grown so faint Marianne could barely hear it, his masked face gazing at nothing and nowhere.

    Lord Och, something is wrong! Marianne warned the Dark Lord, who simply stroked his skeletal chin. The Haunter hadpletely covered the Pleromians remains in a nket of shadows, the two eldritch darknesses bing one. Lord Och

    How bold of you, Young Valdemar, the Dark Lord muttered to himself while sparks of lightning red around his ancient bones. To force my hand so brazenly

    The Haunters shadow flickered, and it <emughed</em>.

    Realizing the danger, Marianne pulled the unresponsive Valdemar towards the edge of the tform. The sorcerer fell backward, his familiar grabbing him by the neck while Marianne caught them both.

    Her friends shadow returned to normal, but the Pleromians remains immediately underwent a horrendous transformation. The ck blood coalesced into arge sphere over which grew inhuman eyes and fanged mouths. This protosmic ooze upied the tforms center, corroding the steel underneath.

    <em>Did you n this too, Lord Och? </em>Marianne thought as she lifted Valdemar, preparing to jump to safety. The sphere of ck blood, however, didnt make a move to attack. <em>What now?</em>

    And then the mouths shrieked.

    Marianne thought her ears would explode from the piercing cry, and it took all of her mental fortitude not to wince from the sudden increase in volume. The cry reverberated through the tform and then the walls.

    Somehow, it drove the machinery mad.

    The pipes above their heads swirled like snakes before falling down on the group below, breathing zingly hot steam or boiling oil. Marianne sensed neither the presence of telekinesis nor hidden pulls moving them. As far as her senses were concerned, the metal suddenly started moving on its own in impossible ways to strike at the intruders.

    Supremely unimpressed, Lord Och raised his hand at the ceiling and cast the same fire spell he used to destroy the Pleromian. His fingers unleashed a mighty fiery ray at the swirling pipes above the groups heads, vaporizing them and melting arge hole in the ceiling.

    However, the pipes were only a prelude. The engines screeched beneath the tform and the surface of the rooms remaining steel walls started to bend on its own. Marianne immediately recognized the signs of a haunted ground, but sensed no soul nor magic in the air.

    Had the Derro somehow given life to metal?

    The sphere of Pleromian blood soon stopped making a sound as it copsed on itself. Space rippled around the phenomenon as it transformed into a growing speck of darkness in the fabric of reality itself, light and reality bending at its edges. The temperature dropped in its presence, the very heat siphoned away.

    Lord Och, whats happening? Marianne asked as she pulled Valdemar near the tforms edge. Though the sphere of darkness growth was painfully slow, she noticed the air sucked into it like an all-devouring hole.

    He has learned from the best, Young Marianne, the lich replied with a hint of genuine pride. My apprentice had his familiar turn the Pleromian into a living breach between nes and then used the Haunter to tune it to its home ne. Soon, this entire facility will be sucked into and of eternal darkness.

    A portal? Valdemar had created a portal? From her experience in Pleroma, Marianne knew that these kinds of breaches eventually copsed on themselves after running out of magical power, but they were also highly unstable.

    Otto Blutgangs voice howled across the engine room at the betrayal. Lightning surged above Mariannes head, but the breach seemed to interfere with the Derros teleportation technology.

    We need to leave now, Young Marianne, Lord Och said as he began to levitate above the ground, using his fire spell to widen the hole he had opened in the ceiling. Teleporting now would be risky, so I ask you to carry my apprentice to safety.

    He didnt need to ask her twice.

    Realizing that Valdemar simply couldnt move by himself, let alone stand on his feet, Marianne sheathed her rapier before holding him with both hands; one beneath the legs and another holding the shoulders.

    <em>Now, Lord Bethor, </em>the noblewoman thought as she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. <em>I hope you didnt mislead me.</em>

    The Blood flowed through her veins as it reshaped her flesh and shoulders. The material harvested from her spine-il was repurposed into twin shapes growing beneath her skin.

    And when the time came, they burst out of Mariannes back like an insect from a cocoon.

    The noblewoman suppressed a scream of pain as a pair of great batlike wings shredded her clothes and expanded. Five fingers of bones longer than her entire body protruded from her shoulders, bound together by a thinyer of skin. The rest of her skeleton had hollowed out from the inside and be as fragile as ss. Only the power of the Blood kept her in one piece.

    Marianne opened her eyes while Ktulu tightly held on to Valdemars neck. No ce for failure, she muttered to herself. One, two

    After gathering her breath, Marianne ran towards the tforms edge and jumped.

    The pping of her wings sent out a mighty burst of wind, the blowback so abrupt that Marianne struggled not to throw up. Her entire body trembled with each movement, adjusting to the air current and density. She thought she would struggle every step of the way.

    But it came easily to her.

    Her enhanced sense of touch picked up each subtle alteration in the air, allowing her to naturally adjust her trajectory. Her eyes noticed any debris that might pierce her wings. Her ears sensed the presence of obstacles as sound rebounded off them, guiding her to safety.

    <em>Lord Bethor was training me for this moment,</em> Marianne realized. All these hard exercises over thest weeks, all these harsh drills to tune her reflexes to her newly enhanced senses, all the spells she had learned had formed the foundation of a greater whole. It had afforded her a gift that so few could enjoy in this world of tunnels and stone ceilings; a privilege almost as precious as the light itself.

    Flight.

    And so, Marianne soared into the metal skies with a smile on her face.

    Lord Och had created a path into the ceiling and she happily flew after him. The lich was melting a zing path forward, incinerating anything on the way.

    The orb had grownrge enough to swallow the tform behind them. Tremors spread through the facility, causing pipes to explode in clouds of steam and bolts to fly off the walls at an arrows speed. Marianne dodged them all while dutifully following Lord Och.

    My, my, the undead archmage said as he nced at Marianne, his gaze wandering to Ktulu holding on to his partner. When is the second child?

    Mariannes jaw clenched as she sensed warm blood flushing to her cheeks. To outsiders, they must have looked like newlyweds.

    Why? Marianne whispered to Valdemar as he seemed to regain consciousness. Why have you done this?

    He cant Valdemar struggled to form words. Though he had won the mental contest of will with the Pleromian, it had left him shaken. He cant be allowed to keep the portal the price too high

    A mechanical echo reverberating through the corridors, a final curse. You have chan-changed noth-th-ing, you tre-treacherous pack of lesser neu-neurons! Otto Blutgang boasted. I can reb-rebuild this infra-frastructure. It will take ti-ti-i-ime, but I am <em><strong>forever</strong></em>.

    No Valdemar whispered. You are merely a long-term problem.

    His familiar, who had been silent so far, grew agitated. Ktulu! he squirmed iprehensible words, his six eyes ncing in multiple directions at once. Nyarlykrugu!

    The shadows lengthened in the corridors, flooding the factory with hunger. Even the famous Derrosteel melted into nothingness as easily as sugar in water, consumed by the void between worlds. In their escape, the group passed by golem and Derro corpses with bloodied tongues growing out of their flesh as internar creatures started to manifest within them.

    The darkness was gaining ground on them.

    But not fast enough to catch up.

    Finally, Lord Och sted his way past the fortified doors that had once sealed the facility from the outside world. The lich emerged into the reinforced tunnels of derrokind, closely followed by Marianne.

    They were immediately weed with a hail of bullets, as cannons hidden in the walls opened fire on them. Marianne deftly avoided them, while Lord Och casually destroyed the devices by somehow copsing space and crushing them to a pulp. The noblewoman noticed Valdemar gazing at the lich, probably in an attempt to figure out how his magic worked.

    Marianne nced over her shoulder, watching the darkness devour the facilitys doors before slowly starting to recede. It would take minutes, maybe hours before the breach copsed on itself. By then only another empty cavern would remain.

    Was it worth it? Marianne whispered to Valdemar, who seemed to have recovered enough to stop shaking nonstop.

    It dyed his ns at least. Her calmness surprised him. Youre not mad? I could have killed us all.

    If you made such a drastic call, I assume you had your reasons, Marianne replied calmly. She trusted his judgment. I would prefer a warning next time though.

    I couldnt. He was watching us. I had to hit him in an unexpected way.

    Marianne sighed. We will work on a hand signal of some kind.

    Leaving the ruins behind, the trio returned to the Knight of the Shrouds camp. The crossroads of tunnels had turned into a fortified redoubt, using earth elementals to raise walls and trenches. Undead soldiers had arrived from Sabaoth to reinforce them and secure the region for the Empire of Ant.

    I didnt know you could fly, Valdemar said as they finallynded near the camp. Knights immediately attended to Lord Och, but the lich dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

    <em>Neither did I,</em> Marianne replied as Valdemar stood back on his feet and freed her hands. She clenched her teeth as her wings merged back into her flesh, leaving holes in the back of her clothes. Its easier than I expected, she said, but more painful than I thought.

    Power always has a price of some kind, Lord Och replied as he rejoined them, dusting off his clothes as if he had returned from a morning stroll. I dare hope that you have something to show for this excursion, my dear apprentice? We came for a portal, and you destroyed it.

    I I know how portals work, somewhat. They create a resonance of some kind between various lifeforms on each side, but Valdemar held his head with his left hand, his familiar was unusually quiet. My head hurts I can hardly remember half of it.

    What about the Pleromians soul? Marianne asked, fearful how it might affect him in the long term. Is it destroyed?

    Not not truly? Valdemar put a hand on his stomach. Its inside me like digested food. Im not sure what to make of this.

    Obviously, you should finish your meal and throw out the waste. Lord Ochs eyes red with ghostly light. Young Valdemar, how about the Pleromian portals?

    I I know Valdemars hand clenched into a fist, his voice turning bitter and angry. I know you <em>know</em>.

    Though Marianne didnt fully understand what was happening, the lich cackled with delight. As my apprentice, it is your duty to learn what I know, he replied, and mine to know what there is to learn. As for what I know do not think I missed the holes in your memories, my student.

    Holes? Marianne asked with a frown, Valdemar removing his mask to reveal the sweating face underneath. ck circles had formed around his eyes, and his skin had turned pale. Valdemar, are you alright?

    Intentionally damaging ones own mind is quite the dangerous proposition, especially for an amateur mind-mage like you, Lord Och said with amusement. But I assume this is temporary, since the knowledge you gathered was too important to sacrifice. So where did you hide the information we sought? In your familiars alien mind?

    The lich nced at Ktulu, who fearfully hid back in his masters bag.

    I Valdemar shook his head. I dont know what youre talking about.

    Of course not, apprentice, you erased your memory of your own n. Perhaps you expect to naturallye across the information and recognize it for what it was?

    This Lord Och, forgive me, but this seems far-fetched, Marianne said, standing up to Valdemars defense. His memory loss could simply be a side-effect of fighting off the Pleromian soul.

    My apprentice is many things, Young Marianne, but ipetent isnt one of them. I know you dont believe this is an ident either, and are just trying to lessen his punishment. As always, the lich seemed more amused than insulted. But I reserve such treatment for meaningful obstruction. This childish ploy will not keep me in the dark for long.

    Valdemar said nothing, ring at his master. <em>I need to know what he saw,</em> Marianne decided, before immediately trying to cover up her thoughts so Lord Och wouldnt read them. <em>Damn it!</em>

    Lord Och chuckled. So you have learned Lord Bethors lesson, and will try to protect your charge even against the likes of me?

    Marianne straightened up. It is my duty.

    The lich examined her more closely. It is not <em>duty </em>that motivates you, Young Marianne. You are too honest to lie to yourself.

    It took Marianne all her strength to keep a stony face as Valdemar looked at her in confusion.

    Anyway, let us return to Sabaoth to review what we learned and forgot. The lich snapped his fingers as he walked away, expecting his acolytes to follow without a word. We have rats to hunt and a Sabbath to prepare for.

 Chapter 44: Hidden Daggers

    Chapter 44: Hidden Daggers

    Grim Sabaoth was abuzz with activity today.

    As a Domain forged for war alone, its people took little pleasure in anything. Celebrations and entertainment were foreign to them. Yet as criers distributed newspapers while singing about thetest news from the front, the gloomy mood turned to quiet satisfaction.

    The fortress-city of Stahlstadt has fallen! a crier shouted in the middle of the market street, standing atop a pedestal of steel. He raised the newest newspaper edition above his head, trying to make a sale. War rages on the front as the Knights of the Shroud umte victories! Learn thetest news of our glorious conquest in todays edition of the <em>Midnight Voice</em>! One copper piece! One copper!

    As a warlike realm where entertainment was seen as a distraction at best, Sabaoth had no restaurants, only barracks. Thankfully, Valdemar and Marianne had be regr customers at a fried fish stand whose undead owner had kindly set aside a table and chairs at the back of his shop. The heat was suffocating as the undead cook prepared their meal and they had little space to move, but after everything the duo had faced in the Derros tunnels, they craved a feeling of normalcy.

    While his bodyguard read the newspaper, Valdemar looked at the market street while waiting for his friends to arrive. They couldnt ess Lord Bethors tower, but they should find their way to this address.

    Valdemar hade without his mask and under a disguise, to avoid spies of the cult identifying him. He had also reshaped his flesh, changing his hair color to ck, his eyes to blue, and subtly altered his facial features and voice. He was wearing a mask  one made of flesh and skin rather than wood.

    At this point, Valdemar wasnt even sure which part of his body had been with him from birth and which ones he had borrowed from Bethors tower. After observing the Pleromians regeneration, he had also figured out his own healing factor worked simrly: by absorbing organic material from Ialdabaoth itself. Only his soul was truly his own.

    <em>At least it allowed me to teleport out of the tower without Lord Ochs help, </em>Valdemar thought. After learning about the true nature of portals, the summoner had experimented with teleportation spells and found it surprisingly easy to master. As he was half-Ialdabaoth thanks to his fatherly heritage, all of Undend resonated with him. The eyes on the walls were beacons in the Blood to him.

    Valdemar suspected this was the same mechanism that allowed the Lilith to teleport across the tunnels at will. He was wary of abusing this spell in case his enemies could redirect it, though Lord Och had found the possibility unlikely. <em>A servant does not summon a prince, </em>the lich had mused out loud.

    It seems Lord Bethor has made quick progress, Marianne said as she read. But the Excavator made a <em>temporary stop to secure conquered territories.</em>

    The usual propaganda ng for<em> it was sabotaged mid-campaign,</em> Valdemar tranted as the cook served them their food. The summoner put his bag on a seat and tossed a fish inside. His familiar let out a squeal of happiness as it devoured the meal. Do you think the Derro Kingdom will fall?

    We both know it wont.

    I know the war wont end until Ottos spirit is exorcised from his machinery, Valdemar replied with a sigh. However, do you think the loss of this fortress could prove a tipping point of some kind?

    To his disappointment, Marianne shook her head. No Valdemar, I do not think so. Stahlstadt was a major fortress for the Derro and its conquest will give us a foothold in their territory, but its not a keystone of Blutgangs war machine. It might be the first step towards a prolonged campaign, but I can hardly call it a decisive conquest.

    Valdemar looked at his drink, as ck and bitter as his mood.

    Do you feel pity for the Derros? Marianne asked.

    You dont?

    I do, she confessed. Even though they were bitter foes long before Otto the Nail came along, the idea of having my mind overwritten by someone else, to lose my body and free will to someone else it is not a fate I wish for anyone.

    Thats not even the worst part. Blutgang could replicate minds. Valdemar couldnt get the memory of that self-deluded golem out of his head. If an imitation is so perfect that it bes indistinguishable from the original, what does it say about us? If someone could recreate you perfectly, turn your innermost thoughts into a script, and then copy it does it mean people are no different than tools or gears? Is turning into machines the future of life?

    I do not know, Marianne answered, though her next words were more optimistic. But I can tell you one thing. The future is what we will make of it. Otto Blutgang is trying to steer our world in one direction, but its not the only one. We can offer better oues and fight for them.

    Thats the thing, Valdemar replied with pessimism. I should be working to destroy that infernal machine hes spreading across Undend rather than reading about it in newspapers.

    Valdemar, you cannot fight all the evils of the world at once. You have to pick your battles or you will go mad with despair and frustration. Marianne smiled, though there was sadness in it. Our countrys troops and Lord Bethor are doing a fine job at fighting the Derros. Have some faith. We have other foes to deal with first, but Blutgangs turn wille.

    If only he could take her at her word

    The stalemate with the Derros disappointed Valdemar, but sadly didnt surprise him. Lord Och had echoed a simr sentiment back when his apprentice reported what he had learned in the facility.

    <em>You were correct on one front, my apprentice. King Otto is a long-term problem. If his essence is truly spread across the entire Derro Kingdom, it might take centuries to wipe him out. Lord Och had shrugged. I informed Lord Bethor, who will almost certainly melt away every piece of machinery he finds in conquered territories. Eventually, his advance will be halted by Derro resistance and his required presence at the Sabbath, but the destruction he sows should disrupt their technologys influence over the Outer Darkness.</em>

    <em>Forgive me, my teacher, Valdemar had replied with a frown, but I have just told you that a madman is trying to be an iron god. How can you sound so unconcerned?</em>

    <em>The lich hadughed in response. Sweet nave child. Young Valdemar, when you reach my age you will have survived more wars and disasters than water leaks.</em>

    By now, Valdemar was almost convinced that Lord Och didnt give a shit about <em>anything</em>. The lich treated the most terrible news with amusement at best and disdain at worst. His eternal life hadpletely detached him from the day-to-day concerns of humanity.

    Which was why Valdemar had grown to believe his theory about the Pleromian portal.

    <em>At least I prevented him from getting the codes needed to activate it,</em> the summoner thought, though he couldnt remember where he had hidden them. Even Ktulu didnt have any hint to provide. <em>I probably hid them in in sight somewhere</em>

    Marianne lowered her journal, a look of concern on her face. Youre worried about them, arent you?

    Was that so obvious? I dont get why Lord Och didnt sacrifice them already, Valdemar confessed. He had plenty of opportunities to do so.

    Lord Och is cruel, but also pragmatic to the bone, Marianne pointed out. I believe his reasoning is the same behind his decision not to turn you into a portal. He keeps his options open in case a better alternativees along. As long as his schrs live, they can work and research for him. Why kill them when letting them live is more useful?

    But you think he wouldnt hesitate a second if there was no better option.

    Marianne bit her lower lip before answering. Master Edwin once warned me that none of Lord Ochs affability is genuine, she admitted. <em>Its all theater to him, a game you y with a pet.</em> I dont think I have ever seen the real him.

    Valdemar joined his hands as he reviewed his interactions with his mentor. Almost all of them shared an undercurrent of yfulness, except a few. There are moments where he showed genuine anger in our discussions, he said. When I rattled him the wrong way.

    The idea of Lord Och losing hisposure clearly astonished Marianne. How did you do so?

    I insisted that I wouldnt be cynical like him, and questioned how he had be well, what he is today.

    You would think an ancient lich would be above that kind of remark. Marianne frowned. Unless its not what you said that bothered him, but the way you did it.

    Valdemar raised an eyebrow. What do you mean?

    If we assume his story about being a disciple of this Sophia is true, then there was a time when he truly believed in saving mankind from itself. Maybe you remind him of who he used to be, and he hates it.

    Valdemar considered her words, and found the theory usible though, in the end, it changed little. The summoner only cared about Lord Ochs motivation insofar as it could help him save his friends from a gruesome sacrifice.

    Marianne, Valdemar whispered, if that dayes if Lord Och makes a move against the Schrs at the Institute what will you do?

    Marianne joined her hands together, ncing at her own drink while setting the newspaper aside. Her face was a mask of stone, but her eyes revealed her inner turmoil.

    You dont have to say something that will please me, Valdemar said. Lord Och was her benefactor after all, and a powerful mage. He couldnt expect her to defy him, even if to save others.

    No, Im Im trying to put my thoughts in order. Its Marianne took a heavy breath. Before I answer you, can I ask you something?

    Valdemar nodded wordlessly.

    You told me once that you believed in making sacrifices for your dream, Marianne said. For the greater good. When, in your opinion, would sacrificing people to this portal be justified?

    I would understand if the situation was truly desperate and we needed to evacuate through it to save the most people possible, Valdemar replied. But in that case, I would rather sacrifice myself and be a door between worlds.

    Why so?

    Because my life isnt worth a dozen others. Valdemar adjusted his posture, his back straightening. Because why would <em>others </em>have to make a greater sacrifice so <em>I </em>could live? Using the Pleromian portal would just be a cover for my own selfishness. I dont think you should sacrifice others if you are unwilling to pay the ultimate price yourself.

    Marianne listened to his words with a gaze so intense that Valdemar couldnt help but find it ufortable. Once he had finished, her fingers fidgeted a moment before her expression changed into one of quiet resignation.

    I believe the Dark Lords are necessary for mankinds survival, she dered. That the Empire of Ant is necessary, even though I do not agree with all of itsws. Mankind is besieged by monsters, and the greater good often demands sacrifices. Though I resent his training methods, I cannot deny that Lord Bethor is doing his best in his own way to strengthen us and protect our civilization from extinction. Lord Och, for all of his faults, pushes the limits of our understanding forward; and with it, our ability to fight back against the Strangers.

    I sense a buting.

    You know me too well, Marianne replied with a low chuckle. I stand by what I just said but I do not see how sacrificing innocent people who trust you for your personal gain serves the greater good. I do not think that taking the easy way out of convenience is the righteous path. And so although I agreed to serve Lord Och in exchange for his patronage if he goes through with sacrificing the Schrs to that portal, then I cannot let it slide.

    To Valdemars surprise, Marianne took his hand into her own. Her velvet glove brushed against his warm skin.

    Valdemar, she said softly while locking eyes with him. The fact you are willing to sacrifice yourself rather than others is what makes you a better person than Lord Och. This is why I consider you a dear friend worth fighting for, and if thingse to blows between our master and you... then I shall stand by your side.

    Even after seeing Lord Ochs power in all of its glory, Marianne would still rather do the right thing.

    Valdemar smiled in genuine gratitude. Thanks.

    His happy expression made Marianne blush. You are wee.

    The momentsted longer than Valdemar expected. To his surprise, neither of them let the others hand go as they stared at each other. Valdemar realized the scene was <em>highly </em>improper, but something in him simply didnt want to let her go.

    Marianne eventually broke the contact first, looking embarrassed, for ack of a better term.

    <em>It is not duty that motivates you, Young Marianne,</em> Lord Och had said in the tunnels. <em>You are too honest to lie to yourself.</em>

    Could it be

    <em>No, Valdemar, be serious,</em> the sorcerer thought. <em>Its the constant proximity and the absence of a dating life clouding your judgment. The fact were getting closer doesnt mean anything more than that. Youre seeing things that arent there.</em>

    And even if his intuition was correct, Valdemar wasnt certain what he should do about it. His life was fraught with danger, and so long as the Verney Cult roamed Undend, the summoner would never know peace. It wasnt exactly the best foundation for an intimate rtionship, whether with Marianne or anyone else.

    Valdemar sipped his drink and looked away. It was a bitter hot mix of rancid herbs and water, but he found it better than the awkwardness of the previous moment. What else is in the news?

    Marianne jumped at the opportunity to change the subject and swiftly grabbed her newspaper. The gue, Im afraid.

    While Valdemar had trained under Lord Bethor and struck at the Derros, his familys cult had been hard at work.

    As it was mostly made of undead and golems under a constant military curfew, Sabaoths poption was barely touched by the wererat gue. Other Domains had been severely touched with disease clusters; though the Empires biomancers, harsh curfews, and transportation controls had prevented widespread contaminations, they couldnt eradicate the threat either.

    Mariannes expression suddenly harshened as she read. What is it? Valdemar asked.

    His bodyguard and friend turned the newspaper to reveal an article, and the drawing of his face at its center.

    The artist had done Valdemar dirty by giving him a thuggish look, but his work had been quite close to the truth all the same.

    <em>Sas shaken with gruesome murders, </em>Valdemar read in silence, a chill going down in his spine. <em>Four couples dead, eaten by rats children missing revendicated by the Brotherhood of the Red Grail in Valdemar Verneys name</em>

    They killed innocent people and signed their crimes with his name.

    How could they reveal your face? Marianne whispered, incensed. This is insane

    The Knights of the Chain censor information that displeases the Dark Lords, but they answer to Ophiel the Mad and not to Och, Valdemar replied grimly. Neither could they stomached the fact that the summoner had escaped their grasp only to find refuge in Paraplex. At least the article says I am <em>safely behind bars.</em>

    Marianne nced at the street. People saw me with youst time, she whispered. But you had your mask on and were wearing different clothes too. I dont think they will make the connection.

    And that was what the cult wanted. To iste Valdemar and stir the pot until they could learn of his exact location. They probably guessed he was in Sabaoth for now, but were too afraid of Lord Bethor to challenge him yet. Perhaps they hoped that public pressure would force the Dark Lords to relinquish him.

    If so, they would be disappointed. Lord Och cared nothing about the peoples opinion, and Lord Bethor was more likely to answer dissent with fire thanpromise.

    Theirpatriots though

    Any sighting of Bertrand? Valdemar asked.

    No. Marianne shook her head in sadness, before looking up at something behind her friend. Theyre here.

    Valdemar turned his head to the side, watching Iren and Liliane walk up the street towards Marianne. A hooded figure in a gue doctors outfit followed them closely, the summoner recognizing the disguise as Hermanns.

    Valdy, is that you? Liliane put a hand on her waist as she reached their table. I didnt know you could use illusion magic.

    I cant, he replied while kissing her on the cheek. Valdemar was almost certain he had caught a furtive look of longing on Mariannes face, though it might have been his mind ying tricks. Definitively a trick. How did you guess so quickly?

    Are you kidding? You changed your voice too? Liliane chuckled. I just felt it, silly.

    Your posture is the same, friend, Iren pointed before saluting Marianne and sitting next to her. Youve got to adjust your bodynguage, the way you move all these invisible hints weve grown ustomed to.

    Valdemar groaned in surrender, as he realized he couldnt lie to save his life. Still, the sight of his friends brought a smile to his lips. I didnt think you would be here either, Hermann, he said as he greeted the troglodyte.

    I was worried when I heard word that you had joined the war effort. Hermann nodded to himself. I am d youre okay

    It appeared that Hermanns speech had improved since Valdemarst saw him. He could form longer sentences without stopping to consider his next words, and his pronunciation was clearer than ever.

    Oh, is that your familiar? Liliane said as she sat next to Valdemar and peeked inside his bag. Its so cute.

    Ktulu! the squid said from inside the bag, giggling as Liliane started to tickle it. Ktulu!

    You love when I tickle you? You love it? Liliane asked with a grin. The scene reminded Valdemar of a young girl ying with a puppy. Can I borrow him? Her? It?

    I think its an <em>it</em>, but sure, you can pet it for a while, Valdemar said with a chuckle. Please do not parade it around though.

    Now I want a familiar of my own, Liliane replied with a giggle.

    You still didnt answer how you changed your appearance, Hermann rasped as he sat next to Liliane. I am curious.

    I learned to practice biomancy, Valdemar replied as Marianne ordered food for everyone.

    You can? Liliane asked with a grin, though Irens expression was decidedly less enthusiastic. No doubt he still had sore feelings about the art considering his youth. Great, I have something I need to consult you on! Do you and Marianne have anything nned for today?

    Not much, Marianne replied. Lord Och is upied with the Sabbath and Lord Bethor is on the front.

    Great, then could youe with me after our meal? Im supposed to visit my father at the armories, but theres something I want to discuss with you on the way. Liliane locked eyes with Marianne. I think Lady Mathilde and I found a way to cure your retainer and that horrible gue too.

    Mariannes head instantly perked up in hope. You did?

    Maybe. I need to see with Valdy first to confirm my theory, but Im optimistic. We could have a cure underway by the time we return to the Institute.

    This was great news, but the Institutes mention sent a chill down Valdemars spine. Hypothetically, he said. If you had to leave the Institute in a hurry and escape Paraplex, could you do it?

    Liliane frowned, disturbed by the question. Why?

    We could, but we wouldnt go far, Iren replied with a shrug. All schrs and employees of the Pleroma Institute surrender a drop of blood when they arrive. The Knights of the Tome could use it to track us anywhere.

    And with it, Lord Och could potentially summon them to his location at any time. As Valdemar worried. I have learned something worrying about the Institute, the summoner confessed to his friends. But I need to check my theory first.

    You think your grandfathers cult will infiltrate the Institute? Iren asked, misunderstanding the source of the danger. Rest assured, even a Dark Lord would struggle to breach its walls.

    We know you didnt order these horrors, Valdy, Liliane reassured him. Nobody is going to hunt you inside Pleroma.

    Its not just the cult that bothers me, but theyre part of the problem. Valdemar took a long deep breath before revealing his ns. I intend to destroy these people for good, and make sure they never rise again. But I cannot do it alone.

    Say no more. Iren revealed a dagger hidden up his sleeve. Ive slit a few throats back in the day.

    Im not so much of a fighter or an investigator, Liliane said with a smirk as she stopped tickling Ktulu. The familiar peeked out of its bag, extremely disappointed. But if you need help, Valdy, Ill give you a hand.

    Hermann simply offered a nod, before examining Valdemar closely. You didnt bring your mask today.

    The Nightwalker can see through it, Valdemar exined, and I couldnt let it spy on our conversation.

    Hermann immediately guessed why. This is about the Painted World?

    You said you could use it to trap a Nahemoth, if I remember well? Marianne asked. How would it work?

    By luring the creature to one ce and using the right spells we can seal the Nahemoth inside a prepared canvas. Hermann cleared his throat. The canvas is finished all we need is to fill it.

    What will happen to the Nahemoth afterward? Valdemar asked, the ghastly memory of his stillborn, monstrous brother Crtail ring in his mind.

    It it will be the Painted World, Hermann answered. The earth and the mountains the water and the light the very force of gravity. Always present and alive but thoughtless like a tree. A peaceful existence.

    <em>Is that what you would have wanted for Crtail, Mom? </em>Valdemar wondered. It still beat a tormented existence down a well, or being used as a tool to bring about the end of days. Like reincarnation? he asked softly.

    Hermann nodded. But it cannot suffice alone a Nahemoth is pure, gangrenous creativity without a destructive power to achieve an equilibrium the Painted World will grow rampant and unstable.

    As Valdemar suspected. What force do you think could counterbnce a Nahemoth?

    I think we had the same idea about how to solve that problem.

    Yes, they did.

    Though it will be risky and require a very specific set of circumstances, Valdemar said. The Nahemoth will have to be free for a start. Which will probably be inevitable at this point.

    The canvas is ready Hermann rasped. I can teach you the ritual I will be with you

    Thanks, Hermann. After exchanging a nod with the troglodyte, Valdemar turned to another friend. Iren.

    Yes?

    Can I talk to you in private for a minute?

    Are you going to do some shady stuff again? Liliane asked with a frown. Please dont get caught by the Derros this time.

    <em>I''ve had enough of these dwarves for a lifetime, </em>Valdemar thought as he led Iren to a street corner away from the stand and unwee ears. They must have looked suspicious, but it shouldnt take long.

    Lord Och usually sends you outside his Domain for deliveries and information gathering, right? Valdemar asked the half-doppelganger.

    Why are you asking me something you already know? Iren chuckled. If you want me to get you some illegal stuff, you just have to ask.

    Not quite. I need to deliver a letter to someone. Valdemar gathered his breath. A message that Lord Och mustnt know the contents of.

    Iren remained silent a full minute before answering with a stone-faced expression. You are asking me to do something behind the Dark Lords back. I hope you understand the risks involved.

    I wont force you if you dont want to, Valdemar said. Im asking you because you are my friend and I trust you.

    My, how touching. There was no hint of sarcasm in Irens voice as a small smile formed on the edge of his lips. Well, you saved my hide so I guess I can grant you your wish. So long as it doesnt involve betraying mankind to the Strangers. Who would be the messages recipient?

    Phaleg the Binder, the Dark Lord of Ariouth. And Lord Ochs former apprentice. Theres something I must know before the Sabbath.

 Chapter 45: The Weight of Dreams

    Chapter 45: The Weight of Dreams

    Lilianes father, as usual for powerful people, made his guests wait at his leisure.

    Valdemar had heard it was a power move among nobles and wealthy elites, but he thought the man would have made an exception for his own daughter. Apparently not. His servants pretended that <em>Lord De Vane</em> was busy with an important meeting that overstayed its wee.

    At least his Sabaoth office offered a wee contrast with the rest of the Domain. The waiting room had enough stuffed chairs to house a dozen people, and even included its own firece. Paintings of De Vane Family members adorned the wall alongside tapestries, while the window offered a nice view of the foundries outside. Magical wards erased the noise from outside, giving the guests a degree of intimacy. Servants had left the group alone with refreshments, bidding them to wait until their master was ready to receive them.

    While Iren had gone to carry out the favor his friend asked of him and Hermann examined the paintings in the room, Valdemar and Marianne were using the free-time productively. So, Valdemar resumed, Ktulu ying with a bone ship next to his chair, Lady Mathilde taught you how to recreate her Elixir of Youth?

    She didnt teach me, but she gave me some insight into how it worked, Liliane replied as she sank into her chair. It uses advanced alchemy to revert the body to an earlier state registered in the bodys memory while leaving the soul untouched. However, if improperly prepared, the effect is partial, causing cancers, tumors

    Or making the body shrink down in age until they go back to a fetus? Valdemar guessed.

    Liliane forced herself to smile. Lady Mathilde showed me the failed results of her prototypes and they werent pretty.

    But how would it help Bertrand? Marianne asked with a frown, her arms crossed while her eyes wandered to the window and doors from time to time. She always remained wary of an attack. The Beast gue bonds with a target on a fundamental level.

    Yes, but hear me out. Liliane raised a finger, delighting at exining to them her genius idea. Lady Mathilde agreed to do a test on an infected subject. For a brief moment after taking the Elixir of Youth, their body reverted to a healthy state only to be reinfected immediately.

    Valdemars eyes widened. He carried the gue, but didnt show the symptoms immediately?

    Yes Hermann rasped as he turned away from the paintings to join the conversation. The Beast gue it takes a moment to take root in someones flesh. For less than a few minutes it circtes in the body, but doesnt bond with it.

    And thats where I had a great idea, Liliane said. The ck Blood probably works the same way. We could restrain Bertrand, give him a shot of the Elixir of Youth, and then immediately extract the mutagens in his body before they bond to his flesh again. But we would need a good biomancer to run the procedure.

    Not any biomancer Hermann countered. If they extract the ck Blood they will be in contact with it and risk mutating.

    I can do it, Valdemar replied firmly. Even touching a Pleromians body didnt affect me, and it was made of the stuff. But how many bottles of Elixir of Youth could we afford to use?

    Lilianes enthusiasm faltered. Precious few. Its superplicated to make, and the wrong dose causes side-effects.

    So they couldnt mass-produce it to cure the Beast gue not yet at least. And Bertrand would fight back while transformed. So long as the ck Blood held sway, he was little more than a savage hellhound for the Verney cult.

    Valdemar kept his thoughts to himself, for Mariannes face beamed with hope. For the first time in many weeks, they had a credible shot at curing her butler and friend. I thank you, Liliane, she said while offering Liliane a nod. If this works

    It will. Liliane took the older womans hand in her own. I know you worry about him, but you arent facing this threat alone. They want to divide us with their lies and diseases because they know we will figure out a solution together.

    After so many nights of fighting, Valdemar found it relieving to watch Mariannes face breathe in life and hope. Lilianes warm personality had a way to reassure people, to convince them everything was alright. <em>She would make a terrific politician, </em>Valdemar thought,<em> if she were a little less earnest.</em>

    Now the question is how we catch them unaware Hermann rasped as he nced at Valdemar. You are the best bait and we know the ce where they gather.

    If the Dark Lords allow us to strike them, Valdemar pointed out. Lord Bethor had already all but stated that he would run the operation himself, and that his apprentices would have to follow his lead. They might ask us to sit the conflict out or worse.

    And something else bothers me. Hermann cleared his throat. You said that in your dreams the Lilith collected <em>skins</em>.

    Valdemar nodded slowly. I didnt understand why though.

    Liliane bit her lower lip, letting Mariannes hand go. They didnt say it in the news, but she gulped. Friends in Sas told me that some of the murder victims had been yed alive after being inflicted with the Beast gue.

    Mariannes hopeful expression turned into a scowl. Theyre harvesting them? For what, a ritual?

    Valdemar tried to remember his dreams the best he could. I think they said something about calling a soul out from the darkness, or something along the that line. They needed a special container.

    A Qlippoth? Hermann asked. Maybe they intend to summon a Nahemoth.

    Maybe, Valdemar conceded with some skepticism, but I dont know any Qlippoth that needs wererat skins as part of its summoning ritual.

    In any case, their crimes are clearly building up to <em>something</em>, Marianne pointed out. Whatever it is, we must strike them before they can finish their preparations.

    Valdemar could only agree with her.

    Ktulu! The summoner looked at his left as his familiar raised his cracked bone-ship toy at him with a displeased look. Ktulhulhu!

    What is it? Valdemar sighed as he realized Ktulu had broken his toy again. Seriously, cant you be more care

    The summoner never finished his sentence. He had noticed something scratched on the toys side.

    The bone-ships hull was an immacte white, crafted from Valdemars own immortal body. But Ktulu had scratched something on its surface with its tiny ws. A set of symbols so tiny and crude that his summoner could barely identify them.

    Numbers.

    Thirty-eight, thirty-seven. Four, twenty. One-hundred and one, three

    Valdemars eyes widened as he understood the sequences significance, rising from his seat. I need to go.

    What? Liliane blinked at her friend, as he grabbed Ktulu in his arms. Right now?

    It shouldnt take long. Now that he had learned to teleport, distance mattered little to him. But I cannot bring you with me, Marianne.

    His partner didnt hide her displeasure. Where you go, I follow.

    No. I am sorry, but not this time. Lord Och would immediately detect her presence otherwise. I swear I will be back soon.

    Marianne locked her gaze with him, and at this moment Valdemar seriously wondered if she could read his mind. Are you truly certain? she asked with worry, but Valdemar nodded all the same. Alright then. But please be wary.

    And return quickly, Liliane asked with a frown. If this is just an excuse to not wait with us, Ill never forgive you.

    Valdemar offered her a nod as the fabric of space bent around him. He teleported away, leaving Sabaoth for another Domain.

    All areas of Undend were bound by the Blood, from the lowest tunnel to the frontier of the worlds surface. The veins of Ialdabaoth had spread all over the like a trees roots, leaving no ce unspoiled by their corruption.

    Not even a Dark Lords vault.

    Using the Blood and his connection to Ialdabaoth, Valdemar could teleport anywhere he wanted; so long as he had seen the ce beforehand. And he had had enough experience with his mastersir, both from his memory and that of his harvested soul.

    Ignoring the gazes sent by the Pleromian statues as he walked towards the central vault, Valdemar examined his grandfathers journal. Thirty-eight, he whispered to himself, flipping the pages. Thirty-seven not enough words

    Ktulu hopped after him, ncing at the ruins with curiosity while it held its bony ship toy. Valdemar would have to destroy the item afterwards to prevent Lord Och from figuring out the truth, but for now the summoner had the benefit of time. His master was busy preparing for the Sabbath, and though his vaults protective wards were advanced, Valdemars knowledge had grown in the past weeks. He could bypass them.

    But who was he kidding? Of course Lord Och would know. Valdemar doubted that his master didnt have redundant hidden systems to warn him about intrusions in his vault, even if the summoner couldnt detect them. What mattered was that he wouldn''t learn about it quickly enough to interfere.

    In fact, a part of Valdemar wanted the lich to know. He wished to show the ancient undead that his apprentice wasnt some pawn he could manipte at will and then callously throw his friends aside without repercussions. Even if Valdemarcked the power to meaningfully challenge the Dark Lord, he would show that he had the resolve to try.

    And if the summoner failed to activate the portal bloodlessly then he would erase the activation codes again without the possibility of recovery, denying Lord Och the opportunity to kill anyone.

    Sybles, Valdemar decided after counting the words. Sybles it is.

    There was only one book in the world that Valdemar had almost entirely memorized by heart, the same way priests mastered scriptures of the Light. No one else could decode this series of numbers, because no one else understood its frame of reference.

    And Ktulu Valdemar had imprinted the sequence in its subconscious, without the familiar realizing its significance. A mind-reader wouldnt have caught this information among the chaotic streams of thoughts of its childish spirit.

    I have the sequence now, Valdemar whispered as he closed the journal and hid it beneath his schrly robes. I have to try to make it work without any death

    He walked into the Pleromian vault, facing the great slumbering portal. The underground was an empty tomb, silent and lifeless.

    Valdemar approached the portal with his familiar following after him. The Pleromian soul inside him reacted to the devices presence, the same way a faithful hound remembered the smell of an old house it had once called home. Valdemars fingers trailed against the archways alien metal, his fingers examining the structure while he analyzed it with his psychic sight.

    Even after centuries of dormancy, the summoner could still sense the blood soaking the structure.

    After having strengthened his magic under Lord Bethors tutge and gathered knowledge from the Pleromian soul, Valdemar delved into the portals structure farther than ever before. He hadnt noticed any soul within its archway the first time but now that Valdemar examined the device more carefully, he realized he had been wrong.

    There was at least one soul inside this portal, buried deep inside the steel. So old and ancient that Valdemar struggled to distinguish it from the portals matter. Was it all that remained of the portals original sacrifices? If so then it meant that Lord Och hadnt yet sacrificed anyone to it.

    No time to waste, Valdemar whispered as he looked under his clothes and brought out small bottles full of blood. Hermann had kindly contributed to it, alongside Iren. Valdemar would have added Friggas lifeblood as well if he could have, but he hoped that his own semi-divine lifeblood wouldpensate.

    Soaking the archway with his friends blood, Valdemar bit his thumb and added his own body fluid to the mix. The fluids tainted the dark metal red, but didnt form any magical crystal on its surface. A bad omen.

    Valdemar spoke the sybles in the order detailed in his Ktulus message, and he sensed the portal answering his call. The device was too weak to open a breach, but it recognized the summoners mastery at least.

