When his alarm sounded the following morning, Ian seriously wondered whether he should just stay in bed. Rindo’s words, for one, put him on edge: He’d all but admitted his suspicions about Ian being a gestating ascendant. If Rindo came to suspect, wouldn’t the Eldemari?

All he needed was for the Eldemari’s attention to linger on him for too long.

Still, Rindo found me even when I remained in my room, he reasoned. If the Eldemari is interested, she’ll be able to observe me from afar: Arrows of fate penetrate beyond physical obstacles.

He turned in bed, groaning.

Maybe I’m just tired, he thought idly, glancing at the time. He’d been unable to sleep soundly and had woken up in the middle of the night for a few hours.

He decided to snooze his alarm for just a few more minutes...

—

Darkness.

Darkness swarmed around him like a mass of worms, undulating slowly; oily, and reminiscent of Death energy, but far too cold. He jolted in place, immediately startled by the change in location.

What is this place? he wondered, trying to make out the presence of any nearby vital signatures. He couldn’t see any, which made him more unnerved as he strained his arms against the fimbrillate darkness. Was I captured and brought somewhere?

A low, echoing laughter began to resonate throughout the space. Before, Ian hadn’t the faintest clue the size of the surroundings, but the echoing voice suggested a space with canyon-like breadth. Whoever was laughing was too far away for Ian to detect, so he resigned himself to wait for their approach.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to feel a heavy pressure weigh over him, locking his jaw in place.

“Hello, Ignatius Julian Dunai,” the voice said, a low bass that resonated in Ian’s bones. “Welcome.”

Welcome to where? Ian thought, his eyes narrowing.

The voice seemed to suddenly shift directions, coming from behind. “I’ve brought you here to offer you a deal.”

The darkness constricted around Ian, writhing as though excited.

“First, I’ll introduce myself. I am Achemiss.”

A form came into view: a towering, dark titan, like a statue wrought out of shadow. The entity–presumably Achemiss–was partially obscured by worm-like tendrils of darkness, and wore the most peculiar, stiff smile. Ian couldn’t sense a clear signature of vitality from the titan; it was as though he was neither alive nor dead. Or perhaps, he’s only a manifested illusion, Ian reasoned. If nothing in this realm is real, then it’s unsurprising that nothing registers as being alive.

Ian considered the figure’s name. Achemiss...I’ve never heard of him before. But whether he knew the name or not was of no consequence, for Ian was already quite certain that his ignorance was like that of an insect before a king. The power he felt rippling through the titan’s voice, the grace of his movements as he shifted around in the umbral morass...

Perhaps...an ascendant?

He struggled to speak, choking out a garbled sentence. “Wh-what deal?”

“Oh, it’s the best kind of deal there is: one that will have benefits for the two of us. Did you know you’re going to fail your ascension?” the titan said casually, tilting his head to the side. “Oh, it’s a spectacle. Or, it will be.” He laughed, the chuckles echoing out. “You know, I’ve really grown quite fond of you over the past months.”

“Wh-what?” Ian hissed quietly, barely able to spit out the question.

“People...even when their societies are early in their development. No, in particular those in their early development...they don’t realize that they can do things that shouldn’t be done. Always so quick to assume that the worse something is, the harder it is to perpetrate.”

Ian narrowed his eyes, but didn’t try to speak, letting the imposing figure continue.

“Unfortunately, it’s more often the reverse: it’s easier to take than to give, to destroy than create. Consider, for instance, your dilation chamber. Did you even once question whether the people you killed within it were real?” The laughter resounded once again. “Of course not; it’s unfathomable. Or is it?”

Ian struggled against the titan’s restrictions, to no avail. “What?”

The titan shifted positions again, speaking from Ian’s left. “Is that all you can say?” he asked, chuckling. “The theories behind dilation loops in this realm are mostly uncharted and untested. The Infinity Loop experiment you participated in–yes, I know its name–was the first of its kind: a years-long trial that recreated locations and people using state-of-the-art soul patterning to take the imprint of entire cities.” The titan laughed uproariously. “It’s beyond you, I know, but I love these kinds of details.

“It really was a miraculous thing: One moment, I was minding my own business; the next, a flood of returned souls washed the world in frenetic gray. The chamber’s souls really are the best: infantile, completely absorbed by their ensoulment...ravaged by their short and rather unfortunate lives.”

“What’s the deal?” Ian cut in. “You said we both had s-something to gain.” He hated how his throat felt like it was on fire, each word grating at his vocal chords. He knew that there was a lot to digest in the mysterious entity’s tangent, but wanted to do the digesting somewhere less...Ian fished for an adequate descriptor. Uncomfortable was far too kind a euphemism.

“Like I said, you’re going to fail your ascension. And in exchange for a favor, I will intervene on your behalf.”

