Ian froze for a moment at the question. Tell them about myself. Before he left the SPU, he’d briefly practiced answering similarly basic questions with two of the SPU’s Beginning intelligence agents.

‘Hello, I’m Ian Baldwin. I’ve been traveling to see more of the world. I have no siblings, my parents are dead, and my favorite color is blue,’ Ian thought sarcastically. More seriously, he was supposed to talk about twin interests in glossy programmatics and professional dueling, both topics he had knowledge in that wouldn’t make him stick out.

Ian found the latter interest ironic: Rather than from watching duels for pleasure, Ian learned everything he knew about dueling from first-hand experience training with the princes and guardians and by researching potential opponents. If anyone asked Xander or Germaine about what Ian Dunai cared about, dueling would be one of the last things on the list.

Even though he knew that he was supposed to say the lines that he’d rehearsed, he wanted to try being candid with Soolemar: The necromancer wasn’t someone that he was going to see once and never again, but a potential teacher.

“I’m not too interesting,” Ian fibbed, cringing internally. “Like I said to Mr. Mar earlier, I’m visiting from Shattradan. I’m not currently enrolled in any university, but I’m interested in studying glossY programmatics.”

“And you’re traveling on your own?” Jordan inquired.

“Yep. It’s easier that way.”

She hummed her understanding. “Understandable. No partner in your life?”

“I’m a bit of a loner,” Ian replied. “I find it easier that way.”

Soolemar’s gaze remained on the window even as he began to speak. “Solitude has a value all its own, though I must say...there’s nothing more valuable than wasting time with a group of friends.”

Ian blinked, not expecting the man’s response. “I’m not the biggest fan of wasting time,” he retorted. “There’s a lot to do and little time to do it.”

Soolemar grunted softly. “Jordan, what do you think?”

Their driver chuckled. “I agree with Mar: I can’t think of anything better than spending time with family. Sure, I like to spend time alone...but there’s not much else worth doing.”

Soolemar joined in her laughter.

While Ian couldn’t speak for Jordan, Soolemar cared about this random canyon enough to be on the board of an organization dedicated to its conservation. Besides, as far as Ian knew, Soolemar was an old bachelor with no family.

Moreover, if Soolemar was potentially far older than his appearance suggested...Ian knew he must have a better reason for living than spending time with family or friends who had already passed him by.

As the hovergloss cut through the sky, they began to approach a lone pink soul drifting over the desert. Such souls weren’t uncommon, but as they drew near, the soul seemed to be pulling closer, as though something were reeling it in. As the soul approached, its speed increased until it suddenly slammed into Soolemar’s hand.

Ian worked to keep his composure as Soolemar drew up his hand as though to support his chin, only to tuck a small section of the soul between his teeth. Ian couldn’t see Soolemar’s mouth from his vantage point, but he could see the man’s deadened vital signature as he began to take the soul into his mouth, the bulbous, pink-filled sphere rapidly deflating.

Ian had no idea what to make of the display. That Soolemar could manipulate and touch, let alone ingest, random souls was proof his mastery over souls eclipsed Ian’s own; Ian considered this a good thing. But...if he was worried about the morality of the Infinity Loop, what were the implications of Soolemar literally sucking up a soul like a smoothie?

Soolemar turned around. “Have you recently been in an accident?”

Ian coughed. “Why?” He already had an answer for this in the event that someone saw the partially-healed scars across his back and torso: the accident that supposedly killed his parents.

Soolemar flashed a grin. “Just a feeling.”

“Now I’m curious,” Jordan piped up. “Mar’s got a sixth sense about stuff like this.”

A sixth sense, huh? I suppose that’s one explanation.

Ian nodded and smiled politely. “I have, in fact. It’s a bit of a private matter.”

“Oh, forget it then,” Jordan said. “Glad you’re okay and up for traveling.”

They passed the rest of the journey in relative silence, Jordan occasionally pointing out interesting flora and fauna below. Soon the hovergloss began to decelerate and dive through the air, killing altitude. Ian was mildly impressed by Jordan’s smooth descent, the hovergloss shedding speed without wobbling until it came to a soft rest above a natural platform of rock.

“The canyon is just over a few dunes,” Jordan explained as she unlocked the doors, allowing them to pop up and out over their heads. Only in their absence did Ian realize how dusty the glass windows had become. “Mar, if you can help Ian find his way, I’ll stay with the hovergloss.”

Soolemar kicked his feet out of the craft, his wool jacket fluttering behind him as he landed light-footed on the tan rock. “Certainly.”

“Remember, two hours,” Jordan exclaimed. “Any later and we’ll be traveling back in the dark. Not ideal!”

Soolemar laughed. “We’ll be back,” he said, assuring her. He turned toward Ian. “Ready?”

Ian stepped out of the craft and took his gloves from his pockets, slipping them onto his hands. Under the cold pre-dusk light, the desert was colder than he’d expected.

He inclined his head toward the necromancer. “Lead the way.”

By the time they drew close to the canyon, the hovergloss was only twenty or so feet above the ground; from that distance, Ian hadn’t been able to see any sign of the Yurusi Canyon, just yellow dunes spanning the horizon. He followed Soolemar down from the rocky outcrop, their feet sinking into fine sand. Thankfully, Ian’s boots were tall enough to prevent most of the grains from getting in. As far as Ian could tell, Soolemar was just wearing a pair of dress shoes, though that didn’t stop him from setting a swift pace forward, his feet passing lightly over the sand while Ian’s heavier boots kicked up clouds of dust.

As Ian followed Soolemar’s loping gait over a tall dune, Jordan’s hovergloss fell out of view...and Ian felt a soft tug at something nestled inside of him, cueing him onto something like a muscle he didn’t even know existed.