    If Valdemar could open the gate through his own power and lifeblood, then nobody would have to die.

    Open the path, Valdemar ordered while Ktulu watched. Open the path to Earth. The Red Prince demands it.

    His blood floated out of his wound as the portal thrummed, the archway breathing like a living creature. Its heartbeat echoed across the vault, its surface brightening with sorcery.

    And yet no tear in space opened.

    Valdemar, who had so easily torn space apart by sacrificing the Pleromian and a Haunter, found the fabric of reality an impermeable fortress. The portal listened to his orders, but it didnt help. The ce he sought to ess was too far away, the power offered insufficient to open a breach. Even though Valdemar was a demigod, the prince of the Blood and scion of an ancient deity, the toll of passage was far too great for his meager offering.

    The portal hungered for far more than blood. It needed a rarer resource, a fuel as precious as the burning heart of stars. It craved <em>souls</em>.

    And not just any kind. As Valdemars spirit worked in tune with the portals magical architecture, he realized that only specific souls would do. Summoned creatures could be in on this metal altar, but their souls would resist and fight back. Unless they gave their lives away, surrendered themselves wholly and fully to the steel, their strength would be turned inward rather than outward. So long as a spirit longed for life and freedom, it would never work in harmony with the portal. Only martyrs willing to offer everything would do.

    And the ne he sought to ess demanded very specific sacrifices. The blood of nts and lizards, of mammals and fish and birds. Valdemar felt a phantom connection between this portal and the Earth he craved so much, brought about by his blood. His own soul alone could fuel the device or that of a carefully selected lot.

    Nothing else would work.

    Valdemar deactivated the portal with themand codes as a tear failed to materialize, the archway returning to sleep. His blood hadnt yet dried on the archway, nor had Hermanns.

    It is useless, a familiar voice said. I already tried.

    Valdemar tensed up, as he heard Lord Ochs footsteps behind him. Ktulu immediately hid behind its master. The familiar was wary of Lord Bethor, but something about Och frightened it to the bone.

    Blood is a good fuel, but it is neither rare nor precious. The lich walked at his apprentices side, gazing at the bodily fluids soaking the portal. A little food and your body produces more all the time. Souls though? Souls are priceless especially when willingly offered. Not even a gods blood is an eptable substitute.

    Valdemar red at his master. Shouldnt you be preparing for the Sabbath, my teacher?

    Shouldnt you be visiting Young Lilianes father, apprentice?

    There was no escape.

    You knew all along, didnt you? Valdemar asked in defiance.

    I may not look like it, but I am an immortal creature with more years than you can count. I have schemed and plotted for centuries. Few tricks may surprise me. The lich chuckled. I take back what I just said. My, why are you thinking of Pleromian orgies of all things?

    Valdemar remained silent as a tomb, but the undead archmage was wise enough to figure it out.

    Ah, clever apprentice, you are using what little remains of the Pleromians soul as a screen so I cannot read your thoughts. Truly inventive but s, futile. Lord Och nced at the empty archway. I learned the portals codes within the first five minutes of our dear Pleromian guests electrotherapy. Even if you deactivate the device, a mere word will wake it up.

    Youre bluffing.

    Am I?

    The Dark Lord said a few ancient words of power, and Valdemar heard the portal stir in response. The machinery of the Pleromians answered Lord Ochs call, before falling asleep once again.

    A crushing weight of despair and impotent rage fell on Valdemars shoulders, as he realized it had all been a trick. Its impossible, he muttered. You couldnt you couldnt possibly anticipate

    You foolish disciple, have you learned nothing? I know all of your ns before they even cross your mind, because a long, <em>long </em>time ago The lich waved a hand at his chest, and then in his apprentices direction. I was exactly like you.

    Im nothing like you! Valdemar spat. I wouldnt betray people who trusted me for my personal gain!

    What betrayal are you using me of?

    Is it true? Valdemar rasped, trying to keep his anger in check. Did you truly gather the schrs for the express purpose of sacrificing them? Did you give these people hope and knowledge, only to fatten them like beasts for the ughter?

    The answer was swift, the tone casual.

    Yes, of course. The lich didnt bother to deny it. Its not a betrayal, since I would have needed to care first. Young Hermann, Liliane, even Marianne they are like giant beetles to me. We breed these creatures to carry loads and win races. Then when they grow too old or weak to serve and start to cost more to keep alive than dead, we eat them and harvest their parts. I do not despise these people, nor do I appreciate them.

    The Dark Lord chuckled.

    I feel <em>nothing </em>for them.

    Valdemars fists clenched in rage. You invented the Soulstones, the summoner realized. Did you release that magical knowledge only so you could have a supply of souls to fuel your devices?

    His question amused the lich. Oh my, did you expect a heart of gold buried somewhere in my rib cage? If so, Young Valdemar, you havent been paying attention. I discarded my heart long ago and looked down on humanity ever since.

    Truth be told, yes, Valdemar had hoped that a sliver of nobility remained in the Dark Lord. He had spent so long looking for a flicker of light inside the undead that he missed the darkness all around it.

    Then why havent you sacrificed them already? Valdemar asked warily, trembling with anger. Why?

    Why would I? The lichs answer surprised his apprentice. Between us, I never intended to use this portal to open a gate to Earth. Or any other for that matter.

    Valdemar squinted in disbelief, but his undead teacher soundedpletely serious. You didnt?

    I pursue higher stakes. Lord Och put his hands behind his back, his gaunt figure casting a dark shadow. Freedom.

    Valdemar frowned, Ktulus six eyes ring at Och with an expression that his summoner had never seen before. Something between wariness and childish disdain. Freedom? Valdemar whispered, trying to make sense out of the lichs motivations.

    Not the kind of liberty that your young, untested mind can fathom, Lord Och replied. Freedom from this pointless cycle of life and death, from the expectations of citizens and thews that govern this lesser universe.

    The lichs voice brimmed with resentment and bitterness. His words sounded too venomous not to be genuine.

    I can hardly stand this cage of stone anymore, this this prison of flesh and life and death. The lich red at the stone ceiling of the vault. This world of matter keeps my soul anchored to a lesser existence as surely as gravity. Lichdom gave me a little more leeway, but s, I remain bound to thews of nature. For now at least. Even though I could escape this doomed for another, I would only be trading cells.

    You want to achieve a higher state of existence. Valdemars eyes widened at the depth of his masters limitless ambition. To follow in Lord Bethors footsteps and be a Stranger.

    In a way but it is too early for us to discuss this yet. Lord Och shrugged as he changed the subject. I had considered using this portal in a pinch, yes, hence why I gathered the necessary fuel in my Institute. But these beetles have so far proven more useful alive than dead, so I decided to spare them. I do not want to ess Earth all that much.

    Lord Och raised a bony finger at Valdemars heart, his skull grinning wickedly.

    But <em>you </em>do.

    Only then did Valdemar begin to fathom the depth of the lichs cruelty. No, the summoner whispered. Never.

    It is the only way to achieve your dream, Young Valdemar. Unless, of course, you sacrifice yourself to be the gate.

    I can find other people, Valdemar protested, Ktulu squealing behind him. Prisoners of war, enemies

    But the problem will remain the same. The lichsughter reverberated across the chamber. You will convince others to martyr themselves so <em>you </em>do not have to. Because as much as you pretend otherwise and cloak your true goal behind high-minded aspirations, this is all about <em>you </em>reaching Earth. You could have only opened the path to a better future for your kind since the moment you visited the Silent King, but you refused to.

    Why should anybody have to sacrifice anything? Valdemar argued. There has to be another way!

    Which one? Pictomancy? The painted doorway was only made possible because of a Strangers cooperation on the other side, and it came with a price. Temporary tears demand sacrifices and as you have seen, they neverst long. Otto Blutgang could have helped, but you burned that bridge when you refused topromise on your morals. Because you always refuse to make sacrifices.

    Valdemar stood firm in his decision. The cost of allying with the Derros was too great.

    And what cost will be small enough for you? Lord Och asked with clear amusement. I believe you do not want to pay <em>anything</em>, you greedy little child. No more than I do.

    Valdemar ground his teeth, refusing to be folded in the same category as this cold, heartless creature. There has to be another way.

    I have spent centuries trying to find one. If you discover another method, be my guest.

    There is another portal in Ariouth, Valdemar whispered, grasping at any option. You said it yourself. Maybe it can work differently.

    Lord Och chuckled mirthlessly. Even if you manage to fool my former apprentice and ess the device, you shall be disappointed as I was. And the more you wait, the more our kind shall suffer. This world was doomed the moment the Whitemoon arrived, and Ialdabaoths awakening can only be dyed. We are but pawns in a great war that will consume this, as it did with so many others. The longer you dy, the greater the risk we all perish for nothing.

    Youre wrong! Valdemar argued, his familiar wincing as he raised his voice. Maybe Ialdabaoths awakening is inevitable, but if we keep dying it, it will never happen! It wont escape its binding under my watch!

    Well then, mankind shall continue to suffer from theck of space, the gues, the Strangers, the wars, and the depredation of monsters. Our souls will feed our fathers bottomless appetite while you waver. The Dark Lord tilted his head to the side like a curious cat. What I mean to say apprentice, is that <em>somebody </em>will pay a toll for <em>your </em>decisions. If you want to achieve your dreams, you will have to decide who shall bear the burden; or the choice will be forced upon you.

    Valdemar shivered as the memories of the Outer Darkness flooded his mind. He remembered the dark abyss of souls condemning mankind to oblivion after death and Otto Blutgang would only offer the very of steel while they lived.

    Everywhere he looked, he had seen Strangers and monsters tormenting mankind. Shelley and his gues were but thetest stage of this endless war against civilization, but horrors like the Nightwalker would persist long after the rats death. The longer mankind withered in these tunnels, the more souls would suffer.

    And all he had to do to save them all was to open the path to a better ce. To sacrifice his chance to see the sun for the sake of others. <em>Why? </em>the summoner wondered.<em> Why can I open the path to paradise, and yet be condemned to stay on the doorstep?</em>

    Why did you lead me to Blutgang? Valdemar asked, his voice breaking. If you had no desire to open this portal, then why did you put me through these sick mind-games?

    I wished to see if you had it in you to defy me. I do not want a weak-willed follower for an apprentice, and I was pleasantly surprised by your initiative. Lord Och chuckled. This was all for your sake, obviously. I gave you options, let you find your own way. As I told you, the only person who can decide who you are is you, Valdemar.

    The Dark Lords shadow seemed to lengthen, covering his apprentice in a nket of cold and darkness. Yes, I could sacrifice all your friends to the portal and open the gate to Earth. You would me me and achieve your dream free of guilt. But that wont happen. You alone will bear the weight of your dream.

    The lich narrowed his skull, his baleful gaze swallowing Valdemars vision.

    The choice is all yours.

    <strong>The Time Has Come</strong>

    Hi guys, the first volume of my other story, <em>Kairos</em>, is finally avable for purchase on Kindle Unlimited and Audible!

    Now, <strong>reviews </strong>are super duper important for a sessfulunch on the tform; as such I would be very thankful to anyone willing to leave one!

 Chapter 46: One

    Chapter 46: One

    The moment Valdemar returned, Marianne knew something was terribly wrong.

    He came toote for a start. By the time he joined, Count De Vane had already regaled his daughter and guests with a tea ceremony; though as a skeleton gentleman, it was more for the benefit of the living than his own. The Count had recently suffered an ident in one of his facilities, but thankfully undeath hadnt dimmed his courteous spirit.

    The food and drinks were of the highest quality, and for a few peaceful minutes Marianne had been brought back to the days when Bertrand cooked delicious meals for her. Months had passed since then, and they felt like years.

    Where were you? Lilianeined to Valdemar in the De Vane lobby as the group met with their missing member. My father kept pestering me about your absence, and I was so happy I could finally introduce the two of you! I told you not to bete!

    Valdemar didnt answer. His eyes averted his friends gaze, his skin paler than usual. His familiar followed him like a shadow, Ktulus six eyes ncing at his master with clear concern.

    Lilianes annoyance turned to worry. Valdy?

    How Valdemar cleared his throat. How was he? Your father?

    Oh, he was so happy that I made friends at the Institute, Liliane replied with a bright smile. He was a little surprised when I presented Hermann to him, but they hit it off.

    Count De Vane is an avid art collector, Hermann exined while clearing his throat. He had removed his mask during the meeting and kept his face exposed afterward. Marianne took it as a sign that he was growingfortable with his currentpany. I think he mightmission work for us in the future.

    Valdemar didnt answer. He simply nced at the window, his gaze empty while his familiar clung to his pants side seam with a tiny hand. <em>Something terrible happened,</em> Marianne guessed. The others had noticed too and now looked at their friend with concern.

    He also said he would dly help mass-produce an antidote for the Beast gue if we could figure one out, Liliane added with a happy grin, though Marianne could tell she was forcing herself to try to lighten up the mood. And he had super good news for Marianne too!

    ording to the Count, there is word among Sas noble circles that the Empress intends to repeal my exile, Marianne exined. As a reward for my<em> courageous actions against enemies of the state. </em>Nothing confirmed yet.

    This time, Valdemar looked up at her. Another man would have congratted her, said how happy they were. But the summoner knew Marianne all too well. Does that make you happy? He asked.

    Marianne sighed. Not so much.

    In a way, she was d that the stain on her honor would be removed, and it might make her father and mother wee her back with open arms but Marianne didnt truly want to go home. The same problems that had gued her since Jrmes demise would remain festering beneath the surface.

    Besides, she didnt think she ever felt truly at home among the Sas aristocracy. Her ce was on the field fighting the evils of the world, not at home hosting balls for jaded dilettantes.

    Valdemar responded with a silent nod, and then looked back at the window.

    This time, Lilianes smilepletely faltered. Valdy, what happened? she asked him directly. Whats wrong?

    Valdemar answered with another question. How many people die each day?

    <em>Hes thinking of the Outer Darkness, </em>Marianne realized. Was that why he had to leave early? To study the Qlippoths and figure out how their dimension worked?

    How many people die each day? Valdemar repeated.

    Liliane frowned, unsettled by her friends words. How many humans?

    Dokkar, troglodyte, humans how many die each day? When neither Marianne nor Liliane would answer his question, Valdemar turned to Hermann. Do you know?

    If you count all our worlds civilizations Hermann calcted the number in his head. Tens of thousands I would say.

    Valdemar nced away again. Thats what I thought.

    Youre thinking about the Outer Darkness, arent you? Marianne asked, guessing the root of the problem. Its beyond your power to change.

    Its not that, Marianne, he replied. Thousands of innocents die but <em>theyre </em>still here after all these years. They get away with everything.

    His voice brimmed with sorrow and disappointment.

    Who are they? Liliane asked, unaware of the details. Valdy, whats going on?

    I Valdemar opened his mouth only to swiftly close it. Nothing.

    Valdy, look at us, Liliane asked with a frown. Valdy. Valdy, please.

    He did. And as Valdemar raised his eyes to look at his friends, Mariannes enhanced sense of sight picked up every single microexpression on his face. She noticed theck of light in his gaze, the strained look of sorrow he gave Liliane and the brief sh of guilt as he nced at Hermann. And to Marianne, this expression felt all too familiar.

    She had already seen it the first time she looked at her mirror after killing Jrme.

    Lilianes words didnt register with her friend. Valdemar, usually so optimistic and stalwart in the face of adversity, looked as dead as the undying workers toiling in Sabaoths mines.

    He didnt say another word for the rest of the day.

    By the time the group went their separate ways, Valdemars mood had only worsened.

    Iren had also returned early with a letter, saying it had taken far less time than he had expected. Valdemar took the unopened document, read it without a word, and decided to teleport back to his bedroom in Lord Bethors tower. Unwilling to leave him alone, Marianne had decided to follow him.

    <em>Weve seen him like this before, </em>Liliane had whispered to Marianne with a sigh before they separated.<em> When he learned the truth about his grandfather. He wouldnte out of his room for days.</em>

    <em>Its worse this time </em>Hermann had rasped in response.<em> The way he looks at us he fears for our lives</em>

    <em>He looks even more crushed after reading that letter than before, </em>Iren had noted.

    None of them had managed to break through their friends shield of silence, and neither could Marianne. Valdemar had simply moved on to his bunk bed and kept staring at the ceiling for hours. Ktulu had done its best to get his masters attention, showing him drawings of monsters it had written on paper to no avail.

    Marianne thought seeing his friends would make Valdemar happier, but it had only caused him further anguish.

    Marianne thought that maybe sharing a dream with him would give her insight into his trouble, but Valdemar couldnt find sleep. Evente into the night he simply gazed at their bedrooms metal ceiling. Since they had removed the painted field to let him sleep normally, the walls had turned gray and lifeless again. Marianne couldnt help but notice the symbolism.

    Ktulu had long gone to sleep, snoring lightly. But his master remained awake.

    Valdemar, Marianne whispered from her bed, her eyes ncing at his own above her head. Valdemar, you need to sleep. The Sabbath is tomorrow.

    No answer. But she knew he wasnt deaf yet.

    Valdemar, please talk to me, Marianne pleaded, enraged that she couldnt make a headway. Watching her friend suffering in silence while unable to reach out to him frustrated her more than anything else. Tell me whats wrong.

    A letter fell from the side of Valdemars bed above, which Marianne caught. The writer had used luxurious ink and wrote with the precision and confidence of a superior talking to an inferior. No spell was woven into the paper, nor was it signed or marked in any way. Perhaps the sender intended to remain somewhat anonymous.<blockquote>

    <em>To whom it may concern,</em>

    <em>If you are reading this, then my sincerest apologies; for I cannot be of assistance.</em>

    <em>Please do not be offended by my answer. I have nothing against you personally, but I know ourmon acquaintance very well and I refuse to be involved in any scheme of his except to ruin it.</em>

    <em>I suppose some exnations are in order. I can confirm to you that his story about the past is true, from a certain point of view; and more to the point, that he is utterly obsessed with this realm of Light. He has made terrible sacrifices in its pursuit, and we split when I refused to be one of them. Ourmon acquaintances had many disciples, but few survived his patronage. My colleague split with him on amicable terms because though they pursued different goals, they did not conflict directly; but I could not, cannot coexist with ourmon acquaintance.</em>

    <em>As you have already surmised, I did restore a door under his tutge beneath my house; I sought it to summon ves from across the nes, but he desired to make use of the device in a way that I felt risked the ruin of our entire civilization. Not as a primary intent, of course; but as a potential side-effect he was more than happy to deal with in the pursuit of his Light. Make no mistake, we are all expendable to him in the name of his dream. All of us.</em>

    <em>Hence I forever closed the path to deny him his wish and we have been bitter foes ever since. I would have destroyed him if I could, but it is impossible as long as his mortality remains hidden and it was my word against his. Even now, at the zenith of my strength, I am but a shadow of his power. Survival is victory in itself.</em>

    <em>Unable to destroy him, I settled on destroying all other doors I could find to spite him. Understand that I did this with a heavy heart, for the resources therein could have made me the greatest of our kind; but he simply cannot be allowed to get his hands on them.</em>

    <em>If you have ess to a door I have missed, I would be thankful if you could destroy it at the first opportunity. I cannot yet say what ce you fill in his n, but he most certainly has one.</em>

    <em>Someone of your ability is clearly above the rabble I easily deal with and I would rather have you as an ally, but if you indulge ourmon acquaintance, I will have to kill you. Depending on the facts at hand, I might even ask for your execution during the Sabbath. With heavy regrets of course.</em>

    <em>But who knows what the future holds?</em>

    <em>With my warmest regards,</em>

    <em>Your predecessor.</em></blockquote>

    Who sent this letter? Marianne asked as she finished reading. Lord Phaleg? My ears are sharp, Valdemar, and I can read on the lips of others. I know you tried to make contact with him.

    Her friend didnt respond.

    He was talking about the Pleromian portals, wasnt he? Marianne guessed. Lord Och has thest one, and youre afraid he will sacrifice the others to activate it? Because he has no other option? Is that what you are afraid of?

    This time, Valdemar answered.

    Do you think, he said, his voice tired, that all life is equal? Is my life equal to yours? To Hermann? To Liliane?

    Marianne considered the question for a long while. Yes, she said. Yes, I believe it. All life is equally precious.

    Then, he replied, is it okay to take a life if it threatens ten more?

    If there is no other solution then yes. Marianne would have no regret striking down Shelley or Otto Blutgang in the name of the greater good. Valdemar, what are you trying to tell me?

    Instead of answering, Marianne heard Valdemar climb down from his bed to stand next to her own. He was wearing nothing but his pajamas, his eyes as hollow as the caverns of Undend.

    Marianne sat on her mattress and gave Valdemar enough space to do the same. The summoner hesitated before doing so and didnt speak immediately. He joined his hands and looked at the ground as if gazing at something far below the earth, his expression thoughtful.

    Do you think there is anything special about being born? Valdemar finally asked, his voice no louder than a whisper.

    Marianne almost opened her mouth to answer, but decided to hold on. Instead, she waited for him to fill the silence, and truly say all that weighed on his mind.

    The universe is made of death, Valdemar stated as if it were a fact. This is its natural state and life is an anomaly. We are all the rogue cells of arger organism, granted self-awareness through a cosmic fluke.

    Thats why life is all the more precious, Marianne argued. Because we were so lucky to be born.

    Luck? He snorted in response. Whether you do good or evil, so long as you live in this shell of a world, you end up in the Outer Darkness. Whether you die a saint or a monster, everyone suffers. Life is Hells antechamber.

    Was that why he was so troubled? Why now? Valdemar had known for days, and though the truth had shaken him, he hadnt despaired either.

    Marianne grabbed the soulstone ne around her neck which she always kept on herself at all times. <em>Has Jrmes soul fallen into this vortex of souls? </em>She suddenly wondered, clutching her soulstone. Was he screaming for release as Qlippoths devoured him? She had tried not to think of it much, but now that she did

    Not all souls end up in the Outer Darkness, Valdemar, Marianne said, but the argument felt so weak even to herself.

    For the wealthy, you mean? Valdemar sighed. Even so, they are only dying the inevitable. Their soulstones are no more than a crack away from shattering and our civilization has been fighting horrors for centuries. But for how many more years? How long until the dam breaks and the water pours through?

    Maybe it wont, Marianne said and cursed herself. Why couldnt wordse to her as easily as swords?

    Im Valdemar gathered his breath, but didnt raise his head. Im just asking myself Why try to do good when nothing matters? Why be good when our efforts are for naught?

    Now Mariannes voice turned to steel. Dont you dare say that, she said, her tone briefly shaking him out of his despair. Our work was never in vain. Is this about Blutgang?

    In a way, he confessed. We changed nothing.

    We destroyed his facility and ruined his ns.

    We dyed them and Otto still lives. You said it yourself, even Lord Bethors advance in his territory is unlikely to change the status quo.

    Marianne bit her lower lip, unsure of what to say. She feared her friend had drowned too deep in his own sorrow, but she refused to let him sink further. To deny evil a victory is a victory for good in itself.

    He locked eyes with her. Is that the best we can hope for? he asked. Not to win for ourselves, but to deny the enemy his victory?

    The moment Marianne opened her mouth to answer, she suddenly noticed water building up at the edge of her friends eyes.

    He was struggling to hold back tears.

    Why do people like Och and Blutgang get away with everything while I Valdemar gritted his teeth, wiping away his tears. Why

    Marianne immediately moved to his side, her hands moving to his shoulders. She was not good with physicalfort, so the contact was clumsy. She sensed the emotional tension in his muscles, the weight he carried.

    Valdemar, whats happening? Marianne asked softly, holding him close to herself. Please, tell me. I swear, I I wont tell anyone else.

    I have enough of this Valdemars voice broke. Every time I try to improve things, I get a kick in the face first with the inquisitors then this cult the Derros now Och. It doesnt matter what I try they always get away with all their crimes, while everyone else rots in this hellish ce the fire devours them all. Each time I confront monsters, I fail. If I cant ruin their schemes What hope do I have against the likes of the Strangers?

    He clenched his fists, his fingers trembling.

    I thought reaching Earth could make it all better, he said, so weakly. The sun but to get here, I somebody has to die. Theres no other way. They destroyed all the others.

    You dont know that, Marianne protested. The Dark Lords could have missed a Pleromian portal, and even if they havent, maybe another spell could open the way.

    Which one? he asked, begging for an answer.

    But Marianne had none to give. I I dont know, Valdemar. Im not the best person to ask.

    Her friend sighed and looked back at the ground in utter defeat.

    But Marianne refused to let him wallow in bitterness. Bertrand, she said.

    He frowned in confusion, though he didnt look at her. What, Bertrand?

    I thought we had no hope of curing him not too long ago, Marianne exined. But you and Liliane found a possible solution.

    He snorted in skepticism. Its only a chance.

    But beforehand we had none. Marianne cleared her throat. Valdemar, it is not because nobody has found the solution to a problem yet that it doesnt exist.

    Thats what I tried to tell myself, Valdemar replied. But each day I stall trying to find an alternative is a day we spend trapped in his <em>hellhole</em>. If all lives are equal, then I have a pretty big tab.

    She pped him.

    It was a light, but his cheek turned red from the blow all the same. Valdemar coughed in surprise, looking at Marianne in the eyes.

    Marianne gritted her teeth in disappointment. Have you forgotten who you are, Valdemar?

    He winced as if she had pped him again.

    The first time we met, you were tied to a torture device in an inquisitors cell, Marianne reminded him. Threatened with punishment or death. Yet in spite of the taunts and the humiliations, of the mockery and wounds, you insisted that Earth existed. That opening gates to other worlds was possible. And eventually, you proved it. You <em>painted </em>a door to another universe.

    Lord Och said it couldnt

    Lord Och believes in <em>nothing</em>. <em>Of course he is the one behind this mess, </em>Marianne thought with anger. Her wary respect for the lich had further soured away into disdain. Ive seen his true face when he tortured the Pleromian. For all of his power, Och is a small, petty creature who only finds joy in tormenting others. Edwin waspletely right, he has given up on all that makes us good long ago. And I will say it again, as far as I am concerned, that makes you ten times the man that he is.

    Marianne grabbed Lord Phalegs letter, showing it to Valdemar.

    This paper? she asked. Iren brought it to you, after you saved him from death and who knows many others. Just as you saved lives by denying Blutgang ess to his portal. So dont you ever say you worked for nothing, because you helped make this <em>hellhole </em>a better ce.

    This world is a <em>mess</em>, he hissed.

    Then keep making it <em>better</em>, Marianne snarled back before tossing the letter away. Youve already helped Hermann invent his own private universe. This world is neither hopeless nor just, it just is. If youre not happy with it, then change it. Or do your best to try.

    Its ridiculous.

    Youre one who kept saying impossible was but a word. Or have you forgotten that too?

    Her words were harsh, but for the first time since he returned to her, Valdemars sorrow seemed to fade. Doubt crept in, his eyes ncing away and back to her as he considered her words.

    Marianne put her hands on his cheeks, gently forcing him to look into her eyes. She wiped away thest tears and soothed the spot where she had pped him.

    Dont be like Lord Och, Valdemar, Marianne pleaded. Be better than he is.

    The ember of hope red back in his hollow gaze. You think I can?

    Yes, I do, Marianne replied without hesitation, a smile on her face. I believe in you.

    As Marianne spoke, she watched Valdemars gaze regain its life and purpose. The veil of despair that had overtaken his heart was slowly lifted as she gave him hope in a better future once more. Once he had helped her clear her own doubts about Jrme, and she was doing the same with his own clouded mind.

    Thanks, Valdemar simply said, a new strength in his voice. I will try.

    Do not try, she said softly. Just do it.

    It made him chuckle, and Marianne realized she had never heard a more wonderful sound. His fingers moved to her sides, resting on the bedsheet as they faced each other. He was so close that she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

    And then Valdemars mouth started moving closer still.

    So did her own.

    Marianne didnt know why, but her head moved on its own to mirror herpanions motion. Perhaps it was desire or confusion, but her lips touched his own. A shiver traveled through her cheeks as they kissed, her enhanced sense of touch gathering every tactile sensation. She felt his heartbeat beneath the skin, his warmth, his short breath, and his doubts.

    The kiss was clumsy, impulsive. Itsted only a second before Valdemar pulled back. He gathered his breath, seemingly surprised at what he had just done. He looked like a man who had woken up a dragon.

    Marianne herself breathed heavily. Doubts flooded her mind. She thought of Jrme, of Bertrand, of the cult, and Lord Och. Of the Dark Lords and the Sabbath, about the troubles ahead, about the danger of the situation, the shakiness of their association. She worried about what this kiss would mean for them, how it might ruin their budding friendship or end in tears. Her breath reeked of anxiety, of fear, of doubts and unspoken terrors.

    Then they kissed again, and Mariannes worries faded like mist.

    The second kisssted longer, and though clumsy it was no longer full of hesitation. There was only desire and tenderness, warmth and oneness. Marianne forgot about the Strangers and the Light.

    She just wanted him.

    Her hands moved to remove his clothes and his own clumsily brushed against her underwear. He broke the kiss abruptly, his breath heavy.

    You dont want to? Marianne whispered.

    I want it, Valdemar replied without hesitation. But it would change so much.

    Valdemar, right now She moved to whisper in his ear. The world is just the two of us.

    Her words dispelled his doubts, and his fingers moved to unclothe her.

    When they were naked, they joined beneath the bedsheet. Marianne tasted his sweat as she kissed him, heard his blood pumping as his hands brushed against her breasts. She smelled him, all of him, and shivered as his lips touched her, explored her, devoured her. She shivered as her legs crossed behind him, and gasped as her hands guided him inside her.

    They made love in the flesh and in the dream.

 Chapter 47: The Seven

    Chapter 47: The Seven

    The dream was peaceful.

    Valdemar and Marianne watched a sunless ocean while sitting along the balconys edge of their dreamscape, their feet dangling above the water. Ktulu swam underneath the surface, leaving them alone. Both magicians had put on light clothes, leaving their heavier robes and jackets aside. In the dream, they didnt fear the cold, and they were beyond the point of modesty.

    A wall had fallen between them.

    Valdemar didnt have much experience in dealing with women, or what just happened. He and Marianne had grown closer over thest weeks, and he had noticed certain <em>tensions. </em>What they had just done went beyond that.

    Things had been good before; but though human rtionships werent his strength, Valdemar knew they had just crossed a line and there would be no going back. Even now their bodies in the real world were as intertwined as their dreamscapes.

    Marianne said nothing as she enjoyed a warm cup of tea she had conjured from her memories, gazing at the ocean. Valdemar himself watched hispanion in silence, the same way he would observe a beautiful painting that had caught his interest.

    Noting his attention, Marianne turned to face him without a word. Then she did something wonderful, something that filled herpanions chest with warmth and lifted all of his doubts.

    She smiled.

    It was a beautiful sight, worthy of being immortalized in a painting for all eternity.

    Inspired, Valdemar called upon the dream and materialized a flower in his hand; one with red petals, thorns, and a sweet smell. He offered it to Marianne.

    What is this? she asked. I dont remember seeing it in the Institutes greenhouse.

    Its a rose, Valdemar exined. Its a flower from Earth. Grandpa used to draw it. He said it smelled great.

    It was also customary in grandfathers homnd for a man to offer a rose to ady he courted. Valdemar didnt know how the flower smelled, having never seen a real one. He only had his grandsires words and his imagination to draw upon.

    Marianne swiftly took the flower before smelling it. She seemed to enjoy the gift, but Valdemar could see the embarrassed blush spreading on her cheeks. Even in a dream, some things never changed.

    Im sorry, Valdemar apologized.

    For what? Marianne asked, holding the flower with both hands like a treasure. I love it.

    I dont know how to deal with girls.

    I am no romance veteran either, she admitted. I havent been with a man since Jrme, and I have known no one else.

    <em>With a man. </em>Are we together? Valdemar asked while clearing his throat. I mean, <em>together </em>together?

    Mariannes smile turned sheepish. Are we not? she asked. Its not that different from what came before, Valdemar. Its like being best friends, but deeper.

    It meansmitment andplications, Valdemar pointed out. The people after me wille for you.

    They already would, simply because I am your friend and sword. Marianne frowned. Unless you think I cannot defend myself.

    No, of course not, Valdemar replied with a chuckle. In fact, Im pretty sure youre stronger than I am.

    Marianne chuckled at thepliment. You sell yourself short, Valdemar. I have seen you do things with the Blood that are beyond anyone but the Dark Lords. In terms of magical might, you eclipse mepletely.

    And yet if they came to blows, Valdemar had the suspicion that she would win handily all the same. If I were to be honest, he said, I love your strength; not just with arms, but your moral fortitude too. I find them attractive.

    His words were terribly clumsy, but Marianne seemed to appreciate them all the same. Thank you, she said. It matters more to me than you think.

    In her heart, Marianne was a romantic.

    Her head leaned against Valdemar until it rested on his chest. The summoner put his arm around her shoulder, fingers brushing against her light hair. Though he knew both of them were mere projections in the dreamscape, her warmth and soft breath felt all too real. Valdemar hadnt felt something like this since the days of his childhood, the rare days when his mother took him in her arms. It had made him feel safe and happy, his mind undistracted by the terrors of the world.

    Marianne felt like home.

    What do you want? she whispered. For us?

    Valdemar didnt wonder for long.

    He looked up at the darkness over the sunless ocean of his dreamscape, and tried to conjure a new sky. Beforehand he had struggled to manifest even smaller objects, but now the Primordial Dream seemed to indulge his desires. Perhaps the fall of the invisible wall of unspoken emotions between Marianne and him had strengthened his influence, or maybe he had grown more in tune with his feelings as Lady Mathilde advised.

    In any case, a bright star appeared on the horizon. Its light reflected on the oceans surface, banishing the darkness and painting the skies with a vivid, bright blue color. It was andscape that only ever existed in Valdemars imagination and his grandfathers stories. Now Marianne shared it, watching the bright horizon with joy and satisfaction.

    I want to show you this, Valdemar exined. A ceiling of light and clouds rather than stone. I want to show you the sun. Not in a dream, but in the waking world.

    I would love it, she whispered back, her heartbeat in sync with his own. It is beautiful.

    I Valdemar leaned against Marianne, their head touching. His hands brushed against her soft fingers. I wont regret what happened even if we decide to end it here before going further. But I would like to continue. It was good. It feels good.

    Yes, it does. Marianne nced at the dream suns reflection in the ocean. The waters surface seemed to be made of shining diamonds. Whatever awaits, we will stand at each others side.

    What awaits Valdemar sighed. The worst is toe.

    Youre still thinking about the portal?

    No, Valdemar replied firmly. I wont use it. I wont drink from this poisoned cup. You were right, the fact another solution hasnt been found yet doesnt mean that there is none.

    Marianne nodded in appreciation. You are better than Lord Och, Valdemar. Prove him wrong.

    But there is the Outer Darkness to consider, Valdemar said with sorrow. So long as we remain in Undend, the living suffer and death offers no mercy. And Lord Och is preparing something. It makes no sense for him to work on studying portal technology if he doesnt want to use it himself.

    Maybe he does, Marianne pointed out. Just not to reach Earth.

    Where else?

    Marianne pointed a finger at the sun.

    The Light? Valdemar asked.

    If we assume his story is true, he was forever denied paradise and has been obsessed with it since, Marianne said. I think undoing his past humiliation is his ultimate goal. What purpose he hopes to fulfill upon reaching such a ne of existence, I cannot say.

    It made some sense. If the Strangers indeed originated from this supreme dimension above the material world, then it neatly fit Lord Ochs desire of escaping the reality he saw as a prison. However, Valdemar noticed a few problems with this analysis.

    The portal can only reach worlds bound by the Blood with the appropriate sacrifice, the summoner pointed out. It is part of a web of flesh that binds the Strangers together. But they were all expelled from this realm of Light and couldnt return. No Blood-based magic should be capable of opening the way, so how does he intend to?

    Marianne nced at him with a look of apology. I do not know, she admitted. You are the summoner and know more about the field than I ever will. However

    However?

    Lord Och is an ancient being centuries old. Marianne adjusted her position, her face thoughtful. Someone like him is patient beyond imagination. Decades seem no longer than the blink of an eye to him. If we assume that he has been pursuing a single goal all this time, then we should look at some of his previous actions.

    I dont follow.

    You know how he is, better than anyone, Marianne argued. Is there anything he has done that strikes you as unlike him? Something that can be recontextualized knowing his final objective?

    Valdemar frowned in skepticism, but her idea had merit. Marianne had proved herself an excellent investigator time and time again, and he trusted her intuition.

    Hard to say, Valdemar admitted after considering hispanions question. I would have said releasing knowledge of the soulstones, but he could have done that for any number of reasons. Safeguarding knowledge, building up his influence in the empire, using them as fuel as he said, he has many ns running all at once.

    But they are all tactical moves in the pursuit of a greater strategic objective, Marianne replied before manifesting a dream copy of her soulstone ne floating before their eyes. ording to his story, some souls could escape the Outer Darkness and ascend to the Light. Maybe he was trying to study the process and reproduce it through magical means.

    Maybe Valdemar replied, slightly skeptical. The problem is that everything we know about Och could be a lie or doctored.

    If we can, we should check out the historical archives in Pleroma, Marianne said with optimism. We will find out the truth.

    She remained true to the vow she had made when their partnership started.

    Whatever Ochs reasons for creating the soulstones, thinking about them left a sour taste in Valdemars mouth. The idea that only the privileged could afford a respite from the Outer Darkness filled him with disgust. Men werent equal, even before death.

    <em>The Blood connected all </em>Valdemar thought, his eyes widening.<em> From the souls of the dead to the bodies of the living</em>

    I know that look, Marianne said with an amused smile. You have an idea.

    She knew him well. Hermann once told me that a pictomancy portrait could be used to catch the soul of a target upon death.

    Like a soulstone?

    Yes, but without a limit of distance. Pictomancy creates a sympathetic link between the painting and the target that transcends space itself. To the point it could open the path to another dimension entirely under the right conditions. Now, it means that a pictomancy portrait can even snatch a spirit before Ialdabaoth can consume it.

    Mariannes smile turned sorrowful. You cannot paint a portrait for all people in Undend, Valdemar.

    No, Valdemar admitted as he looked at the sun of his dreams, but maybe I can do better.

    If no good afterlife existed, then he would create one.

    On the next day, Lord Och and Lord Bethor came to lead Valdemar to the Sabbath. Marianne had been exceptionally allowed to escort him, though she had to leave her rapier and revolver behind. No weapon would be allowed in the Dark Lords presence.

    Marianne herself knew little about the Sabbath, except that it involved the Dark Lords reuniting at least once a year under Empress Aratra to decide the future strategy of the Empire of Ant. Some said that the meetings took ce in a secret room located somewhere in Sas, that only the Dark Lords and the Church of the Lights Enlightened One could ess. To be weed to a Sabbath was a rare asion, and the few guests who survived this <em>honor </em>never spoke of it again afterward.

    It left Marianne a little uneasy as she looked at her partner. She didnt doubt for a second that the Dark Lords intended to decide Valdemars fate at this meeting, alongside the Verney cult and gue.

    If they wanted to execute him, their prospects looked grim. Marianne would fight to defend herpanion, but she was under no delusion that they would survive a confrontation with the seven most powerful magicians in the world. Even if they did, no ce in the Empire would be safe for them.

    Speaking of them

    Lord Och <em>knew </em>the moment he saw the couple. He said nothing, but the sudden cackle he gave the two immediately made the truth clear.

    Lord Bethors reaction was more measured. Good, he said with his customary curtness. You will fight better if you have someone to lose.

    Marianne guessed that this was the closest thing to a blessing that Lord Bethor would ever give. How was your offensive, Lord Bethor? she asked him, trying to fish for information on the Derro front.

    Better than expected, not as well as I hoped, Lord Bethor replied, arms crossed. This would be long over if we could all focus on eradicating these vermin and burning their cities to ashes. I am strong, but I cannot be everywhere.

    s, leading our brotherhood in one direction is like herding cats, Lord Och said as he prepared to cast a teleportation spell. Though I have a good feeling that we might reach unanimity on todays matter.

    Marianne nced at Valdemar. In his schrly robes with the Mask of the Nightwalker attached to his belt, he looked every inch like a Dark Lords apprentice. Would his professionalism impress the empires rulers? She could only hope so.

    Marianne wasnt ready to lose another person dear to her so soon.

    Something else bothered her too. As usual, Ktulu waited inside his masters bag with his head peeking out. However, his behavior startled Marianne. The creature spent its time ring at Lord Och with all of its six eyes, its alien face betraying an all-too-human expression.

    A look of utter distaste.

    Marianne suspected the familiar echoed his masters inner feelings through their shared bond, but the baleful glint in Ktulus eyes went beyond Valdemars anger towards his maniptive mentor. The familiar looked ready to attack the lich at the first provocation.

    And though Lord Och feigned indifference, Mariannes enhanced senses picked the slight adjustments in his posture and the way his fingers fidgeted whenever Ktulu blinked. The lich was ready to cast spells on his apprentices familiar at any time.

    Something was happening before Mariannes eyes, and even her Elixir of True Sight could not perceive what.

    Space twisted around them as Lord Och cast his spell, and Marianne focused on the matter at hand. The metal walls of Lord Bethors tower copsed around them, reced with pirs of cerulean stone and a ceiling of fossilized stone.

    The group had teleported in a vast underground cathedral without any exit, one that put even the ones in Sas to shame in its dark beauty. Ayer of porphyry covered the ground, its surface so polished that it acted as a purple mirror. Floating phosphorescent orbs of various colors provided the light, and magic suffused the air. A mere look told Marianne that this ce was the center of the Empire, the beating heart of mankind.

    Seven thrones of ck marble formed a circle at its center, some taller than others.

    The other Dark Lords were already present. Marianne immediately recognized Lord Hagith, whom she had already seen during her investigation in Horaios; the obese Dark Lord upied the secondrgest throne, which had clearly been altered for him. He greeted the neers with a polite nod.

