On the shore of Woetarn, the small lake with some monolithic unnamed horror lurking deep within it, Anastacia found herself understandably unable to sleep. Whatever she had felt watching them from under the ice hadn’t appeared again during the evening, but based on its size alone, it would be trivial for it to break through the ice and reach all the way to the party’s camp. Gilbert had pointed out multiple times that if the thing was going to do that, it would have done so before, and such a thing was entirely unheard of – surely, if it was an actual threat, the locals would tell travelers to avoid the lake for more reasons than just the upottajas, but that did little to calm the necromancer.

  She stared out of the window at the campfire the guards had made to keep the wilderness out and themselves warm while they watched over things in turns. There would have been some space for one of them to sleep inside the coach, but the offer was politely declined because they rarely got the chance to camp outside and wanted to do so properly. Gilbert had no troubles falling asleep despite everything, and even Solaria dozed off after a while. This left Anastacia and her simulacra alone in their vigil. So far, she hadn’t gotten the chance to use the core in her shoulder to visit the souls inside the simulacra during the trip and was growing anxious to do so, both because of her own reasons as well as for the sakes of Fah-Raja and Val-Varjo, who had spent thousands of years alone. So, after making sure her companions were indeed asleep, she took out one of the simulacrum cores she kept on her and pushed it into the socket in her shoulder. She knew it would be a bit more painful than usual; it always was after missing a couple of days, but she had gotten used to the burning sensation and it didn’t serve as much of a deterrent anymore. Knowing King to be the vastly more patient of the two, she pressed her hand on Leggy’s knee and watched the pale blue patterns of light burn into the skin of her arm before the world faded into darkness.

  From the darkness, only a single figure appeared before Anastacia. Val-Varjo stared into the void that imprisoned her, deep in thought and unaware of her guest. She muttered something in a language the necromancer didn’t understand and seemed to be inspecting the nothingness in a couple of points far above her.

  “What are you doing?” Anastacia asked and walked up to the aureun.

  “Looking for weak points.” Val-Varjo answered, clearly delighted to have company.

  Anastacia tried to peer into the same directions but couldn’t see anything but the same nothingness that shrouded everything in the prison.

  “I have not gone insane, if that is what you fear. I understand that from this perspective, this domain appears without seams or edges altogether, but that is a physical impossibility. There is no such thing as manufactured infinity, so there are limits to this prison of mine as well. Those limits I intend to discover and break, no matter how long it takes.” The aureun explained herself before pausing what she was doing and sitting down to not loom far above her guest as they conversed. “Do you have business with me?”

  The necromancer shrugged and sat down by the aureun. “Not really, just wanted to hang out.”

  “A social call! Such a wonderfully adorable surface dweller habit! To visit one another for no practical purpose.” Val-Varjo marveled. She took off her stone mask to reveal a cheerful expression that still looked slightly menacing because of her obsidian eyes and sharp teeth, but still captivating all the same. “I believe it is customary to offer food and drink in this situation, but I possess neither, I fear.”

  “Don’t worry about that, I could just use a chat. Today has been… eventful and I’m having trouble sleeping. If you’ve got any aureun bedtime stories you heard from your parents, that would be nice… or I guess if you ever told any to your kids – I have no idea how old you are or how any of that worked for you guys.” Anastacia sighed and almost leaned against the aureun, as she was used to doing with Leggy.

  “I lament for your troubles, but you pose an intriguing question. Our lifespans are vastly different, but I am- or was roughly one fifth done with my projected lifespan. Not quite a youngling, but not considered mature enough for the more important positions within the empire.” Val-Varjo explained in a roundabout way. The only other point of comparison for Anastacia was Fah-Raja, whose face she had never seen, but who at least appeared more seasoned and experienced of the two. “Unfortunately, despite the vast number of accursed inventions my kind sired, bedtime stories and lullabies were not among them – such frivolous activities were ‘the domain of fiends and other unruly sort’.”

  Just like before, the necromancer found the aureun captivating to look at, as that was her only way to observe her. There was no constant stream of unwanted necromantic knowledge about her that she would subconsciously decipher, every movement was a mystery and noticing the faintest changes in Val-Varjo’s face or gestures brought forth a new puzzle to understand without the other clues she was usually privy to. She could see the dark veins below the somewhat ghastly skin, but not tell there was blood flowing through them, and yet it felt warm to touch. Without even realizing it, Anastacia had placed her hand on the aureun’s cheek and compared it to her own cheek with her other hand.