“What k-kind of intervention?”

The titan shifted positions again through the murk, cocking his head.

Suddenly, Ian’s perspective shifted. He was now gazing up at an open, cloudy sky. The view panned slightly, allowing him to see the city below. He recognized it as Pardus, sleek buildings piercing the sky like slender, glassy blades.

A fiery streak suddenly split the clouds, smashing into the earth. The impact was instantaneous, but Ian felt time slow as the destruction unfurled. The city shattered, the ground rippling as though someone were shaking out a carpet. Shockwaves of energy and vapor spread across the landscape, summoning whirlwinds of dust. The buildings that didn’t immediately capsize were stripped bare, only skeletal structures of iron supports and cement remaining.

Ian felt his perspective shift as the destruction spread, extending far beyond the impact site. The ground was still fissured and broken even as far as the red stain of the Vermuthi Desert, reaching well beyond the province of Pardinia.

The vision returned to the city, the epicenter of the wreckage. The area where the descendant landed had been reduced to a vast crater. Now that the dust had settled, Ian could see a woman in plate armor and a rippling red cape. She was surrounded by thick strands of golden energy and seemed to almost float above the packed earth, her dark hair hovering above her armored shoulders. Swinging lightly at her side was a one-handed warhammer, around which the energy seemed to concentrate.

And where am I supposed to be during this? Ian wondered. He didn’t think there was any way he could have stopped the descendant’s devastating impact.

Ian then saw himself emerging from the rubble at the crater’s edge. His clothes were torn and blackened by dust, but otherwise he looked unhurt.

“Filthy,” the descendant muttered, disdain coloring her features as she turned her head away from him. “A false ascendant. This world’s as good as gone.”

Before waiting for him to reply, the woman darted forward, reducing the distance between them in an instant. She led the strike with her hammer, which was suddenly glinting a hair’s breadth from Ian’s face. The decemancer was ready, a barrier of bone arrayed with soul gems forming a shield against the strike.

It wasn’t enough. Ian was sent flying backwards. As he spun through the air, the hammer’s resplendent energy coiled around him like a snake.

Observing his future self, Ian could see how unbalanced the match-up was. But surely the descendant wasn’t trying to kill him, was she?

What does it mean to fail an ascension?

He found out soon enough. Halfway through the arc of his descent Ian saw his body grow limp. His lifeless corpse hit the ground, contorting on impact. The ascendant approached, stomping on him with a greaved foot and before she placed her hammer upon his throat, smiling.

“Dust to dust, decemancer.”

—

The vision ended abruptly with future-Ian’s death.

“Is that your strategy? Show me the supposed future?” Ian muttered, struggling weakly against Achemiss’ oppressive hold. “It’s an impressive vision, to be sure.”

“It is your future, unless you agree to a deal. Keep in mind that I didn’t bother to show you all the ripple effects of your defeat, but rest assured they spell cataclysm for the Ho’ostar Peninsula.”

Ian figured as much. If the peace had not yet been broken, the descendant would surely trigger a full-scale war between Selejo and the SPU.

“I can stop her hammer’s initial strike without getting into too much trouble for meddling. I will leave the rest up to you.”

“The strike that kills me?”

Achemiss chuckled. “I’m not allowed to intervene so directly. No, I’ll stop the blow that shatters the continent.”

Ian blanched. Even if Achemiss could save the region from the descendant’s initial strike, doing so hardly improved his overall chances of survival: It had been her second attack that killed him.

Achemiss shot him a droll look, his form disappearing and reappearing from a different angle. “I believe that stopping her first blow should be sufficient to change the outcome, though you will need to win the battle on your own. If you agree to the deal, I’ll be giving you two gifts that should prove helpful in preparing for Ari’s arrival.”

Ian’s mind went into overdrive. “And if I refuse? Since I now know of the supposed future, there’s no guarantee I’ll fail without your help.”

Achemiss laughed and changed positions again, now appearing just before Ian’s face. “Remembrance of this encounter is the first gift,” he explained, smiling devilishly. “If you don’t agree to a deal, I’ll be taking the gift back.”

“What’s the second gift?”

“I still need to decide,” Achemiss replied, sighing. “But first...what do you choose? Will you accept the deal?”

“Can I see more of the supposed ripple effects of my failure?” Ian wondered.

“Are you sure you wish to see them?”

Ian swallowed. “Y-yes.” I need to know.

Ian’s vision shifted, revealing the rooftops of Zukal’iss and the Bay of Ramsay scintillating in the background. Ian watched as an enormous wave rose up over the cliffside and swiped against the city. The damage was minimal due to the natural barrier, but Ian figured most places along the coast would have been destroyed...probably were being destroyed by similar waves.