    The seat to his left was upied by an old man in his sixties wearing ck armor of Soulbound steel. The mans eyes were as gray as his hair, but colder than ice and harder than iron. He wore no left gauntlet, revealing putrid purple flesh underneath. A hundred eyes covered his skin, their irises reced with summoning circles; all of them ring at Lord Och.

    <em>Phaleg the Binder, </em>Marianne identified this particr Dark Lord. Lord Ochs former apprentice and foremost rival. The next throne was upied by Ophiel the Mad, whose infamous ck mirror mask had be terribly known. The body wearing it belonged to a busty woman whose skin was hidden beneath a ck suit.

    Next came Lady Phul, a creature of lust and darkness. Some whispered that she could use oneiromancy to make her dreams real, to the point her dreaming avatar had subsumed her physical form. Marianne guessed it must have been true, because the Dark Lord had taken an exotic shape. Lady Phuls skin was red and her impable hair was ck as coal. Her eyes were burning mes, while two bat wings were folded behind her and a forked tail yed with her breasts. The Dark Lord of Astaphanos wore little more than silken veils and jewelry leaving little to imagination.

    And then there was thergest throne of all, upied by the Dark Majesty of Ant herself; the ruler of all humanity.

    Empress Aratra was reputed as the most beautiful woman in the Empire, and if anything the rumors couldnt do the truth justice. Her long hair looked like woven silver, and her deep purple-blue eyes were more beautiful than any gemstone. Her sharp, ageless face put artists statues and models to shame. Her ck dress adorned with rubies and purple silk gloves cost more than a nobles estate. A diadem of ckened bones with seven horns stood atop her head, with a crimson ruby shining on her forehead.

    As she observed the Empress sitting on her throne with aristocratic grace, Marianne wondered if there was ever a fairer creature. She radiated power; not the overwhelming threat of naked aggression embodied by Lord Bethor, but a subtler, more regal form of strength.

    Lord Och, the Empress greeted the neers with courtesy, her voice as sweet as a song. While Marianne and Valdemar immediately bent the knee as per the proper courtesies, Aratras colleagues remained standing. Lord Bethor.

    Lord Bethors response took only one word, spoken like an afterthought. Aratra.

    The empress frowned in displeasure. <em>Lord</em> Bethor, she said, stressing the honorific and expecting another in return.

    Aratra, Lord Bethor repeated with a t tone.

    The Empress courteous expression swiftly turned to disdain and cold annoyance, her faade of serenity immediately falling apart. I grow tired of your insolence.

    And I of your vanity, Lord Bethor replied coldly as he took his ce on a throne as far from the Empress as possible. The tension between these two was palpable.

    Marianne always thought that the Empress was the first among equals between the Dark Lords, but after seeing this, she started to doubt.

    <em>No, I cant think this, </em>Marianne told herself while trying to focus her mind on something else. Her faith in the Dark Lords had been shaken by recent events, but the Empress temper was legendary. She could probably read minds, and neither Marianne nor Valdemar could match her in a fight. While Lord Bethor was a smoldering Volcano, the Empress was a cave lynx; beautiful to look at, but quick to attack and lethal when roused.

    They had to y the model imperial subjects to avoid a death sentence.

    Young Majesty, Lord Och offered the Empress a bow, far too low for the gesture to be anything but a mockery. Let us not bother with courtesies. We are all friends, are we not?

    The Empress took back her hand without dignifying the lich with an answer. Denying Lord Ochs very existence, she nced at Marianne and Valdemar. Her mood improved upon realizing that they had offered her proper respect. Lady Reynard, Lord Verney, she said softly, it is a pleasure to greet you in my hall.

    I am no lord, Your Dark Majesty, Valdemar replied while avoiding the empress gaze. Marianne noticed him sometimes ncing at the other Dark Lords as if expecting an attack. Only a bastard denied any inheritance.

    It is for me to decide who will be denied anything, the Empress replied before setting her gaze on Marianne. Or who shall find redemption.

    Marianne looked down to avoid the Empress gaze. <em>I have to think well of her,</em> the noblewoman thought, knowing that Aratra would appreciate it. I am always the empires faithful servant.

    That remains to be seen, Phaleg the Binder said with a cutting voice, as sharp as Mariannes sword. His aura of power was the most subdued among the Dark Lords, but the noblewoman noticed space bending around his unnatural arm.

    Now, now, let us not be hasty, Lord Hagith said with a genial voice. The audition has not even begun. We have much to discuss before a judgment of any kind.

    Whose body is that, Ophiel? Lord Och said as he took ce on his own throne, opposite to Phaleg and close to Lord Bethor. I preferred thest one.

    Some noble who modeled for me, Ophiel the Mad replied with multiple voices whispering at once, both male and female. Her mirror mask nced at Marianne, the surface reflecting the noblewomans face. Though I find this one more aesthetically appealing. Is she for sale?

    Marianne bristled while Valdemar clenched his fists. But it was Lord Bethors words that surprised the noblewoman the most. Try to im her, he said, and you will die.

    Ophiel sank into her throne. You would fight me over her?

    Lord Bethor let out a sound that Marianne took for an amused scoff. Bold of you to think I will have to.

    Marianne noticed Valdemar frowning at her side. He seemed focused on something invisible. What is it? Marianne asked herpanion, her voice as low as she could manage.

    I sense spatial magic in the air, Valdemar whispered, too low to be heard. Its like the Earthmouths. But focused, like a hub.

    But the Dark Lords had sharp ears. Your apprentice has good instincts, Och, Lady Phul said while slouching on her throne. The features of her body blurred briefly, like a fading dream. But will he figure out this ces secret, I wonder?

    I have faith in my apprentices judgment, Lord Och replied with a hint of pride before looking at the ceiling. Heres a hint.

    Marianne didnt need to look up. She could see the reflection in the mirrored ground below.

    Her eyes distinguished a fossilized shape integrated into the ceiling; a slender, naked woman whose flesh had turned to stone. Her legs were joined like a serpentine tale, her fingers roots of marble. The womancked a mouth and a nose, or perhaps time had eroded them like it would any statue. Marianne might have mistaken her for one, if her chest didnt rise softly as if she breathed.

    Red tendrils pierced her skull and back, pumping blood in and out of her. Her eyes shone like twin stars, but there was littlefort in their light. Unlike the warmth of Valdemars dream sun, only the despair of a crushed spirit permeated her gaze. Her torturous station had hollowed the woman of stone from within, leaving only loss and emptiness.

    Marianne couldnt confirm it, but she had a good idea of who this person was.

    <em>Together, theymitted an unspeakable crime against Sophia in an attempt to steal her knowledge. A sin that forever barred them from ascending to the Light.</em>

    The undying corpse of Sophia the Unwise.

    Empress Aratra gave Lord Och a dark look, and Marianne realized that the Dark Lord had probably read her thoughts. She looked unhappy that her colleague had revealed this secret, but quickly hid her annoyance behind a veil of regal majesty.

    Now that we are all gathered, the Empress said while smiling at Valdemar and Marianne, her eyes briefly turning red. Shall we begin?

    The weight of the seven Dark Lords gazes fell upon them, and the Sabbath started.

 Chapter 48: The Sabbath

    Chapter 48: The Sabbath

    Most of his life, Valdemar had expected to face a trial for viting the empires rules on magic one day. But he had never expected the trial toe after the prison time.

    It had been only months since the inquisitors tossed him in a cell without judgment. Afterward, his life had taken an unexpected turn; and instead of rotting in prison, Valdemar now stood before the most lethal assembly ever gathered by mankind.

    Though Marianne was close and his familiar hid in his bag, their presence gave Valdemar littlefort. As the gazes of the seven Dark Lords fell upon him, the summoner had never felt so alone. Most were smiling, the same way vicious predators might smile while toying with their prey.

    The merciless elite of mankind had gathered to decide whether he would live or die.

    Valdemar took a few seconds to check the Dark Lords defenses with his psychic sight. He didnt test them for fear of deadly retaliation, but a cursory nce told him a great deal about the Empires ruling ss. Tomoners and most sorcerers, these seven imperial autocrats would have looked equally almighty and dangerous; but Valdemars senses had sharpened under his various teachers guidance. From the strength of the Dark Lords magical defenses, he identified the presence of a subtle power hierarchy between them.

    Empress Aratra and Lord Bethor were equal in strength. Where Bethor was a mighty volcano ready to unleash cataclysmic destruction at the first provocation, Aratra was an imcable cier; strong, ancient, a cold presence so chilling that it hurt to breathe in her presence. They were fire and ice, and both far beyond Valdemars power to confront.

    Och and Hagith came afterward. Lord Ochs defenses were an imperceptible mist hiding the monster within, but Hagiths were a fortress thick walls. His power was nowhere near as overwhelming as Lord Bethors all-consuming might, but fearsome all the same. Lord Hagith reminded Valdemar of a cave bear, cid and friendly under most circumstances, but frighteningly dangerous when roused.

    Lady Phul Valdemar didnt know what to make of her. He could hardly even sense her existence in the tapestry of the Blood. Sometimes he received feedback about the presence of flesh and bones, only for them to be reced with ephemeral ectosm a secondter. She wasnt fully anchored in Undends physical reality, which was both a strength and a weakness.

    As for the others, Lord Ophiel and Phaleg struck Valdemar as the weakest of the Dark Lords in terms of raw magical power. The formers defenses were more akin to a chameleons camouge than a fortress; his psychic protections shifted like water from one form to another, sometimes weak, sometimes strong. The androgynous body-thief seemed aware and amused by Valdemars probing, his magic ring as a silent warning not to overstep.

    As for thest of the Dark Lords, he wasnt even the shadow of Bethor even though they had both studied under Lord Och. Although Phaleg possessed effective defenses, theycked the finesse and innovation of the others. He was the apex of the ssical mage: deadly, but conventional. His strange grafted arm and summoning prowess might give him an edge, but Valdemar was certain that he couldnt match his colleagues in a pure contest of strength.

    In the end, this magical hierarchy meant little to Valdemar; to a student, all masters were overwhelming foes. If things went south, the summoner doubted either Marianne or he would survive the next five minutes.

    Empress Aratra was the first to speak. Anyone else doing so would have been disrespectful to the ruler of all of Ant. You veil your thoughts from my gaze behind an alien mind. She said that with an amused smile, but it didnt reach her eyes. How did you aplish this?

    Valdemar almost looked at Lord Och for approval to reveal the information, but didnt move an inch. First, doing so would have infuriated the Empress by implying he gave more credit to his teachers opinion than her own; and second, he was done obeying the lich without question.

    I ate a Pleromians soul, Valdemar answered with bluntness. And I use it as a mental shield.

    A Pleromian? Lady Phul chuckled in disbelief, echoed by a few others. Empress Aratras expression didnt waver at all, while Lord Ophiel and Phaleg the Binder observed Valdemar with interest.

    Was that your first time eating a soul? Ophiel the Mad asked. Its a dangerous business. If you do it too often, youll start losing sight of yourself.

    You do it all the time, my friend, Lord Hagith said while stroking his fat throat. He looked jovial, but Valdemar didnt miss the calcting gaze hidden behind the veil of friendliness.

    And it did wonders for me, the body-thief replied yfully. Though I have never possessed a Pleromian before. I thought they were extinct?

    Valdemar thought Lord Och would speak up, but the lich didnt even seem to care all that much. His gaze was focused on the other Dark Lords rather than his apprentice, his fingers joined in a wary pose. To see the ever-confident archmage reacting this way made Valdemar shiver.

    So? Lord Ophiel asked with impatience. Have you lost your tongue, or must I extract it from your mouth?

    Why ask him? Lady Phul raised an eyebrow. Hispanions mind is unshielded and knows everything.

    Aw, you ruined my game, Ophielined while Marianne blushed in embarrassment. I wanted to see him squirm as he fumbled for an answer.

    The Pleromians still exist in another ne, though they have degraded into monsters, Valdemar replied. The Derros opened a portal to it and summoned one. Lord Och will confirm it.

    Phaleg the Binder squinted at his former master. Will you?

    Lord Och cackled. My, apprentice, have you forgotten the rules of courtesy? The young shouldnt ask anything from the old.

    Phaleg sneered, the eyes on his grafted arm ring at the lich. I am no longer your apprentice, old man. Today we are peers. Rulers of Domains with armies at ourmand.

    As you say, apprentice, Lord Och replied dismissively.

    <em>Are they truly this puerile? </em>Valdemar wondered as the audiences pettiness astonished him. Empress Aratra echoed his thoughts with anger.

    Enough of this childishness, she chastised her colleagues before focusing back on Valdemar. You were summoned here to answer to your actions and nature before my authority. Shielding your mind from my sight is obstruction, and I have had Oldblood patriarchies in for less. Drop your protection immediately.

    Valdemar hesitated, unwilling to leave his innermost thoughts to the assembly. But to his surprise, Lord Och came to his rescue. Are you so eager to steal my secrets, Young Aratra? the lich asked mirthfully. Young Valdemar is my beloved disciple. If he learned to shield his mind, it was to protect the knowledge I taught him.

    Phaleg the Binder red at his former master. Like ns you have against us?

    There is nothing to hide from me, the Empress replied with haughtiness.

    Do I go around mindreading your imperial guard? Lord Och asked but didnt let the empress answer. Of course I try, but I dont do it <em>openly </em>because that would be rude. Now, if I were forced to reveal everything I knew to the loyal members of your court

    The Empress gaze turned deadly. Are you threatening me, Lord Och?

    I am defending my property, the lich replied.

    Valdemar gritted his teeth, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He exchanged a silent nce with Marianne as the Dark Lords bickered, his bodyguard looking up. He could see her thoughts written all over her face.

    <em>So Im not the only one to think this woman is Sophia,</em> Valdemar thought. In truth, he had spent a few minutes gathering information on the room through his magical senses. He had detected the presence of spatial magic in the air, but it took him a while to make sense out of what he had learned; Valdemar had quicklye up with a theory.

    This ce was the Earthmouths hub.

    Yes, one needed to be a willing martyr to be a portal but Sophias role was far more important. She was a keystone stabilizing the entire structure, making sure that space didnt copse from the increasing number of rifts knitting the various regions of the empire together. All teleportations through the Earthmouths went through her in some way, allowing the Dark Lords to maintain tight control over thework.

    So long as they held this fallen messiah in their thrall, they could tune portals at will and transport armies to any cavern while their foes struggled to fight through the tunnels. None could challenge their power; mankind would always keep a strong advantage over rival civilizations.

    That was the unspeakable crime the first Dark Lords hadmitted in ancient times. They had forever bound their old teacher to harvest her power for their own use.

    Something felt wrong about the room the Sabbath took ce in. It seemed separate from the rest of Undend, but Valdemar couldnt clearly exin why. Powerful wards interfered with his magical senses.

    we do not try to read each other''s minds nor ask the others to lower their defenses, Lord Hagith told Aratra, causing Valdemar to focus back on the discussion. Two of Lord Ochs apprentices joined this assembly. As a friendly gesture, I say we treat his third disciple like a potential future ally.

    Empress Aratra nced at her colleagues, but found little support outside Phaleg. Fine, she said. Then we shall debate whether we should destroy him or not.

    Valdemar winced, while Marianne took a deep breath at his side. Your Dark Majesty, she said, if I may

    You may not, the Empress cut her off. I understand your desire to defend your lover, Lady Reynard, I truly do. But you should remember <em>your ce</em>.

    Marianne winced and remained quiet.

    This man, Empress Aratra nodded at Valdemar, is the half-breed spawn of a human woman and Ialdabaoth, the god in the flesh and Father of the Blood. He is the result of years of experimentation by the cult behind the rat gue infecting my subjects, and theymit crimes in his name.

    She waved her hand, her magic suffusing the air. Light itself appeared to bend around the Empress fingers while the polished gemstone ground began to reflect new images. Valdemar looked down to face pictures of hospitals treating wererats and diseased victims; of knights tossing corpses into open tombs and herding gue victims into ghettos; of dismembered victims of the Verney Cult, their blood used to paint Valdemars own names on walls.

    The sight disgusted the summoner. I never wished for this, Valdemar whispered in protest. If I could have stopped it, I would have.

    Then you should have taken your own life for everyones sake. Lord Phaleg looked at Valdemar with a cold gaze. Lord Och should have destroyed you the moment you fell into ourps, and your familys cult would have died with you.

    Valdemar thought he could have found an ally in this particr Dark Lord, but he had been mistaken. Phaleg the Binder was so focused on spitting on his former master that he would seize any opportunity to do so, no matter the cost and no matter who he had to hurt as a casualty.

    You can try to destroy Young Valdemar, but you will be disappointed, Lord Och said to everyones surprise. My apprentice cannot die.

    Lord Bethor, who had remained silent and uninterested in the debate so far, finally spoke a fewconic words heavy with meaning. His death is beyond my power.

    A tense silence followed, as all other Dark Lords nced at the mightiest among them. Even Empress Aratra, who rivaled Bethors might, appeared slightly shocked. You admit your powerlessness? she asked, her expression unreadable.

    He cannot be killed, Lord Bethor confirmed to Valdemars shock. He can be sealed or neutralized. But he cannot be destroyed.

    Valdemar himself couldnt believe his ears. This man, this incarnation of power who ruled atop a tower built on the corpses of his enemies and waged war on the Derros almost single-handedly, <em>couldnt </em>destroy him?

    <em>But you cannot die.</em>

    Young Valdemar is an incarnation of the Blood itself, Lord Och exined. An avatar of life itself, in a way. His immacte soul is connected to all life in Undend, and when the body is torn to shreds, it draws mass from our worlds inhabitants to regenerate him. Nothing short of the worlds destruction would kill my apprentice and even then I wonder if it would stick.

    To Valdemars distaste, Ophiel the Mad sized him up like a piece of meat in a store. His other colleagues were more perplexed. Fascinating, Lord Hagith said. I had the feeling this reunion would prove interesting. He could be the answer to so many secrets of the Blood

    Of course, even if my apprentice cannot die, he can still be transformed, Lord Och added cheerfully. If he sacrificed his soul out of his own free will he would transform into a functional portal like any other martyr. Im sure that in his great altruism the thought has already crossed his young mind.

    Valdemar struggled against the urge to re at his teacher, refusing to give the lich any satisfaction.

    But the longer he considered Lord Ochs words, the less he liked them. If the Blood passively recreated his body from nothing, then would he survive if reduced to a single cell? Would he agonize for weeks as he grew back a foot, a leg, or an arm?

    Valdemar had already survived a simr experience in Lord Bethors tower, but he had outside resources to draw upon instead of creating them from nothing. A submersion in boiling blood had halted his regeneration.

    But it still hadnt killed him.

    <em>Im like the Pleromians, </em>Valdemar thought. He wanted to be surprised, but a part of him had already guessed his regeneration might have no true counter. There was no way Ialdabaoth would let its prince, the very means by which it sought to achieve freedom, be so easy to destroy. The Father of All had created the perfect tool, a vulnerable mind in an immortal body.

    And yet, for all of his incredible resilience, Valdemar was still capable of aging.

    <em>Am I going to outlive Marianne? </em>Valdemar wondered as he nced at hispanion. Age without dying, growing ever more feeble but never reaching the point of death? He wasnt eager to perish anytime soon, but the implications terrified him.

    And you kept it for yourself, Och? Lady Phul smiled at Valdemar, examining him with renewed interest. You should have shared.

    Lord Och knows nothing of generosity, Lord Phaleg dered. And this is all the more reason to get rid of this abomination. His mere existence is a threat to us all, as his ability to summon a Stranger proves.

    The man waved his grafted hand, and Ktulu was suddenly teleported out of his bag and onto the floor. The familiar nced around as it fell on its butt in surprise. Ktulu? it asked as it looked up at Valdemar. Ktululhu?

    <em>I didnt sense anything, </em>Valdemar thought.<em></em>Though he could detect Lord Ochs teleportation attempts, Lord Phalegs spell hadnt even registered on his magical senses.<em> I was wrong he may be the least of them in raw power, but his summoning prowesses surpass even his old teachers.</em>

    Thankfully, the other Dark Lords seemed more amused by Ktulu than threatened by him. He could open a daycare for Strangers, how frightening, Ophiel the Mad mocked while Ktulu red back at him. Are you scared of half-breeds and children, Phaleg? If so, I should pay your Domain a visit someday. The Light knows it is in dire need of renovation.

    None of us could summon a Stranger as a familiar, Lord Phaleg replied with stoicism while ignoring the tant threat. If this abomination can do it while untrained, imagine if he fell under his cults influence? If we cannot destroy him, we should exile him to another world or seal him in a coffin of stone where none will find him.

    Marianne tensed up at the edge of Valdemars gaze, while Lady Phul offered an even more terrible alternative. He is a conduit for Ialdabaoth, she said. Which is why the cultists want him. Instead of exile or sealing him, I say we make productive use of him.

    How so? Lord Hagith asked with curiosity.

    Let us use him as a magical battery, Ophiel the Mad proposed before his colleague could answer. We can turn him into a conduit to the Blood to increase our own power tenfold.

    As always Ophiel, youck perspective, Lady Phul mocked him with a condescending smile. I have a more imaginative proposal. Namely, we could turn him into a lock to seal the Outer Darkness away.

    Though Valdemar would have been all for it, her proposal turned out to be even worse than Ophiels. We can put him here alongside her, Lady Phul exined as she nced at the stone woman in the ceiling. His body will fossilize while his soul shall keep the worlds apart. Maybe we could even strengthen the wards binding our progenitor.

    Valdemar couldnt help but nce at the stone corpse above his head. How long would it be before he went mad and then empty inside? Years? Centuries?

    To Valdemars surprise, Empress Aratra seemed strangely ambivalent about the idea. Her nk expression turned into a frown of disapproval, but she said nothing as the other Dark Lords argued.

    Lord Hagith, who had watched the debate with caution, turned to Och. And what do you have to say about this? You have been strangely passive, Lord Och. We are discussing your apprentices fate and yet you seem oddly unconcerned.

    Phaleg the Binder red at his former mentor. What is your n?

    It is a surprise I will keep forter, the lich replied before turning to Empress Aratra. I am waiting for Her Majestys fair judgment.

    The Empress seemed pleasantly surprised, locking eyes with Valdemar. And what do you have to say for yourself, child?

    Valdemar gathered his breath. Before I answer, he began noticing Marianne smiling at him as his only moral support. Ktulu also moved closer to his legs, as if to protect him. I would like to ask Her Majesty no, this entire assembly, a single question.

    Ask away, the Empress replied gracefully.

    Do you <em>care</em>? Valdemar asked.

    Empress Aratra raised an eyebrow. About what?

    The world is threatened with destruction, Valdemar pointed out, clenching his fists in silent anger. A god is rising from the Blood. A gue devours your citizens and cultists murder them. But so far you have discussed my eventual fate rather than these issues, which happen as we speak. Almost as if you found them <em>banal</em>.

    Yes, of course they are, Ophiel replied with a dismissive shrug. We have survived more Strangers than you can count.

    Ialdabaoth has been threatening to wake up for centuries, Lady Phul added. It still hasnt. The rat gue is a hassle, I will grant you, but it is nothing we havent dealt with in the past.

    We can win a hundred battles but only lose one, Lord Bethor dered with wisdom. Let us destroy the vermin hiding in Ariouth and be done with it, as Phaleg should have.

    Yes, your inactivity has been noticed, Lord Ophielined as he nced at Phaleg the Binder. These rats trouble my artistic endeavors and sully my beautiful poption. If you want them to infest your Domain, be my guest, but I ask that you keep them inside your frontiers.

    Lord Phaleg bristled. I have ordered a strike against their temple before this meeting.

    And you took your sweet time, my old apprentice, Lord Och mocked him. But I guess it is betterte than never. Did you let them fester in your Domain to embarrass me?

    You do not factor so much in my thoughts, traitor, Lord Phaleg lied through his teeth.

    The safety of our citizens is our foremost concern, Empress Aratra answered Valdemar with a tone that implied the opposite. But you will agree that you are a special oddity. Your fate does matter more than a fewmoners perishing, as it may affect all of mankind.

    If peoples safety is your concern, Valdemar said, then we share a goal. I am forever on mankinds side.

    That remains to be seen, Lord Phaleg replied.

    Then let me prove it! Valdemar put a hand on his chest. Yes, my family is responsible for the crimes happening around the empire, but I will atone for them. I didnt ask to be born a tool for monsters, but I can choose to be something else.

    And how would you do that? Lady Phul asked. ording to my information, your very dreams summon a Nahemoth to our reality. Do you intend to stay awake forever?

    I intend to seal the Nahemoth, destroy what little remains of my familys cult until nothing remains, and destroy the Qlippoths they summoned, Valdemar argued. And, if I can achieve it I will save our dead from the Outer Darkness.

    Ophiel chuckled, but Empress Aratras cold gaze made him go silent. Though Lord Bethor challenged her in power, her authority remained strong.

    I have a n to do all of them, Valdemar said with firm dedication. I cannot guarantee sess. But I believe in my odds.

    You ask us to trust you? Empress Aratra asked with skepticism.

    No, Valdemar replied. I ask you for a chance. A chance to prove that I am human, and that this world can be made a better ce.

    A short silence followed, quickly broken byughter. Ophiel the Mad held their chest as both male and female voices came out of their throat. The other reactions were more subdued, from Lord Hagiths friendly but skeptical smile, to Lady Phuls undisguised amusement. Phaleg the Binder scoffed in scorn, while Empress Aratras face was utterly unreadable.

    Valdemars words had hit a wall of cynicism.

    None of them believed in making Undend a better ce. Maybe they had once, but they no longer cared.

    But Valdemar didnt falter. He stood up strongly, facing Empress Aratras gaze with determination. He had had his flesh flensed from his bones, his mind ripped apart; he had fought the Derros madness and Lord Ochs cruel tricks. And he had refused to give in.

    He wouldnt falter today.

    Empress Aratras gaze seemed to pierce through even his mental defenses to peer into his soul. Valdemar sensed her magic brush against his shielded mind for any hint of weakness or hesitation. And when she found none, she turned to Lord Och. What do you have to say about this?

    Honestly? The lich shifted on his throne. I care little for this discussion. I mostly came to announce my uing retirement.

    Ophielsughter died in his throat.

    The entire assembly, from the Dark Lords to Marianne, nced in the lichs direction with surprise and confusion. Even Lord Bethor, who clearly considered this meeting a waste of time, had turned his gaze at his old master in surprise.

    Your <em>retirement</em>? Empress Aratra asked while squinting, stretching each word.

    I am old and feeble, Young Aratra, Lord Och said with a trembling voice. He yed the senile elder quite well, though obviously nobody bought into his game. I had many happy memories with this brotherhood, but I believe it is time I retire to tend to mushrooms in my backyard.

    <em>What is he ying at? </em>Valdemar thought, finding the scene surreal.

    He wasnt the only one. You are retiring? Lord Phaleg repeated in disbelief. From being a Dark Lord?

    It was amusing the first few centuries, but I feel my unlife has be quite banal, Lord Och replied. All I do is push paper and hearints nowadays. I need a change and a breath of fresh air, perhaps find time to write my memoir for posterity. As such, I will take some time to settle my affairs and mentor my sessor until they can fully take over my duties.

    <em>What is his endgame? </em>Valdemar wondered as his mind furiously tried to figure it out. He knew Lord Och enough to know that he would never, ever surrender all the umted power and influence he had gathered across the centuries.

    Unless

    Unless he was aiming for something higher and no longer needed his old assets.

    Who? Valdemar dared to ask. Who will seed you, my teacher?

    My, the lich smiled maliciously before raising a bony finger at his apprentice. But <em>you</em>, of course.

 Chapter 49: The End is Nigh

    Chapter 49: The End is Nigh

    The bickering Dark Lords had fallen silent, their eyes all focusing on Valdemar.

    The sorcerer himself ignored the tense atmosphere as he held his masters gaze. The lich delighted in his apprentices reaction, his skull grinning as a dark chuckle came out of his rotting teeth.

    Why the surprise? Lord Och asked Valdemar. Surely you must have suspected it. Two of your predecessors joined this brotherhood, did they not? Did you think I would resist the opportunity to make you the third in a row?

    Having recovered his shock, Lord Ophielughed. Is that your master n, old man? To rece our entire assembly with your students one at a time?

    I agree this council would benefit from some new blood, Lady Phul said with a wide smile. But I can hardly see anyone else in your chair, Lord Och.

    I wont stand for it! Lord Phaleg rose from his seat, pointing an using finger at Lord Och. What is your n?

    My n? Lord Och put a hand on his chest, as if he had been struck in his heart. Of course, he no longer had one and the gesture didnt fool anyone. Your distrust wounds me deeply, apprentice.

    I am no longer your apprentice, Lord Phaleg hissed angrily, the eyes on his artificial arm all ring at the lich. Nor blind to your ploys.

    Are you jealous of your recement? Lord Och mocked his rival. My poor, poor first apprentice condemned to rule over a barren desert and living in the shadow of his sessors.

    Phaleg didnt take the bait. This is a trick of some kind. I know it.

    Valdemar himself struggled to understand Lord Ochs motivation. He strongly suspected that the lich no longer needed his Domain because he intended to leave Undend for another ne of existence, but why choose his apprentice to take over? Valdemar knew he was no match for the weakest of the Dark Lords. It would take him years to approach their power.

    Quiet, Lord Phaleg. Empress Aratras imperious voice silenced Phalegs outrage. The weaker Dark Lord obeyed, unwilling to interrupt his more powerful colleague. Lord Och you have found a way to open the path, have you not?

    Lord Och answered with a long silence and a telling look. Empress Aratra took it as confirmation.

    This is madness, my old friend, she said with a soft voice, sounding almost sympathetic. Better to rule the abyss than serve the light above. If there is anything left of you to serve in the first ce.

    I agree that if these were my only two options, I would have chosen to rot in the dark with you dear Aratra, Lord Och replied. But as my third apprentice proved, sometimes it is better to create a third way.

    The Empress squinted in skepticism. A third way?

    Lord Och nodded at Valdemar, who had listened to the exchange without a word. This is all up to him.

    And as the empresss curious gaze fell back upon him, Valdemar clenched his fists in silent rage. <em>This is a plot to confuse the other Dark Lords,</em> he realized. <em>Hes trying to distract them.</em>

    The path to what? Ophiel the Mad asked, hisughter turning malicious. What are you hiding from us, Lord Och?

    <em>The path to the Light, </em>Valdemar thought.

    The path to our destruction, Lord Phaleg dered with anger. His eyes moved from his former master to Valdemar himself. His paranoia was in for all to see. I knew you would prove a threat to us all. Do you even understand what he intends to use you for?

    Valdemar ignored the Dark Lords and instead exchanged a nce with Marianne. Hispanions jaw clenched, and she gave him a nod of support.

    Valdemar didnt need telepathy to understand what she was thinking.

    I refuse, he said.

    They were done ying the lichs games.

    His answer surprised the Dark Lords, though Lord Ochs expression remained undecipherable. You refuse? the lich asked, insisting on each syble.

    I refuse, Valdemar repeated through his clenched teeth. I dont want any of your handouts.

    Handouts? There was no joy in Lord Ochs darkugh. You would call my throne in this brotherhood, the Pleroma Institute, my entire Domain of Paraplex as a handout? How spoiled can you be, my foolish disciple?

    We both know they are poisoned gifts, Valdemar argued as he waved his hand at the Dark Lords. You want this assembly to watch my every move instead of yours so they wont disturb you.

    Of course I do not want to be disturbed, I am retiring, Lord Och replied. That is the entire point.

    But you already have an army of far more capable Masters to rece you. People perhaps as old as your colleagues. Wouldnt it be better for the Empire to put one of them in charge?

    As Valdemar had hoped, his words struck true with some of the Dark Lords. Phaleg the Binder already suspected Och of foul y, and the likes of Ophiel and Phul gazed at the lich with distrust. The Dark Lords alliance was built on fear and might rather than respect. Valdemar needed to redirect their paranoia towards the lich rather than have them focus on him.

    Or perhaps, Lord Och said calmly, I simply do not care.

    Which was unfortunately very usible.

    Whatever the case, I never wanted to rule, Valdemar pointed out. I only ever agreed to serve you in the service of one goal: to open the path to a better world. Unless you have forgotten, my teacher?

    I have not. Lord Och stroked his bony chin, his eyes two baleful stars of malice. But, and stop me if I misremember didnt we already debate about how opening a path to another world, while possible, wouldnt solve our realms problems but merely disce them? You have criticized our government many times.

    Valdemar sighed. I have.

    This amused Lord Ophiel. Will you dare to say it to our face? My Knights still keep your cell in my Spellbane prison furbished, you mongrel bastard.

    You are young, Valdemar. Empress Aratras motherly tone couldnt hide the condescension underneath. When you have reached our age, if you ever do, you will understand that order is needed to maintain stability. Our Empiresws were refined over centuries of experience to ensure the safety and the prosperity of the greatest number.

    Lord Bethor snorted. Yourws only serve this assemblys prosperity, Aratra.

    The disrespected empress red back at her rival. And you forget yourself, Lord Bethor. Your proposal to lift permits on sorcery has already been rejected more times than I can count.

    Talent alone should be the measure of sess, not birth or connections, Lord Bethor argued. No mage worth his salt should need a piece of paper to cast spells. Your obsession with removing internal threats has turned our poption into passive mushrooms while hungry predators leer at our borders. We need constant innovation to survive, not peaceful stagnation.

    <em>He asked for spellcasting permits to be removed? </em>Valdemar wondered. He couldnt say it surprised him considering Lord Bethors warmongering ways. Valdemar himself had been forced to run from thew because he couldnt do his research in peace or ess the grimoires he needed.

    What surprised him was that Lord Bethors position wasnt without support. Lady Phul nodded in agreement. While I disagree with Lord Bethors dream of turning Ant into a military base, we do need fewer regtions, she dered, especially on magical items and foreign trade. Freemerce and economic integration with the Dokkar enves will prevent a war better than tariffs and distrust.

    I intended to use this Sabbath to discuss the question of further cooperation on the magical research front, Lord Hagith added. We have the best biomancers in Horaios, but despite my entreaties to build partnerships, the Pleroma Institute keeps most of its discoveries tightly locked. It would benefit everyone if our development departments could cooperate rather than jealously hoard their sesses.

    Empress Aratra dismissed these misgivings with a wave of her hand. We have not gathered today to discuss these issues.

    No, Lord Och agreed. His eyes didnt leave Valdemar though. But what about our next Sabbath?

    Valdemar red at his master. Was this another mind game? Was the lich tempting his apprentice with the possibility of reforming the Empire from the inside, however remote? It would certainly amuse Lord Och to see Valdemarpromise on his dream.

    But the lich wouldnt make such an announcement before all of his peers for the sake of a cruel joke. Lord Och was serious about stepping down, though Valdemar doubted he was truthful about his motives. Was this why the Dark Lord of Paraplex had tried to relentlessly break his students optimism? To mold his apprentice into his cynical image, so he would take care of his realm in his masters absence?

    The idea of reforming the empire appealed to Valdemar, but he refused to dance to his teachers strings.

    You will find someone else to fill in for you, the young necromancer insisted.

    How selfish of you, Lord Och mocked him. You criticize me all the time, but when I offer you a chance to prove you are better than I am, you spit on it. I suppose your high-minded words were but hot air in the end

    I still have too much to learn, you very well know that, Valdemar replied with the same sarcastic tone. How can I lead when I am but a shadow of your wisdom, my dear teacher?

    Your apprentice is a nave fool, Och, said Ophiel the Mad. Do you wish to mock us by crowning him one of our own? I confess I would find it amusing, but s now is not the time for peace andughter. This era calls for an iron hand and a firm grasp on power.

    Lord Hagith nodded. I must agree with my colleagues assessment. Lord Och, you are an integral cog in the great machinery of the empire. With the Derros on the move and the Dokkars waiting for their moment to strike us in the back, your departure would be unfortunate.

    Lord Bethor, who had observed the spat in silence so far, agreed with a nod. Valdemar has potential, but he is not fit to be one of us yet. He has will and resolve, but hecks strength.

    Lord Ochs resolve remained unshaken. He will gain it in time.

    He will, Lord Bethor agreed. But not now. He has barely tapped into his own limitless potential.

    Limitless? Empress Aratra let out a snort. He has power by virtue of his birth, but it takes more than that to rule Undend.

    <em><strong>W k up.</strong></em>

    Valdemar froze, while his familiar looked up at him with worried eyes.

    Whats wrong? Marianne whispered.

    Did you hear that? Valdemar asked. A mans voice.

    Marianne frowned as the Dark Lords argued between themselves. My ears are better than yours, Valdemar, and I have heard nothing of the sort.

    But Valdemar could have sworn otherwise. He focused on his surroundings, trying to focus on the source of the sound.

    <em><strong>Wa up</strong></em>

    The voice echoed around him. It belonged to a man, but not anyone that Valdemar recognized.

    He wasnt the only one to hear it. Though Marianne remained oblivious, Empress Aratra and Lord Bethor both tensed up at once. The former nced at the ceiling and thetter at Valdemar himself.

    <em><strong>Wake up.</strong></em>

    And then came the pain.

    To Valdemar, it felt as if his own brain exploded inside his head, his eyes boiling in his sockets. The same agony that he had survived at the bottom of Lord Bethors tower seized him again. This time the attack didnte from the outside but from within.

    Valdemar immediately strengthened his magical defenses. It was all for naught. Much like Lord Bethor had once bypassed them entirely, a dark power ignored all his protections and seized his heart.

    He heard Marianne call his name as he fell. His vision blurred, hisst sight being that of Sophia the Wise shivering above his head as the vault trembled. The dark swallowed all.

    <em><strong>Life is a dream, </strong></em>the voice spoke, old and terrible,<em><strong> and death is truth.</strong></em>

    The world became cold, cold like the vastness of space. His sight expanded beyond the ceiling of stone above his head, beyond the ice of the surface. He saw the he had worked so hard to escape from above, a lifeless cocoon hiding the festering warmth underneath.

    <em><strong>Do you see me?</strong></em>

    He saw, yes.

    His eyes pierced the stoneskin of the world and gazed into its warmth depths. To a cavern full of marshes and swamps surrounding a teau of stone. A city stood proudly on it, its gargantuan streets asleep, its portals locked to prevent the spread of a gue.

    But no wall could stop the rats.

    They came out of the sewers and the swamps in vast numbers. A horde of scavengers emerged from the shadows of human civilization. They poured into the streets like a tidal wave of fur.

    More vermin joined them. Swarms of bats flocked to the city, led by the monster Bertrand had be. Flies and bugs followed in their wake, hungry for human flesh. They flew straight for the lone institute of Pleroma which oversaw the city.

    <em><strong>I have journeyed beyond the veil of death and returned, </strong></em>the voice dered.<em><strong> My soul cries out. I see with ten thousand eyes and kill with countless mouths. The moment hase, the time is now.</strong></em>

    As a shield of magic rose to protect the institute, the streets of the city below started to change. The stone buildings of Pleroma ovepped with a fishing hamlets houses. Qlippoths walked among the living. A well appeared in the central za and the horror at the bottom awakened.

    It called out his sibling to join the family gathering.

    The corpse of Sarah Verney oversaw this destion, crucified on a great cross of skulls and bones. Shelley danced around her in glee as maddened cultists gathered around him. They carried enormous, hooded robes made of wererat skin; a ghastly artifact harvested from the remains of a hundred victims. Rats flocked beneath the vile clothing piece and soon filled it. A towering horror formed inside the robes as the mass of rats assembled into a humanoid shape.

    <em><strong>Come, my descendant, our hope.</strong></em>

    Two red lights appeared beneath the robes cowl.

    <em><strong>It is time to wake up your father.</strong></em>

    And Valdemar answered.

    Never!

    It took all of his mental strength to escape the vision, but he seeded. When Valdemar regained his mind, he was on the floor in Mariannes arms. Valdemar, are you alright? she asked him in panic. His familiar was at her side, standing still like a statue. Valdemar?

    Im Valdemar gritted his teeth as he tried to ignore the searing pain. Though the visions didnt overtake him again, his head still hurt. Im fine.

    You do not look fine, apprentice, said Lord Och.

    The Dark Lords had gathered around Valdemar, some more worried than others. Sophia the Wise wriggled in the ceiling of stone above their heads while the ground trembled. Lady Phuls ethereal body seemed to phase in and out of existence in the blink of an eye, struggling to maintain her physical form.

    What is happening? Lord Ophiel asked with a hint of worry.

    It is happening, Lord Och rasped with eerie serenity. Atst, they make their move.

    This is all his fault! Lord Phaleg raised a hand at Valdemar and prepared to kill him on the spot. Away with him!

    Mariannes fist immediately grew ayer of bone armor as she prepared to protect Valdemar, but Empress Aratra stepped in. It will change nothing, she dered with an imperious voice. He is not the source of the disturbance.

    Whatever it is, it affects the Primordial Dream and the Outer Darkness, Lady Phul dered as she managed to regain some semnce of stability. I sense them ovepping with our reality.

    Lord Hagith nodded to himself. This must be a Nahemoths doing then.

    And not just any of them.

    He cant Valdemar gritted his teeth as he tried to ignore the searing pain. Though the visions didnt overtake him again, his head still hurt. Exist at the same time as I do

    Cant? Lord Och shook his head. No, my apprentice, the correct word is <em>shouldnt</em>. We do not fully understand how this connection works, so it is possible our foes found a loophole we havent considered yet.

    Marianne frowned with Valdemar. Whats happening?

    Paraplex. Valdemar resisted the urge to immediately teleport there. Theyre summoning the phantom Vernburg inside Pleroma I think.

    And that thing underneath the cloak of skins it was the center of it all. The rituals catalyst.

    Do you hear that, Och? Ophiel the Mad asked his colleague. I knew someone would try to summon a Stranger in your realm one day. A pity it might affect us all.

    Not for long. Empress Aratras eyes shone with a red glow. This challenge to my authority must be met with force.

    For once we agree, Lord Bethor added as he nced at Valdemar and Marianne. It is time.

    Yes indeed.

    It was time to save Bertrand, destroy the Verney cult for good, and bury their twisted legacy.