  “Awfully realistic, is it not? It left me just as baffled when I first learned such details were included in one’s soul. I had thought spirits more intangible and shapeless before awakening here – by your hand.” Val-Varjo said, thinking what the necromancer was amazed by was the technology and magic used by the cores. “It does bring with it several questions, however. Among them the most curious is: why does the soul contain this information? What use are the details of one’s exterior and sensations in the great cycle? Does the appearance of the soul here always correspond to what existed outside? It does seem like you are in a unique position to find answers for us along that avenue, while my experimentation will be directed towards burning down these walls that bind me…”

  “What?... Oh, yeah… That’s true.” Anastacia awoke from her trance and pulled back her hand.

  “Hm!” The aureun suddenly appeared to realize something and leaned closer to the necromancer, now extending her arm in turn. She pinched the fabric of the shirt Anastacia was wearing and tugged on it gently. Being so close allowed the necromancer to better gaze into her black eyes, and find out that somewhere in their dark depths was a cluster of glimmering spots that moved in a similar manner to pupils, revealing where the aureun was looking at. Just as she came to that realization, the clusters darted from their previous position to stare directly into her eyes, causing her heart to skip a beat. “Interesting!”

  Barely able to respond Anastacia averted her gaze. “Wh… what is?”

  “Why are our souls clothed?” Val-Varjo blurted out the question without hesitation.

  Before even really understanding the question or its implications, the necromancers already scrambled nerves caused her to scamper back a couple of meters when she felt a warm breath on her neck. “What?!” She exclaimed once the question finally caught up with her.

  “It suggests my clothes somehow died with me, a truly senseless idea. Yet, I have the attire I was captured in.” The aureun pointed out without missing a beat, gracefully rolled up from the ground and gestured towards her own clothes, the remnants of a suit made out of dark leather or something similar to it, with metallic plates Anastacia knew were there to rest against pieces of stone armor that could be attached to it. On top of the suit was a wide sash that ran over her chest and in no way seemed aureun in origin. Not only was it colorful, but also seemingly made out of wool. The same colorful pattern repeated in the partly torn half-skirt hanging from her hip as well as an assortment of decorations tied to her hair. Noticeably, not an inch of skin could be seen anywhere besides her hands and face, likely because of the species’ intolerance to the sun and Val-Varjo’s preference to be in the company of the surface dwellers over her own people. “Is that your current attire as well?”

  Anastacia glanced down to see her already quite worn blouse, one of the first items of clothing she bought with her own money, complete with a couple of seemingly invincible coffee stains that defied all kinds of soap she had tried. “Yeah?”

  “Intriguing, this opens up several more ways for me to rattle the bars of this prison!” The aureun celebrated. “Do you happen to carry anything disposable on you? Something you would not mind being lost in the torrents of ancient enchanted technology?”

  The necromancer could guess what the experiment Val-Varjo was suggesting, and reached down to her hip, where usually she could find a belt full of small pouches of assorted items most would call trash. Unfortunately, constricting items such as boots and belts were the first things to go as the journey in the coach grew longer. Luckily, her goblinoid tendencies of gathering things still prevailed, as her pockets held decent collection as well. A couple of really neat stones, a pair of dice that had no ones or twos on them, a paper scrap with the word ‘foppish?’ written on it with her own handwriting but of which she had no recollection of, a cork from a mead bottle, a bar of red wax she had mistook for taffy more than once and which now had toothmarks on it, lint, seeds for plants she didn’t recognize, a weird non-gold coin she had found on the ground, a dagger forged from a small nail – fit for a mouse to wield, as well as a crystal of some kind that had been described by the merchant peddling it as ‘containing the very essence of Jorm’ – which meant absolutely nothing to anyone she had asked about it from.

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  With a pained look, she eventually selected the small dagger as the least precious part of the collection and handed it over to Val-Varjo.

  “A curious little thing, why do you even possess something like this?” The aureun inquired.

  “Figured I’d prepare for the possibility of being turned tiny by a rogue wizard and have something to arm myself with on me.” The necromancer explained herself and the baffling train of thought conjured by a sleepless night some months ago.

  “I see… I can only imagine the plague of wizards the world must be dealing with to force such a precaution.” Val-Varjo nodded and did a couple of well-trained fencing moves with the tiny dagger between her fingers. “This will do nicely for our purposes. Once your time here runs out, please see if you still have this on your person – and upon our next meeting, we shall see if I still have it as well. If there is a next meeting, of course?”