The vision was moving several times faster than real time, the sun visibly arcing through the sky. Despite the speed, Ian discerned the first ships on the horizon without any issue. They bore the signet of Selejo, an arrow springing between earth and the sun; around them swarmed practitioners like hornets.

Ian watched on as the fleet made landfall. The Guard and other forces within and around Zukal’iss were clearly prepared and mounted a defensive response, pushing the enemy back. However, the enemy practitioners didn’t match Ian’s expectations of a cool and collected naval force. Their tactics were uncharacteristically rash, desperate, and as the ships continued to unload, it felt as though every practitioner in Selejo had come across the bay. Ian could see that Zukal’iss’ forces were being overwhelmed.

The perspective’s speed increased, hurdling Ian further into the future. Ian saw the eventual sacking of Zukal’iss. The end came swiftly when Selejo’s Godoran and Brinnish allies encroached swiftly and decisively from the East and South. The brutality of Zukal’iss’ destruction felt like something that would have happened hundreds of years previous, not something from the age of modernity.

The vision cut out again.

“I think you can imagine what happens to your mother and sister. And you should understand that things don’t end particularly well for your Crowned Prime, either.”

Ian felt himself grow even colder. He tried and failed to summon comforting Death energy around himself, forgetting the limitations of the incorporeal space.

“Do I even have a choice, Achemiss?” Ian murmured bitterly. “You show me this unthinkable future, then give me a choice between letting it happen and trying to change it, even if doing so puts me in your debt.”

Achemiss shifted positions, appearing to Ian’s left. “There’s always a choice, but as I said, I think making a deal would turn out best for the both of us.”

Ian breathed in shallowly, his lungs still restricted by Achemiss’ hold. “You say it’s a deal that benefits you as well.”

Achemiss smiled. “I get a favor, don’t I?”

“What do you even need from me?” Ian replied. “To keep me here like this, you must be significantly more powerful than myself. An ascendant.”

Achemiss’ eyes narrowed. “There’s certainly something that only you can help me with.”

No denial of being an ascendant, Ian thought. But also no hint of what kind of favor he’ll demand. It does seem like he already has something in mind, though.

“What?”’

“Ascendant Ari and I have our...disagreements.” Ian saw the ascendant’s face contort into a wicked smile. “Your trial has come at an opportune time, Ignatius. I need your help to kill her when she’s vulnerable.”

That descendant woman? Achemiss’ words seemed to confirm that ascendants and descendants were one and the same. “After what you showed me, I was going to do that anyway.”

“You were going to try and defeat Ari,” Achemiss said. “I need you to kill her. The distinction is important, especially in my realm, where true death is rather...difficult to come by. However, once she lands on your world, her mortal body will be vulnerable.”

“Then I agree to try and truly kill her, though I’m not sure I understand what that entails.” If Ari truly intended to destroy Pardinia, her death would be well-deserved.

Achemiss shifted positions and smiled. “Excellent. Beheading Ari when she’s on your world should be sufficient to ensure her demise. To be safe, I recommend destroying her body as thoroughly as possible.”

“What if I f-fail?” Ian asked bluntly.

Achemiss gave him his characteristic, peculiar smile once more. “Let me pick out your second gift...something to help in your task.” The titan-like figure disappeared from view. Ian thought he could hear what sounded like rummaging through a kitchen cabinet.

“Let me explain a bit more: If you simply defeat her, she’ll return, bringing you in tow. But I suggest you don’t choose that route: things won’t turn out well for you if Ari’s left alive.” A muted clang sounded out.

“Is that a threat?”

“I’m the type to be disappointed, rather than vindictive. It won’t be me you’ll have to worry about. You must have gleaned that there’s something about your ascendant trial that’s unreasonably difficult.”

“Yes.”

“It’s related to what I mentioned in the beginning: the Infinity Loop. Your power is certainly impressive, Ignatius.” Achemiss’ low voice droned on, rather absent-mindedly. “But you lack...subtlety, understanding. You need a teacher, a true master. Someone who has actually learned the Dark Art, not simply stumbled upon ascendancy, someone to help you understand why your trial is so cataclysmic.

“An old friend of mine may be able to help, if he is still alive. He was just beginning to make a name for himself, in the East, when I left this world…” The titan’s voice trailed off.

“Yes that should do it,” he mumbled. Achemiss suddenly reappeared. He was holding two tiny little metallic plates in his left palm.

“I think this should prove useful to you,” he murmured. The two plates suddenly began to melt down; in a flash, Achemiss moved them into Ian’s eyes, causing the decemancer to scream in pain. It felt as though Achemiss had moved the liquefied metal into his tear ducts. Ian felt a foreign presence on the insides of his eyes, as though the metal had re-solidified into plates centered around his pupils.

Ian attempted to ask more questions, but Achemiss cut him off. “It’s time enough for you to awaken. Best of luck, Ignatius Julian Dunai.”