    And for Valdemar, it would be his chance to save his unborn brother from himself.

 Chapter 50: Back to School

    Chapter 50: Back to School

    Few things could make the bickering Dark Lords work together.

    Thest time they showed a unified front was all the way back to thest Derro War, where they inflicted a severe defeat upon Otto Blutgangs predecessor and shattered his realm. It took the Derro Kingdom decades to recover its lost strength at the cost of its peoples individuality.

    When roused, the Dark Lords were fearsome to behold. Many believed that only their disunity had prevented the Empire of Ant from conquering all of Undend from the Dokkar enves to the far fringes of the Derro Kingdom.

    Today, Marianne would have the privilege to see their power up close.

    Teleportation pathways to the Institute are still secure thanks to my magical defenses, Lord Och exined to his colleagues as they prepared to move on to the Domain of Paraplex. However, I wouldnt rmend moving to the city directly. Spatial anomalies have a way of causing teleportation spells to go haywire.

    We know that, Lord Phaleg replied dryly before interrogating Valdemar. Your vision showed you the Lilith crucified at the center of the town?

    Yes, right next to the well where the Nahemoth is sealed. Valdemar nodded respectfully with the Mask of the Nightwalker on his face. His familiar had hopped back inside his bag in anticipation. Shelley was using her to summon some kind of rat hive mind, I suppose?

    An avatar of Ialdabaoth no doubt, Lord Hagith said while stroking his chin.

    All of Undend would be trembling as we speak if that were the case, Lord Phaleg replied with skepticism. There were quakes taking ce, but nothing truly frightening. I believe we face two different phenomena. Liliths are handmaidens of the Nahemoths, so its usible they''re using her as a conduit to summon one. But I draw a nk at what this rat entity is. Its not associated with any Qlippothic entity that Im aware of.

    Marianne observed the Dark Lords strategizing without a word, but focused more on Valdemar. Herpanion had recovered from his vision but he had been left shaken. Do you still hear voices? she asked him.

    Im blocking them out for now, Valdemar replied with some hesitation, his hand brushing against his mask. It helps, I think.

    This only made Marianne worry even more for his safety. The Mask of the Nightwalker was connected to the eponymous Stranger; and though it stood in opposition with Ialdabaoth, it remained a different kind of evil. Valdemars n to deal with his brother Crtail involved the mask, but cursed artifacts rarely worked as intended.

    Lord Bethors contribution to the Dark Lords debate was far less verbose than hispatriots and far more meaningful. Loctis, he said.

    Who? Lord Ophiel asked with a hint of contempt.

    One of the Masters at my Institute, Lord Och enlightened his colleague. The lichs eyes red with a ghostly glow. Ah, I see your point Lord Bethor. You believe that this creature is no Qlippoth but a powerful sorcerers soul splintered across countless bodies. But who would wield such power, I wonder

    Mariannes eyes widened as she put two and two together. <em>Rats everywhere </em>she thought as she nced at Valdemars bag and the little Stranger inside.<em> Shelley was never more than a pet, a familiar. Did he still share a connection with his master even beyond death?</em>

    Valdemar immediately noticed her expression and turned in her direction. Do you have an idea? he asked her.

    Valdemar, you said the entity that sent you these visions called you his descendant? Marianne scowled as Valdemar confirmed it with a nod, as her theory became all the more credible. I think I know what, or rather <em>who</em>, that rat hive mind you saw is. The person who created Shelley and started this whole mess in the first ce.

    Herpanion crossed his arms as he considered her words. My great-grandfather

    Aleksander Verney? Empress Aratra raised an eyebrow. Didnt the inquisitors of the Light burn him at the stake?

    Even death can be ovee, my dear Aratra, Lord Och said with amusement. Half of us here are living proof of it. Though I am curious about young Mariannes reasoning.

    Souls return to the Outer Darkness after they die, Marianne exined. Its likely his service to Ialdabaoth might have secured him a favorable ce in the afterlife. We know the cult gathered the remains of wererats, and I suspect they did so as part of a ritual to bring Verneys soul back to the living world.

    What purpose would reviving this loser serve? Lord Ophiel asked in confusion. If I led that cult I would call something with more power.

    That, Marianne didnt know.

    Lord Phaleg, as a summoning specialist, immediately guessed the cults motives. Even the mightiest Qlippoths are summoned entities at the end of the day. They cannot break wards on their own, and this cult is made of weak-willed rabble unlikely to be privy to knowledge of higher rituals.

    Lord Ophiel snickered in response. All I hear is that we only have to kill him to end this charade and get back to more important matters.

    <em>They are truly treating an apocalyptic scenario as a minor nuisance, </em>Marianne thought. Was this a show of confidence or in old arrogance? She simply couldnt tell.

    The situation is moreplex than you believe, Lady Phul protested. By now she had managed to stabilize her essence somewhat. Her inhuman avatar looked paler than it did a few hours ago, but she no longer faded in and out of existence. Their ritual uses the Nahemoth as an anchor to merge the Outer Darkness and the material ne. I can sense Qlipphotic essence infecting the very fabric of space. More of these foul creatures will slip inside our reality the longer this phenomenon continues.

    If so then the process might continue even if we disrupt the ritual, Lord Phaleg pointed out before ring at Valdemar. The wards have weakened so much <em>he </em>doesnt even need to sleep to manifest the Nahemoth. We should y them both.

    Should we even bring <em>him </em>at all? Lord Ophiel leered at Valdemar with disdain. This is all a ploy to force us to relinquish their so-called Messiah. His presence might worsen the situation instead of improving it.

    Valdemar winced and Marianne quickly came to his rescue. She had heard the Dark Lords look down on him since the start of the Sabbath and her patience had reached its limit.

    With all due respect, Lord Phaleg, Lord Ophiel, you would not even know of this threat without this child, the noblewoman argued with a boldness that surprised even her. You say this crisis wouldnt happen without Valdemar. I say it wont end unless you trust him.

    She expected the Dark Lords to strike her down where she stood. Instead, Lord Ophiel appeared more amused by her defiance than anything, while Lord Phaleg answered with a snort.

    <em>Trust</em>? Lord Ophiel said the word as if it were a curse. Foolish little girl, youll find no such thing here.

    A Nahemoth is nearly impossible to bind, let alone banish from the material world, Lord Phaleg pointed out. It is a difficult task even for the likes of us. Yet you think you can end this incursion for good?

    I can. Valdemar stepped forward with renewed confidence. As I told you, I have a n.

    I will vouch for him, Lord Bethor spoke inly. His support cowed the weaker members of the assembly.

    As will I, Empress Aratra smiled at Valdemar. But if you fail, child

    The Empress eyes glowed with a golden aura. An aura of dread poured from her like moltenva.

    You will join our guest in the ceiling above your head.

    Even Marianne, who had faced Pleromians and monsters without flinching, was left slightly intimidated. The weight on her shoulders reminded her of her first encounter with Lord Bethor.

    Valdemar didnt answer the Empress threat for a few seconds as the Dark Lords all waited for his reaction with curiosity. Marianne gave herpanion a reassuring nod and prepared to defend him if the worst came to pass.

    I I understand, Your Dark Majesty, Valdemar answered atst before clearing his throat. I will not disappoint. I swear to you, my n will seed.

    Oaths are wind, the Empress replied as her eyes returned to a bloody red shade. Actions are what matter.

    I will deliver. Valdemar nced at Lord Och next. But I need Hermann, my teacher.

    Of course him and his Painted World. Lord Och made a mock bow to his fellow Dark Lords. I need to pick up my apprentices assistants in Lord Bethors Domain. Until I return, young Valdemar and dear Marianne will wee you into my halls.

    I wille with you then, Lord Phaleg immediately dered with suspicion.

    My, my former apprentice, do you believe I will scheme against you if you turn your back on me? Lord Och put a hand on his chest. I am wounded.

    If you have nothing to hide, then it shouldnt be a bother.

    When Marianne thought the Dark Lords brief alliance wouldntst more than five minutes, Empress Aratra set her foot down. Lord Phaleg, your expertise with summoning shall be needed to deal with this crisis. Lord Och will join us as we tend to his Domains needs, and Lord Bethor will fetch whoever you need in Sabaoth.

    You think such an act would demean me, Aratra? Lord Bethor snorted. Truly you are small. No ruler is so high as not to carry out even the most menial task.

    The Dark Lord of Sabaoth teleported away in a sh of light before the Empress could answer. Aratra gritted her teeth in annoyance as she cursed Bethor. That shameless fool

    Well, Lord Bethor is a man of action rather than words, Lord Och dered with fondness. Shall we let him show us up? Or shall we teach the rabble a lesson?

    Yes, yes, let us be done with this. Lord Ophiel waved his hand as space twisted around him. Hopefully this wont be aplete waste of my time.

    He vanished as space twisted around him, with the other Dark Lords following one after the other. Do take care of my apprentice, young Marianne, Lord Och said right before he teleported away. I would loathe for something to happen before the grand finale.

    Marianne couldnt exin why, but something in the lichs tone put her on high alert. There was no mockery in his voice, only the certainty of a master schemer whose predictions hade to pass.

    <em>He has prepared for this day for quite some time, </em>Marianne guessed. It all looked so improbable, but her gut told her Lord Och wasnt surprised at all by this crisis.<em></em>She didnt believe the lich had nned for this disaster in the exact details as too many factors were involved but he<em></em>anticipated the possibility and let it run its course.

    What was he hoping to gain from it?

    Somehow Marianne thought it would be nothing good.

    Of course Lord Och anticipated the worst mighte to pass, said Empress Aratra. By now she was thest Dark Lord left in the room. He could have prevented this attack if he had shared his knowledge of it with us. Unfortunately, my old friend enjoys stirring up trouble.

    And for what? Valdemar replied with clear frustration. Thousands died for nothing.

    It is a bit too early to say if it was for nothing. The Empress smile chilled Marianne to the bone. Whether they won or lost the day, they had earned her attention. Anonymity would have been safer. Let us go.

    Marianne cleared her throat. Your Majesty, if I may I need my weapons returned to me before I can walk into battle.

    Though she had trained extensively not to rely on them, this battle might be the most important of her life. She needed all the advantages avable to her.

    I have not forgotten, dear child. Empress Aratra waved her hand, and Mariannes rapier and gun appeared at her belt. The leader of all mankind looked at the sword with a brief look of fondness. This takes me back

    You remember my ancestor, Your Majesty? Marianne couldnt help but ask. She knew from her familys archives that the empress had personally enobled the first of the Reynard centuries ago, but she thought the Dark Lord would have forgotten by now.

    I will never forget such a brazen fool. He once dared to ask for my hand in marriage. Empress Aratra chuckled to herself. I denied him of course, but precious few were brave enough to even try.

    I did not know, Marianne admitted.

    Of course you did not. Your ancestor had themon sense to make his demand out of the public''s eyes. Perhaps one day I shall reveal to you a few tales he kept out of the history books. Empress Aratra examined Marianne head to toe. I believe he would be proud of your resolve.

    Such words from anyone else would have filled Marianne with pride, but the Empress praise sounded as hollow as her courtesy. The Dark Lord said this ttery to be polite and not because she truly cared for Mariannes feelings.

    <em>Are you truly proud of my actions? </em>Marianne wondered as she nced at her rapier. She had heard rumors that some soulbound weapons could interact with their wielders; but if her ancestors spirit could address her, he had never shown the intent to do so.

    But whether her ancestor was truly proud of her or not changed nothing. Marianne would always strike the foes of mankind and protect those in need, simple as that.

    And as Valdemar stood at her side, she vowed to defend him too. From Ialdabaoth, from the Derros, from anyone who would wish him harm. She would protect him from Lord Och himself if it came to that.

    Herpanion straightened up and tried to put on a brave face, but Mariannes enhanced senses picked up the unease radiating from his body. Valdemar was more anxious than he had ever been. Marianne knew he was thinking about the world, what defeat or victory would mean for the world, and about his family most of all.

    It was hard enough for him to confront an unborn brother, but if Aleksander Verney had trulye back from the dead

    Im with you, Marianne whispered before taking Valdemars hand into her own. He winced in surprise at the sudden physical contact, but his fingers soon tightened around her palm. I wont let you out of sight.

    At that moment, Marianne didnt care about the Empress presence. She simply wanted herpanion to feel safer. That whatever ordeal awaited him, he wouldnt face it alone.

    Thanks. Valdemar rxed a little. I wont either.

    Empress Aratra watched them with an unreadable expression before casting a teleportation spell.

    As the Dark Lords magic took effect, Marianne tried to steel herself for the battle ahead. However, her mind couldnt help but wonder about Lord Ochs actions. She tried to put in perspective the lichs action to figure out his end goal. Valdemar was at the center of it all.

    <em>When Valdemar arrived at the Institute, Lord Och immediately sent him to assist Hermann on his Painted Door project, </em>Marianne remembered as her body stretched across time and space. <em>And Lord Och offered to fetch Hermann personally.</em>

    This implied that whatever objective the lich pursued, Hermanns Painted World project heavily factored in it. Marianne doubted Lord Och desired a private universe to call his own. His only interest in Pictomancy was to find out if it could open a path to another universe...

    <em>A portal to the Light, </em>Marianne guessed. <em>Could the Painted World</em>

    The noises of screams and explosions drew Marianne out of her thoughts as the spell ended.

    Empress Aratra had teleported them in front of the Institutes ck Pir as monsters besieged it.

    A crimson magical barrier had risen from the Institutes walls. A frontier of light rose as high as the ceiling, separating the facility from the chaos outside. Swarms of bats, locusts, and vermin eager to devour the inhabitants crashed against the barrier in relentless waves. The magical defenses melted them into blood on contact, but they had holes.

    At least eight monstrous spiders the size of carriages had climbed onto the barrier and started shredding tears into it.

    <em>Collectors,</em> Marianne identified the spider monsters. She had read about these elite Qlippoths in the Knights of the Beasts Bestiary. Other Qlippoths emerged through the tears by the dozens alongsidemon vermin, from tentacled Gnawers to featureless humanoids and twisted ooze monsters.

    The world beyond the barrier looked unsafe and terrible. Though Marianne couldnt see the city around the Institute, a nce at the Domains ceiling told her all she needed to know. Stone was turning into rotting flesh, the eyes of Ialdabaoth growing on it like cancerous tumors. Fanged mouths opened alongside them and screamed, screamed, <em>screamed</em>! Their howls threatened to make Mariannes enhanced ears bleed. The entire Domain was slowly transforming into a Qlippoth breeding ground.

    The sight only hardened Marianne''s resolve. The Institute had be a second home to her in her exile, to the point her dream sanctuary had taken the shape of a copy of her quarters. She wouldn''t let anyone despoil it.

    The Institute wasnt defenseless though. The Knights of the Tome had taken position on the walls to wee the Qlippoths with steel and spells. Stone security golems had activated, pounding Gnawers onto the pavement. Master Malherbe had joined in the defense by shapeshifting into a mighty werewolf to fight at the Knights side, while the insects making up Master Loctis body were busy devouring one Collector alive. Marianne knew more of them woulde out of the fortress after securing key sites like the magical archive as procedure demanded.

    And then there were the Dark Lords.

    Marianne had already witnessed Lord Ochs might in person once, and the lich didnt disappoint today either. The ancient undead was floating around the ck Pir, vaporizing any monster that came his way with fire and lightning. As for Lord Hagith, Marianne noticed him assisting the Knights on the walls. The second mouth on his belly had opened, a ck tongue stuck out to grab and devour a Collector. The fact the Qlippoth was farrger than the Dark Lord meant nothing; the ck abyss that was Lord Hagiths belly transcended the limits of space.

    Lord Ophiel had shapeshifted into a ck vampire bat the size of a house, with only his mask remaining from his previous form. While his colleague favored impressive disys of magic, he simply flew through a tear in the barrier to casually shred his way through the enemies. Lady Phul flew after him on her jet ck wings, her mere presence causing the Qlippoths near her to vanish into smoke. It took Marianne a few seconds to realize that the Dark Lords oneiromancy was so advanced that she could banish summoned creatures back to the Outer Darkness at will.

    Only Lord Phaleg didnt take the field. Instead, Ochs former apprentice focused on closing tears in the barrier one at a time. It was no glorious endeavor, but one that would save the most lives today in Mariannes opinion.

    As for Marianne?

    She started shooting the moment Valdemar let her hand go. Her soulbound revolver fired round after round at the nearest Gnawers, spraying the Institutes ground with their blood.

    This is worse than I thought, Empress Aratra said as she pointed at a Collector widening a tear in the barrier. A crimson thunderbolt erupted from her fingernail and vaporized the Qlippoth in one strike, though the hole in the barrier remained. High caste Qlippoths have already started to manifest.

    Its Its thin Valdemar struggled to make words as he telekically pushed a Gnawer back through a rift in the barrier. The veil between the nes is thinning I feel it

    Marianne felt it too. The air itself was heavy with magic and the stench of Qlippoths. Their hideous odor filled her nostrils and tiny ck particles floated down from the stone ceiling above their heads. The ck Blood of Ialdabaoth was infecting the world itself.

    If this phenomenon wasnt stopped soon, it might permanently transform the Domain of Paraplex into a Qlippothic hellscape.

    Clear this fortress, Empress Aratra ordered Valdemar and Marianne as if they were her personalckeys. Runes of blood appeared on the ground around her and spread in increasinglyplex patterns. Marianne recognized some of them as wards and summoning arrays, but most were beyond her understanding. I shall reinforce the veil between nes to slow down the spread of this madness.

    Marianne nodded right until her enhanced sense of smell picked up a familiar stench. The smell of a friend twisted with the odor of poisonous mutations.

    Bertrand.

    He had been one of the Institutes staff members before his transformation and granted passage through its defenses. Though Lord Och had removed his privileges after he fell under their enemies influence, the enemy had found a way to overturn the lichs decision.

    Bertrand? Valdemar asked. Where is he?

    My quarters, Marianne muttered to herself as she identified the smells direction. Hes near my quarters.

    Did a sliver of her retainer remain within the beast he had be? Or was he looking for Marianne to y her personally?

    Then we dont have a moment to waste, Valdemar said. Im not certain we can cure him without an Elixir of Life, but we can at least capture him.

    Marianne bit her lower lip. I truly wish to save him, Valdemar, but the situation is dire.

    I can do little until Hermann arrives anyway, and I made you a promise. I will help you save him, whatever the cost. Valdemar shook his head. We save him now.

    Marianne forced herself to smile. But what if we waste valuable time and more Qlippoths cross into this reality? I want to save Bertrand more than you can ever know, Valdemar, but thousands of lives are at stake.

    Herpanion prepared to answer when his familiar peeked out of his bag. Phnglui mgnawah! the creature squealed, his six eyes serious and unblinking. Ktulhu rlyeh wagnaftagn!

    Thenguages and sounds made by the familiar were utterly iprehensible, Mariannes enhanced hearing made her realize that these noises followed a sentence structure. She thought that Ktulu was making senseless noise beforehand, but now she wondered if he had been speaking in his own native tongue.

    Valdemar looked over his shoulder at his familiar. To Mariannes surprise, he started to shiver. Summoners and familiars possessed a strong mental bond. Whatever Ktulu sent through it, it had left his partner shaken.

    What is it saying? Marianne asked with a frown.

    It says, if I interpret the mental images it sends me Valdemar shuddered. That if the worst happens, I can always summon its father.

 Chapter 51: Fight the Darkness

    Chapter 51: Fight the Darkness

    nts and flesh had overrun the courtyard.

    When she arrived at the Institute, Lord Och had blessed Marianne with quarters giving her an impable view of its hedge maze. Drinking tea while gazing at the nts through the window had been among her favorite small pleasures.

    Weeks after she left Paraplex for Sabaoth, Marianne realized that these happy days were over. Thick ck roots had grown through the Institutes ground and risen as high as her window, shattering ss and stone alike.

    The hedge had mutated into a forest of horrors. A bramble of thorny vines coexisted with dark trees covered in bloody-red eyes, their branches yielding beating hearts for fruits. Foul cysts and nauseous abscesses bloomed like flowers next to flesh lumps bloated with thick ck blood. Blistering pustules released pus and fumes in the air everywhere she looked.

    It took Marianne all of her strength not to vomit. Her enhanced senses picked up every foul vor of this cancerous jungle. Nothing smelled as thick and strong as the scent of Ialdabaoths ck blood, which suffused the entire structure. The stench of the Qlippoths was overwhelming.

    A quick look at the blistering heart-fruits told her why. These are eggs, Marianne muttered as her enhanced eyes noticed the tentacles wiggling beneath the outeryers. Qlippoth eggs.

    The Outer Darkness corrupts all that it touches, Valdemar replied as they stepped closer to the mutated forests outskirts. Our magical defenses protect us, but everyone else

    Holstering her revolver to ration her remaining bullets, Marianne raised her rapier with one hand and kept the other free. She had heard screeches from the nearby roofs and rustling among the fleshy nts.

    Theyreing, she said before taking a deep breath. <em>Hes</em>ing.

    The legions of the Outer Darkness emerged to devour life.

    The heart-fruits hatched into a harvest of horrors. Each of them burst open to unleash a brood of tentacled Gnawers, of slimes with human faces or walking tumors with tongues for legs. The trees roots rose like legs to carry the abominable nts forward.

    Dense flocks of vampire bats flew from the roofs in a red and ck swarm. The foul power of Ialdabaoth had turned them into ravenous mutants with four wings and two mouths. Blood dripped from their sharp fangs.

    Marianne faced the tide of horror without flinching by putting herself firmly in front of Valdemar. The overwhelming numbers did not frighten her. She had never faltered before evil and wouldnt start today.

    Marianne. Valdemar crossed his forearms while keeping his hands raised. Blood particles erupted from his fingers and his familiars eyes shone with a bright red light. Stay close and cover me.

    The sheer magical powering off from herpanion unsettled Marianne. Space itself bent around his person and the air simmered. What will you do?

    Outnumber them.

    Marianne would have bet a hand that Valdemar was smiling beneath his mask as he tore reality apart.

    A wall of fire rose between the verminous tide and Marianne. Blue mes incinerated nts and Qlippoths alike in a devastating ze, reducing their flesh to ashes in seconds. Marianne covered her eyes to protect herself from the sudden burst of light.

    A dozen fire elementals had materialized before her in a battle line on the ground, and half as many of their air cousins right above them. Swirling living wind currents fanned smokeless bonfires. Bats flew into them as fleshy animals and came out as dead charbroiled husks.

    You will set the Institute aze! Marianne warned Valdemar as the world around her went down in mes. Worse, the inferno failed to make the Qlippoths relent. The interdimensional monsters charged through the wall of fire with suicidal recklessness, trampling their own dead in their hurry to reach Valdemar. Their red princes presence drove them into a maddened frenzy.

    Like moths to a me they flocked, though none of the Qlippoths reached their target. Marianne slew the few who managed to get past the mes. She gutted one half-burnt beast with her rapier, then a second and a third.

    Eventually, the sheer amount of blood the elementals victims left behind drenched the mes. As the elementals returned to their home ne, Valdemar called more. The blood particles swirling around his hands scattered through the air and opened rifts in the tapestry of space.

    More soldiers answered Valdemars call. Four-armed humanoid beasts roared as they smashed trees apart while toads with more mouths than fingers caught mutant bats with their tongues. The Qlippoths fought back fiercely, crushing the neers under their weight or tearing them apart with fangs and tentacles. But for one summoned thrall that fell, two more rose to fill the gap. Valdemars blood swirled around him like a crimson vortex, each droplet a seed blooming into a new defender.

    Though she did not lower her guard, Marianne stopped to thrust her weapon left and right. A vast field of ashes and embers surrounded her and Valdemar, one expanded step after step by soldiers from other worlds. Ten meters separated the summoned monsters from their general.

    Valdemar was calling a small army.

    Summoning required blood, either to create a circle or to fuel a familiars connection to the higher nes. The two limits to a spellcasters potential were their skill and resources. In fact, Marianne had heard rumors that cults usually sacrificed dozens of prisoners of war to summon their otherworldly patrons. A single magician simply didnt have enough blood to call more than a few servants at once.

    But Valdemar Verney was no mere man. He was a demigod who regenerated blood almost as quickly as he spent it.

    Marianne had seen herpanion survive a dive into Lord Bethors boiling pools and heard even the Dark Lords call him unkible. She now realized that he had never truly tapped into his full potential because he hadnt been aware of his limits. For most of his life, Valdemar had thought he was a human with human limitations; only now did he understand just how powerful he was. Valdemar gave his summoned allies no direction; their only order was to advance and overwhelm the Qlippoths with their numbers. The cancerous forest that had so easily spread across the Institute was shrinking with each passing second.

    Marianne suddenly realized that Lord Ochs proposal of letting his apprentice inherit his post wasnt so far-fetched after all.

    However, such an effort demanded considerable concentration; doubly so since Valdemar summoned creatures from different nes of existence altogether. He had not moved nor said a word in minutes, and though his allied creatures had established a vast defensive perimeter, keeping them anchored to Undend took all of his focus. Valdemar had made himself vulnerable.

    <em>Hes acting as bait, </em>Marianne realized, <em>and he trusts me to make use of it.</em>

    Their target made his presence known with a sneak attack.

    A great shadow covered the duo as Bertrand descended upon them from behind. The vampire moved so swiftly that he would have looked like a blur to an untrained eye. The smoking remains of dead Qlippoths provided a cover of dust through which he moved, and his wings made no sound as he flew. Mariannes old retainer had be a vicious predator with sharp instincts.

    The old Marianne wouldnt have noticed his approach. The new one didnt need to hear nor see to sense an enemy approach. She picked up the subtle differences in the air pressure in the vicinity, the slight changes in temperature, tiny hints that so few could notice.

    Marianne raised her free hand and shot bone bullets from her fingers.

    The five projectiles surged a few centimeters above Valdemars head to hit Bertrand as he descended upon the summoner. They all hit their mark at a critical bone joint and broke a wing. Bertrand fell behind Valdemar and blew ashes in all directions. Neither the sorcerer nor his familiar flinched, their minds entirely focused on powering their troops.

    Marianne immediately moved behind herpanion to intercept Bertrand. Her old retainer had mutated even further since theyst met. He was more monster than man, a hairless horror with translucent skin and ck veins underneath. His organs were visible; his liver and heart had eyes and his stomach looked like an oily eel withmprey mouths all over its surface. His fleshy wings unfurled to reveal elongated arms and ropey growths for legs. His nails were des of bone, his visage a crown of oily tentacles atop a fanged mouth.

    There was a war between the man and the monster inside Bertrand. The man was losing.

    As she faced the creature that was once her retainer, Marianne couldnt help but be reminded of the Pleromian she fought in Blutgangs facility. Their abuse of the Blood had slowly degraded the ancient creatures into near-mindless horrors. A simr process had been forced upon Bertrand, but he was in just as terrible a state as those who embraced the descent into inhumanity.

    <em>Is there anything left to save?</em> Marianne thought as Bertrand snarled at her. His wing had healed from the wound she inflicted and he adopted a feral posture. <em>He does not even recognize me.</em>

    She had to try in spite of her doubts.

    I abandoned you once, Marianne said as she raised her rapier. She called upon the Blood, her body tensing up with inhuman strength. Not this time.

    Bertrand lunged at her with terrible speed. His ded nails thrust forward and shed with Mariannes edge in a sound that was half a scream and half a song. The noblewoman thought of the countless sparring sessions where she faced her retainer; of the countless exercises Bertrand put her through until she surpassed him utterly.

    Todays sh was no spar, but a dance.

    The beast that Bertrand had be cared nothing for Marianne. The vile instinct that had taken him over only saw her as an obstacle between Valdemar and his dark destiny. If Marianne stepped aside to let Bertrand im herpanion, he would probably fly away with Valdemar and forget her.

    He didnt get through her. Like a dancer espousing their partners movements and guessing their steps to match their own, Marianne always moved in Bertrands way.

    His skill with des remained even in his monstrous state. She felt the steady pressure of a professional swordsman in their shing des. He parried her swings with his nails when she lunged at him the way he once did with an iron sword, tried to feint her, and didnt fall for her own false openings.

    Marianne found it unlikely that Bertrands reflexes had survived the transformation when his capacity for speech and reason did not. Her retainer fought with raging fury and couldnt form words at all.

    These new changes were not the result of chaotic mutations, but of nned design.

    The force directing the ritual that had overtaken Pleroma had altered Bertrand, suppressing his human spirit but leaving his knowledge as a battle instructor intact. An intelligent will had emerged from the madness of the Qlippoths and the Verney cult, channeling their chaotic power in the service of methodical destruction.

    The enemy had grown smarter. The thought frightened Marianne more than all of the monsters running around.

    The beast her retainer had be struck with the intent to kill rather than teach. He waved his hands at her in a controlled fury, aiming for her head, for her heart and for her neck. Each strike her rapier deflected. Her soulbound sword, wielded by a steady hand, cut through his ded nails as easily as cloth. No sooner did they fall on the ashes below their feet that new ones grew to take their ce.

    Though Marianne and Bertrand shed among the ashes, none of Valdemars monsters moved to interrupt their duel. The summoner must have ordered them to ignore it.

    He couldnt trust them to pull their punches and keep Bertrand alive.

    The mutant vampire let out a roar of frustration and pped his wings. A st of air sent ashes flying into Mariannes face, forcing her to close her eyes. She heard Bertrands ropey appendages try to seize her ankle to make her stumble while his ded nails crossed as they moved closer to her neck.

    Marianne swiftly created a sword of bone in her free hand. The de cut through Bertrands tentacled legs while her rapier parried his nails before they could behead her.

    The sheer momentum behind the blow almost threw Marianne off her feet, but she held firm. The Blood empowered her muscles and bones. Her single-minded focus on protecting Valdemar gave her purpose.

    Marianne pushed Bertrand back and struck back.

    Her des crossed on his chest, cutting through his skin and bones. ck blood rained down Bertrands belly as Marianne struck muscles and ligaments. The vital organs she deftly avoided.

    Bertrand roared as he lunged at her face with his mouth open. She kicked him back before he could reach her, his fangs closing on empty air. And when he tried to strike at her from the left with his ded nails, Marianne severed his hand with a swift swing of her bone sword. His appendage went flying into the air and fell among ashen embers on the ground.

    Bertrand unfurled his wing to fly away, a fountain of blood pouring out of his severed hand. Much like she surprised Lord Bethor, Marianne struck him from an unexpected direction. A sharp nail of bone erupted from her forehead and pierced through her skin at a cannonballs speed. It cut through the joints of Bertrands left wing before he could take flight.

    Marianne leaped forward even as blood dripped down her face while her foe was distracted. Her rapier finished her previous attacks work and fully severed the left wing; her other de she rammed through Bertrands belly and spine. After Bertrand fell on his back with a roar of pain, Marianne pinned his right wing to the ground with the bone sword.

    I am sorry, Marianne apologized to the bloodied monster, but you cannot win this.

    His transformation had made her old retainer stronger than ever, but Mariannes growth far surpassed his. Bertrand had gained strength and resilience. His former student had learned something far more valuable.

    Mastery.

    Mastery not only of the sword, but of herself. Of her own strength. Her self-doubts had been cleansed away, her mind and body reinforced. Lord Bethors training had sharpened her senses and magnified her existing skills. Her potential had always been there, but now she made full use of it.

    Killing Bertrand would have been easy.

    Keeping him alive was harder.

    Even after all the wounds Marianne gave him, he was already regenerating. His severed hand and wings started to grow back while he frantically tried to remove the sword keeping him to the ground. Marianne swung her rapier again and again, cutting off pieces of flesh as soon as they reappeared.

    <em>Hes not like Valdemar, </em>she realized to her horror as Bertrands regeneration slowed down. <em>He cannot do this forever.</em>

    Unlike Valdemar, who drew blood from the very substance of Undend, Bertrand relied on finite reserves. How long could she keep him diminished but alive? At which point would his regeneration fail Bertrand and his wounds y him? Marianne couldnt tell and it frightened her. Bertrand kept trying to get back up, the vile force that had enved him caring naught whether he lived or perished.

    You have done enough, Marianne, said a thundering voice.

    Lord Bethor made his presence known in a sh of crimson light as he teleported next to Marianne. The Dark Lords guests soon materialized at his side. Iren and Hermann stood in the shadow of an enormous canvas covered in painted runes and symbols, while Liliane hade wearing a bandolier full of herbs and potions.

    Their arrival filled Marianne with relief.

    Is that Bertrand? Liliane asked as she recoiled at the vampires sight. By the Light

    Bertrand roared at her, making her step back in surprise. Lord Bethor merely nced at the vampire and his telekic might pinned him to the ground more easily than Mariannes de ever did.

    Please, Lord Bethor! Marianne panicked at the sight. Do not y him!

    I will give you one chance to cure him as per your n, the Dark Lord replied calmly.

    Marianne knew from his tone that the one part was key. If they failed to cure Bertrand

    Liliane, the noblewoman whispered. My hopes are in your hand.

    Im your gal, Liliane replied as she grabbed an empty syringe from a pouch and a potion from her stock. The sk containing it was no bigger than a thumb, the liquid within a vibrant shade of red. Marianne would have called it a molten ruby at first nce, but she knew it was something far more precious.

    A drop of the Elixir of Life. The potion that promised eternal life.

    Valdy! Liliane shouted. I need your help!

    I am ready. Valdemar emerged from his stillness as his summoned creatures vanished. Of the cancerous forest of Qlippoths, only dust and corpses remained. At your signal.

    Marianne bit her lower lip. Valdemar

    We wont fail, he reassured her. I swear.

    Marianne held her breath as she watched Bertrands operation. Liliane carefully examined the mutated vampires neck to find an artery, whereas Valdemar grabbed the shoulders. Bertrand struggled back against Lord Bethors influence to no avail.

    Ready, Valdy? Liliane asked as she removed Mariannes bone sword from Bertrand and filled her syringe with the elixir.

    Since the day I was born, he replied.

    Liliane stabbed Bertrand in the neck and pressed her syringe. Marianne watched in tense silence as the liquid flowed into the vampires veins, red elixir and ck blood mixing together. Her heart skipped a beat as thetter appeared to subsume the former.

    It happened again when Bertrands skin became whiter.

    His body mutated before Mariannes eyes. The march of time turned back as Bertrand shed his wings and tentacles. His fingers grew back to normal size. His legs and manhood grew back along with his ears and eyes. Within less than a minute, the monster vanished. In his ce slept an old friend Marianne had thought gone forever.

    But the illness was still in him.

    Valdemars fingers melded with Bertrands shoulders. Their flesh mixed together and their veins connected. Marianne watched anxiously as ck blood traveled from her retainers body to that of herpanion. Valdemar absorbed Ialdaboaths curse into himself. Marianne feared that it would corrupt him as it affected her retainer; that it would mutate him into a monster or give Ialdabaoth a foothold in his mind and flesh.

    None of her fears materialized.

    Valdemar absorbed the ck blood into himself and then severed contact with Bertrand. He pulled back his hands from the vampires shoulders.

    Are you alright? Marianne asked herpanion with worry. Liliane, Iren, and Hermann looked at Valdemar, perhaps half-expecting him to grow wings of his own.

    His answer filled them all with joy.

    I feel drained but Im fine, he replied. And so is he.

    A vampire didnt breathe nor produce a heartbeat. But as Lord Bethor released his grip and Bertrand opened his eyes, Marianne knew he was alive again.

    Mi Bertrands throat was sore and his voice weak, but he said a word rather than a roar. Mdy?

    Marianne didnt hold back her tears of joy. Her retainer and friend, who she had thought lost forever to the horrors of Undend, had been brought back to her safe and sound.

    She had run away from the darkness once before.

    Tonight she fought back and won.

 Chapter 52: The Blood and the Cold

    Chapter 52: The Blood and the Cold

    The disease was in him.

    Valdemar felt it crawling under his skin. A horde of bacteria sailed his bloodstream in an attempt to infect the ind of his heart. The ckened fluids that had transformed Bertrand into a monster spread like a puddle of oil on clear water.

    Valdemars body was no fertile ground for conquest. His will inhabited each cell of his body. His organs were a self-aware conglomerate. He didnt particrly need any of them to live anymore, so they could focus their resources on fighting back the infection. Valdemar was born from the ck blood; it was simply a matter of assimting this sample.

    <em><strong>By taking on the sins of others, you have opened yourself to darkness.</strong></em>

    But the ck blood was more than a gue. It was a vector between man and the divine, the part and the whole.

    Valdemar showed no hint of the conflict within himself to others. He stood alone as Marianne moved to her retainers side.

    I Bertrand looked around, his hands trembling. He had recovered his human form but not his wits yet. I remember the rat man and and the ck

    Its alright, Bertrand, Marianneforted her retainer as she helped him get back on his feet. Hermann tossed the vampire his schrly robes to protect his nakedness, revealing his own reptilian glory for all to see. You are home.

    <em>Shes struggling to hold back tears, </em>Valdemar observed. Marianne had struck him as stone-faced when first they met, but now he understood that she was quite the emotive person underneath. <em>After so many sacrifices we finally achieved a victory.</em>

    <em><strong>This changed nothing.</strong></em>

    The voice in his mind had changed. It had grown deeper, clearer, and multiplied. The voice of Shelley reverberated with that of an old man and the ceaseless chittering of countless vermin. A billion mouths spoke with hideous unity.

    <em><strong>The ck blood reveals what lies within. An inner beast grows wilder. The evil within is magnified. </strong></em>Valdemar sensed an otherworldly presence peek through his eyes when he looked at Bertrand.<em><strong> This man spent his unlife suppressing his hunger for blood. Merciful Ialdabaoth only stripped the veil of deceit he had cast on himself.</strong></em>

    Besides Hermann, who was checking up on his canvas in preparation for the Painted World ritual, Lord Bethor alone did not tend to Bertrands woes. Whereas Liliane checked up on the vampire and Iren helped him stand, the Dark Lord instead eyed Valdemar with an unreadable gaze.

    <em>He knows whats happening to me, </em>Valdemar realized. Was Lord Bethor considering whether he should strike him down where he stood in case he fell under Ialdaboaths influence? Or did he trust the summoner to prevail on his own?

    <em><strong>Does it matter? He cannot stop what is toe. You feel it, dont you? The end is here, the time is now.</strong></em>

    Valdemar might have burnt the hedge maze to cinders, the air smelled of rancid fumes and putrid waters. A current of foul magic barely suppressed by Empress Aratras sorcery flowed through the ground beneath his feet. The great ck pir at the center of the institute breathed as if its ckened stone had turned to flesh. Ktulu was tenser than ever.

    Valdemar nced over the tall walls of the Institute and beyond the shield protecting Lord Ochs fortress. A tall pir of crimson light had risen from the city of Pleroma and the terrible well at its center.

    The seal binding Crtail was breaking down.

    The dam holding back the tide of the Nahemoths power would fall sometime soon. The entire cavern would transform into a demine where the frontier between imagination and reality meant nothing. Madness would rule the waking world.

    Worst of all, Crtail would follow the blood to his brother. Twins separated in the womb would be one again; one with their Father Ialdabaoth. The seals shall break and all of Undend would return to the Blood from which it originated.

    And the mastermind behind this disaster would soon show his dreadful face.

    <em><strong>We are rot and vermin, </strong></em>sang the swarm in Valdemars mind.<em><strong> We are the gue prophet of the red prince and the unholy spirit. We are the angel of the abyss. Men called us Aleksander, and Shelley, and so many names, but in truth we are Swarm. We are Hunger.</strong></em>

    Images shed through Valdemars mind. Visions of an old man with the Verney look the summoner had inherited, a cadaverous ghoul with red-rimmed eyes and rats crawling out of his mouth. The monstrous face of Shelley grew out of the back of the creatures head,ughing.

    <em><strong>None of us were not worthy, </strong></em>the ghastly figure whispered as a thousand red eyes blinked in the darkness surrounding him.<em><strong> Our blood was thick and strong, butcked the richness of a foreign world. But our work was not in vain. Your mother became the fertile soil from which the Red Grail grew.</strong></em>

    Why? Valdemar muttered to the abomination. He wasnt certain if this dialogue was entirely happening in his mind or if the others could listen to his words.

    <em><strong>Why?</strong></em>

    Why serve Ialdabaoth? Valdemar asked. Whatever it promised you, immortality, divinity, a ce at his side, its all a delusion. It will absorb all life in Undend into itself once it awakens. We will all be cells in a greater superorganism, unable to influence anything.

    <em><strong>We know, </strong></em>the abomination that had once been his great-grandfather Aleksander Verney and Shelley answered without hesitation. Its bloody lips morphed into a toothless grin. Its eyes were eaten from within, leaving only two ck pits atop a husk of hollowed skin.

    Then why?

    Why all this suffering? Why did his mother have to bear him and Crtail against her will? Why did so many have to die to create the Red Grail and bring about the worlds end? What did he hope to gain?

    <em><strong>Life.</strong></em>

    Darkness swallowed the world.

    Once more Valdemar stood alone on the cold surface of Ialdabaoths stone skin, under the faint light of the Whitemoon. The terribleoid that had haunted mankinds nightmares and deprived it of its sun grinned like Lord Ochs skull. Its rocky surface changed into the Mask of the Nightwalker on Valdemars face: an unending spiral of death and infinity.

    <em><strong>Open your eyes.</strong></em>

    Valdemar saw through the Whitemoon and the baleful constetions.

    He peered beyond the light and saw the tentacles wiggling behind, the eyes and the flesh festering at the heart of shining stars. Each of them was a fragment of broken light, cast down from a realm of brightness.

    The Pleromians believed the stars were evil. That anyone watching under the sky exposed themselves to their malign influence.

    <em><strong>They are all alive,</strong></em> his great-grandfather dered. His words echoed with the despair of someone who had seen too much. <em><strong>All Strangers.</strong></em>

    The Pleromians had been right.

    Life and lights were Strangers to this universe. An infestation from another realm.

    Space was death. It was cold and ice and lifeless stones wandering a barren expanse without ends. It was the opposite of lifes corrupt warmth and chaotic movement. It was the utter sterility of nothingness, the perfect order of death.