  “Yes! I… I’d like to keep visiting as often as I can.” Anastacia said quickly, already feeling her presence fade, as if on cue.

  “Should I not manage my escape by then, here I will await to be given the honor of your company once more.” Val-Varjo bowed graciously and immediately returned to pondering the void above her, like there was no time to be lost in her seemingly endless imprisonment. As the necromancer faded, she did turn to her once more with a gleaming smile, a warming sight to part with.

  Flinching as she awoke in the coach once more, mere seconds after she had left. Her companions were still fast asleep on the benches, and nothing had changed outside, where the guards still kept their fire going. Putting more attention to the darkness outside, she realized that the wind had picked up somewhat since the evening. Not enough to bother the guards, but enough to make the trees and the coach sway from the harshest gusts it had to offer. With the perimeter deemed safe, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the ridiculously small dagger she had gifted to the aureun, confirming that she couldn’t just leave things into the prison, even if they came along with her for some reason.

  “You were a very intense person once upon a time.” She whispered to Leggy. “And very pretty, though that hasn’t changed, has it?”

  The compliment earned her a poke on the nose from the simulacrum.

  Not wishing to waste time to avoid getting caught, Anastacia shook her arm to prepare both it and her mind to the pulse of energy that was coming now that it was King’s turn. “Ready?” She asked and got a nod in return before placing her hand on King’s knee and blacking out again.

  Clad in his armor of stone, Fah-Raja rested by the campfire forever burning in his prison. It wasn’t usual for him to match the time spent training with time spent resting and reflecting on things, but something seemed amiss this time. Something about the way he cradled his spear suggested agitation to the necromancer who was used to carefully watching King, whom he shared his mannerisms with. Her arrival was met with a silent nod.

  “Is something wrong? You seem on edge.” She inquired and sat down by the fire.

  “Your eyes remain keen, young one.” Fah-Raja admitted and let out a deep sigh though his mask. “I saw a dream.”

  “Oh, was it a bad one? I’m not too keen on dreams either, a lot of them are about the past – though not all, some are… different.” Anastacia said. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t even know you slept here.”

  “Sleep is not as common for my kind as it is for yours, but still a requirement. In here I still possess the ability to drift off, but there is no telling for how long.” The aureun explained. “What bothers is that we do not dream, at all. Our existence predates dreams as a whole, and it was never a trait we developed, unlike some other folk. The concept itself does not elude me, but it took a while for me to recognize it.”

  Anastacia latched onto a line that was beside the point. “Wait, wait, wait! You’re older than dreams?”

  The aureun nodded. “Correct. While not the first mortals, not far off either, and what use would dreaming have in a world of immortals that lacks both day and night? As the later mortals… elves, humans, the beastfolk of all kinds appeared and multiplied, so did dreams make their way into our realm. Many primordial beasts and other immortals accepted them as well, but our kind rejected the offer. Whether it was out of arrogance or the apparent uselessness of false realities that vanish once you wake up, I can not tell you – though knowing us, the former seems more likely.”

  “And seeing a dream upsets you because…?” The necromancer moved on to the matter at hand despite having several follow-up questions.

  Fah-Raja gripped his spear tightly. “Someone or something made me dream. It can somehow reach me even in this prison… Has none of your companions mentioned such strangeness?”

  “No… I can’t remember if I dreamt the last couple of nights, and no one else has said anything. Val-Varjo didn’t say anything either.” Anastacia shrugged.

  “Hmh.” Fah-Raja grunted. “Has this Val-Varjo appeared trustworthy? I must still ask you to exercise caution around all aureun, we are not to be trusted.”

  Anastacia may have blushed slightly, thinking back to what had happened. “She is… passionate about things. She’s dead set on escaping her prison sooner or later. Do you think that’s possible?”

  The aureun pondered for a while, staring into the fire through his mask. “You have broken in, clearly there are gaps in the walls – though I must say, I do not approve. If all you’ve told me is true, the world has finally eradicated us for a reason. Not one kin or folk stood by our side, even our own creations turned on us… We do not belong in the world that is left. Not a single one of us.”

  “Don’t you want out of here, if she manages to escape?” She asked, already knowing the answer she wouldn’t be surprised by.

  “No… I’ve hunted what there is to hunt, defeated what there is to defeat. What is left in the world is more befit of the shell I inhabit. I will relish the company you’ve gifted me for as long as it lasts, and then… silence.” Fah-Raja stated with unwavering confidence. Filtered through the mask, his voice sounded somehow distant, but one could still make out that when he spoke of silence, it was with reverence.