    And when the darkness gazed at the stars, it could only feel <em>hate</em>.

    <em><strong>The universe despises us.</strong></em>

    The void hated the life that had despoiled its emptiness. The universe yearned to return to its original state, to the lifeless expense it had once been before the Strangers and the stars infected it. It sought to extinguish all warmth and light until only barren rocks and darkness remained.

    So the void fought back.

    Valdemars sight expanded further, beyond the sr system around which Ialdabaoth orbited. He gazed at the sea of darkness and the ships of stone sailing it: malicious asteroids looking for inhabiteds to crash on; clouds of cosmic dust and icerge enough to nket the light of stars, and rogue moons roaming the cosmos searching for warmth.

    Some were sorge that they made the imprisoned Ialdabaoth look like a small moon.

    <em><strong>Their numbers are beyond count.</strong></em>

    One day, the universe would know peace again. Even if it took a billion years the darkness would never stop yearning for the peaceful coldness of death.

    Valdemars sight shrank, back to Ialdabaoth and the Whitemoon. Two soldiers fighting in a conflict spanning all of existence.

    <em><strong>This is the War in Heaven.</strong></em>

    Once more Valdemar stood alone on the cold surface of the world. His ancestor Aleksander faced him, now a man again. His eyes were ckened with forbidden knowledge and the madness of someone who had seen too much. A human-faced rat stood on his shoulder, his eyes a malicious shade of red. Shelley.

    Our existence is an error, Aleksander Verney dered. His voice no longer echoed with that of a festering swarm, but with the cold certainty of a true nihilist. Our survival is meaningless. Our time is limited. Ialdabaoth and the Strangers are on the side of life. Our side. The Cold will turn us into dead things and then nothing. If Ialdaboath does not wake up, the spiral of death will drag us ever closer to annihtion.

    He had stared into the abyss and blinked.

    Ialdabaoth is our promisednd. The nightmare of the Outer Darkness will vanish as it awakens, ending our eternal torment. All souls will return to him and achieve peace in a great singrity. Our memories, our history, our past, and our future will forever survive inside its mind. We will surrender our individuality and find freedom from the torment of mortal existence.

    The madman smiled as if truly at peace, as did his rat familiar.

    All will be one.

    Valdemar, who hadnt said a word, looked on as his great-grandfather extended a hand in his direction.

    You are our messiah, Aleksander Verney said, praying, begging. His rat familiar was silent. Save us. Save us all. Save us from ourselves.

    Valdemar gazed at the bleak, uncaring cosmos surrounding him. He stared at the cold darkness of space and the hateful stars popting it, at the Whitemoon hanging above his head. Then he looked down at his maddened ancestor and the dark truth he embodied.

    And at that moment, Valdemar came up with his own answer.

    Are you done prattling on?

    He didnt care.

    All I hear from you is fear, Valdemar told his ancestor, his resolve strong as steel. Fear of the unknown, of the future, of <em>trying</em>. You believe we humans have already lost, that we are helpless; so you do not even attempt to find a better solution.

    There is none. Aleksanders words were as hollow as his resolve.

    Then make one.

    The rat familiar cackled and his master snorted. Can you? Shelley rasped on his masters shoulder.

    Yes.

    Maybe his ancestor had shown Valdemar the full truth, or at least the one he believed in. Maybe the forces hostile to mankind were strong and mighty. Maybe the universe hated them. Maybe life was a meaningless error and randomness ruled the cosmos.

    And so what?

    If the Strangers and the Cold were so powerful, one of them would have won by now. And though existence was full of hardships and without meaning, it was still worth fighting for. People like Marianne, Hermann, Liliane, and Iren deserved to live free from the gods shackles. The Empire of Ant was a bad ce to live in, but it was still better than the alternatives; and for all of its dysfunctions, it wasnt a hopeless case either.

    I will never stop believing that I can make the world a better ce. I will never surrender to fear and ignorance. Valdemar red at his ancestor. For I would be like you.

    Aleksander Verneys sneer turned into a scowl and Shelley snapped his jaws.

    <strong>Foolish child.</strong>

    They struck without warning.

    Valdemars spiritual self stumbled as a telepathic assault crashed against his mental defenses like a tide. The icy surface of the world cracked open to unleash a tide as thousands of vermin emerged from the rifts. Rats crawled on Valdemars ankles and swiftly buried him under their mass.

    It wasnt a single soul attacking Valdemar but billions of them. The malformed spirits of rats, the twisted souls of maddened cultists and Ialdabaoths desperate thrallsbined their power to strike as one.

    The sheer weight of a hive mind overwhelmed Valdemar from all sides faster than he could muster his defenses. Without Marianne present, his dream defenses were poor.

    <strong>You have sipped the milk of the gods, </strong>Aleksander Verney and Shelley dered as their prince drowned under the weight of the flood.<strong></strong>The rat familiar merged into his masters shoulder like a twisted tumor. <strong>Your human half may resist the inevitable, but the other will answer the call. Your father invested us with the power to bring you to heel. You will serve your purpose as we did.</strong>

    No oneiromancer could have created barriers powerful enough to repel the onught of a million souls.

    So Valdemar ate them.

    A hundred mouths opened all over his skin and bit the rats on his skin. Their fangs cut through the essence making up their dreaming selves and swallowed their memories like fine wine.

    Valdemars fingers turned into ck tentacles that grabbed attackers by the dozens. They fed his gluttonous maws. No amount of victims could satisfy his hunger. Souls fell down his gullet and joined the Pleromians remnants at the bottom of his belly.

    Aleksander Verneys and Shelleys eyes widened in shock as their hive mind fell back. Its members didnt fear death, but Valdemar offered them no such mercy. How? man and rat asked at the same time.

    My dreamscape has been malformed since my birth, Valdemar mused. The doors were broken. Oneiromancers thought it was a defect and no doubt you thought it would make me easier to control.

    But after he had devoured the Pleromians soul, Valdemar had understood the truth. He was not born to defend, but to invade. To infiltrate the primordial dream and consume the psyche of mankind from within.

    A predator had no need to bar ess to hisir.

    Those foolish enough to challenge him there would only find death.

    You said it yourself, swarm. As deluded and loyal as you are, in the end you are no more than a tool of the Strangers. While I

    Valdemar changed his dream visage into a swirling abyss of darkness from which no light could escape.

    I am half of one.

    Valdemar had made peace with that. He would embrace the Stranger and the human in equal measures without sacrificing one for the other.

    He had been born a bridge between worlds and epted it.

    The dreamscape around them trembled as Valdemars power destabilized it. The gue prophets swarm retreated into the cracks, abandoning their terrified leaders to the mercy of the monster they had created.

    Whats wrong, prophet? Valdemar mocked him as his spiritual avatar grew in size until he overshadowed the baleful stars above. Dont you recognize the face of your messiah? Isnt that what you wanted to see?

    Aleksander Verney and Shelley seemed to have a crisis of faith all of a sudden.

    I will eat your soul and shit it out. Valdemars tentaclesshed at his enemies spirits. Not even Ialdabaoth will pick up the pieces.

    Aleksander Verney and Shelley copsed into a pile of worms before the tentacles could grab them.

    Their souls had run away rather than stand their ground.

    Crawl back to your tomb, you apostles of cowardice! Valdemar snarled as the dreamscape copsed. I deny you! I deny the oblivion you crave! I deny your god its victory!

    The vision world shattered like ss.

    Valdemar returned to the waking world where less than a second had passed. Lord Bethor alone seemed aware of what had transpired, his chin moving down and up.

    A nod of approval, with a dash of respect.

    Valdemar would prove that he deserved it today. Hermann?

    The troglodyte nodded. His painting stood adorned on a stone wall, the symbols on the canvas simmering with a magical glow. Liliane, Iren Hermann rasped. You must evacuate with the wounded while you still can.

    Bertrand, I am sorry my friend, Marianne apologized to her retainer. She alone would stay with Valdemar and Hermann as they ran their ritual. I will tell you everythingter. I must ask you to rest for now.

    I cannot Bertrand coughed red blood and never finished his sentence. He covered his mouth with a hand. My lungs

    Well get him to the infirmary, dont worry, Liliane reassured Marianne.

    Iren smiled as he helped Bertrand move by putting the vampires arm over his shoulder. Its up to us, the supporting actors, to make sure the leads can shine in the spotlight.

    There are no leads nor supporters, Valdemar replied. Everyone matters.

    Never said that friend, Iren replied with a smile that implied otherwise. But all we can do right now is pray that your n seeds.

    Do not pray, doppelganger. Lord Bethors eyes were cold. Think.

    Iren knew better than to talk back to the Dark Lord. He and Liliane carried the dizzied Bertrand away from Valdemars sight to take cover in the Institutes bowels.

    Hermann turned to his colleague and friend. Valdemar, if something goes wrong My art collection is yours to distribute. If possible I would like for my work to go back to my people.

    You will not die, Valdemar replied. I wont let you. But I appreciate the faith you put in me.

    It is not faith but trust, my friend. Hermanns ws trembled with a mix of fear and anticipation. At longst we shall make our Painted World.

    The Nahemoth will be freed sometime soon, Lord Bethor said as he looked at the walls. Its herald is already here.

    A quake hit the Institute. A second followed and then a third.

    <em></em>Footsteps<em>,</em><em></em>Marianne whispered.

    The gue prophet peered over the walls with his thousand eyes.

    A hooded cloak of yed wererat skin covered a festering mass of vermin assembled in the vague shape of a human visage. Rats and mice formed the bulk of them alongside dismembered bats. Their skins were stitched together, their tails were interwoven like a cloths fibers, their mouths chittering with hunger.

    Shelley upied the center of the foul tapestry of the swarms grim visage. The wererats face was twisted into an expression of rapture, the unbridled joy of a martyr enjoying the pain of unholy rapture. The familiar had returned to his master atst.

    This was a preview of the fate that awaited all life in Undend. The individual subsumed into the whole. Flesh stitched into a grim singrity of moribund flesh.

    Aleksander Verney had returned from the dead in his masters image.

    The giant horror was a living mountain taller than the Institutes walls. Its hood reached close to the ceiling of stone that overshadowed the entire Domain of Paraplex. Shoulders appeared as a hand of stitched rats lifted a scepter of bones thick as a stone tower. The tip was shaped into the form of a cross where the Lilith had been nailed with ck spikes. A weapon she had been, a weapon she would be.

    <em>We are Swarm, </em>the vision had said.<em> We are Hunger.</em>

    The abomination flung its scepter at the Institutes shield with a shriek that shook all of Undend.

    The magical barrier copsed in a rain of crimson dust alongside a chunk of the stone walls. The Knights unfortunate enough to stand on fortifications were swept aside. Qlippoths that had battered helplessly against the barrier immediately moved into the Institute.

    A thunderbolt bounced off a hundred of them and turned them to dust. Empress Aratra floated into the air and vaporized a hundred more monsters with a wave of her hand.

    Lord Hagith teleported where Aleksander had shattered the walls and grew in size himself until he covered the hole with his body mass. Lady Phul and the transformed Lord Ophiel struck the demonic swarm from above with spells. Lord Phaleg banished Qlippoths back to their realm with his summoning expertise.

    The Dark Lords had the situation well in hand.

    Lord Bethor, unwilling to leave all the glory to his associates, snapped his fingers. Space cracked with a bolt of crimson lightning and a mighty creature appeared behind him. The creature was thrice the size of a carriage beetle, a mighty behemoth of ckened scales. Long raven wings supported its lizard-like body. Crimson eyes peered at Valdemar with inhuman intelligence.

    Impossible Hermann whispered in shock and awe. Marianne didnt say a word, but her widening eyes betrayed her surprise.

    Even Valdemar struggled to trust his own senses.

    A dragon.

    A young one, but a dragon all the same.

    As for the way Lord Bethor had called the beast to his side Dragons werent creatures from other worlds. They couldnt be summoned like Qlippoths. It could only mean one thing.

    A familiar.

    Lord Bethors familiar was a dragon. Somehow, Valdemar strongly suspected that it was rted to the one whose corpse rested beneath the Dark Lords tower. Its spawn perhaps?

    We will deal with the vermin, Lord Bethor said as he leaped on his dragons back with supreme confidence. Bind the Nahemoth and prove us wrong, Valdemar.

    The Dark Lords steed took flight in a cloud of ash and dust. The dragon breathed fire at the gue prophet the moment he came into range. Hundreds of charbroiled rats fell off the creature, only to be immediately reced.

    Amazing, Marianne said as Lord Bethors mount dodged a swing from Aleksanders mighty staff. Simply amazing.

    Ktulhu, Valdemars familiar blurted. Its summoner sensed an undercurrent of jealousy in his partners voice. Ktulhulu!

    But where is Lord Och? Marianne asked with a frown. I dont see him.

    To Valdemars confusion, he realized that she had a point. The ancient lich wasnt among the Dark Lords confronting the swarm nor the creatures flooding into the Institute. Lord Och had vanished when his demesne was besieged.

    <em>Has he been destroyed? </em>Valdemar couldnt believe it himself. Knowing the lich, he was probably preparing some kind of foul y. <em>Are you finally springing your n into action, my teacher?</em>

    Valdemar didnt have time to wonder.

    The world snapped.

    Valdemar sensed it. Something in the very fabric of reality had broken. An invisible cog holding time and space together had dysfunctioned, creating a subtle breakdown in the machinery of the universe. An invisible force rippled through the air, the stones, the flesh and the soul. For a split second, nothing visible happened.

    A momentter, madness ruled the world.

    The air turned purple. Pictures of screaming faces and broken hands formed into the Institutes walls. Yellow fumes erupted from the ashes of burned trees and Qlippoths in maddening shapes that bent the mind. Eyes opened on the Institutes ck pir, atop which blue brains grew alongside trees of neurons and tendrils. Space bent and twisted into crooked angles and twisted turns.

    The Institute was turning into a demine of madness.

    The Nahemoth is freed, Hermann rasped as his hands brushed against the Painted World. Its its here.

    Valdemar sensed its approach. A ck hole in the fabric of reality opened above them as a terrible horror manifested through; the shadow of a malformed, stillborn child the size of a dragon. ck tentacles erupted from his pale skin and his jaw opened to reveal a hundred sharp teeth. The Nahemoths wail chilled Valdemar to the bone.

    <em>I hear you Crtail,</em> the summoner thought as Marianne immediately moved in front of him. She couldnt protect him from that creature. Among mankind, only a Dark Lord could hope to defeat a Nahemoth in singlebat.

    But Valdemar had made friends in strange ces.

    Valdemar removed the mask from his face and sprayed it with his blood. The vile artifact let out mist where the unholy fluid touched it. The dark force which had gifted Valdemar with it had taken notice.

    Come, Nightwalker. Valdemar mmed the mask against the ground and poured his magic into it. May the Cold freeze the Blood!

    The Mask of the Nightwalker shattered into splinters as the spell took effect.

    A dark shadow rose from the remains and the world became cold.

 Chapter 53: The True Enemy

    Chapter 53: The True Enemy

    The air froze as the shadows lengthened.

    A chill spread in Valdemars blood, in his flesh, and in his bones; a cold that made it painful to even breathe. It was the cruel grasp of ice, the frigid touch of death, the final kiss before evesting darkness.

    The festering madness that had seized the Institute recoiled before the encroaching shadow. Mutant eyes froze into icy statues. A sheet of permafrost covered the ground beneath Valdemars feet. Colorful fumes turned into white mist.

    The Nightwalker emerged from its broken mask in all of its eldritch glory. Valdemar had seen its reflection through his visions in the past, but to see the creature in the flesh was another story entirely. The Nightwalkers height reached over five meters and then more. A mantle of shadows swirled around a skin of ck scales and whitened fur, around crooked horns and cruel arms. The white spiral on the creatures face vomited the very essence of cold.

    The entity made no sound as it manifested. No cry came out of its ck vertical maw. No words of magic formed on its cold lips. Valdemar didnt even hear the faint sound of ice cracking beneath its feet. The Nightwalker had killed the very concept of noise.

    It offered only silence.

    The Nahemoths shrieks more thanpensated for its opposites muteness. The unborn Qlippoths cries rippled across reality. Cracks widened in the fabric of space, the rift oozing colorful smokes and phosphorescent spores.

    The Nightwalker raised its many hands at Crtail, its opposite and nemesis. Ice frigid enough to shatter steel shot from its fingers in a deadly volley of spikes. They gored through the Qlippoths pale skin and ck tentacles, each wound turned blue from the sheer cold.

    But no sooner did the Nahemoth take damage than his injuries healed in a gruesome manner. ck tentacles and bloodied eyes grew whenever the ice had struck. Tumors of malignant life repaired the damage before bursting into geysers of acidic blood. Vile smoke rose wherever droplets fell on the Nightwalker.

    The Whitemoons herald did not roar in anger nor make a sound, but its bodynguage betrayed its cold rage. The shadows swirling around it expanded into a wave of darkness that threatened to swallow Crtail.

    The Qlippoths blood glowed with the crimson light of the Outer Darkness in response. The red shed with the ck, the universe fracturing where they met. Ice shards and flesh tentacles struck at each other by the dozens, the hundred, the thousand.

    Two heralds of opposite Strangers engaged in a dance of creation and destruction before Valdemars eyes. Otherworldly light and the grim darkness of space filled the world around the two duelists, hiding the Institute from the summoners view. It appeared as if reality itself had been reduced to a primal conflict between opposing forces.

    Fire and ice. Life and death. The pale and dark.

    The perfect pigments to paint a brand new world.

    Hermann! Valdemar shouted as his hands bled. The dark blood coursing through his veins dropped on the cold ground but didnt freeze over. Instead, it spread to form a circle around the shattered remains of the Nightwalkers mask. Ktulu hopped in its center, ready to do its part. Im ready!

    After having been briefly mesmerized by the cosmic spectacle unfolding before his eyes, the troglodyte stood at the side of his canvas. As I am!

    The two sorcerers sprung their trap.

    Ktulus ck eyes shone with a sinister orange glow. Magic surged from the familiars tiny body as its power echoed with its summoner. Their souls resonated with Hermanns the same way a music group attuned their instruments for a spectacr symphony.

    And sing they did.

    The trios spell created eldritch notes as it rippled across space and time. The icy ground cracked like a broken mirror. The air screeched and the stones trembled. Red particles surged from Valdemar and Hermann.

    The symbols on the Painted Worlds canvas glittered with a dozen different colors. Orange and blue, green and red, violet and yellow, green and blue, ck and white, so many other shades they mixed together in a rainbow spiral, an abyss of paint.

    The portrait called the Nightwalker and Crtail to it with the inescapable strength of gravity.

    The two surprised heralds of the Strangers were pulled backward towards the trap. Icicle shards and ck blood swirled together into the endless color spiral, unable to escape its grip.

    The rituals targets resisted the best they could. Of course they did. They knew what would happen should they be sucked into the painting: the destruction of their body and the rebirth of their spirits into something else. The Nightwalkers countless arms stabbed the ground with sharp ws to anchor itself to the ground; Crtail shrieked as he tried to fly away.

    It did not matter. The Silent King himself had taught Hermann the Painted Worlds ritual. It was the secret lore of a Stranger, a spell that once executed could not be countered.

    The Nightwalker struggled the most against its fate but seeded the least. The fragments of its mask that it had so kindly given to Valdemar made for the perfect conduit. They gave the summoners magic a direct link to the creatures core essence. Although the entity was beyond human emotions, the expression on its eldritch visage was all too clear to Valdemar.

    The disappointment born of betrayal.

    <em>Sorry, </em>Valdemar thought, <em>but when choosing between two evils, I would rather deny them both. Nothing personal.</em>

    Lord Och had once told his apprentice that whatever he did, someone would pay the price for his decisions. Valdemar hoped that he had chosen well.

    The Nightwalker fell first into the canvas spiral. Its long arms twisted like coiling snakes carried away by a current of paint. The darkness and the cold became pigments suffused with magical power. The dreaded herald of the Whitemoon shrank as its enormous body was dragged through the canvas, its essence bing the underpaint of a new world.

    Crtail let out a screeching wail as the portraits gravity pulled it ever closer to a simr fate; it refused to go gently. The Nahemoths crimson aura increased in potency. Eyes of light opened across Valdemars vision. Fire came out of them when they blinked.

    The veil separating the material ne from the Outer Darkness tore itself apart. Valdemar found himself looking up at the fiery abyss at the center of this hellish dimension, at the vortex of souls feeding Ialdabaoths hunger.

    <em>I cant</em> Valdemar suppressed a scream as his skin peeled off from his flesh. The ritual demanded more of his blood to stabilize itself, to the point that it ruptured the summoners veins to feed. <em>Its its too much.</em>

    Baleful red eyes appeared all over his arms; a hungry maw opened in his torso and bit through his robes. Valdemar felt his tongue licking against rows of sharp fangs. His blood turned ck, his nails grew into cutting ws. His vision splintered as his two human eyes divided like his bodys cells. His bones bent into angles that didnt fit Undends reality. A ghastly crown of horns grew out of his forehead and <em>something </em>threatened to burst out of his back.

    <em>Im Ialda no</em>

    Valdemar focused the best he could as dark whispers tried to worm their way into his mind. As his flesh transformed, so did his soul. The closer Crtail approached him, the less Valdemar stayed himself. His human essence, his memories, his thoughts, everything that made him who he was started fading away.

    <em>I am a mask</em>

    The Father of Alls influence threatened to overwhelm him.

    <em>This is my true appearance, </em>Valdemar realized. The inhuman horror beneath the mans skin. The Red Prince of the Blood and avatar of Ialdabaoth. The herald of the Strangers, the abomination of the End-Times. <em>A human chrysalis for a Stranger moth a human mask for Ialda I am Ialda</em>

    The Red Prince felt a hand on its yed shoulder.

    Its many eyes looked in an unexpected direction, to stare at a womansforting smile.

    Marianne stood at his side.

    Even though she had seen its true figure, she still put her faith in it<em>him</em>. She had not given up on its<em>his</em>person.

    A new music echoed across the crimson light.

    Theforting luby of a music box. A song as sad as it was peaceful. It sounded so familiar, so warm Crtails wail died in his throat, awed by the melody.

    <em>I I am human, </em>Valdemar thought as he struggled to keep his sanity. The warmth of Mariannes touch and the luby together were stronger than the call of the Blood.<em> I am a Stranger. I am both. I am me.</em>

    Crtail reacted to the song too. His tentacles rxed. He no longer screamed. The vile light of the Outer Darkness dimmed around him. The influence of Ialdabaoth was growing weaker in both siblings.

    Something in the melody soothed the Nahemoth. Perhaps it reminded him of his mother, of the human part of his bloodline.

    The realization filled Valdemar with sorrow.

    <em>I wish I could do more, brother, </em>the summoner thought. <em>I wish I could give you the life that was taken from you. I wish I could cleanse your soul from Ialdabaoths corruption and stick it into a newborn body. I wish I could give you a normal life, that I could get to know you better. You were innocent in all of this.</em>

    Crtail had been born twisted, a tool for a mad cult. For all the destruction his existence had caused, he had never been more than an abandoned childshing out at the world around him.

    The Painted World ritual was the best way Valdemar had found to give his brother another chance and honor his mothers memory. It was the only option he had found to save Crtail from death, to give him a new chance at life while staying true to his own principles.

    <em>Your soul will be reborn as the radiant heart of a new universe, </em>Valdemar promised the sibling he never knew. <em>You will be the wind and the stones, the fertile soil from which flowers will grow. You will be the tree of life rather than the tree of death; you will oversee generations of people. You will be the positive force mother wanted us to be.</em>

    Not death, but reincarnation.

    Crtail closed his eyes as his anger finally died out. The unborn child of Ialdabaoth fell into the painting to begin a new life; not as a monster imprisoned at the bottom of a well, but into what Ialdabaoth should have been.

    A living world that nurtured rather than dominated.

    Crtails essence turned into a red overpaint over the Nightwalkers pigments. The two incarnations of opposing forces merged together to form a perfect bnce. Malignant lifes growth was checked by the all-consuming destructive power of death.

    Shapes and angles appeared on Hermanns canvas like order rising from the chaos: the branches of a great white tree taking root in a ck soil; gentle waves of blue water on an orange shore; a bright yellow sun soaring high in a pale violet sky; green grass and red flowers dancing to the tune of invisible wind. The pigments moved as if they were alive, filling out every spot on the canvas.

    The light of the Nahemoth and the darkness of the Nightwalker both dissipated. Their magic had found a new abode in andscape work of peerless beauty: the door to an artificial universe.

    The Painted World wasplete.

    They

    They had won.

    Marianne could hardly believe it herself. The Nahemoth and the Nightwalker were gone. Their flesh and souls had be the mortar of a magical artifact brimming with power; a painting of unearthly beauty.

    The crimson light of the Outer Darkness slowly dissipated like smoke. The shape of the Institutes broken buildings and shattered walls slowly came back into sight.

    And Valdemar

    Herpanion was no longer the man she had grown so fond of. He had transformed into a humanoid creature of pulsating flesh and eyes, a crowned husk depleted of his blood. Heid at Mariannes feet on his knees, hands on the ground.

    Valdemar? Marianne immediately knelt at his side and cast a healing spell on him. She felt her magical power flowing into him like a droplet in an underground river. Valdemar, are you alright?

    Im fine His breath was loud and heavy, but the voice belonged to Valdemars. The outside had changed, but he remained human within. Im fine

    <em>Thank the Light, </em>she thought. Valdemars familiar was in a sorry state too, but unharmed. Ktulu held its tiny head as if suffering from a headache. <em>They are well and sound Im so d.</em>

    You have wasted too much blood, my apprentice. The shape of Lord Och appeared next to Hermann and the Painted World when the crimson light faded out. You will need a few minutes to recover and pull your human guise back on.

    Marianne red with disapproval at the Dark Lord. Somehow his reappearance didnt surprise her. His human face is no guise, Lord Och, but his true self.

    Of course, of course, the lich replied without meaning it. Much like the old bones beneath the human illusion are an borate mummery.

    To Mariannes surprise, the Dark Lord carried a familiar music box. That belongs to Valdemar, Marianne noted. Was that the source of the luby?

    Have you forgotten your report from when you visited the dream Vernburg, Young Marianne? <em>Crtail is a sweet child. He likes the music box very much.</em>

    Marianne remembered these words all too well. That was what his nurse said.

    It made my mother cry Valdemar rasped. It it probably reminded her of Crtail

    Lord Och chuckled as he delicately set the music box aside. I have lived long enough to know music can lull even the most unruly child to sleep. I had the intuition it would prove useful.

    Valdemar oriented his head in his teachers direction. Was that Why did you miss the battle? To pick the box up?

    My my, whats with the using tone, my apprentice? Did you expect foul y from me?

    Valdemar smiled. In his current state, his lips pursed to reveal a ghastly grin of sharp fangs. Marianne found the sight disturbing, but it was worth a thousand words.

    The fighting didnt end with the Painted Worlds creation, however. Aleksander Verneys swarm form was copsing as the creatures making up its body scattered and Qlippoths fought the six other Dark Lords. The maddening, reality-altering images of the Nahemoths demine might have slowly receded from the Institutes grounds, but Ialdabaoths eyes still covered the Domains stone ceiling.

    The Qlippoths are still here, Marianne observed. Has something gone wrong?

    Lord Och dismissed her concerns. The remaining Qlippoths will upy my colleagues for a short time, but without the Nahemoth to bind them together, the Outer Darkness and our reality will diverge. No new intruders will appear to bother us. They have lost.

    Marianne prayed he was right.

    In stark contrast with everyone else, Hermann hadnt paid any attention to the world beyond the Institute. The troglodyte only had eyes for the Painted World. His hand trailed against its surface, his ws sending ripples through the pigments.

    Marianne wasnt certain if troglodytes could cry, but Hermann looked like he was about to.

    Its Hermann shook his head with the trepidation of a dreamer who had finally fulfilled his lifelong goal. Its beautiful so beautiful

    Indeed. Lord Och observed the Painted World with a hint of genuine respect. You have created a world, children. This is a feat worthy of the gods.

    More than than a world, Valdemar rasped. An afterlife.

    Pictomancy portraits can capture souls, Lord Och, Hermann exined. This Painted World will be my peoples home but we could create another using simr principles. Andscape of Heaven a resting abode for the dead.

    I doubt we shall have another Nahemoth and Nightwalker to sacrifice, Lord Och replied with skepticism. It was a once in an eon opportunity.

    Perhaps, Hermann conceded, but he remained optimistic. But we can learn from this world. The concept works we could create another with with souls. With time, work, and research we can achieve anything.

    Lord Och listened to Hermanns words with a look Marianne struggled to identify. The lichs skullcked any facial features, but his posture betrayed his inner thoughts. Confusion? Hesitation?

    <em>Regret, </em>Marianne realized.

    The feelingsted no more than a moment. The Dark Lords usual coldness had taken over once again.

    For some reason, Marianne sensed a chill running down her spine. A gut feeling of iing dread took her over as she observed the Dark Lord. The weakened Ktulu hissed at the lich, its tentacles wriggling in anger.

    <em>Fear,</em> Marianne realized. <em>Like a dog barking at danger.</em>

    You have served me well, Hermann. Lord Och almost sounded proud. You are a credit to the troglodytes. Its truly a shame that a genius like you died so early.

    The troglodyte frowned. What do you mean, Lord

    Mariannes eyes widened in horror and she immediately jumped into action. Hermann, get down

    The Dark Lord raised a finger and struck Hermann dead.

    A fiery ray erupted from the lichs index finger and burnt a hole in the troglodytes chest. The heart, the lungs, and everything inside the ribcage was instantly vaporized. Hermanns eyes widened in shock and iprehension as he fell to his back. He tried to blurt out a word, but no air came out of his mouth. Lord Och watched the scene unfold with a cold, remorseless gaze.

    Mariannes rapier struck the lich before Hermanns corpse hit the ground. Murderer!

    Her de cut through his left eye socket and came out of the back of his skull.

    What The weakened Valdemar tried to rise to his feet, only to stumble on his chest. His voice died in his throat as he saw the smokeing out of Hermanns corpse. W-Why?

    <em>Because I guessed right, </em>Marianne thought. Because he wanted the Painted World from the start!

    Im afraid youre only half-right, my dear child. Even though Mariannes soulbound weapon was stuck in Lord Ochs skull, it had done nothing to inconvenience him. If anything, he sounded vaguely amused by her defiance. It is not the painting that interests me, but what it contains.

    The Nahemoth. Maybe the Nightwalker too.

    <em>He was after the Nahemoth all along</em>. Somehow the Dark Lord intended to use the Painted World to reach his Light. Marianne knew it in her gut.

    Lord Och raised a finger at her, but Marianne didnt let him st her like Hermann. She thrust her rapier a hundred times in short session, her weapon so fast that a normal humans eyes wouldnt have been able to follow it.

    Marianne would have thought twice at striking a Dark Lord less than a year ago. Not today. Not after what she had seen.

    Her de cut through Lord Ochs fingers, his hands, his arms. She shattered his skull and ribcage to pieces. When she was done, a pile of broken bones fell to the ground before her feet.

    Run Valdemar rasped as he struggled to stand up. You can

    Not without you! Marianne replied as she took a step back. She didnt know how long it would take for a lich like Lord Och to manifest a new body. Each second counted. We need to go to Lord Phaleg. He will

    My good-for-nothing former apprentice, truly? You would shame me so?

    The lichs bones floated back into ce and dashed all of Mariannes hopes.

    It took the Dark Lord no longer than the blink of an eye to stand before her once more. Her rapiers cuts vanished as the bones merged back into a pristine state.

    Your efforts are wasted, Young Marianne, Lord Och dered, a sinister blue light shining in his skulls eye sockets. A terrible pressure fell on Mariannes shoulders, and she suddenly realized how vast the power gap between them truly was. You are talented, I will give you that much. With a few more decades under your belt, you might have been a threat. But s

    He raised his hand, and Marianne felt the soulstone ne around her neck burning against her skin. She tried to strike, to charge, to fight, but her body refused to move. Her chest felt cold, so very cold, and she heard Valdemar scream her name.

    You died before your time.

    The Dark Lord snapped his fingers.

 Chapter 54: I am Light, You are Darkness

    Chapter 54: I am Light, You are Darkness

    When Mariannes body hit the ground, she was already dead.

    Valdemar experienced her murder as if he had perished himself. Their souls had been intertwined through their shared dreams. They had made love in the flesh and in their thoughts. A bond remained even when they were awake.

    When the link ruptured, so did the heart in his chest.

    Valdemar had felt the cold hand of Lord Och as his pale fingers closed on Mariannes soul. His chest had burnt when the lichs magic tore his lovers spirit from her flesh. His dark power severed the anchor that bound her soul to her body with surgical precision. There was no malice or hatred in the act, nor regret.

    When he coldly murdered Marianne Reynard, Lord Och felt <em>nothing</em>.

    Valdemar let out a scream of pain as Mariannes bodynded at his side. Her skin was as pale and lifeless as his was bloody red. Her pale eyes were devoid of life, the soulstone around her neck oozing a vaporous ck mist. Her beloved rapier slipped through her fingers.

    When Valdemar found the strength to hold her, she was already cold to the touch.

    Lord Ochs fingersnap had snuffed out all warmth within Marianne. Her heartbeat, quick and strong, had stopped. Ice coursed through her veins. The warm breath that Valdemar had tasted when theyst kissed had turned into empty space. Her soft lips and fingers no longer moved.

    <em>No, no </em>ck blood dripped from Valdemars fanged mouth. His chest hurt and his eyes struggled to see. A sick sensation filled his stomach. <em>Please, please, no</em>

    She couldnt she couldnt not now, not right after not right after they won.

    Ovee with horror, Valdemar stabbed his lovers flesh with his fingers. His flesh merged with Mariannes. His biomancy magic traveled through the roads of her nerves and the cables of her arteries. If Valdemar could repair the damage Lord Och had done within minutes, he could save her! He could bring her back!

    He didnt find anything wrong. No organ had ruptured. No spell had flooded her brain with blood until it drowned. Her cells simply refused to work. They were dead, everyst one of them.

    The soul was gone. Gone from her body

    But not from this world.

    A shiver went through Valdemars nerves when he detected the faint smell of a spirit. His many eyes looked at his lovers ne, at the ck jewel on her skin. A violet hue reflected on its polished surface. The empty space within it had been filled.

    The soulstone had worked.

    The device had caught Mariannes soul when Lord Och murdered her. Or maybe the lichs spell used the soulstone to kill her by capturing her spirit.

    Whatever the case, Mariannes soul had survived. Hope warmed Valdemars innards once again as he removed his hand from his lovers body. If he could transfer her soul the right way, maybe he could

    His masters grim shadow nketed him in darkness.

    Such a panicked response for a woman? Lord Ochs tone betrayed his disappointment. The sound of lightning coursed through the air when he spoke. Truly the pleasures of flesh can dull even the greatest minds.

    You Valdemar raised his hand to fire a blood bullet at his former teacher. His movements were slow, his arms weak. He had lost too much blood. You heartless bastard

    Crimson lightning surged from Lord Ochs hands.

    Electricity raced through Valdemars flesh and fried his remaining nerves. Whatever organs he had left cooked inside his own boiling blood. His brain burst out of his skull, yet he didnt die. The lightning destroyed his body from within, but his soul refused to leave his mortal coil behind.

    Not since his fall down Lord Bethors tower did Valdemar experience such absolute, mind-numbing <em><strong>pain</strong></em>.

    I will coddle you no more, my apprentice. Lord Ochs mask of fake charm and affability had slipped. The cruel, cold-hearted undead underneath saw no need to hide his inhumanity anymore. I have tolerated your insolence long enough.

    Ktulhulu! Ktulu snarled, wings extended and tiny hands raised. The familiar valiantly flew at Lord Ochs face in a foolish attempt to protect his summoner. Ktul

    Lord Och mercilessly struck Ktulu down with another thunderbolt. The poor familiar squealed as it fell to the ground, but the lich didnt stop. He sted the child Stranger with a torrent of lightning, again, and again, and <em>again</em>.

    Worst of all, Lord Och did it with a ghoulish smile on his skeletal face.

    Ktul Valdemar rasped, but only smoke came out of his lungs. He felt his familiars agony through their bond. They screamed as one with each electrical shock. Daggers of lightning stabbed them both until they could no longer move.

    Valdemars vision blurred. Half his eyes had melted into his skull. His strong alien limbs refused to move. He felt so weak that the Blood itself slipped through his grasp.

    Spare the rod, spoil the child. Lord Ochs hands burned with hellfire. Forgive me, my apprentice. You may experience temporary difort, but I cannot waste precious time on sentimentalities.

    mes swallowed Valdemar. Thest of his eyes burned to a crisp and fell off his face.

    He couldnt see anything, couldnt hear anything, couldnt taste anything. His mangled body didnt have the tools left for that. Only the Blood gave him slight awareness of the world around him. He sensed Lord Ochs magic at work and Ktulus presence nearby, space twisting around them all, Mariannes presence slipping away

    How long was Valdemar trapped inside his own mangled corpse? Seconds, minutes, hours? Time lost all meaning when the world around you had be a blur.

    The Blood returned him to life ever so slowly. Currents of magic created new cells for his organism. They borrowed flesh from all life in Undend to return him to his original state. Was it his newly awakened Stranger nature at work? For a moment, Valdemar had nearly be one with the Father of All and the flesh beneath the stone.

    <em>Its from within </em>Valdemar realized. He thought it was the souls he had consumed at first, their spirit transformed into matter, but he was wrong. They were all within him, suppressed but present.

    A force in the Blood strengthened him. It called flesh from other ces to help him regenerate. Valdemar was already doing it passively, but now the dam had broken; where droplets dripped through before, now a river of blood poured within his veins.

    Could he be tapping more directly into Ialdabaoths power now that Crtail was imprisoned? The two twins had been born avatars of Ialdabaoth. Perhaps they had been splitting the power between themselves, and now that one of them was incapacitated, Crtails leftover energies moved into Valdemar

    Light struck through the darkness and a loud rumble filled the silence. Two eyes and ears, not more, stabilized his vision and hearing. He moved a hand whose fingers grew like nts and a leg that snapped back into a straight shape.

    <em>Im human </em>Valdemar thought. The first thing he saw were arms wrapped in skin and sinews,ying on a cold stone floor. Colorful lights filled the horizon. <em>Im</em><em>Im in</em>

    The Pleromian vault.

    The dusty tomb that had haunted Valdemars dreams was returning to life. The fiery glyphs in its ceiling flickered in and out of existence. They moved left and right, above and below. The magical forms they formed changed in the blink of an eye. They swirled around the Painted World and lifted it above the ground, to the very roof of the stone dome. Tendrils of colorful energy grew out of the canvas. A pir of light fell down from it and onto the Pleromian portal. Its shining radiance hurt Valdemars regenerating eyes when he looked at it.

    The shadow of Lord Och stood before the pir, his back turned on his apprentice.

    Valdemar gathered his thoughts. He was human again, and naked like the day he was born. Mariannes corpse was nowhere to be seen, nor Hermanns. But Ktulu

    K Valdemar turned to the source of the sound, a broken childying on his left. K

    The sight broke Valdemars heart.

    Ktulu had lost half of its eyes. The left side of its tiny face showed severe burns deep enough to reveal green flesh underneath. Lord Och had ripped out its wings, severed some of its tentacles, and broken its tiny legs. The familiar was still alive, but only barely so. It didnt even have the strength to whine or cry.

    Ktulu, hang on Valdemar rasped. His dry, sore throat hurt with each word he vomited. The summoner touched his familiar and used his biomancy to help hasten the tiny Strangers recovery. Hang on

    I see you recovered quickly, my apprentice.

    Valdemar froze while expecting a new lightning bolt.

    It never came.

    I didnt think this chastisement would keep you down for long. The lich kept his back turned on his apprentice. He only had eyes for the pir of light. Look. Can you see its beauty?

    Valdemars first instinct was to stab the lich in the back, but a nce at the source of the lights paralyzed him. His mind came to an abrupt stop as it struggled toprehend what it saw at the feet of the pir.

    Colors.

    Not the pigments Valdemar and Hermann used to paint their world, but new ones unlike anything humans had ever seen. A ssh of stygian blue, saturated and yet so very dark. A streak of magenta on a jet ck spot. A shade of greenish-yellow pink on a floating bubble of something something that Valdemars mind perceived as ck light. His eyes werent equipped to understand this visual stimuli.

    The Pleromian portal stood at the heart of the pir. Its archway of steel now looked like a ring holding the eldritch colors contained within itself. The portal had be a lens peering into a realm of unfathomable beauty. When Valdemar peered into it, he gazed into a swirling abyss of colors that didnt, couldnt, <em>shouldnt </em>exist in this world.

    The world beyond the portal was deep and t, high and low, nowhere and everywhere. Its magenta radiations and eldritch oscitions bent the will of space, the rules of time, the conservation of mass. Its wavelength existence disced the feeble light of the material world and pushed gravity backward. Its singrity burned hotter than the mightiest volcano. Its pull called the stars to it like moths to a me. It was the forge of suns, whose anvil was the primordial soul and its hammer the heart of wonders.

    The stray thoughts, confusing and conflicting, formed in Valdemars mind as it tried to exin, toprehend, to fathom what he was gazing at. Neither his eyes nor his psychic sight could make sense of this awe-inspiring vision. They stared into a realm of wonders that put the Silent Kings throne to shame in its scale andplexity.

    Tears formed in Valdemars eyes as he stood on his feet. His arms carried the crippled Ktulu, the little familiar breathing against his chest.

    Is this The name of the abyss was on the tip of Valdemars tongue, but he felt unworthy of saying it. Something in his soul begged him not to sully this sublime cosmic force with petty human words.

    The divine spirit from which our souls descend, Lord Och whispered with near-religious reverence. The origin point of everything. Beyond space, beyond time, beyond thews of magic and physics. A cosmic sea of knowledge and power.

    The lich slowly turned his back on the glowing portal to face his apprentice.

    This is the Light, Valdemar.

    <em>This this is what I longed for all my life, </em>Valdemar realized. He couldnt take his eyes off the abyss beyond the portal. It called to him like the sun of his dreams. He heard its melodious song of energy burst.

    Ktulu let out a cough in Valdemars arms. With the shock of seeing the Light having passed, Valdemar suddenly remembered what the lich had done. He changed his skin to hardened carbon, ready to take down his former master.

    Careful, child, the Dark Lord of Paraplex warned with his hands behind his back. The portal hasnt stabilized yet. You might destroy your beloved masterpiece by ident.

    Valdemars teeth gritted in frustration. The Dark Lord was telling the truth. A thick veil of transcendental energy separated the abyss beyond the portal from the material world. The Pleromian portal stabilized the cosmic powers at work, but any interference might cause a catastrophic backsh.

    I apologize for the brutality my dear Valdemar, but I only had a short window of opportunity. Minutes at best. The Painted World is too precious for my former colleagues to let me keep it unsupervised. Lord Och nced at Ktulu with a pitiless expression. I did not dare to destroy him. The death of a familiar leaves the owners soul diminished if they have bonded with them too deeply. Thats why I never took one myself.

    If he hadnt killed Ktulu to harm Valdemar, then the lich needed his apprentice alive. Valdemar double-checked his magical defenses and hid his thoughts behind a veil of stolen souls.

    A question burned on his lips. Where is Marianne?

    Her soulstone? Lord Och snorted with a ghoulish expression of absolute disdain. Safe for now.

    Valdemars fingers trembled with fury. The Dark Lord kept Mariannes soul on himself. As a hostage.

    Valdemar returned his chest to normal skin and reshaped his body to open a hole in his chest cavity. His ribs opened like a maw, allowing him to put the wounded Ktulu within them. His chest closed and hardened back into steel. The summoner would keep his familiar safe in his body.

    Creative, Lord Ochmented with amusement. I wouldnt do that in the presence of femalepany if I were you. She might die of fright like thest one.

    It took Valdemar all his mental fortitude to ignore the cruel jab. He was more angry for Marianne than for himself. The lich considered her nothing more than ammunition to taunt and torment his apprentice. Lord Och had felt nothing when he killed Marianne, and even less when he demeaned her post-mortem.

    This entire crisis you engineered it all, didnt you? Valdemar guessed, keeping an eye on the Dark Lord and another on the portal. Could he teleport safely so close to a cosmic phenomenon of this magnitude? He would need to do that to contact the other Dark Lords above ground, but if a spatial interference tore him apart midway It was you all along.

    You overestimate me. I simply took advantage of opportunities as they came, nudged you here and there If you never lose sight of your goal, my apprentice, you will always find a path to reach it.

    <em>Wards are active,</em> Valdemar thought as he scanned the room. The Dark Lord had sealed his vault with magic and blotted out the exit corridor with a wall of stone. Valdemar would struggle to teleport past them, or even summon anything. <em>The other Dark Lords are distracted by the Qlippoths outside and dont know the way in they wont help.</em>

    You named me your sessor to distract the other Dark Lords, Valdemar said. <em>Maybe I could send a message through the wards somehow</em> You confused them, made them focus on me rather than you.

    Well, how should I say it A cold chuckle came out of the Dark Lords mouth. That part was my idea of a prank.

    By the Light, this asshole was serious.

    Come on, you must haveughed a little at my colleagues expressions, Lord Och said. He clearly took joy in his students anger. Humor is at its best when mocking the powerful. It drags the haughty down to earth.

    Are we all toys to you? Valdemar couldnt suppress his bitterness. He felt betrayed to have believed the Dark Lord might stand for something greater than himself once.

    Toys or tools, whats the difference? I take good care of them so long as they fulfill their purpose.

    The lich nced over his shoulder and gazed into the Light. He didnt lower his guard, however. Valdemar was certain that the Dark Lords hidden hands were ready to spellcast at a moments notice.

    I was denied entrance to this ce for so long. Lord Ochs voice brimmed with longing and nostalgia. How many times have I dreamed of it when I could still sleep? I remember the pain in my chest I felt each time I woke up. The world was so cold, so lifeless. Even when I tore my soul from my corpse to embrace lichdom, even when I shed my humanity and deadened my emotions, the agony remained forever raw.

    Lord Ochughed as he turned his attention back on Valdemar. But now, the path closed to me by the gods has been opened by the hands of men. Truly, nothing can resist the march of human genius.

    <em>Why is he telling me this?</em> Valdemar couldnt grasp his teachers motivations.<em> Does he still need me somehow? Did he spare me because he wanted an audience to gloat in his moment of triumph? No, Lord Och has never been so careless</em>

    Something didnt add up.

    How? Valdemar asked. If he understood the phenomenon, he could exploit it.

    The Strangers were cast down from the Light above. Even to this day they still mourn their fall. They cannot let go. They are fragments of a broken mirror, desperate to pull themselves back together. I thought souls of believers would do the trick, but s even martyrs can''t open the path for the sinful. As for Sophia, her curse still stands. I needed a better power source that belonged to both the Blood and the Light.

    <em>A resonance, </em>Valdemar realized. <em>Hes creating a resonance between Ialdabaoth and the Light by using Crtail as a focus.</em>

    Valdemars hands clenched in rage as he started to get a better understanding of the situation. That was why you took me on as an apprentice. You were grooming me for the sacrificial altar from the start.

    Havent I told you? All social interactions are based on self-interest. I help you, you help me. The Dark Lords head tilted to the side like a curious bird. My original goal was to study you thoroughly, I wont deny it. I wanted to witness the extent of your powers, to observe you act in a controlled environment.

    Like an animal in a cage

    The more I studied you, the more I realized you would never be the key I sought for. You were too attached to improving the mortal condition, too willful, too thoughtful Lord Och smirked fondly. Too <em>human</em>.

    You almost sound proud, Valdemar noted.

    I am. Lord Ochs gaze was sharp as a de. In many ways, you are the ideal our species aspires to. The power of the cosmos at the fingertips of human will.

    Somehow, the Dark Lords appreciation filled Valdemar with shame. It was just another petty maniption tactic.

    This spawn, Lord Och pointed at the Painted World with a finger, was a far more suitable tool for my purpose. I have faced Nahemoths in the past, but this one is something else. Your brother is a trueborn incarnation of Ialdabaoth. I knew you and Hermann would seed in binding him in a way that would make it possible to harness his power.

    Some teacher you are, Valdemar replied with disgust. You steal the discoveries of your students to make them your own.

    I told you from the start that the purpose of this Institute was to umte knowledge for my own pleasure. I give shelter and purpose to schrs whose discoveries serve my needs. It was an even trade for the time itsted.

    An even trade? The expression made Valdemars blood boil. You stole Hermanns work and then murdered him. How was that an even trade?!

    Lord Och remained unppable. Believe me, I would rather have spared him if I could. I appreciated our dear troglodyte. s, his knowledge of pictomancy was too dangerous for my ns to ignore. I couldnt risk letting him unravel the Painted World.

    <em>Because you wont risk it yourself. </em>Valdemar couldnt read Lord Ochs mind, but he knew that was what he thought. <em>You wont let your brother disappear, would you?</em>

    Even if Valdemar was willing to make that sacrifice, the consequences would be disastrous. Destroying the Painted World so soon afterpletion might release Crtail and the Nightwalker before they could be fully assimted into it. The new pictomancy universe within the canvas was young, fragile. It could easily revert back to what came before if disrupted.

    They would be back to square one.

    What then? Valdemar asked. Where do all these murders and cruelty lead?

    My, where else? Lord Och waved a hand at the portal. I will enter the Light, but on my own terms. Not as a disembodied spirit devoid of personality, but with the full weight of my human desires and unbearable sins.

    The veil separating the Light from the material world had grown thinner. Not thin and stable enough to let anyone through safely, but closer.

    I will not beg for a ce in paradise, no. I will take it. Lord Ochs smile widened. It was the satisfied smirk of a winner, the vicious grin of a conqueror rejoicing at his enemies defeat. I will unt the feeble teachings of Sophia, shed my mortal coil, extirpate myself from the limitations of matter and form. I will be a wavelength, my apprentice. An unstoppable radiation, an invisible force as irresistible as gravity itself.

    A sudden feeling of cold made Valdemar shiver. He gazed into the colorful abyss of the Light and the cosmic energies bursting from within it. You want to be a god. To transcend the Strangers and achieve a higher state of existence.

    Must you make it sound so pedantic, my apprentice? What I want is absolute freedom. From thews of men and gods, of physics and reality. Freedom from this ceiling of stone and a doomed universe. Nothing more, nothing less.

    The twin lights in the lichs eyes red with a blue hue. I thought you would understand that, Valdemar.

    Was that why he had spared his apprentice and given him a chance, however slim, to ruin his moment of triumph? Because he wanted validation? <em>An ancient undead of his age and experience cant possibly be that insecure, </em>Valdemar thought. <em>I dont get him at all. Whats his game?</em>

    I understand your vision, but I do not endorse it. Not at the cost youre ready to pay. Valdemar squinted at the portals baleful energies. After having observed it carefully, he had a pretty good idea of where this phenomenon would lead unless stopped. What will happen after you cross this doorway to Heaven? You need a willing martyr to create a stable portal. You''re forcing the path open just long enough to go through, but the rift will soon grow unstable. What will happen then?"

    Do you truly want me to say it, my apprentice?

    Yes. I want to hear it from your mouth. Valdemar wanted to hear the faint sound of regret, of hesitation. Any hint that he could still talk down his teacher from his madness.

    Well, the most likely possibility is that the breach will explode. The Dark Lord spoke with the cold, clinical confidence of a soulless doctor. He had given a lot of thought to his n and considered its potentially disastrous consequences. The energies of the Light would pour out uncontrobly in a lesser universe unsuited for them. The portal might bloom into the heart of a newborn sun. Ialdabaoth will boil like an egg, the Whitemoon will melt, and everyone will die. The end.

    He didnt care one bit.

    Or maybe the breach will copse on itself and harmlessly dissipate, Lord Och dismissed Valdemars worries with a shrug. Maybe the portal will explode and destroy this facility, but spare the rest of the Domain. Were in uncharted territory. Anything could happen.

    Exactly, anything could happen! Valdemar snarled. You would abandon everyone to die! The Schrs, Lord Bethor

    Lord Bethor will survive. To Valdemars surprise, it seemed that the lich truly believed it. My former apprentice is already an almighty existence that transcends humanity. I doubt anything short of theplete annihtion of this reality will permanently destroy him. Even then, Im uncertain.

    The fact that Lord Och believed Ialdaboth would perish in the cataclysm but not Bethor surprised Valdemar. The Dark Lord of Sabaoth was a powerful man, but to survive the worlds destruction demanded more than power. Was Bethor some kind of lich whose phctery was hidden in another distant world?

    Even then, Lord Och didnt bother to pretend that he cared about anyone else. Anyway, does it really matter what happens to this world after weve crossed into the other side? Yes, Young Valdemar, a few meaningless lives will be lost, but such is the cost of progress. We can always create new worlds and life in our image after we ascend.

    It mattered to Valdemar. He couldnt let Och proceed with his mad bid for godhood if there was even the slightest chance that it would destroy Undend as a side effect. The risk of releasing Crtail and the Nightwalker was a lesser evil at this point.

    <em>Did you expect a heart of gold in my ribcage? </em>The old taunt shed back in Valdemars mind like an ominous warning. <em>He doesnt care about anything or anyone</em>

    Wait. Valdemar squinted, as his teachersst sentence registered in his mind. One word in particr rang in his head. <em>We</em>?

    Lord Och didnt make a sound. For a few seconds, only the faint song of the Light and the bursting cracks of the Pleromian glyphs filled the room.

    Why did you let me live, my teacher? Valdemar asked, utterly confused. Why did you bring me here? Why didnt you restrain me? Why are you telling me all of this <em>now</em>?

    The ancient lichs stone face morphed into an expression that his apprentice had never seen before. An emotion Valdemar found more surprising than the cosmic Light in the background.

    A sh of vulnerability.

    Valdemar.

    Lord Och extended a hand to his apprentice as the world trembled around them.

    Come with me.

 Chapter 55: Graduation Day

    Chapter 55: Graduation Day

    The Dark Lords palm stood between master and student like an unfinished bridge.

    Valdemar looked at the skeletal hand as if it were poisoned. He half-expected a soulstone or trap hidden between Lord Ochs fingers like a cruel joke, but he didnt see any.

    Where? Valdemar asked, utterly dumbfounded.

    To the Light, my dense apprentice, Lord Och chuckled. Come with me. The door will stabilize soon, but we will only have a short window of time to safely cross onto the other side.

    shes of energy erupted from the portal. The veil separating the material world from the higher realm of the Light had grown thinner. The flying Pleromian glyphs swirling above it moved so quickly that Valdemars eyes struggled to keep track of them.

    Do you understand whats on the other side of this portal, Valdemar? Freedom. Knowledge. Power! The mes in Lord Ochs eyes glowed brighter than the stars. All the hidden truths of the universe, spells that transcend the Blood! The liberty to wander into the infinity and beyond!

    How can you ask me to trust you after what youve <em>done</em>?" Valdemar red at his teacher and spat venomous words. "Youve manipted me for months, put me through hell, beat my familiar half to death, and tortured me with lightning!

    Please, as if Lord Bethor hadnt done worse. Lord Och waved his hand dismissively. Yes, yes, I understand how you might fear a trap of some kind. But then, why would I need to convince you to go along? You were at my mercy, my apprentice. If I needed you to cross this portal, I would have tossed your severed head through it. I offer you to join me because I believe you are worthy of the Light, my apprentice. Will you spit on my kindness?

    Kindness? Even if the lichs offer was genuine, even if Valdemar ignored all the abuse he had personally suffered, there was one thing he simply couldnt forgive. Youve murdered Marianne before my eyes!

    You would deny paradise for a woman? Lord Ochs calm tone rose with his anger. Do you know how many of them there are on this Light-forsaken alone? At least half a billion, if not more.

    That woman has a name. The image of his lover falling dead on the floor would remain forever raw in Valdemars mind. Marianne Reynard!

    You only care because the human half of your biochemistry is altering your thinking, Lord Och replied with disdain. Attraction, lust, <em>love</em>, are drugs. You are high because this is your first time, but trust someone many centuries older than you. I have loved and forgotten more women than the years youve lived through.

    It would have been one thing if Lord Och faked sympathy, but the lich no longer felt the need to put on the charm. Marianne was right. If the Dark Lord ever had the ability to rte to someone else and his fellow humans, he had lost it long ago.

    What about your murder of Hermann? Valdemar struggled to contain his anger. Or what will happen to Iren and Liliane once this portal destroys Undend? What about my friends who youre condemning to death? Do you expect me to abandon them to their doom?

    Friends? People youve known for a scant few months? Do you hear yourself? Lord Och took back his hand. His back was stiff like an iron rod, his fingers trembling with frustration. You are an immortal being, a Stranger. You will live to see these small people all wither and die.

    And that makes their lives without value?

    Yes.

    Then you are the height of hypocrisy, Lord Och! Valdemar raised an using finger at his mad teacher. You were not born immortal, you achieved eternal unlife through magic! Every single one of this Institutes Masters did the same!

    So what? They willnguish forever in the darkness, trapped between Ialdabaoth below and the Whitemoon above. Wouldnt it be more merciful to let them all rest? A rattle of frustration came out of Lord Ochs mouth. I do not understand why Im wasting my time trying to open your eyes.

    Me neither, Valdemar replied, his eyes squinting at the lich. Why do you want me to follow you so badly?

    My poor Valdemar, is it truly so hard to believe that I care for your spiritual health?

    You have only known me for months, scarcely longer than Hermann. Valdemar frowned. He found it difficult to believe in the lichs goodwill after so long. By your own logic, my life should be worthless to you.

    Lord Och let out a briefugh.

    Point taken, he conceded.

    <em>Is he acting? </em>The lichs embarrassed reaction surprised Valdemar. He didnt detect any hint of falsehood or fake charm in his old teacher. <em>No he sounds genuine.</em>

    Between us, I cannot exin it myself. The Dark Lord shook his head, his bodynguage betraying his confusion. I thought I emancipated myself from such feelings when I embraced undeath. Yet I feel a certain appreciation for your person, perhaps because I see much of myself in you. I suppose you could call it

    Lord Och put a finger on his chin as he struggled to find the correct expression.

    Paternal fondness, he finally said.

    As if Valdemars real father wasnt bad enough.

    You have an odd way of showing it. Valdemar would never forget the pain of lightning coursing through his veins. All you have done since we first met is y cruel tricks and mind games on me. You tried to convince me to sacrifice my friends to this portal, mocked me for believing in a better future

    I tried to cure you of your own foolishness and failed. Do you understand how difficult it was for me, you selfish brat?

    Valdemar choked in indignation. For <em>you</em>?

    Yes! Lord Och snarled back. The walls of the vault shook around them as if echoing his cold anger. You possess limitless potential, my apprentice, and yet you waste it on lunacy!

    The Dark Lord waved a hand at the shining portal. The sun, the light you sought for, is right beyond this threshold! This is the crossroad that will let us reach Earth! So why wont you step through it?

    Although the thought of using the Light to reach Earth atst was enticing, Valdemar held his ground. I have sought the sun too, yes. That was my dream. But I never desired it for my own pleasure alone. I wanted to honor my grandfather and free our people from the ceiling of stone above our heads.

    What was worth the joy of watching an open sky, if nobody else could look at it with you?

    Is it lunacy to believe in altruism? Valdemar asked his teacher. In a better future?

    For the first time since the discussion began, Valdemars words seemed tond with his teacher. The Dark Lord didnt immediately shoot down his apprentices argument. Instead, he considered it thoughtfully for long, agonizing seconds.

    Believe

    Lord Och repeated the word with a long sigh.

    I stopped <em>believing</em> when Sophia the Unwise refused to answer my prayers for universal salvation. She had called herself the mother of the human spirit, but when the Whitemoon came, she chose to save the few and abandon the many to death and degradation. What kind of mother would leave her children to starve underground or perish in the snow?

    To Valdemars astonishment, it seemed as if Lord Och had undergone a drastic metamorphosis before his eyes. His shoulders crumbled; his eyes looked down at the ground below his feet; his stance was feebler, weaker.

    It was then that I understood the gods love was not unconditional. Beneath the bitterness in Lord Ochs words hid crushing sorrow. The Strangers, Sophia, the stars none of them care. We humans are orphans left to wander a cold, pitiless universe. We live unloved and die unmourned. We are on our own.

    The Dark Lords image of power had copsed to reveal the tired old man beneath.

    I stopped believing in men not long afterward, Lord Och confessed. When we used Sophias corpse to begin the exodus underground, the Derros, the Dokkars, and the Troglodytes fell upon us. When mankind most needed unity, the first Dark Lords started bickering among themselves. They fought over who controlled which cavern, whosenguage men should speak Lesser men were no better. Ive seen children y their parents for table scraps.

    <em>Im seeing the real him, </em>Valdemar realized. The mask Lord Och carried on himself at all times had fallen off. The sight of the face underneath filled his apprentice with an emotion he never thought he would feel for the lich.

    Pity.

    People are not defined by their darkest moments, my teacher, Valdemar argued.

    What about the best times then? Lord Och asked with scorn. Can you fathom how old I am, my apprentice? How fantastically ancient?

    Valdemar bit his lower lip. He could almost taste his teachers bitterness on the tip of his tongue. I can only imagine.

    The empire is but thetest society we have built after the Descent. I tried to create a paradise so many times I abolished private property and made all men equal in all things. Another time I granted my subjects absolute freedom of trade, of speech, of thinking. Both experiments failed disastrously. People wanted the freedom to own more than others, or they wanted to be paid for doing nothing. They couldnt make up their minds.

    The fact you haven''t discovered the perfect system yet doesn''t mean that it doesn''t exist. Valdemar''s argument sounded weak even to himself.

    Lord Ochughed, but there was no joy to be found in his words. Democracy, oligarchy, aristocracy No system has managed to bring happiness to humans, because they will never be satisfied by <em>anything</em>. You have seen my colleagues. They mocked you as others mocked me before.

    A disappointed idealist lurked inside every cynic.

    You feel lonely, my teacher, Valdemar realized to his own shock. The Dark Lord he had so feared had been nothing more than a protective shell. At some point, the face beneath the mask of cruelty and absolute power had grown to fit it; but the raw pain at the heart of his soul had never left.

    In losing faith in others, Lord Och had cut himself off from them. Was his attempt to talk Valdemar into following him an expression of the desire to preserve a sliver of humanity with him into the Light? Or ast-ditch attempt to connect to someone, <em>anyone</em>?

    Mankind keeps letting us down, so whats the point of trying to raise them up? Lord Och argued. The truth, Valdemar, is that most humans are aggressively <em>mediocre</em>. They want easy solutions toplex problems. They want to believe someone else will solve everything for them while they dont have to lift a finger. They are a waste of our time.

    So you would rather let them die? Or brainwash them into obedience as Blutgang did with the Derros?

    Why not? The Derros have never been stronger than with ny percent of their poption lobotomized. Lord Och let out a dismissive shrug. You, me, Lord Bethor, Otto Blutgang we are exceptional. We are imbued with superior vision, volition, and intellect. Which is why we have the rightthe <em>duty</em>to rule over our lessers. There are Masters, Schrs who can grow into Masters, and the rest. My Institutes hierarchy reflects the world outside its walls. Only a fraction of humankind deserves salvation. The rest only exists to lift us up.

    Spoken like Sophia the Unwise then, Valdemar silently noted that his teacher didnt include Empress Aratra in his list of worthy people, which spoke volumes about his true feelings towards her. You have be the very thing you fought all those centuries ago.

    Lord Ochs teeth grit in anger. The remark had hit a nerve, or what could pass for one in a fleshless undead. No, I have not. I will seed where she failed. Her husk will be put out of its misery with this world, whereas I shall ascend higher than she could ever dream to.

    You can disguise the truth with all the pretty words you can think of, my teacher, it wont change it. Valdemar gathered his breath. Youve given up.

    You nave fool. Lord Och sneered with disdain. The lich straightened up and regained an ounce of his sinister majesty. You, a halfbreed eldritch spawn born of rape, you would still carry the burden of faith in mankind after all youve been through? You think yourself capable of it?

    Yes. Valdemar had carried it for years. I have stumbled many times, I will admit but I have always gotten back to my feet. I will not relent.

    Even knowing it is pointless? Lord Och gave him a sharp look. You are a poor scientist then, my apprentice. A hypothesis that cannot survive the test of experimentation should be discarded. Here is the truth: <em>nothing </em>can change human nature. <em>Nothing </em>can improve the mortal condition.

    Then, Valdemar pointed a finger at the Painted World floating above them, how do you exin this?

    His and Hermanns magnum opus had be the vibrant heart of a magical phenomenon. Its pigments danced on its surface as if alive, giving shape to a verdant new universe full of promises. Compared to the Light, a realm of eldritch beauty and alien glory, the Painted World looked in in its simplicity.

    But it was a vision of heaven all the same.

    This Painted World, this miracle, is the result of cooperation between a Stranger, a troglodyte, and my humble person, Valdemar argued. My brother let himself be caught inside because for a precious few seconds, you reminded him what it meant to be human.

    A pure tree had sprouted from a corrupted seed. If something born evil could be a force of good, why couldnt men change their ways?

    You said <em>someone </em>would pay the price for my choices, my teacher, Valdemar reminded his teacher. That each day I dyed opening a portal to Earth, more of our kinds souls would feed Ialdabaoth. Yet here we have created a new ne of existence and a potential afterlife for everyone. We have created a new option that didnt exist before. One that invalidates the choice you tried to force upon me.

    That was what Marianne had taught him.

    If paradise does not exist yet, Valdemar argued, then we must build it.

    How much time willst until human greed despoils it? Lord Och raised his chin, his expression hard as stone. I do not understand you, my apprentice.

    On the contrary, I think you do. By now, Valdemar understood the weight on his masters heart. The gnawing root at the source of their endless debates and philosophical conflicts. If you were truly confident in your own words, my position wouldnt infuriate you so much. You would have nothing to prove to me or anyone else. Yet at every step of our association, youve tried to make me validate your misanthropy.

    For the sake of your intellectual enlightenment, Lord Och replied, his voice soft as velvet.

    For the sake of soothing your guilty conscience.

    Lord Och did not answer. His shadow lengthened as the doorway to the Light shone brighter.

    You could have severed my limbs and dragged me screaming into the Light, Valdemar pointed out. You did not, because you want me toe with you out of my own free will. It matters to you. Even after centuries of gloom and darkness, a part of you is still afraid of being wrong.

    You know not what you speak of," Lord Och snorted and adjusted his tattered robes.

    Deep down a small sliver of humanity wants me to talk you out of this madness. Valdemar gazed at the Light, at the vast abyss of the cosmos. A realm that offered unlimited power at the cost of ones humanity. Its why youve tried to crush my hopes each step of the way. You wanted to silence the best part of yourself.

    Do you mean to <em>pity </em>me, Valdemar?

    To his own astonishment, Valdemar did pity the Dark Lord.

    Before him stood a creature miserable enough to take pleasure in others pain and failures. Disappointment fueled Lord Ochs cruelty. Bitterness nursed his disdain and arrogance. In his attempt to put a shield between himself and the awfulness of the world, the lich had given up on everything good in it.

    Valdemar would never forgive Lord Och for his crimes but as they faced each other with the entire worlds fate hanging in the bnce, the summoner realized he couldnt bring himself to hate the ancient Dark Lord.

    Valdemar wanted to despise Lord Och the same way he had tried to find the strength to hate his grandfather, because it would have made it easier. But even if he tried his best to appear as one, the lich was no monster. He was no vicious madman like Ialdaboaths cultists, no cruel invader from another world like the Qlippoths, not even an unfeeling machine like Otto Blutgang.

    In the end, Lord Och was only human.

    My teacher, its not toote.

    Now it was Valdemars turn to extend a hand to Lord Och. The ancient archmage nced at his students palm without a word. He made no move to take it.

    Stay with me. Help me make this world a better ce instead of turning your back on it. Valdemar cleared his throat. Lord Och, you possess extraordinary knowledge, willpower, and wisdom. Youmand incredible resources and powerful magic. Harsh years have torn you up inside, but you are not alone in this fight anymore. I am with you.

    Even after all Lord Och had done, it wasnt toote for him to get a second chance.

    <em>We cant wait much longer.</em> The portal had be so bright that its steel had turned ck as coal inparison. <em>The whole ce will copse on us.</em>

    Yet Valdemar waited. He said nothing as Lord Och observed him, judged him, appraised him. The ancient lichs ghoulish skull briefly betrayed a hint of doubt. His fiery eyes nced at Valdemars hand with uncertainty.

    For a moment, the Dark Lord truly considered Valdemars offer.

    No, my apprentice.

    But although a crack had appeared in this millennium-old ice, it refused to melt away.

    I have gone too far, sacrificed too much, to stop here. The Dark Lords voice turned deeper, more sinister. I will not turn back while I stand at the very altar of enlightenment. Not for anything. Not even for you.

    Valdemar lowered his hand, his fists clenched with resolve. Then the time for words is over.

    It is. An earthquake shook the vault. Cracks spread in the stone ceiling, threatening to copse it. The portal has almost stabilized. We must cross it soon or perish with this, Valdemar.

    I reject these options. Valdemar shifted his posture and prepared to lunge at his master, his teacher his twisted mirror. I will close this cursed door before the unthinkable happens.

    Valdemar had spent the whole discussion analyzing the situation. The phenomenon came from the portal using the Painted World as a conduit to create a resonance with the Lights realm. If Valdemar could disable the portal and safely disperse its energies, he would preserve the Painted World. He would save his brother and Hermanns legacy.

    But to do that, Valdemar needed to achieve the impossible.

    He would have to get past Lord Och.

    I wont let you destroy this world. Blood particles floated around Valdemar, ready to fuel his spells. I will stop you here as you once stopped your own master.

    The Dark Lords sinisterughter echoed in the vault. The man inside the lich had put on his mask of inhumanity. The Lord Och that stood before Valdemar was no longer doubtful. He had be the cold-hearted, cruel archwizard that cowed his apprentice into obedience the first time they met.

    Foolish disciple. An electrical spark red to life in Lord Ochs palm. I taught you well, but you still have <em>so </em>much left to learn.

    Then consider today my graduation.

    Master and student began their battle with the Light as their only witness.

 Chapter 56: Duel of the Archmages

    Chapter 56: Duel of the Archmages

    Not even the gods could dodge lightning, so Valdemar didnt bother.

    Instead, he quickly reshaped his body before Lord Och could cast his spell. His skin had turned into an armored substance that was like thick iron, strong but inflexible. Two spikes of iron bones erupted from his shoulders and a pathway of nerves formed in his back.

    Valdemar sensed Lord Ochs telekic might hit him at the same time as his lightning. The first time they met, the Dark Lords magic had powered through his apprentices defenses and brought him to his knees. Valdemar never stood a chance back then.

    But a good spellcaster learned from his mistakes.

    Lord Ochs telekic push bounced off his apprentices psychic defenses without getting past them. His lightning coiled around Valdemar''s shoulder spikes and traveled down the nerve pathways prepared for it all the way to his heels. The redirected electricity harmlessly dissipated into the ground after missing his vital organs.

    Valdemar had invented this defense to protect himself from the Derros lightning pylons after they incapacitated him in Astaphanos. He never thought he would need it to fight his own teacher, but it served him well all the same.

    An interesting innovation. Lord Och sounded almost proud.

    Fool me once, shame on you, Valdemar replied as he reshaped his hands fingers into organic barrels. Fool me twice, shame on me.

    A volley of bone and blood bullets erupted from the summoners fingers.

    Lord Och didnt bother dodging. Instead, he tore off his robes as his entire skeleton turned ck as onyx. Organic bullets bounced off his bones as if it were made of the thickest steel.

    Exploiting the lichs overconfidence, Valdemar tried a trick he once used against the Derros. He telekicallymanded his own blood bullets to reshape into summoning circles and call allies when they hit Och.

    Valdemar attempted to summon fire elementals and brutish gugs. He failed. Harmless mes flickered against Ochs reinforced bones, while the gugs manifested in a shower of organs and blood.

    With Ktulu heavily wounded and the spatial anomaly altering reality inside the vault, Valdemar couldnt summon safely. His allies were torn apart before they could make their way to Undend.

    Pitiful, Lord Och said as he stomped the ground with his right foot. A row of long bone spears rose from the earth and progressed towards Valdemar like a tidal wave.

    Valdemar dodged the attack and charged straight at Lord Och. His nails turned into bone knives sharp enough to cut through steel. In a minute, he closed the gap with his master and aimed straight for the head.

    Lord Och deftly stepped out of the way and deflected Valdemars arm with a push of his right hand. Did you mistake me for a feeble old man unwilling to get his hands dirty, my apprentice?

    The steel skeletons left palm hit Valdemars chest at a bullets speed. Magic rippled from the lichs bones on contact into a mighty telekic st.

    If he hadnt cast his armor spell, the blow would have no doubt blown Valdemars organs to smithereens. It still had enough power to propel him backward against the vaults stone wall. Rock shattered against his back upon impact, and his iron skin peeled off to reveal the festering flesh underneath.

    You dont live to my age without learning a few things about hand-to-handbat! Lord Och taunted his apprentice as eldritch mes red to life between his fingers.

    Recognizing the spell his master was about to cast, Valdemar quickly disabled his armor spell and leaped to his left as fast as he could. A stream of searing fire erupted from Lord Ochs hands. Valdemar managed to avoid the lethal hit, the stone wall of the vault melting where the mes touched it.

    Your strength is your weakness, my apprentice, Lord Och taunted Valdemar. The air in the room simmered from the heat. You rely so much on summoned soldiers to the point of neglecting your physical training!

    Lord Och sustained his stream of mes, forcing his apprentice to stay on the move to escape it. Valdemar reshaped the bones of his legs for the purpose of digitigrade lotion. The sole of his feet receded as his weight shifted to his distal and intermediate phnges.

    Like a cat.

    Valdemar reshaped his bones to better improve his speed. His biomancy lessons had borne fruit. He quickly outpaced Lord Ochs mes and moved swiftly enough to reach the frontier of the lichs field of vision on the left.

    Striking by surprise, Valdemar severed his ded nails and threw them at his mentor from an angle he couldnt predict. Lord Och didnt even turn his head to face them. He simply interrupted his fire spell and snapped his fingers.

    A cold wind blew in the underground vault.

    Valdemar watched on with a shocked expression as a wall of ice rose from nowhere between teacher and apprentice. Valdemars projectiles went halfway through before the biting cold made their des brittle.

    It wasnt a teleportation spell it wasnt even a spell from the Blood.

    The Cold, Valdemar whispered, astonished. The Whitemoon

    Lord Och chuckled as the wall of ice copsed into nothingness. My poor Valdemar, did you truly think I would limit myself to one field of magic?

    <em>Does he have eyes on the back of his head too? </em>Valdemar wondered in silent frustration. The Dark Lords sensitivity to the Blood allowed him to sense attacksing. <em>I cant surprise him. Not this way at least.</em>

    The issue of our duel was decided before it even began, Valdemar. Lord Och joined his hands together and started making hand signs. His shadow grew darker, as ck as the Light was radiant. I am older, wiser, more experienced.

    Maybe, Valdemar admitted as he reshaped his body once again. The spikes on his shoulders turned into organic barrels. But Im a creative soul.

    Valdemar remembered one of Lord Ochsments; that he should be careful never to leave a piece of himself around due to his healing factor. He hadnt fully grasped the reason for the warning, but now he did.

    His consciousness was spread across all of his cells. Much like Ialdabaoth, Valdemar could be the wellspring from which new life grew.

    His shoulder cannons fired bits of concentrated flesh at Lord Och. As the projectiles crossed the gap between master and apprentice, the Dark Lords shadow rose from the ground into a three-dimensional shape. Valdemar briefly thought his teacher had summoned a Haunter, but the shadow appeared to answer Lord Ochs thoughts directly. It transformed into a hundred ck hands and stopped all projectiles with an unnatural agility.

    Valdemars fleshy bits revealed their true nature on impact. Tentacles burst out of them like worms gnawing their way out of a fruit. Lord Och recoiled as he found himself facing floating orbs with many eyes and mouths dripping with venom.

    Although they looked like independent creatures, these monsters were nothing of the sort; they were extensions of Valdemar, fingers of a different shape. He watched through their eyes and spoke through their mouths.

    His creations spat acid at a surprised Lord Och. The lichs shadowy hands protected him from most projectiles, but not all. Some droplets managed to hit his ribcage and rusted his bones.

    Refined gastric acid? Lord Och observed. I forgot the taste so long ago

    Where is she? Valdemar hissed as he reshaped his body back to its original, human-shaped form andmanded his creations to overwhelm Lord Och. Where is her soulstone? What have you done with it?

    What do you think? Lord Ochsughter echoed in the vault, cold and sinister. I destroyed it.

    Valdemar froze in shock and his creations echoed his anger. They snarled at Lord Och and attempted to nk him. Shadowy hands caught them before they could approach the lich, before tearing off jaws and eyes alike. The pain of his minions reverberated back to Valdemar through their psychic link and made his fingers tremble with rage.

    Thats right, my apprentice. Lord Och smiled wickedly as lightning surged from his hands and vaporized a floating flesh orb. I shattered her soulstone beneath my heel. I watched her spirit enter the nothing from which it came.

    Lies! Valdemar snarled.

    It was for your own good. That woman has led you astray.

    <em>Hes just trying to get a psychological edge on me</em>, Valdemar thought. He had to ignore the lichs words and focus. For Marianne. For himself. For everyone.

    While the Dark Lord was busy ying the flesh monsters with shadows and lightning, Valdemar mmed the cold stone floor with his palms. He closed his eyes for a second and opened himself to the Blood, tapping into the flesh and soul of Undend. As he had suspected, with Crtail gone he felt like a thirsty man drinking from an inexhaustible wellspring.

    Valdemars blood turned ck as it poured out of his hands. A thin web of flesh and nerves spread all over the vault. It covered the stone ceiling, the cold hard floor, every spot it could touch. It would have touched the portal and the pir of light keeping the Painted World afloat too, but the raging cosmic energies erupting from both evaporated Valdemars ckened blood before it could get anywhere close.

    By the time Lord Och got rid of thest flesh minion, the entire vault was drenched in Valdemars blood.

    Lord Ochs skill at spellcasting and knowledge of magic dwarfed Valdemars, but the half-Stranger could tap into a greater reservoir of power. He was an avatar of the Blood itself, one without any rival now that Crtail had be imprisoned in the Painted World. Whereas Lord Och could only tap into his own reserves, his student had ess to the collective pool of all lifeforms bound by Ialdabaoths lineage.

    The Dark Lord looked up at the vaults ceiling with a hint of concern. Valdemars blood had changed colors. From the ck emerged shades of red, of purple, of blue and green. Pictures of eyes and moths decorated the domes surface. Valdemar sensed the chaotic fabric of space slowly stabilize and bend to his will.

    A Painted Field? the lich asked. Good. Very good.

    I am the Red Prince of the Blood, Valdemar dered, his voice reverberating through the pigments of his soul. Neither man nor Stranger. I belong to no realm and obey nows. All bend to my will.

    Make me, Lord Och mocked him.

    "I will."

    Although the portal-powered spatial anomaly made his control fragile, the sorcerers Painted Field gave him a degree of mastery over reality within its confines. Valdemar drew upon his bodys reserves and manifested des of bones.

    But instead of erupting from his forearms, they fell down from the ceiling.

    No sooner did Lord Ochs shadowy hands catch them that more weapons appeared all over the Painted Fields surface. Valdemar used it as an extension of his body to manifest them everywhere his pigments touched.

    Summoning ded weapons as projectiles the Pleromians tactic, Lord Och rasped as he recognized the spell at work. Ah, you learned more than theoretical knowledge from that creatures wayward soul.

    Valdemar answered his mentor with more projectiles. Hammers of flesh, whips of sinew, and des of bones rained down from all directions and every angle he could think of. He struck from the left and the right, from above and below. He would have teleported projectiles straight inside Lord Ochs skull too if the lichs magical defenses didnt make it impossible.

    The Dark Lords shadowy hands attempted to block the attacks, but there were too many of them. A deflected projectile merged back with the Painted Field and was thrown back at the lich within seconds. Lord Och let out an annoyed sigh as his shadow coiled around him in the shape of an imprable orb. The flesh and bone projectiles bounced off its surface, but the lich had nowhere left to run.

    Valdemar couldnt afford to drag this on. The portals energies started to swirl in the shape of a spiral. The chaotic power of the rift was slowly stabilizing into the shape of a corridor leading to the Light.

    <em>Lord Ochs fire spell works by summoning minor fire elementals and immediately turning them into rifts to their home ne, </em>Valdemar thought. <em>But he shouldnt be able to with the spatial anomaly ongoing.</em>

    Unless unless the fire elementals didnt need to fully enter the material ne. Lord Och transformed them into rifts while they were halfway through the veil between realms.

    <em>If so, then I can do the same, </em>Valdemar thought as he raised his hands in Lord Ochs direction. He telekically bent blood on his palms to form small summoning circles. With the right, Valdemar tried to summon a fire element; and with the left, its air counterpart.

    Calling creatures from two different nes at once was extraordinarily difficult for all but the most powerful summoners, but Valdemar was overqualified.

    The sorcerer sensed his summoned soldiers torn apart halfway through the veil between nes. He did not care. He focused his magic and turned the elementals into tiny rifts to their homeworlds. The summoning circles on his hands shone with overwhelming power.

    The two rifts to the elemental nes opened for less than a second. That was enough.

    From the elemental ne of fire came a st of searing mes as hot as the stars burning heart. From the elemental ne of air burst a tornado of pressurized hydrogen. Both streams merged together into a white beam of blinding radiance.

    Valdemar had to strengthen his legs with the Blood to avoid being thrown backward by the spells bacsh. Lord Och, whose shadow dome had be both a carapace and a prison, could not dodge. The beam cleared his protection like a candles me banished the darkness, continued its way beyond, and then hit the Painted Field on the other side. A good fifth of the dome crystalized around the point of impact while the death ray continued its course through the stone beyond. A chunk of the wall copsed.

    When the energy beams light died down, nothing but ashes remained of Lord Och.

    The lich had been vaporized.

    You copied my spell.

    Valdemar flinched as Lord Ochs ashes pulled themselves back together. The lichs raw atoms gathered into the shape of steel bones and a ghastly skull.

    No you improved it. The reborn Lord Och gave Valdemar a mock reverence. My congrattions. You are truly worthy of standing among us Dark Lor

    Valdemar incinerated the lich with a second iteration of his spell, and watched Lord Och reform just as swiftly with great dismay.

    Its useless, Lord Och rasped as he returned to unlife. Your raw strength and my knowledge of magic are evenly matched, but my body is a mere projection. So long as my phctery remains intact, I will pull myself back together. We will be locked in battle until the stars die out.

    Fine by me, Valdemar lied. He knew all too well that they wouldnt have eternity before the portal stabilized the pathway.

    <em>My Painted Field should have formed a barrier between Lord Ochs body and his soul, </em>Valdemar thought as he and the lich exchanged volleys of fire spells. Neither of them managed to y the other. Whereas Valdemar dodged attacks well enough, Lord Och simply regenerated whenever he took damage. <em>So why can he recreate his body so quickly?</em>

    Come to think of it, something was wrong with this situation. Lord Ochs soul needed to pass into the Light to achieve godhood. He could only do so with his phctery close at hand.

    <em>Is it in the room? </em>Valdemar wondered as he scanned the area. His gaze wandered to the shining radiance at the center of the room and the truth hit him like a bullet to the head.

    Back when Valdemar had examined the portal more closely, he had felt a soul inside. The sacrificed people used to power the archway had vanished into the ether, but this one had mysteriously remained behind

    Its the portal, Valdemar realized. You turned the Pleromian portal into your phctery.