  Anastacia fell silent for a while, pondering if she would have made the same call some months ago, if her own imprisonment meant that the world wouldn’t have to witness another necromancer ever again. Of course, the presence of necromancers seemed unavoidable, even if one would eradicate them all, more would crop up in populations entirely unrelated to the previous ones, but it was still a sentiment she somewhat understood.

  The lull in the conversation lasted for a while before the necromancer remembered the original matter they were discussing. “So, what did you dream of? Was it bad?”

  Fah-Raja shook his head and let out a chuckle. “Not at all, but it did not feel mine. My movements were slow and lumbering, though admittedly strong. Inside a tent of some manner, I stood beside a table with an unfamiliar map laid out before me. Around the table were others whom I shared a uniform with, humans – armed. They looked at me, searching for answers, not out of desperation but still with serious scowls on their faces. As if in some grand game, I moved around pieces on the map without understanding why, but for it I received approving gestures. One thing or another was decided and we departed from around the table, stepping out into the cold. From atop a small hill, I could see dozens of campfires, tents and wagons. Around them a thousand people, perhaps more. I did not recognize the emblems on their gray banners, but I know an army when I see one. Slowly, their gazes turn towards me as I stand over them, but I do not return the favor. No, my eyes are fixated on a looming darkness in the horizon towards northwest.”

  “Well, you were a warrior and were in charge of the other knights of your order, were you not? It’s not that odd that you’d dream about something like that. Not sure why it wouldn’t be aureun though…” Anastacia pointed out.

  “We did not act as an army, nor did I command them like one. These were not experiences molded from my memories, but ones forced upon me along with the dream itself.” Fah-Raja said, adamant in his words. “Can you not think of anything out there that may be the cause?”

  Anastacia scratched her head, trying to think of anything that would have stood out from the past few days. Sure, they were traveling with a powerful mage, but that didn’t seem relevant, nor did the monstrosity in the lake. While the creature itself was unknown, if being near the lake would cause strange dreams, it would have come up in Gilbert’s introduction of it.

  “Ah…” She remembered something. “I think the quest briefing mentioned nightmares being a problem for the locals – but we’re still some days out, would be quite a range it had… and your dream wasn’t exactly a nightmare.”

  The lights of Fah-Raja’s mask dimmed and brightened seemingly randomly as he stared deep into the flickering fire without responding. The usually freakishly calm and collected aureun was obviously either concerned or annoyed by what was happening, and struggled with that.

  “Do you know something about this, something that we should know too?” Anastacia asked, thinking it was possibly caused by something Fah-Raja knew from the days long ago.

  His fingers tightened around his weapon. “No, and of that I am gravely concerned. The fact that this jail of mine is affected has implications most dire – the best of which is some hooligan repurposing the empire’s technology. The magics and enchantments used by my kind were torn from much different sources than the little spells cast by mortals of my time, their rediscovery is nigh impossible to my limited understanding. The worst of the paths I can fathom has some being from the timeless ages we first awoke in… a power from before, before all mights were distilled from their primordial shapes into magics and enchantments of us lesser things. It would look at our crafts and enchantments and think of them as we thought of others’ – child’s play.”

  “I’ve seen more than my fair share of ancient things, and I am in a war with the sect too. I’d hardly put it past them to get their hands on something like that – and they seem to be popping up everywhere I go as of late.” The necromancer pointed out, much less concerned than the aureun.

  “And my weapons have tasted the blood of many such things, but that does not lessen the threat it presents. Of the sect I know less, but should they be capable of harnessing powers I speak of, you take them much too lightly.” His voice was ever so slightly raised, perhaps annoyed by the lack of severity Anastacia seemed to put on the matter. “Must you press on with this journey? Is there no option for you to return home and find other matters to attend? I can not in good conscience encourage it, and would stop you had I the means.”

  “Yeah… I hear you, but we’re on a quest to find some missing adventurers, including the brother of one of the people traveling with us – no backing out until we at least see what’s up.” Anastacia explained. “I’ll promise to be careful though.”

  “It calms me little that the idiocy is honorable, but it does explain it. I wish not to impose anything upon you, but would you make sure to report to me as frequently as possible? If for nothing else then to tell me you remain unharmed.” The aureun knight made a request that clearly pained him greatly.

  “Of course!” Anastacia exclaimed and put her hand on Fah-Raja’s arm. “I want to keep visiting both of you as often as I can anyway.”

  The knight simply nodded in response, likely without having his worries lessened in the least.