    Lord Och didnt answer, but the brief flicker in his fiery eyes confirmed his apprentices suspicions all the same.

    That was why the Dark Lord refused to back down. He had wagered his eternal unlife in hisst bid for godhood. Such was his obsession with the Light that he tied his very soul to its threshold.

    Valdemar sted his master once more and rushed at the portal. He used biomancy to stretch his left arm by more than three meters. He only had to touch the steel archway to suck Lord Ochs soul from its hiding ce.

    His hand turned to ashes before it could make contact. Magical energy rippled from the steel to incinerate his flesh and bones.

    Valdemar gritted his teeth in frustration as his hand regenerated. Lord Ochsughter echoed across the crumbling dome.

    My phctery has more protective spells shielding it than this fortress has stones. Ayer of ice stronger than the thickest steel covered the lichs bones. Do you understand the pointlessness of your struggle now, Valdemar? The portal wont close. It will not obey yourmands. Only when the veil has thinned will my soul depart its sanctuary and pass through with yours following, of course.

    The world became cold.

    I have humored you long enough, Valdemar. Eternity awaits us.

    White mist seeped from Lord Ochs bones and dropped the temperature tenfold. Ayer of frost covered the Painted Field. Valdemars skin froze and turned brittle. The summoner used biomancy to increase his bodys temperature, even as the water in his eyes turned to ice.

    Ktulu, a voice said from within his ribcage.

    Valdemars breath of relief turned to mist when it came out of his lungs. His familiar had recovered some of its strength within his body. Its childish mind brushed against Valdemars thoughts with aforting presence.

    Ktulhu ftahgna, the tiny Stranger said.

    An idea traveled through the mental link Valdemar shared with his familiar, as clear as pure water.

    <em>It is time.</em>

    You are right. Valdemar joined his hands in prayer with Ktulu humming to itself. He ignored the chilling cold and the Lights radiance both. There is no other way.

    His familiar became a conduit between his summoner and the cosmos.

    In his dead house at the bottom of the sea, Valdemar chanted, his voice crossing the boundaries between the nes. The Old One lies dreaming

    It didnt matter if Valdemarcked the power to summon allies. The entity he contacted could reach the universe on their own, even with the spatial anomaly getting in its way.

    They only needed to take notice.

    That is not dead which can eternal lie, Valdemar finished his prayer, and with strange aeons even death may die!

    Ktulus father answered the call.

    Valdemar felt his brain boil in his skull as a crushing telepathic presence overwhelmed his thoughts. A cold alien mind ripped through his mental protections as if they didnt exist.

    There was no warmth nor crueltying from the link. The entity didnt even acknowledge Valdemars existence. Humans were so small inparison to its cosmic magnificence that as far as the creature was concerned, they did not even exist. Neither did it feel any affection for Ktulu. The entity didnt feel emotions the way humans did, if at all.

    But it answered its star-spawns prayer all the same.

    Valdemar only saw a brief glimpse of the entity through the veil between worlds. A human mind would have imploded from trying toprehend its eldritch geometry. The sorcerers half-Stranger nature preserved his sanity, though he failed to properly process the entitys apocalyptic visage. Its form vaguely echoed that of Ktulu, but with gargantuan proportions. Its flesh existed in multiple universes at once, between the boundary of life and death.

    Was it a Stranger? Or something else? This creature wasnt affiliated with Ialdabaoth, the Whitemoon, or the Silent King, yet its power rivaled their own. The entity embodied the uncaring nature of the cosmos, the apocalyptic power of gamma rays, and the inevitability of entropic annihtion. The fate of men inspired little more than apathy in its cold alien heart.

    The chaotic fabric of spacetime weakened further as the entity peered through the veil on the other side. Lord Och recoiled as if struck, his cold aura swept away by an invisible force. The Lights radiance dimmed as a mighty interdimensional shadow covered the room.

    You mad fool, you will destroy us both! The mocking confidence in Lord Ochs voice turned to an emotion Valdemar had never hearding from his teacher.

    <em>Fear</em>.

    Ktulus father was too ancient and powerful for even Valdemar to summon properly. The stars were not right for it. Only the shadow of a colossal green hand took shape in the vault, sorge that the Painted World looked no bigger than a nail inparison. The Institute trembled with its terrible manifestation.

    Lord Och unleashed a mighty thunderbolt at the monstrous fingers, the electricity shining bright as the stars. Spacetime curved the lightning around and dispersed it into nothingness. To Valdemars eyes, it seemed as if the spell had lost its way through mangled angles and bent lines.

    This is thest Pleromian portal left in all of Undend! Lord Och shouted in genuine panic. Prayer was now hisst refuge. If you destroy it, you will never reach Earth! Mankind will be condemned tonguish in this ruin of a for all eternity!

    I remember your lesson, my teacher, Valdemar replied. By now, he couldnt stop the entity if he wanted to. I will bear the weight of my dream.

    No one should sacrifice others for their dream, if they werent willing to die themselves for it.

    I will find another way.

    The hand of the alien god shattered the portal and switched off the Light.

    Dimensions copsed with the vaults ceiling. Lord Och let out a scream of rage as space cracked and fell apart around him. Valdemar smiled as a surge of energy swallowed his world and blinded him with its radiance.

    There was darkness, and then nothing.

 Chapter 57: From Beyond

    Chapter 57: From Beyond

    He thought, therefore he was.

    Even with his body blown to smithereens, even after the smallest of his cells had been vaporized, even after the cosmic Light sted his essence, Valdemar kept thinking.

    He was everywhere and nowhere at all. He saw through two billion eyes and breathed through half as many mouths. He was the chittering rats hiding in the smallest tunnels and the dragons in the greatest caverns. He was the heat-force of the mitochondria and the quivering will of the eukaryotes.

    He was the Blood incarnate. Crtail had split his power in half, but with his brother sealed, Valdemar Verney''s Stranger half was no longer suppressed. Only now did he truly understand Lord Ochs words. That he would never die.

    As long as the Blood flowed, the Red Grail of immortality would endure.

    Ialdabaoth had stopped stirring in its sleep with Crtails capture. The Father of Alls prophet had fallen back into the darkness from which he came. The worlds awakening had been dyed, the day was won.

    Ialdabaoth would not sleep forever. Its slumber wouldst for decades, perhaps centuries, but the Stranger would stir again. Its dreams would call to the madmen and the weak-willed to begin the cycle anew. One day, Ialdabaoth would return.

    And the Father of All would find its rebel son opposing it once again.

    The Blood breathed life into Valdemar once again. His atoms gathered. His cells multiplied. His flesh drew nourishment from all life in Undend until he recovered fromplete annihtion.

    His eyes opened to the sight of Paraplexs stone ceiling. More than fouryers of stone had separated Lord Ochs vault from the top of his fortress not too long ago. All of them had copsed. A mighty fist had punched through all of them on its way to the Institutes basement.

    Skin covered Valdemars raw flesh, rebuilding his ears, his lips, and eyelids. His legs carried him atop a pile of rocks and shattered stones. Only rubble remained of the ancient ruins buried underneath the Institute. The vault had copsed atop the annihted portal,ying the Pleromians sinister legacy to rest.

    Ktulu.

    Ktulu hopped on Valdemars back and held onto his shoulders. Though the wounds the familiar had taken from Lord Och hadnt yet healed, it had somehow been spared from the annihtion that befell the fortress.

    The Painted World had survived too. The eldritch painting was half-buried in stones near Valdemar, but intact. The Silent Kings ritual had made it near indestructible to the point that even a fellow Stranger couldnt destroy it.

    Valdemar let out a breath of relief. His brother and Hermanns legacy would survive.

    Ktulu playal gna, the tiny Stranger dered with a hint of pride.

    <em>My dad is stronger than yours, </em>Valdemar tranted. The bond between summoner and familiar had grown stronger and deeper with each ordeal. With trust came understanding.

    Ktulus father was nowhere to be seen. The deitys divine fist had struck Undend hard enough to shake it to the core and left just as swiftly. The stars needed to make way for its arrival; a true, proper summoning would have had apocalyptic consequences. Where did this entitye from? What was its purpose?

    <em>Even after I learned so much, </em>Valdemar thought, <em>there are still so many mysteries to uncover.</em>

    What is happening

    Valdemar turned at the voices source and faced his teacher onest time.

    Lord Och had crawled out of the rubble too, but didnt recover from the portals destruction like his student. His steel bones rusted in the equivalent of years in mere seconds. His legs had partly crumbled and forced him to kneel.

    My soul cries out Lord Och rasped. One of his ribs fell and turned to dust before hitting the ground. My mind slipping away my contingencies cant sense

    A god of immense power struck the seat of your soul, Lord Och, Valdemar said. All the lichs contingency ns couldnt cover such an extreme scenario. I cant even feel it anymore.

    Valdemar couldnt save the lichs unlife, even if he wanted to. The force animating his old bones was no more than a psychic echo left after the phcterys destruction. It would fade away within minutes.

    Death had caught up to Och, Dark Lord of Paraplex and archwizard extraordinaire.

    In spite of all the lich had done, to watch his agony filled Valdemar with sorrow. More than a Dark Lord, Och was the heir of the old world, one of thest witnesses of a time when light shone on Undend. How many memories would fade away with him? How much knowledge would be lost?

    Lord Ochs demise felt akin to the destruction of his portal. In spite of the evil legacy it carried, the monuments absence would diminish the world. Men would never see anything like this again.

    Am I dying atst? This is frightening the dark The fires in Lord Ochs eyes flickered like candles threatening to die out. Where will I go, Valdemar?

    Valdemar bit his lower lip. He wanted tofort the Dark Lord in hisst moments, but he also respected him too much to lie. I do not know, my teacher.

    Neither to Ialdabaoth nor the Light, he suspected. Lord Ochs soul would wander into the darkness beyond the veil of death. No Stranger would wee him. The cold gaze Ktulu sent to the lich told Valdemar as much.

    Lord Och would die as he lived: alone.

    The same thought seemed to cross the lichs mind in his final moments. You cruel child we could have ascended to the Light and now you condemned us both to eternal darkness

    It wasnt worth the price.

    "You will live to regret your choice..." Lord Och''s mouth coughed out dust. Human greed is eternal. Mortals will disappoint you in time all of them.

    Valdemar sensed something moist running down his cheek.

    The lich looked at him with a puzzled expression. Are you crying?

    Yes, for you! Valdemar wiped away his tears, his voice brimming with anger. The Light be damned, you had so much knowledge, so much wisdom! We could have reached Earth together, saved mankind! You had everything and you threw it all away!

    Valdemars fists clenched in rage. In spite of the Dark Lords sins and cruelty, his apprentice had truly admired him. His demise felt like a personal loss for himself and all of humankind.

    The lich listened in silence beforeughing at his apprentices face. I am a Dark Lord, my foolish disciple beyond regrets, beyond sorrow if you do not understand yet then you learned nothing

    You taught me well. You taught me to stand up for my beliefs.

    Then mayhaps you will seed in a few more centuries once you walk the same road I did Lord Och let out a cough of dust. Remember what awaits you at the threshold

    The lichs left shoulder gave out and he threatened to fall on his face. Valdemar moved to catch him without thinking and held him in his arms. The Dark Lord was so brittle that some of his bones cracked when his fingers touched them.

    Valdemar used his psychic sight to examine the lich. He looked for any fragment of his soul he could catch and safeguard within him, but all he found were dying embers beyond saving.

    Are you still worrying for my immortal soul The light in Lord Ochs right eye died out, leaving only one. After all Ive done to you?

    Someone has to, Valdemar replied softly. You cant be a better person if youre dead.

    You would give a chance even to the likes of me? Even after I slew Hermann and that woman?

    Valdemars teeth gritted together. I cannot forgive your cruelty... but when I offered you a chance to turn back before our battle, you hesitated; and when we fought I felt the restraint in your spells. Even on the threshold of the Light, a part of you doubted and held back. You were not lost forever.

    Something Valdemar couldnt say from the likes of Blutgang and Shelley.

    If I was willing to offer you another chance back then, in front of the portal, why wouldnt I give you one now? Valdemar asked. As long as a small star shines in the night, it must be preserved and nurtured. Or else there will only be darkness left.

    Valdemar expected his master to spit in his face and mock his navet onest time. To his surprise, his words seemed to strike a chord with the Dark Lord. He had no more bitter jabs to offer, no rebuke about the inherent cruelty of humankind.

    Maybe you wont be like me Lord Och rasped. After all...

    If anything, he looked strangely serene.

    "We made quite the pair... you and I two fools fumbling in the dark... A mirthless chuckle came out of Lord Ochs mouth as thest of his bones fell apart. I looked for the light everywhere except within myself.

    Such were Lord Ochsst words as he crumbled to dust in his students arms.

    Time caught up to the lich with rued interests. His skull turned to sand as it hit the stones. The magic that had animated Lord Och for centuries ground him back into raw atoms and then nothing.

    Farewell, my teacher, Valdemar whispered.

    Deaths silence answered his words.

    <em>I cant hear the battle,</em> Valdemar thought as he looked up at the ceiling.<em> It must be over.</em>

    No way the Dark Lords hadnt noticed the destruction. Valdemar would have some exining to do soon.

    Ktulu, his familiar hissed. Maryannu!

    Valdemars blood froze in his veins. Marianne.

    Her corpse had been left to rot in the open.

    Briefly forgetting the Painted World and his own nakedness, Valdemar extended his arms all the way to the Institutes ground floor and lifted himself up. It didnt take him long to find Mariannes remains in the courtyard, right next to Hermanns corpse.

    Lord Och hadnt even bothered to cover his tracks.

    <em>I will bury you both,</em> Valdemar swore to the corpses. He knelt next to Mariannes remains first; her pale skin had taken on a pallid shade as rigor mortis set in. Lord Och had at least the decency to close her eyes before leaving her behind.

    She looked asleep at first nce, but when Valdemar held her in his arms, he couldnt deny the truth. His partner, his sword, felt cold as ice to the touch.

    <em>Did you suffer?</em> Valdemar thought grimly. <em>Did you die in despair thinking Lord Och would kill me next? Or did you believe I would prevail to the bitter end?</em>

    What he would have given up to hear her voice answer him

    <em>No, Valdemar, focus, </em>the summoner touched as his hand moved to Mariannes neck.<em> You cant give up yet. Even if Lord Och smashed her soulstone, perhaps you can salvage something out of it.</em>

    He had recreated an echo of his grandfather from a journal. With the fragment of a soulstone, he could do the same with Marianne. It wouldnt be her, not truly, but at least he would keep a memento from his lover.

    Valdemars eyes widened. His fingers had closed on a ck stone whose surface felt as warm as Mariannes skin was cold.

    The soulstone was intact.

    Valdemars eyes widened in shock as he realized that Lord Och had lied. He hadnt destroyed Mariannes soulstone, perhaps out of neglect or maybe out of respect.

    That cold-hearted bastard Valdemar whispered. Toying with my feelings even after death

    His despair turned to hope as he seized the soulstone. Mariannes vibrant spirit remained alive within it, awaiting a new vessel in which she would take root again.

    Soon, Valdemar promised as he put a hand on her corpses forehead. Mariannes muscles had started to stiffen, but most of her cells were intact. The rot hadnt set in. Soon.

    Valdemar applied the soulstone to Mariannes neck and went to work.

    Death felt like a dream.

    Pale colors, iplete images, and indistinct sounds littered Mariannes mind. She walked alone through the wastnd of her past. Pictures rose from a sea of darkness at random. Her familys mansion crumbled under its own weight. Indistinct shadows walked past her while wearing her parents clothes. A flock of bats shifted into the shape of Bertrand. A rusted needle oozed blood as Lord Bethors grim visage watched on from above. A portrait reflected a blurred vision of Valdemars face, his smile turning into a bloody grin when Marianne approached it.

    Was this ce her afterlife? A deste museum of stillborn thoughts?

    Marianne had heard that souls kept in an individual soulstone slept quietly, whereas those sharing amon Reliquary melted together in a sea of knowledge and memories. Lord Och might have snuffed her life out before the soulstone could catch her, but this ce didnt look like the Outer Darkness. Marianne didnt suffer and the memories didnt torment her. No Qlippoth haunted her steps.

    She would find neither joy nor sorrow here.

    Mariannes steps carried her to onest ghastly vision; that of a steel spike impaling a well-dressed corpse through the throat. Ayer of pale white skin covered the victims eyes and mouth, hiding their visage. As for the spike, it looked suspiciously like her rapiers tip.

    Marianne gathered her breath, although no air came in or out of her lungs. Is that you, Jrme?

    The figures head slowly turned in her direction. Do you remember my face? the faceless man asked with a voice Marianne did not recognize and without a mouth to speak with. Do you remember the scent of my blood? Or have you forgotten?

    No, I have not. Marianne would never forget. I only wanted to let go.

    The faceless man dangled from the soulsteel spike, pale blood dripping from his wound. Marianne found his silence unbearable.

    Do you hate me? She asked softly.

    The dead do not feel regrets or anger. The dead do not feel anything at all. The figure pointed at the darkness surrounding them with a crooked arm. Death is <em>nothingness</em>.

    A chill went down Mariannes spine. Her fear turned to confusion as her eyes lingered on other half-formed memories. Does their presence mean that I still live?

    The faceless mans head tilted to the side and revealed the festering flesh beneath his wound. Do you want to?

    Yes, of course I want to live. Nobody wishes for death. Marianne ground her jaw when she looked up at her former lover. Did you? Is that why you didnt wear your soulstone?

    Does it matter what I want? What happened, happened.

    I need an answer. To find closure.

    You will find none in death. Life is a road that always ends before its destination.

    You arent really here, are you? Marianne wondered if it was her minds way of telling her that she would never find the answers to some questions and that she would have to make her own. Do you even exist?

    I do, the ghost of her past replied, so long as you remember me.

    Marianne smiled as light cleared the darkness of her mind. I can live with that.

    A ray of light forced its way through her eyelids. A sense of numbness overtook her body to the point that she couldnt sense her own fingers. Something filled her nose and slowed down her heartbeat.

    Even as her eyes slowly started to distinguish colors and forms, Marianne struggled not to fall back into sleep. Had someone cast a dizzying spell on her? Her head was resting against something warm and soft, under the shadow of a man.

    Do not move. It took Marianne a few seconds to recognize Valdemars voice. It will take a few minutes before your heart cleans out the umted toxins.

    <em>Toxins? </em>Mariannes skull felt heavy like a stone. Her head hurt and half her thoughts came to an abrupt end before she could utter them. Am I

    Dead? Mariannes vision stabilized until she could see her lovers smile. Valdemar looked beaten and exhausted, but alive. Wonderfully alive. You were.

    And he brought her back.

    You are naked, Marianne noticed. It sounded stupid even to herself, but she struggled to form a better thought.

    I am, Valdemar said with a chuckle. Marianne felt his fingers close on her left hand. Had his touch ever felt so warm?

    Ktulu, his small familiar said while peeping over his shoulder. Ktulhu!

    <em>My head is resting on hisp, </em>Marianne realized. She could have stayed there for hours, but the recent souvenir of Lord Och murdering Hermann brutally brought her back to reality. Where where is he? Lord Och?

    That is a question, Empress Aratras voice cut through the discussion, I would like to hear the answer too.

    Marianne struggled to raise her head.

    The six remaining Dark Lords had formed a circle around her and Valdemar. Lord Bethor rode on his dragons back, while Empress Aratra, not to be outdone, stood with dignity atop a tall pile of dead Qlippoths. Lady Phul kept her wings folded over her chest, her expression guarded. Lord Hagith kept his hands behind his back next to the frowning Phaleg. Last but not least, Lord Ophiel examined Valdemars naked chest before shaking his head.

    Disappointing, Marianne heard the androgynous Dark Lord mutter under their breath. Deeply disappointing.

    <em>Have they always been here? </em>Marianne wondered. Her diminished state prevented her from tapping into her enhanced senses. She struggled to rise up to her feet, to protect Valdemar from them, but her body refused to obey her. Her lover didnt look in a good enough shape to pick up a fight either. <em>Were at their mercy</em>

    The Blood cried out for minutes, Empress Aratra said with squinting eyes. Space and time floundered.

    Lord Ophiel scoffed. All of Undend must have felt it.

    I told you that the lich was plotting something, Phaleg the Binder raged as blisters grew on his inhuman arm. Where is he?

    Hes gone, Valdemar replied calmly. I killed him.

    <em>My hearing hasnt recovered,</em> Marianne thought. <em>My ears deceive me.</em>

    Valdemars serious expression made her doubt.

    Lord Ophielughed in response and Phaleg the Binder scoffed with disdain. But Empress Aratra remained eerily silent, as did Lord Bethor.

    <em>Hes not lying</em>, Marianne realized to her shock. Her lovers hand was firm and untroubled. <em>He destroyed Lord Och.</em>

    So foreign was the thought that although Marianne hadplete faith in Valdemar, she still struggled to believe him. Lord Och was older than the empire itself, a mage of tremendous power. He had snuffed out Mariannes life with a snap of his fingers. She knew Valdemar could have prevailed in battle against the lich, but to <em>destroy </em>him?

    How? Lord Bethor asked Valdemar, a hint of sorrow in the Dark Lords voice. The fact he didnt deny his former teachers demise made his colleagues suddenly anxious.

    I couldn''t beat him myself, so I summoned a Stranger to destroy his phctery, Valdemar replied. His familiar wagged its tentacles on his shoulder.

    Lord Bethor pressed for details. Was it the Nahemoth? Was that your n from the start?

    Valdemar looked uneasy at revealing this information. Hermann Hermann and I seeded in creating the Painted World.

    But it wasnt the Nahemoth that you used, Lord Bethor guessed. You called <em>another</em>.

    Valdemar nodded slowly. Lord Bethors dragon hunched beneath his silent master, as if echoing his thoughts.

    It was meant to be, was all Lord Bethor said. He sounded as if he had expected this oue from the start.

    Of all the Dark Lords present, Phaleg the Binder looked to be the most in denial. You cant imply

    Young Valdemar speaks the truth. All eyes turned to Empress Aratra. The mistress of Ant showed no emotion. A stony expression and a monotone voice hid her feelings from her fellow Dark Lords. I do not feel Ochs presence in the Blood anymore. His soul has departed Undend.

    The apprentice surpassed the teacher, Lord Bethor dered. To Mariannes surprise, she sensed a hint of respect in his voice. The Dark Lord of Sabaoth mourned his fallen master, but he <em>revered </em>his yer as a fellow exemr of strength.

    Silence ruled among the Dark Lords as they considered the news and its implications. Lord Ophiel was the first to speak up, his mocking nonchnce turned to astonishment. My, my, I never thought I would live to see the old man kick the bucket for good.

    This is a trick, Phaleg the Binder rasped with paranoia. A ploy. Och is faking death to strike uster when we least expect it. Don''t you see? This is a set-up!

    Lord Hagith observed Valdemar and Marianne with a calcting gaze. The noblewoman had caught him gazing at Hermanns corpse before. No doubt he had drawn his own conclusions from the scene. Why did you do it? he asked. For the sake of vengeance?

    Valdemar shook his head. I did it to save us all. He would have destroyed this Domain otherwise.

    No doubt, no doubt, Lord Ophiel replied with a tone that implied the opposite. Im sure it was nothing personal and that you didnt expect any reward from it.

    Does it matter why he did it? Lady Phul asked. The fact remains that Paraplex is short of a Dark Lord and ripe for the taking.

    It is not, Lord Bethor replied sharply.

    <em>Does he intend to im Paraplex for himself?</em> Marianne wondered. She didnt need her enhanced senses to notice the cautious nces the Dark Lords exchanged or the invisible tension in the air. For a brief moment, Marianne expected a war over Lord Ochs territory to start before her very eyes.

    At least, until she noticed the sly smirk forming on Empress Aratras lips.

    Very well, <em>Lord </em>Valdemar, Empress Aratra dered, putting emphasis on the Lord part. I expect you to put your Domain in order before our next meeting. Cleaning Paraplex of Qlippoths should be your first priority.

    Marianne nced at her lover and watched him blink twice in a row. Valdemar had heard, but he didnt understand.

    Im sorry? he asked.

    Do not be so surprised, Valdemar. Lord Bethor crossed his arms, fiery sparks dancing in his crimson eyes. Power shifts quickly in our brotherhood.

    Ah, I see where this is going. Lady Phuls fingers crossed beneath her chin. Yes, it would neatly solve our problem. We cant afford a civil war right now.

    I wouldnt mind one, Lord Ophiel said. But it would taste nd without a few rounds of cloak-and-dagger first. Intrigue is my salt and pepper.

    I do not understand, Valdemar said with a tone that implied otherwise.

    <em>You do,</em><em>but you cant believe it, </em>Marianne thought. She would have scarcely believed it herself a few months ago, before Valdemar had earned her faith.

    Lord Hagith seemed to find her lovers obliviousness amusing. Lord Och appointed you as his sessor, did he not? You should know this famous necromancer proverb: you kill it, you keep it.

    You want to hand Paraplex to him?" Only Phaleg the Binder seemed to take issue with the situation. "A halfbreed Stranger?

    That leaves him with a good half, Lady Phul quipped.

    He destroyed the old bag of bones, which means hes overqualified, Lord Ophiel replied. Unless you want to take him on for the post? Please tell me you will. I wee a goodugh.

    Lord Phalegs anger turned to cold calction as he examined Valdemar. Mariannes free hand fumbled to her side until she somehow found her rapiers handle. <em>Try it,</em> she dared him mentally.

    He did not.

    When faced with the unknown, Phaleg the Binder opted for caution. Fine.

    As expected, Lord Ophiel replied with a dismissive tone. You could never defeat your teacher, how can you hope to prevail against his killer?

    Lord Phaleg ignored the jab, his teeth grinding so loudly that Marianne wondered if they would crack. This is a trick. Och cant be dead. Its all a smokescreen of some kind.

    Marianne could tell he would never truly believe in his old masters demise. Not that it surprised her. Liches were infamous for returning from the dead and Lord Och had tormented his former apprentice for many years. It would be years before Phaleg the Binder would ept the truth; perhaps even centuries.

    Even if Lord Och were to return one day, someone must keep the house in his absence. Empress Aratra waved her hand dismissively. Lord Valdemar has proven himself a true friend of mankind and a powerful mage. My decision is irrevocable.

    Lord Bethor nodded in agreement, settling the matter.

    Valdemars fingers trembled between Mariannes own. She squeezed his hand tighter tofort him. Marianne felt her lover rx at her contact and the silent message she had sent him.

    No matter what the future held, they would face it together.

 Chapter 58: Epilogue

    Chapter 58: Epilogue

    Hermanns art gallery was in his lifes image: odd, modern, and transgressive.

    Although Valdemar visited his friends workshop many times, he had only seen a glimpse of his collection. Hermann spent years perfecting his art and experimented with many styles. Realistic representations of animals and flowers shared a wall with paintings of alienndscapes or strange geometric forms. Valdemars acute eyes detected the slow, incremental improvements of Hermanns skills with each painting. Over the years, the troglodyte had moved away from the realistic to capturing the abstract, transcending the physical to embrace the spiritual.

    Thats all of them, Valdy, said Liliane. Valdemar had taken her as an administrative assistant to help him with his mind-numbing workload, and he had yet to see the witch without a pile of documents in her hands. How do you find them?

    Good. Valdemars hand trailed against andscape representation of the Silent Kings patchwork world. The paint was still fresh<em>. Hermann must havepleted it a mere few weeks before his death</em>. <em>What else did he have in mind?</em>

    Iren said we should sell them to fund the walls repairs, Liliane said with a frown. But hes a heartless dummy and we should ignore him.

    On paper, Irens proposal made sense. The Pleroma Institute had taken heavy damage from the Qlippoth incursion, though not as much as the city around it. Valdemar would never bring himself to sell away Hermanns works, but he was in desperate need of money in the short term. Thete Lord Och had put so many magical traps protecting his fortune and war chests that his sessor struggled to ess them.

    <em>You always hoarded things for greeds sake, my teacher, </em>Valdemar thought. The Institutes vaults overflowed with knowledge, riches, and resources that had never seen the light of day. Valdemar aimed to change that. If the Institute was to be a beacon of enlightenment across the empire, then its discoveries should benefit all of mankind.

    One of Valdemars first changes in policy had been to promise universal magical healthcare and post-mortem necromancy treatment to the Domains inhabitants. The summoner remembered all too well his mothers death fromck of proper treatment. How many families would face simr tragedies in theing days?

    Valdemar had never asked to be a Dark Lord, but he would make full use of the position to implement positive changes. Schrs working at the Institute would have the obligation to dedicate some days of their week to cure the sick. Restrictions about magic would be simplified so that aspiring innovators like Valdemar himself would always find a safe abode in Paraplex. Nobles ormoners would be equal before thew.

    Of course, his proposed changes had made some grumble; but Valdemar faced little open opposition among the Institute''s denizens. Lord Och had publicly taken Valdemar as an apprentice, appointed him as his sessor at the Sabbath, and had fallen at his hand. Nobody expected the old lich to perish, but the power transition had been as smooth as it could have been.

    Fear helped too. No one wanted to defy the half-Stranger Dark Lord who had in his predecessor in battle.

    Valdemar wondered how long this respite wouldst. The Dark Lords were a scheming lot always on the lookout to weaken each other. Lord Ophiel had all but openly dered he would plot against Valdemar, and Phaleg the Binder would always consider Valdemar a puppet of thete Lord Och. Both would try to destroy him.

    Lord Bethor was the only Dark Lord Valdemar considered somewhat of an ally,rgely because the man was utterly uninterested in political bickering. Iren suggested to ally with moderates like Lady Phul and Lord Hagith while cating Empress Aratra, which would take valuable time.

    Valdemar had better things to do than managing peoples egos, but it looked like a core part of his new job.

    The summoner stepped in front of Hermanns most recent creation: a self-portrait. The pictomancer had painted himself hard at work on a canvas with his back turned on the viewer. Hermanns representation had painted a picture of Valdemar and Liliane, themselves holding a smaller portrait of the troglodyte. Valdemar found the result quite dizzying to look at and touching too.

    Liliane gulped at the sight. Ill miss him.

    I already do, Valdemar replied with a sigh. Hermanns corpse remained in cold storage until they could return him to his people. Valdemar didnt have the heart to make a mindless undead out of his dearest friend, but he had no idea how troglodytes took care of their dead. So much.

    Lord Och would have mocked his apprentice for caring about someone he had met only a few months ago, but Valdemar and Hermann had gone through a lot together. They had learned pictomancy, fought Derros in Astaphanos, opened a portal to an alien world, and visited a god. Without Hermann, Crtail would have rampaged across Paraplex and awakened Ialdabaoth from its slumber.

    All of Undend owed the troglodyte much.

    Im passing newws about your people, Valdemar told the portrait. Troglodytes will enjoy equal rights to humans within the Domain of Pleroma and receive exclusive ess to the Painted World to settle in it. Your people will have their new homnd, I promise. Ill protect it with my life.

    Hermann believed that his people and humans could never coexist for long, but Valdemar was determined to prove him wrong. If the two of them could be friends, then why not their species? All that troglodytes and humans needed to live in peace was for someone to make the first step.

    Was that what you wanted? Valdemar asked. Are you happy, Hermann?

    The painted troglodyte looked over his shoulder, his piercing eyes staring straight at Valdemar. I am, my friend.

    Valdemar heard Liliane drop her papers on the floor in surprise. The Dark Lord immediately activated his psychic sight. He quickly detected the magic suffusing the pigments and the soul slumbering in the canvas.

    No way, Valdemar whispered, astonished. Its not an echo

    Hermann? Liliane put her hands on her mouth. Hermann, is that is that you?

    The painted troglodyte nodded, his reptilian lips pursing into a smile. I told you pictomancy could capture a soul upon death.

    You expected to die creating the Painted World, Valdemar guessed, his voice breaking. His fingers trailed against the pigments. No the painting feels older than that.

    Ipleted my soulcatching portrait a long time ago. Hermann spoke clearly and without a stutter, perhaps because the soul used magic rather than underdeveloped vocal cords. He pointed a w at his portrait-within-the-portrait. Your picture and Lilianes were recent additions. I didnt have time to make a full portrait for each of you. I couldnt even include Iren.

    Hermann had modified his souls abode to house his friends spirits if the worst came to pass.

    You you scaled dick! Lilianes shock and happiness swiftly turned to anger. We thought you were dead!

    He was, Valdemar replied as he wiped a tear from his face. How relieving it felt, to enjoy a good surprise after so many hardships

    Im sorry, Liliane, Hermann replied with a contrite expression. I thought the fewer people knew about this painting, the better. Too many mind-readers could have spread the word.

    <em>You knew it, my teacher</em>. The lich had killed Hermann but left his painted phctery intact. <em>Did you spare him because youcked time to cover your tracks? Or because you wanted to give Hermann a chance to survive in case you failed to reach the Light?</em>

    Do you understand what this means, Hermann? Valdemar asked. With your body in storage, I can bring you back to life after restoring it. Give me a week and youll return to us in flesh and blood.

    I would be thankful. Life as a painting is not what I imagined. The troglodyte sighed. It took me hours to figure out how to move my head. Now its stuck.

    Why did you paint yourself with your back turned? Liliane asked with a sly grin. It looks silly.

    Hermann looked quite embarrassed. For the depth, Liliane, he said. For the depth.

    An investigators job was never done.

    Mdy, youll be pleased to learn that the spy in our midst has been disposed of, Bertrand said as he gave Marianne his report.

    He confessed under questioning that his employer came from the Domain of Alogi, Iren added. Weve got nothing to implicate Lord Ophiel yet, but I would bet my hand on his involvement.

    Barely three days had passed since the Qlippoth incursion and the knives were already out. We need to increase background checks at the Earthmouths and have animancers survey the streets, Marianne decided. Once we open the borders again, moles and opportunists will slip through the cracks.

    Leave it to me, Iren said with a smirk. I smell lies like cheese.

    Valdemar had little talent for intrigue. The sorcerer preferred to focus on the bigger picture and magical research, leaving Marianne to pick up the ck.

    I also have grave news from the Moonshield defenders, Bertrand added with a t tone. The vampire had slipped back into his old duties and taken up his new ones with gusto. The mages surveying the Whitemoon identified a change in its orbit with the Nightwalkers capture.

    Marianne tensed up. Is it falling towards the surface?

    Thankfully not, Bertrand replied to his mistress relief. However, the change in orbit could have a geological impact on Undend and affect the behavior of monsters on the surface. We can expect more incursions in the future.

    We should survey Nightwalker cults too, Iren suggested. Since theyre so keen on transforming themselves into surface monsters, one of them might summon a new Nightwalker.

    We also have to be on the lookout for Derros infiltrators, Marianne said. Otto Blutgang would no doubt seek vengeance against Valdemar for wrecking his facility. We have too many foes and too few resources.

    Last time I heard, its called governing. Iren made a bow. Dont worry, well manage. Were used to the impossible.

    <em>We have dangerous foes, true, but many true friends too,</em> Marianne thought. I will tell Valdemar to allocate Knights of the Tome to your intelligence service.

    You mean the Dark Lord? Iren chuckled. The dread master of Paraplex?

    Marianne couldnt help but smile. I will inform Lord Valdemar of the respect you showed him.

    I would rather that you dont, or the praise might get to his head. The doppelganger gave Marianne an insolent wink before taking his leave.

    After Iren left, Marianne raised an eyebrow at Bertrand. Im surprised by your quietness.

    Mdy?

    You dont have anything bad to say about Valdemar. Marianne had expected her retainer to show more defensiveness at seeing his mistress date someone else, let alone share a bed with. When we began investigating him, you suspected him of foul treachery.

    Mdy, I disliked the man for his suspected inhuman allegiances and criminal past. He has saved my life, this Domain, and perhaps the entire world. Bertrand smiled, thinly. When facts change, I alter my conclusions.

    Im d to hear it. Bertrand was Mariannes closest friend, so she wanted him and Valdemar to get along.

    Besides, Mdy, my only desire is to make you happy. Bertrand crossed his arms. Lord Valdemar makes you smile. As far as I am concerned, that''s all that matters.

    Thank you, Bertrand, your support means the world to me. Marianne chuckled as an amusing thought crossed her mind. Perhaps you could find a tea brand that Valdemar would like? Ive found myself struggling to convert him.

    Is Mdy giving me a challenge? Bertrand straightened up like a soldier marching to war. I shall see it done.

    Marianne chuckled. Ive missed you greatly, my friend.

    She remembered one of Lady Mathildes sermons from when she attended the churchs mass. <em>What life takes, sometimes the Light gives back.</em>

    After leaving Bertrand to his own devices, Marianne moved to the Hall of Rituals with a dusty notebook under her arm. The underground rooms magical defenses had shielded it from the worst of the invasion and made it the perfect resting ce for the Painted World.

    As expected, Marianne found Valdemar there alongside his familiar. <em>He looks so tired,</em> Marianne thought. Her lover hid his gauntness beneath the same schrly robes he wore as a student of Lord Och. His new post hadnt led to any improvement in his wardrobe. His eyes were ckened by sleeplessness. <em>He needs to rest.</em>

    The new Dark Lord had put his grandfathers portrait in front of the Painted World. Pierre Dumonts image gazed at the magical painting on the opposite wall, his eyes wide open and unblinking. His expression was one of rapturous joy.

    Ktulu waved a hand at Marianne as she joined them without a word. <em>It has grown a few centimeters since yesterday,</em> the noblewoman noticed. Marianne knew nothing about Ktulus life cycle, but it still surprised her a bit. <em>I wonder how tall its species can get?</em>

    I wanted him to stare at the sun he missed so much, Valdemar said, his eyes looking up at his grandfathers image. The echo of Pierre Dumont didnt react at all. It worked too well. I think watching the Painted World triggered a cognitive loop of some kind.

    Did you forgive him? Marianne asked. The kind gesture implied as much.

    I I think I do? Valdemar sounded unsure. I feel ambivalent, I guess? He was a desperate man who made terrible decisions and did his best to make up for them. He did evil and good in equal measures.

    Most people do. Saints and monsters are few in number.

    I know. I guess I need more time to process everything, to make peace with the past. Valdemar turned away from his grandfather to face Marianne. How are you holding up?

    Alright, she replied with a forced smile. Whenever I think I can catch up to my workload, more problems spring up from nowhere.

    You dont say. Im starting to understand why Lord Och wanted to dump it all. Valdemar nced at Mariannes book. Whats that? More papers for me to sign?

    Notes I obtained from Frigga, Marianne replied. I think you will enjoy reading them.

    I doubt that. Valdemar snorted. What is that opportunist up to?

    Obviously, she wants to earn your favor. <em>Typical Dokkars, </em>Marianne thought. But I please ask you to keep an open mind. This concerns Earth.

    Valdemar frowned. Go on.

    Marianne knew she had all of his attention. Have you used a Dokkar dreamcatcher?

    Not quite, but Frigga suggested that I take one.

    As I told you before, Lord Ochs first appearance in official records involved him warring against the Dokkars as an independent warlord. Now that you granted me full ess to the forbidden archives as the new Dark Lord, I could look more deeply into it.

    And what did you find?

    Lord Och raided the Dokkars to steal their artifacts for his personal use. One of them was the earliest dreamcatcher. Time to drop the bomb. He couldnt match itsponent with any material found in Undend.

    She had his full attention now. So the reason Lord Och took in Frigga as an exchange student

    Was to make use of her oneiromancy expertise to identify the dreamcatchers origins. Marianne gathered her breath. Brace yourself, Valdemar. ording to Lord Ochs research, Dokkars didnt invent dreamcatchers. Humans did. In fact, the Dokkar term for dreamcatcher doesnt match any linguistic root found in any known civilization. They borrowed the word from anothernguage.

    So a lost human tribe invented dreamcatchers? Valdemars eyes widened. He had caught on. Unless

    An item made of a material unknown in Undend, named in anguage that does not exist. Marianne smiled warmly. This case sounds suspiciously simr to your journal, dont you think?

    Valdemar looked at the notebook with a newfound interest. His eyes shone with burning curiosity, and a little bit of hope.

    Lord Ochs raid happened long after the Pleromians fled Undend and before the Derros developed portal technology, he whispered. We know humans exist on both Earth and Undend, probably because they crossed over from one to the other at some point

    I suspect that the Pleromians didnt develop their portals from nothing, Marianne said with a nod. Rather, they probably took inspiration from a periodic or magical phenomenon of some kind.

    There could be another portal out there, unrted to the Pleromians. Valdemars jaw tightened with fury. Och knew That bastard, he knew there might have been another way to reach Earth and he kept it hidden.

    He wanted to destroy you, to corrupt you. Marianne would never forget Valdemars expression that night after he confronted Och: that of a man nearly ready to give up on everything. He tested your resolve and failed.

    Barely so, Valdemar replied with a sigh. I believed him, Marianne. For a moment, I truly thought sacrificing people to the Pleromian portal was the only remaining solution on the table to fulfill my dream.

    But you listened to me. You remembered that in the absence of options, you could create another.

    Because of you, yes. Valdemars hand brushed against the books cover. You reminded me that we have barely scratched the surface of this worlds mysteries.

    Indeed, Marianne replied with a warm smile. Lord Och excluded options out of nihilism, but we can learn from his mistakes. We can rise above his shadow and offer mankind a better future. We will find Earth together.

    Their journey had only begun.

    Together Valdemars frustrated expression turned into a smile of optimism. Thank you, Marianne. For everything.

    Pfwagana! Ktulu grabbed his summoners robes and instantly pointed at Marianne. Pfwagana dayom!

    <em>Its so adorable, </em>Marianne thought, resisting the urge to pet the little squid. What is Ktulu saying?

    That I should kiss you for your good work, Valdemar replied with a chuckle.

    Marianne burst outughing. I wouldnt mind.

    Valdemar took her at her word. His lips closed the gap with Mariannes own, warm and soft to the touch. It was an innocent kiss, short but intense. It sent shivers down Mariannes spine and made her hungry for more.

    Here is not the ce, Valdemar, Marianne said coyly as she broke the kiss. Your grandfather is watching.

    He took her hand into his own and held it tightly. Do you want to see the sun, Marianne Reynard?

    Mariannes heart skipped a beat as they turned to the Painted World. Are you sure? Nobody has crossed into it yet.

    Then lets inaugurate it, Valdemar replied, his familiar hopping behind the couple with impatience. Will youe with me?

    Did he even have to ask? Anywhere you go, I will follow.

    The couple held hands and walked into the Painted World. They crossed the pigments like a water veil, space bending around them as they did so. Mariannes enhanced senses immediately picked up the small shifts in temperature and air pressure. New and familiar sounds echoed where the Hall of Rituals had been silent as a tomb.

    <em>Water, </em>Marianne thought. <em>Waves on a shore.</em>

    Rays of light blinded her sight. Marianne put her hand over her face until her eyes could limate to the change in luminosity. Her feetnded on what felt like soft sand beneath her heels.

    The air was warmer, softer, purer than anything Marianne had ever breathed. No stone dust found its way into her lungs. An invisible force brushed against her cheeks, strange yetforting.

    The wind, Valdemar whispered at her side. It is so warm.

    Marianne lowered her hand as her eyes started to distinguish forms and colors. As she suspected, she and Valdemar had indeed walked onto a beach of orange sand next to a vast blue sea. Where the Lightless Ocean had looked gloomy and foreboding, this one filled Marianne with a sense of wonder. Her enhanced eyes noticed a colossal tree over the horizon. Its bark was white as chalk, its leaves a pale shade of crimson.

    It was unlike any nt Marianne had ever seen. Its size was dizzying to see. Lord Bethors tower would have looked like a needle while standing next to this majestuous tree.

    Its a mirage, Marianne said in disbelief. No caverns ceiling could house something so huge.

    Marianne, there is no ceiling, Valdemar replied softly.

    The words rang in Mariannes mind like an impossible promise. Yet, to her astonishment, her lover was right. No stone ceiling stood above their heads; instead, white clouds floated peacefully amidst a pale violet expanse. The sight of it made Marianne dizzy.

    Was that the <em>sky</em>?

    Mariannes eyes looked up and up, all the way to the source of this strange worlds blinding light. A radiant fireball floated high above the giant tree and vast horizon. Even Mariannes enhanced senses failed to process its sheer, gargantuan size. Its golden radiance shone brighter than candles, brighter than mes, brighter than anything found in Undend. The light warmed up the air and Mariannes skin; the sea shone like a billion sapphires as it reflected a fraction of its beauty.

    Its wonderful. The sight brought Marianne to tears. Its absolutely wonderful.

    She found no word to define this cosmic wonder, this absolute god of light. But Valdemar had one.

    The sun, he whispered with religious awe. This is our sun, Marianne.

    Will it shine on Undend one day? Marianne asked softly. Everyone everyone must see it.

    One day, the sun will shine on mankind, Valdemar promised. One day, I swear.

    Marianne and Valdemar spent the entire evening gazing at the sun, basking in its beauty.

    There was no darkness that could snuff out light.

    His flesh-thralls toiled in the dark to the tune of his lightning song.

    They walked through his steel innards and shaped bolts in the depths of his forge-stomach. His furnace veins poured molten gold and zinc onto assembly lines. His countless hands worked together to build the future under the watchful gaze of his camera-eyes.

    Pieces gathered in the depths of hisboratory wombs to build a new portal. A Pleromian blood-map of the infinity would guide its development. It would take many cycles toplete this improved cosmic window, but one day it would open a path to another world. What were years to the immortality of steel?

    All inferior flesh would bend to his iron will.

    If so m-m-many other worlds ex-exist, his voice carried through buzzing loudspeakers, I mu-ust spread my magni-nificence to them."

    So vowed Otto Blutgang, Godmind of Derrokind.

    Lightning coursed through the iplete portal, and the cosmos shuddered.

    <strong>The End?</strong>

    <strong>Author''s Notes</strong>

    Hope springs eternal, but evil never dies.

    When I was a child, I dreamed of bing a gicist; I me Jurassic Park for making me believe you could create awesome monsters in aboratory. I had subscribed to a youth science magazine and devoured all the articles. Add on top of that a passion for astronomy and at one point I started to wonder if life hade from the stars. It just sounded usible to me that some alien intelligence out there had seeded our with primordial bacteria.

    I suppose this kind of reasoning is emblematic of mans desire to find a logical exnation to everything, to attribute all random urrences to an invisible hand. The possibility that our very existence was the result of a series of coincidences in a chaotic, uncaring universe is not something we humans like to think about. Humans search for meaning even when there is none to be found.

    There are only two kinds of horror I resonate with: <em>medical </em>horror, due to watching people around me die from cancer or Alzheimer''s, and <em>cosmic </em>horror, because mind-numbing cosmic phenomena are beyond our ability to control. A war can be run from, killers can be shot or jailed, but cancer strikes without warning and an asteroid will hardly be diverted from its course. The most terrifying part of death is that it usually knocks on your door unannounced; and sometimes, it takes its sweet time too.

    These are the fears I wanted to explore in <em>Undend</em>, alongside themes such as the pursuit of scientific knowledge to exin the unknown, the power of art, transhumanism, and the cost of ones dreams. The ultimate lesson of the story, I feel, is that while some things are beyond our control, they should not prevent us from living. The random threat of sudden extinction from an interster pebble or a stray gamma ray burst does not stop us from waking up to go to work, to research new ways to extend our life, or to build monuments that will endure the test of time. Perhaps human civilization will be wiped out at any moment or maybe it wont.

    Death does not make our achievements meaningless. Nihilism is intellectual cowardice. Our life could end anytime, but it was beautiful while itsted.

    The end you was originally the one I had nned for the first volume of arger saga. Volume II would have continued with Valdemar as the Dark Lord of Paraplex with Otto Blutgang taking over as the main antagonist after Lord Ochs demise.

    But while I leave the door open for a sequel, as it is, <em>Undend </em>will end with this chapter.

    Although rtively well-rated, <em>Undend </em>never managed to obtain the same traction in terms of followers and patrons as my other stories. A temporary Patreon decline is nothing unusual; experience has taught me patrons follow a story first and an author second. It happened when Ipleted <em>Vainqueur </em>and <em>Never Die Twice </em>too. In both cases, my Patron took a hit around one or two months, only for neers toe and rece the people leaving.

    But the fact that my Patreon <em>kept </em>declining without attracting new users topensate for the loss meant the problem went deeper with <em>Undend</em>. Ever since I finished the <em>Perfect Run</em> and started <em>Undend</em>, my Patreon has been continually falling down. To put it bluntly, I havent had a single month of growth since August 2021 and my Patreon ie was cut in half since that period.

    Other factors probably contributed like the fact I was writing <em>Kairos </em>at the same time and thus couldnt do more than two chapters a week, the niche genre of horror/dark fantasypared to my previous works, etc but in the end, the diagnosis was obvious.

    Well-rated <em>Undend </em>might have been, but popr it was not.

    Beyond the consequent mary loss, watching the Patron go down month after month also hit my morale pretty hard; especially since Im part of a group of RR writers and we usually confront our results. Knowing I was the only one facing a steep Patreon loss month after month really made me feel like I was doing something <em>wrong</em>. I now realize <em>Undend </em>was simply a risky bet and the genre probably wasnt a good fit for Royal Road, but it still hurt.

    As such, I made the choice to end <em>Undend </em>early and Ill probably put it up on KU at some point in the future. The <em>Kairos </em>experiment has been a sess and Ive realized that this is one of the few ways I can continue profiting from my works once theyre finished and patrons move on. Going to KU might also provide a fresh breath to <em>Undend</em>; if it finds financial sess on Amazon, I can see myself writing a sequel in that universe.

    Overall, while it wasnt my best novel, I still found <em>Undend </em>to be an enjoyable experience because it helped me get out of myfort zone. I was a bit anxious about writing Marianne due to her being my first female co-MC, but I ended up liking her viewpoint more than Valdemars; I will almost certainly write a story with a woman as the main protagonist in the future. <em>Undend </em>was also the asion to write an atypical setting with extensive, atypical worldbuilding, something Ill most certainly do again. The Vernburg visit in particr will forever remain among the things that I loved to write the most.

    I also intend to continue writing more experimental novels in niche genres or with atypical main characters but on my own time, without the pressure of producing X chapters per week.

    For now, Ill move on my new series, <em>Apocalypse Tamer</em>. Unlike my previous works, it will take a few more weeks before it bes avable on Royal Road; I''m currently trying to build a patreon backlog first and avoid the problems I faced with the trending list when I published mytest stories. Here''s a sneak peek until the official release:

    In any case, I hope that you enjoyed <em>Undend </em>to its conclusion, and that youll appreciate my next series too.

    Best regards,

    Voidy.

 Underland News: Ku, Book Removal, Side-story

    Undend News: Ku, Book Removal, Side-story

    Greetings Undenders,

    If you''ve followed <em>Undend </em>to its conclusion, then you know that I ended up limiting it to one volumedue to itsck of poprity and its impact on my Patreon; it was my hope to take the novel to Kindle in the hope that it might find a new audience there, at least enough to justify writing more entries in that universe.

    Well, the Amazonunch day is approaching fast. I signed an agreement with the publisher Podium to bring that story to KU and Audible. However, Kindle Unlimited demands exclusivity on the tform.

    As a result, Undend''s volume I/first half - chapter 1 to 31 - will be <strong>removed somewhere between August 1 and 8</strong> (the exact date will depend on the publisher and when I receive pre-order links) from both RR and Patreon besides a few early ones; though like Kairos before it, patrons can download a free PDF version of the ebooks before that date. The second half will follow shortly afterwards.

    As you''ve been following and supporting the story for so long, I''m giving you an advance notice on that front.

    I know that some of you are against Kindle Unlimited, and I perfectly understand why; it feels frustrating to follow a story only to see it taken down. If I could legally put Undend on KU without removing existing chapters down from RR, I would.

    But as a professional author I''ve got to put meat on the table; I can only write full-time if I don''t have to worry about paying the rent and currently, <em>Undend </em>does not. KU present a whole new audience that may or may not find <em>Undend </em>as entertaining as you did. If the novel does find sess on that tform, then I might get around to writing a sequel to Valdemar and Marianne''s journey.

    On a more positive front, a patronmissioned me to write a short one-shot set in the <em>Undend </em>universe; namely Lord Bethor''s rise to power. I''ve done the outlining and I hope toplete this side-story by August. Not sure whether I''ll post it there in the main <em>Undend </em>story or as a separate story/short nove like I did with <em>The Perfect Run: Bad Runs</em>. If you have a preference don''t hesitate to say so in thements.

    I wish you a good day, and write you soon.

    Best regards,

    Voidy.

 Chapter Underland Blood I: Baptism by Fire / Ebook Release

    Chapter Undend Blood I: Baptism by Fire / Ebook Release

    Centuries before the Father of All sired a scion, Undend was quiet.

    The sound of water droplets hitting stone echoed across its tunnels. Invisible eyes of flesh watched two figures in a vault of stone. One standing, his back straightened by age that could be counted in millennia. The other kneeling, crushed under the weight of his own limitless power.

    The cycle of sorcery was eternal, unending. A teacher learned all that was worth passing on. An apprentice learned all their teacher had known, before bing a teacher themselves. Some graduated with honor; and others with steel and blood. Countless generations had been bound through this endless chain across the long history of man.

    The teacher observed his apprentice. He had taught many, but none so strong. One day, in the far future, he would create his own destroyer. But today was not that day.

    What have you learned, my apprentice? the master asked.

    The apprentice looked up with burning eyes. What have I learned, my teacher?

    How can I know if you are ready to graduate, if I do not understand all that you know? The teacher encouraged his apprentices to learn by themselves and draw their own conclusions. If not, he set trials for them. His duty was not to shape minds; only to open them. As your apprenticeship nowes to an end, I will hear it from your own mouth. What have you learned?

    The apprentice meditated on his teachers words. He had surpassed his former master in strength, or at least he believed so. His teacher knew more spells than he did, but his magic was potent and singr.

    Did his teacher want to hear of the powers his student had acquired? Of his secret spells and public victories? No, the apprentice decided. The lessons he learned over the course of their association ran deeper than snapped fingers and fireballs.

    That day, the apprentice said as he remembered the time they first met. I first learned arrogance.

    The golden gong shook and Vr Bethor snapped to action.

    He wore no armor but a bright red shirt and pants, wielded no defense but the raw power of his magic. Defensive spells, skillfully honed, protected his handsome face. With short blonde hair, sharp red eyes, and a hawkish nose, thedies loved to dote on him, though he loved none of them back. Of the three people fighting in the stone arena, he was the youngest, a young adult not yet twenty years of age. His foes were older and better born.

    He crushed them all the same.

    They both came for him the moment the battle began. They knew they stood no chance alone. The first was a woman of the Oldblood, with long ck hair and a schrs robe. She moved like water, swift as a snake and lunging at Bethor with sharp ws of crystalized blood. The other was an undead warrior, a corpse wrapped in blood-drenched bandelettes and soulstone amulets. He remained at the rear and crafted lightning-fast projectiles from his bones.

    With a wave of his hand, Bethor countered their spells. Sharp weapons of solid blood turned to dust. Bone bullets fell on the ground without ever reaching their target. Then Bethor struck back with the weight of his magic. His psychic onught crashed against his foes defensive spells. The girls shield was simple but eminently strong. The mummys protective spells formed aplex array that only an experienced sorcerer with inhuman focus could produce.

    They both folded like paper.

    Bethors magic smashed their defenses like a hammer. His telekic assault was not only strong, but adaptable. Tendrils of psychic energy fueled by the Blood scouted for weaknesses in the span of a second and then pounced. He pierced the magical shields at a dozen different points, copsed them, and then gathered his strength in a final telekic wave of force.

    The knockback sent hispetitors<em>victims</em> might have been a better termflying against the very gong that signaled the battles start. So did it signal its end as it bent under the impact. The defeated fell to the ground and the victor stood unperturbed. The fight hadsted less than a minute.

    Although they were allpeting for the same title, Bethor had never bothered to learn these twos names. Now, as they struggled to get back to their feet, he remembered why. They were beneath him.

    They were stepping stones on his path to greatness. Footnotes in the history of his life.

    Bethor took a step to meet with the audience, only to sense life beneath his feet. He leaped to the side just in time to avoid vines bursting out of the ground. Seeds sowed under the arena had grown at an elerated rate.

    The one responsible, the woman he thought beaten, struggled to stand upright. Thest blow must have broken ribs and caused internal damage, yet she seemed determined to continue a doomed fight. Bethor couldnt fathom why. Theirst bout should have taught her the gap between their respective abilities.

    Foolishss, Bethor chastised her. This fight is over.

    Not yet, she rasped back. Having recovered enough to run, she moved around the arena in a fruitless attempt to nk Bethor. He watched her with bemusement as the mummy rose back up. It seemed his colleagues example had inspired him.

    You cant beat me, Bethor boasted with cold confidence. The vines moved to encircle him, but he rotted them to dust with a nce. This is useless.

    Perhaps, the mummy confirmed with a deep, booming voice. Yet for honors sake, we must try.

    The undead formed circles by motioning his two hands and then joined them. His amulets glowed as his magic tore the gate between worlds open. A swarm of fiendish, man-eating locusts entered this reality to devour life.

    Bethor watched the bugs approach before activating his magic. The creatures bodies burst open like rotten fruits as his magic drained the blood from their veins. A red rain fell on the arenas ground.

    Yet the mummy didnt give up. His fingers cackled with crimson lighting aimed straight for Bethors heart. He deflected it with a psychic shield before dodging a strike from the woman. She had turned her body to steel and attempted to punch with enough force to shatter stone. Using the Blood to predict her limbs movements, Bethor dodged all strikes.

    These fools

    Why couldnt they simply ept defeat? They had no chance to win this round. Why keep fighting against hopeless odds? Bethor would have pitied them if he could feelpassion. Instead, his heart was filled with frustration.

    The mummy attempted to summon again. Bethor waved a hand and a telekic push sent the undead crashing against the ceiling. The woman exploited the opportunity to strike with an open palm. Bethorzily took a step back.

    Her nails extended into sharp ws at thest second.

    Surprised, Bethor barely managed to sidestep to dodge the attack. Yet a nail grazed his left cheek and drew a drop of blood.

    It was a light cut, barely noticeable. Yet it drove Bethor to fury. His magic rippled across the arena with his rageful roar. A telekic burst of strength threw the woman back.

    The moment she hit the nearest wall and the mummynded on the ground, Bethor grabbed them again with the power of his mind. He smashed them against the ceiling, then against the ground, back and forth. Cracks appeared across the arena. The sound of breaking bones echoed in its halls.

    Yet even as he lifted the bodies of his foes before him, Bethor couldnt find satisfaction.

    Give up, Bethor ordered.

    Screw you, Vr, the woman replied in defiance. Her nose was broken, her lips pouring blood, yet she still struggled against the telekic choke holding her. The mummy was less verbose, but no less stubborn.

    Then die! The fight wasnt meant to be to the death, but if she wouldnt ept her ce, Bethor would put her in the ground. He tightened his psychic hold on their heads and threatened to blow them up like melons.

    Thats enough, Vr, a voice ordered. Victory is yours.

    Bethor released his two victims and let them hit the ground; broken, but not defeated. pping hands from the arenas stands acimed the victor. Two other sorcerers witnessed the spectacle and one of them cheered Bethor.

    Unfortunately, it was the other one that counted.

    Impressive as always, Vr. General Drusangs steel gauntlets and bone hands pped loud enough to wake the living and the dead. His ck armor seemed to suck the light of nearby torches and his rapier glittered on its own. You truly are a prodigy.

    Some would be falsely modest and deny the prodigybel. Not Vr Bethor. He had earned the title. Still, it always pleased him to hear Drusang Reynards praise. The general led the Derro border army on behalf of the Dark Lords. He was a skeletal warrior of great repute, a member of the Oldblood that founded Ant itself, and an honorary Grandmaster of the Knights of the Road. His patronage would propel Vr Bethor to great heights.

    Yet even the general paled in importance before his guest. Outwardly, the creature standing next to Drusang appeared as a feeble old man in tattered robes. Bethors true sight pierced through the illusion to see the terrible lich hiding underneath. A being as ancient as the stars, as cold as the Whitemoon above.

    The Dark Lord of Paraplex, Och. Said to be second only to the Empress herself.

    Bethor kneeled, as was his duty. His rivals, still stumbling from the thrashing he gave them, did the same. Bethor paid them no mind. He doubted the Dark Lord would even acknowledge their presence after their crushing defeat. Nobody remembered the props after watching a y.

    I see you have trained excellent battle mages, general, Lord Och said with a ghoulish smile. They will serve us well.

    The Domain of Sabaoth will belong to the empire before the year is done, Lord Och, General Drusang boasted quietly. We will push the Derros back into the depths of our world, and this new Domains metal will fuel our forges for future conquests.

    I doubt so. We are already stretched thin as we are. My colleagues are more likely to fight each other over our current spoils than seek new ones. Lord Och raised an index finger and thumb to his chin. Good to have young fresh meat to keep the borders safe while we settle our affairs.

    Bethor said nothing, but he listened attentively. The lich was a Dark Lord, one of the most powerful people in the empire. To even be allowed in his presence was a feat for him; he, an orphan boy who climbed the armys echelons since the moment he heard the call of the Blood.

    What was the purpose of this demonstration? the Dark Lord asked Drusang. If you wish for more funding, you should pester Lord Hagith.

    I do not need additional funds, though they would be wee. General Drusangs back straightened up. Word has reached me that you seek a new apprentice, Lord Och.

    Oh, my? You know my terrible secret? The Dark Lord chuckled sinisterly. Yes, the itch to teach the terrible secrets of the universe to a young, malleable mind bothers me regrly. Call it a hobby.

    Have you selected a candidate yet?

    No, the Dark Lord replied. Oh, I see where this is going. Silly young Drusang, you are trying to sell me one of these three?

    A gift, Lord Och. The general was always careful with proper phrasing. Good wording could dull the sharpest des, he often said. It would be an honor for one of my armys battle mages to study under your care.

    Yes, I can see how it would benefit you. Lord Och chuckled. The Reynard family is already famed for producing excellent swordsmen. Now it will mentor the best mages.

    I do not suggest this as a noble undead, Lord Och, Drusang replied calmly. But as the head of the Derro border army.

    What difference does it make? No matter. Lord Och turned his gaze upon Bethor and his two fellow mages. I do admit you have an eye for talent.

    Vr Bethors heart thumped in his chest so hard that he feared it might explode in his ribcage.

    If he was indeed chosen everything would change. His career would take a turn for the best. He might even rise to general, although his blood was as base andmon as theye. He would seize his just reward for a lifetime of hard work. All would know his name.

    s, said the Dark Lord, none of them are worthy of my teaching."

    Bethor kept his head down to hide his deted expression. His fists clenched in disappointment. Hispetitors were less surprised than he was, but just as disappointed. Perhaps the Dark Lord already had someone else in mind.

    Who was he kidding? The bloody cut on his cheek had disqualified Bethor. He had shown weakness before a Dark Lord and could only me himself.

    Bethor could have borne the disappointment with dignity, if the general hadnt mentioned his name in his surprise. Not even Vr?

    Him least of all, Lord Och replied coldly.

    Bethors head snapped up in surprise and anger. What did you just say?

    While Lord Och squinted in bemusement, General Drusangs eyes glowed with sinister light. Quiet, Vr.

    But Bethors wounded pride wouldnt remain silent, even in the face of a Dark Lord. His tongue moved before he realized the danger. Me, least of all? he repeated in disbelief. Is it because of my birth?

    The Dark Lord snorted. What about your birth?

    He didnt know? No, he had to. It was the only exnation.

    Vr is not of the Oldblood, General Drusang said sharply. He had never reproached Bethor for his birth, but in the presence of a Dark Lord, old prejudice was a cloak to shield oneself of reproach. Its why he hasnt learned when to stay silent in the presence of his betters. I will chastise him for his insolence.

    No need, young Drusang. I care not for formalities. The Dark Lord chuckled. My bones were dusty when the Oldblood was young, little one. I predate this entire civilization, why would I care which bug is dustier than the others?

    Then why? Vr asked in confusion. He nced at hispetitors, these props who couldntst more than five minutes against him. How could the Dark Lord consider him less worthy than them? I am stronger than both of thembined. It took all they had to even scratch me. I lead my ownpany of battle mages, although Im half as old as any of them.

    Lord Och seemed more bored than anything. So?

    So what do Ick? Bethor snapped. What secret strength do you need?

    A psychic pulse of pain from Drusang hit Bethor. His protective spells stopped the attack before it could harm him, but the message was clear. Silence was the order of the day.

    No need to intercede on my behalf, general, the Dark Lord said softly. I am happy to enlighten the foolish.

    I am sorry, my lord, the general apologized. I failed to teach him respect.

    Then it falls upon me toplete his education. Lord Och locked eyes with Bethor. Suppose you be my apprentice, young man. What then? What will you do with my knowledge?

    Bethors answer was obvious. I will be the best battle mage Ant has ever known.

    Bethor immediately knew he had answered wrong. He could see it written all over the Dark Lords face, even before he shrugged. I see, he said with heavy disappointment. What about the rest of you?

    The young woman straightened up in shock. She hadnt expected for the Dark Lord to even acknowledge her existence. She had cast healing spells to repair her nose and broken bones, but her face remained drenched in blood. I

    Come on, dont be shy, the Dark Lord encouraged. You cannot ridicule yourself more than the petnt child next to you.

    Bethor bit his tongue, but a re from the general convinced him to shut his mouth.

    Hispetitor cleared her throat. I would honor the empire by pushing back the Derros into the depths of Undend, she said, before delivering empty titude. Our civilization will never be safe so long as they threaten us.

    Good, good, you remembered our propaganda. I am so proud. The Dark Lord nodded mockingly. And the <em>real </em>reason?

    This time, the woman said the truth. I would take the Derros technology for our own.

    Oh?

    I know this might sound seditious The woman hesitated a moment, until the Dark Lord silently encouraged her to speak up. But Derrotech has achieved things that are currently impossible with our magic alone. We shun it and cling to the Blood, when it cant do everything. But bybining our sorcery with Derrotech I believe we could finally reconquer the surface. Perhaps even destroy the Whitemoon itself.

    Very ambitious and interesting. I am pleased to see youngsters with such vision. Lord Och turned to thest member of the trio. What of you?

    With all due respect, my lord, the empires obsession with rewriting the past has caused us to forget and suppress important knowledge, the mummy rasped with a deep bow. His ribs were broken, alongside one of his dusty arms, but he managed to look dignified all the same. We know precious little of the Derros, of the Dokkars, and the extinct Pleromians.

    We know how to kill them, Lord Och mused. Some would say thats enough.

    I politely disagree. The Pleromians ruled Undend for centuries, and yet they vanished without a trace. The mummy marked a short pause, as if afraid the Dark Lord might smite him where he stood for his heretical words. We have raised an empire on the tomb of a civilization that mysteriously went extinct without exnation. This is not a good thing.

    Perhaps not, Lord Och agreed. So you would turn to the past for answers?

    Yes. With your resources, I would uncover the mysteries of the civilizations that preceded us or coexist with us today. For how can we hope to survive tomorrow if we do not learn from yesterdays mistakes?

    Wise words indeed. Your insight does you credit. The Dark Lord nodded at the answers appreciatively. Here you have it, young Bethor. The secret strength youck.

    I do not understand, Bethor replied in utter confusion. How are their goals better than mine?

    Because they fight for something greater than themselves. True, the girls spellcasting forms are subpar and my fellow undead is middling in the Blood yet both persevered in the face of terrible odds. They were willing to endure pain to achieve their goal. But you

    Vr Bethor felt a chill running down his spine. Where Drusangs magic failed to bypass his defenses, the Dark Lords power seeped through them like poisonous gas through a wall. An unnatural cold grasped him, seized him, choked him. Bethor scratched his throat as his breath left his lungs.

    You possess talent denied to most and the work ethic needed to nurture your natural aptitude for violence and you waste it on seeking cheers and acims. If a mere cut was enough to destabilize your fragile ego, what will happen when you face a true hurdle?

    Lord Ochs contemptuous words resonated inside Bethors very bones. His vision blurred from theck of air. His magic no longer answered him.

    What will you do when faced with the wall of human ingratitude? When the glory you seek is denied to you? I seek apprentices with inner light, and all I see in your soul The Dark Lord locked eyes with Bethor, his gaze shining with cold twin stars of magic. Is empty vanity.

    The words echo in Vr Bethors mind like shattered ss.

    The Dark Lord released his hold on his captive. By the time Bethor fell on his hands and gasped for air, Lord Och was already walking away, his back turned. General Drusang watched him for a few seconds, before turning his cold gaze upon Bethor. The shame hurt as much as the psychic attack.

    Disappointing, said the general.

    Bethor touched his bloody cheek. His fingers trembled, before tightening into a furious fist.

    <em>From this encounter, I learned nothing.</em>

    <em>But then</em>

    Ash thickened the simmering air of Sabaoth.

    The smell of sulfur flooded his nose as he walked through the dark caverns. Pools of bubbling magma cast a red light upon walls of asphalt stone and unblinking eyes of flesh. The heat made him sweat, yet he powered through. Neither fumes nor dust would stop him.

    He walked all the way to a military choke point; thest before his target, or so he had been told. Six Knights of the Road protected the entrance into arger cavern. Armor of the finest soulsteel protected them. They were alert, wary, and ready to defend the frontier of civilization with their lives. In this wild, unconquered Domain, the empires reach only extended as far as their des could strike.

    Halt, one of them said. Bethor stopped. He could force his way through if needed, but he would rather have an audience to report his achievement to. Identify yourself.

    Bethor extended his right hand. The knight lightly cut his thumb with an obsidian dagger and harvested the crimson fluid on an emerald tablet. Words appeared on its surface, detailing Bethors military record.

    This is Vr Bethor, the knight, whom Bethor assumed to be the leader,mented as he read. Commander in the third legion.

    At that age? another asked, dumbfounded.

    There is no age to serve the empire, Bethor replied.

    Yet you are far from your assigned area, said the leader with suspicion. What purpose do you have?

    Bethor examined the knight. He thought about lying about his knowledge, but decided he should gather information instead. Ive been told a dragon made hisir in the next cave.

    Youve heard correctly. The knight leader straightened up, as if fearing the beast would fall upon them at any time. That is why we couldnt progress further in Sabaoth through these tunnels. The monster kills anything that wanders into its territory. Even the Derros dare not tread these ashen halls.

    I have been tasked to do recon, Bethor lied. Leadership is looking for a new path to surprise the Derros.

    There is none that is safe to travel, unless a Dark Lord will y the beast for us. Weve lost three hundred men to its hunger. Even driving the Derros into the dragons path is a perilous proposal. The knight examined Bethor head to toe. And why would the general send amander on a recon mission?

    He did not send amander. Bethor smiled with pride. He sent <em>me</em>.

    The knight leader chuckled back. Confident, are you? Well, I wont stop you. But do not expect reinforcements if you wake up the beast. Our orders are to hold the area, nothing more.

    Bethor wondered if they might abandon their post once he told them how he had in a dragon. Any advice?

    Do not make noise. And if it sees you The knightmander shook his head. You better run as if your life depends on it. Because it will.

    Thanks for the advice, Bethor said without really meaning it. He questioned them about the location of the dragonsir and the presence of Derros nearby, before going on his way. They did not stop him. Nor did they expect to see him return alive.

    He would surprise them all.

    Who cared what the Dark Lord thought? Once Bethor became a dragonyer, the old lich would have no other choice but admit his mistake. Even General Drusang would forgive his insubordination. Dragons were the greatest creatures in all of Undend. Their blood held miraculous properties, and their bones made for the finest weapons.

    His journey led him to an oval cavernrge enough to contain a city. mes flickered on rivers ofva. Watching them streak the ground reminded Bethor of bloody veins, and therge fissures spewing fumes and sulfur of wrinkles. This ce was ancient. Through the Blood, he sensed the presence of dusty bones under his heels. Wisps of pale gray smoke carried the smell of charbroiled corpses.

    The stench of death led him to his target.

    He felt the beasts presence long before he reached itsir. The creature radiated power in the Blood. Its lifeforce was a lighthouse in the darkness. It was almost oppressive. Bethor checked his defensive spells for the fifth time since he left his barrack. He knew he would prevailhe had tobut he wouldnt underestimate the threat ahead. This would be a hard-fought victory.

    At longst, he reached the caverns center, so far away from the outpost that Bethor doubted the knights would hear the battle. A colossal volcanic stone stood in the middle of a cracked, ashen in. It loomedrger than any fortress Bethor had seen yet. Ava tube wide enough to let an army through upied its foot. The tunnel within brightened from the light of mes in its depth.

    The beastsir.

    Bethor gathered his breath. First, he checked his protective spells. Then he sprayed the ground with blood, for the purpose of summoning reinforcements and distractions. Magical traps were set and a strategy was prepared.

    At longst, when Bethor felt confident enough, he stood in front of theva tubes entrance and uttered his challenge.

    Come out, child of fire! he shouted. Come out to die!

    His voice echoed across the caverns of Sabaoth.

    His plea went unanswered.

    Bethors confusion turned to annoyance. Was the beast asleep? With a thought and the power of the Blood, he seized control of the bones in the ground. A tremor traveled down the earth in response. He heard an echo in the Blood, a stirring.

    Bethor waited.

    He waited a long time.

    Then, when he thought he would have to drag the beast out of itsir by the tail, he noticed the sweat on his forehead.

    The heat he whispered.

    The air grew warmer and the earth trembled. Soft tremors, first almost imperceptible, then strong enough to shake stone. Theva tube before Bethor brightened.

    Finally, Bethor whispered as he adopted a fighting stance. You have found your master

    Hisst word trailed on as his stomach soured. The air wasnt just simmering from the heat. It rippled. Space itself bent around Bethor. A presence in the Blood bent the very fabric of reality. He had never seen anything like this.

    Two red eyes, eachrger than him, red back from within theva tube.

    Bethor couldnt exin what happened. His entire body tensed. A voice as old as his species screamed at him to run, run, <em>run</em>. An instinct shaped by fear and generational trauma awakened in the depth of his soul. But Vr Bethor had gone too far to turn back now.

    Yet as a colossal reptilian head emerged from the burning heart of Sabaoth, doubt seized him. A crown of horns sharper than spears hit the ceiling. Jet ck wings unfurled to cloak the cave in their shadow. Fumes erupted from scales of volcanic stone. A maw wide enough to swallow a giant beetle opened to reveal rows of glistening fangs. The monster towered over Bethor like a man over a rat.

    The beast of hell howled loud enough to wake up the damned.

    <em>I learned fear.</em>

    The dragons roar shook the cavern. Stones fell from the ceiling and the ground quaked beneath Bethors feet.

    Battle instincts honed over countless drills and victories pushed him to take action. His skin turned to carbon steel, his flesh reinforced until no weapon could reach his bones. A dozen protective spells red to shield him from harm.

    Since a telekic push wouldnt work on a creature sorge, Bethor targeted the chinks in the beasts armor. His hands fired a dozen homing bone bullets. His mouth opened to fire crystalized blood projectiles. They swirled across the air before targeting the dragons exposed eyes. Once the beast was blinded, Bethor would use his superior agility to run circles around it and

    They bounced off.

    Bethor snapped back to reality as his projectiles bounced off the dragons eyes. Bone bullets strong enough to pierce through steel ttened on impact. Crystalized blood shattered with a rippling noise.

    Only then did Bethor realize his mistake.

    There was no chink in the armor, no frailty to exploit. This almighty creature, this ultimate predator honed to perfection through millions of years of relentless evolution, struck fear in all civilizations across Undend. If it had had a weakness, it would have gone extinct long ago.

    mes lit up in the dragons maw and a forked tongue licked its fangs. Realizing the danger, Bethor fought back. It was for naught. His traps created spikes that shattered upon hitting the dragons scales. His summoning circles fizzled out without summoning anything. The dragons spatial anomaly interfered with the Blood somehow.

    The dragon widened his maw and light poured out.

    For a brief instant, Bethor wondered if he was facing the sun spoken of in ancient legends. He had never witnessed such radiance. Searing mes brightened the world. The cavern, the dragon, Bethors hands, all of them vanished in the brilliant glow. Their heat incinerated his clothes and copsed all his defenses. The mes swallowed Bethor.

    And then

    <em>Then I learned </em><em><strong>pain</strong></em><em>.</em>

    No word could describe his baptism of fire.

    Bethors steel-hard skin was peeled like a fruit. The flesh underneath melted from the heat before the mes could even devour it. His eyes boiled within his skull; blood turned to ashen smoke. Organs crisped in his chest. His hair, and his handsome face, was ripped away to reveal the bones underneath.

    Without the Blood, without his countless defenses and reinforced body, Bethor would have been incinerated in an instant. It would have been more merciful. His outer nerves were burned to a crisp, yet he kept suffering. Every inch of his body, every drop of blood, every bone went through utter agony. He was stabbed and beaten and broken and butchered. Every form of pain known to the brain struck him at once.

    When he screamed, smoke flowed out of his lungs instead of air.

    The pain of the soul echoed with that of the body. The mes stripped away Bethors delusions as easily as his skin. His achievements were sted away. His pride and ambitions were burned to ashes. His illusions of greatness were shattered.

    He was no future master of Undend.

    He was prey.

    He couldnt tell how long the baptism of firested. One second? Five? Ten? It didnt matter. To Vr Bethor, the painsted a lifetime. His mind broke along with his bones.

    When the mes receded, he couldnt see through his eyes nor sense the world through his skinless touch. Only his fading connection to the Blood allowed him to visualize the world around him. His fading magic let him witness the dragon tossing his roasted flesh into a fissure. Bethor sensed the eyes of Undend gazing at him from all sides. They watched his agony with utter indifference. Why wouldnt they? The fissure was a tomb filled with the bones of his predecessors.

    The dragon nced over Bethors future grave. The frightened, dying sorcerer sensed its gaze and how he looked to the dragon.

    A flea.

    Annoying enough to sweep aside, but too small to remember.

    Did Bethor look like this to his rivals? Did they feel as he did now?

    Bethor sensed the dragon turning around through the Blood. The beast could have picked him out of the fissure to devour him, but he wasnt worth the effort. The dragon retreated back into hisir, leaving Bethor alone to suffer.

    Alone with the dead.

    <em>But most importantly</em>

    <em>I learned humility.</em>

    From the tomb of Vr the Vain, a new creature crawled out.

    It was a pitiful thing. A blind, deaf, skinless lump of boiled flesh in the rough shape of a humanoid. His fuming blood heated his body so much, that not even flies would dine on him. The handsome, proud battle mage had be a charred corpse that stubbornly refused to pass on.

    Vr Bethor should have died. Maybe he was dead. His lungs breathed smoke and his brain had boiled, yet his ck heart kept beating in his charbroiled chest. The Blood demanded a healthy body to produce magic, but willpower mattered just as much. Vr Bethors prodigious magic kept his body alive, or what could pass for it. It forced his broken arms to pull his body. It kept his flesh from falling off his bones. It prevented his soul from leaving his carcass.

    He wasnt undead either, no. His fate was worse. He was a living being kept on the threshold of deaths door. Hours had passed since the baptism by fire. To him, theysted a century.

    Vr Bethor couldnt sleep. His magic would fail him the moment his resolve faltered. He needed to remain awake through the pain if he were to have even the slightest chance of surviving back to safety.

    But

    Should he?

    Only disgrace awaited him in Ant. The dishonor of abandoning his post on a foolish quest. The shame of failing so utterly. The Dark Lord had been proved correct in his scorn, and General Drusang would not forgive failure. No biomancer would nurse Bethor back to health. At best he would be turned into a mindless undead sent to the frontlines. At worst, he would be buried and forgotten. The Lights grace was denied to him, as were the honors he once sought.

    Wouldnt it be better for the pain to end? To just let himself perish among the ashes, on his own terms?

    No.

    No

    No!

    Not yet Bethor growled. Not while the dragon yet lived. Not yet

    Unyielding rage filled Bethors heart. An anger pure enough to dull even the harshest pain. The Blood echoed his seething fury. Where the body failed, the spirit remained undying. His magic found a fertile new wellspring of power.

    Bethor drank the milk of hatred like a thirsty man in a lifeless tunnel. The fire inside his heart burned hotter than the dragons mes. His thoughts coiled around this wrathfulntern as it banished the cloud of despair troubling his mind. His hatred gave him focus. The Blood, so well-fed, allowed his spirit to cling to his cooked flesh. And Vr Bethor hated so many things.

    Hate for the dragon, for melting his flesh.

    Hate for the eyes, for witnessing his shame.

    And most bitter of all, hate for his own weakness. Hate for his foolishness. Hate for his misced pride. The mes had burned away everything else. The pride, the fear, the hopes and dreams naught but embers remained.

    Vr Bethor was simply too angry to die.

    He would not perish here on this foreignnd, forsaken by the living and the dead, broken and defeated. He <em>refused </em>to die. He would shoulder the pain and the shame and the mes, but he would crawl his way back to civilization. He would lick his wounds and kill and train. Then one day he would return to this ce and repay the dragons lesson. Fire for blood, death for life.

    Not for glory. Not for the empire. Not for a Dark Lords praise.

    For himself.

    And so, Vr Bethor crawled across the ashen ins, with a broken body and newfound resolve.

    <em>And finally</em>

    <em>I learned to live.</em>

    <strong>PS</strong>: Hi guys, this story has been released at the same time as Undend''s first volume on Kindle and Audible.

    As I''ve said many times, it''s my hope that the book finds more sess on Amazon than RR. The more support its gets there, the better. So please, if you''ve appreciated this side-story and enjoyed reading Undend on RR, I implore you to leave a review. All of them are appreciated!

 Chapter Underland II Pre-Orders + Takedown Notice

    Chapter Undend II Pre-Orders + Takedown Notice

    Hello Undenders,

    Last month, Undend''s first half was published on Kindle Unlimited. As the rule of time demands, Undend''s second half will also makes its way to KU and Audible on <strong>December 6th 2022</strong>. Both versions are currently avable for pre-orders for those who are interested.

    However, this means I''ve been asked to take down the second half (so most remaining chapters except for samples and the Bethor side story) by the end of the month: <strong>October 31st</strong>. Chapters will be taken down on this date, though patrons can still download a free ebook version until that date.

    Halloween seems like a strangely appropriate time for this deadline. I hope to have the second part of Lord Bethor''s side-story avable then for release, but no promises.

    In any case, thank you once again for the support you''ve shown to Undend. I doubt I will revisit this universe after the Lord Bethor side-stories areplete, but I''ve greatly enjoyed writing this story; and I hoped it gave you thrills and glee until itspletion.

    Best regards,

    Voidy.

 Chapter Underland II has been released on Kindle and Audible!

    Chapter Undend II has been released on Kindle and Audible!

    Hi guys,

    I''m proud to announce the release of the second and final volume of Undend has been released on Kindle and Audible! I would be thankful to anyone sharing word of it!

    As for the second half of the promised Undend short story on Bethor... I''m afraid I can''t release it yet. Trying to tie up other things before Christmas, especially on the <em>Apocalypse Tamer</em> front, and that means my advancement on the short story has suffered a bit. Sorry for the dys. There''s also the fact that... while I did love writing Undend, it''s been underperforming on Kindle as much as it did on Royal Road beforehand; especially whenpared with <em>Apocalypse Tamer</em>, which has found an audience on KU. How much of that is based on the story itself or other circumstances (the fact it was released long after being finished on RR, marketing etc...) eludes me, but the result is the same; Undend simply working well, so it''s now almost certain I won''t revisit this universe outside of cameos or noves. I do intend toplete the Lord Bethor side-story, but other projects take a greater priority in the short-term.

    In any case, I hoped you enjoyed this story all the way to the final curtain; I certainly did. Peace be with you.

    Best regards,

    Voidy.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!