His gaze snapped to the back of Soolemar’s head.

“Do I say anything in the coming seconds?” Ian asked, contacting the Regret practitioner on shift.

“I’d let you know if you did.”

Ian ran his tongue over his teeth. Dealing with the SPU’s Regret practitioners was a sensitive matter, especially considering that he didn’t intend to make his goal of learning necromancy known beyond Euryphel. He honestly had no idea what Euryphel had reported to explain their interest in Soolemar.

Still, Ian figured he would say something if Soolemar started to attack him. For now, whatever he was doing must be innocuous.

“The Yurusi Canyon is an enchanted place,” Soolemar began. He slid down a dune and pointed toward a cluster of cacti and shrubs. “It’s a bit different.”

Ian struggled to keep his balance but slid down the dune and kept pace. The two of them reached the line of plants and peered down into the shallow start of a sunset-colored, bone-dry canyon. The natural hollow of the rock served as an adequate path as they walked forward and came upon the first twist, following the switchback for at least fifteen minutes.

Soolemar was no longer probing him, but Ian’s nerves were on high alert in case the man decided to try anything. They reached the end of the passage without incident, the canyon walls opening up to reveal a massive gorge. Succulents, cacti, grasses, and round-leaved trees filled the gorge with uncharacteristic greens and yellows. Many of the cacti and grasses were in bloom, the winter wet season–wet being a relative term–spurring growth despite the cold.

At the back of the canyon was a set of ancient, winding stairs carved into the rock. Nestled at the apex of their ascent was what appeared to be a small temple, of all things, its roof glinting like an unsheathed sword blade in the cold light, a small trickle of dark smoke wafting from a large incense burner. Ian was too far away to see many details, but he did notice that a few souls bobbed around the temple. He didn’t see anything tethering them in place, but knew that the confluence of souls couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’m surprised more people don’t come in the winter,” Ian murmured, his breath somewhat rough from the exertion of the hike. “It’s cold, but beautiful.”

Soolemar walked forward and sat on a small outcrop. He took off his shoes and socks, allowing his legs to dangle off the edge, seemingly inured to the cold.

“There’s a lot more to do during the summer,” the necromancer grunted. “People don’t come to Gnoste just for this canyon.”

Ian followed him out on the small cliff though didn’t take off his boots, electing to sit by the edge with his legs criss-crossed. He remained silent and focused on taking in the harsh serenity of the remote locale.

“Quite some accident to have marks covering so much of your skin,” Soolemar added, his tone casual.

I’m garbed in a heavy coat, gloves, and a hat, revealing barely any skin. Soolemar’s words are essentially an admission of being a practitioner, Ian noted, trying to tease out the man’s strategy and intentions.

“What do you see, exactly?” Ian murmured, a breath of cold air condensing in front of him. He noticed that no condensation accompanied the rise and fall of Soolemar’s chest.

“Mostly healed frostbite, but lacing up and down like the lash of spindle-thin whips. Perhaps also the sting of poison or acid. A unique injury, to say the least.”

Ian nodded to himself. If he carefully studied his own skin, he could make out the kinds of details Soolemar mentioned, miniscule impressions of Death stamped like embossed tattoos. He hadn’t been able to wipe out the last cling of Death, even with the assistance of an SPU Life practitioner. While they’d gotten the dark vestiges to the point that they would naturally dissipate in the coming weeks, they didn’t escape Soolemar’s notice.

Ian debated whether it was worth asking the necromancer how he knew of his injuries. A regular with no knowledge would probably ask, wonderment filling their features. Even most practitioners would be curious. As for himself...he’d just be asking for an answer he already knew.

Ian didn’t discount the fact that Soolemar was probably testing him...and for some inexplicable reason, playing dumb felt like the wrong choice.

“How do you think I sustained such damage?” Ian asked, his voice sounding calmer and more level than he felt.

Soolemar made a sound of consideration, his lips pressing together. “To be truthful, I’m curious: I’d expect the kind of damage you took to be lethal.”

A grim smile spread across Ian’s face. “Curious?”

Soolemar paused and raised an eyebrow. “Of course. You’re a fascinating individual, Ian.”

Suddenly, Ian felt a soft tugging at his center; Soolemar was probing him as before. Narrowing his eyes, Ian decided to try and intervene directly, rising to the man’s obvious challenge. He didn’t know what Soolemar knew, but they needed to stop their passive-aggressive tip-toeing eventually.

Ian felt inward and envisioned himself repelling the foreign influence, sighing inwardly when the probe dissipated without resistance. Neither of them visibly reacted, their breathing as even as their expressions.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a singularly interesting soul?”

Ian chuckled. “Never.”

Soolemar nodded absently. “You see, souls are normally pure. Each has a pinprick of color, the essence of the soul itself. Have you ever wondered about the purpose of the soul, Ian?”

“At times, though there’s not too much information about souls lying around.”

“The body is a vessel for the soul,” Soolemar murmured. “The body lives without the soul, needs not the soul...and yet is incomplete without it. To kill the body is to set free the soul; to kill the soul is to extinguish an inexhaustible flame.

“But there is something else that may befall a soul, something that some would consider worse than oblivion: corruption.”

Ian’s mind immediately flitted to Achemiss’ words about the souls in the Infinity Loop...how the loop warped them with its swift and traumatizing iterations.

“Do you mean to suggest my soul exhibits signs of corruption?” Ian wondered. “How would you know?”

Soolemar narrowed his eyes, his gaze growing uncharacteristically serious. “Your soul is a multifarious rainbow of color, a warped patchwork. If you died, it would break apart like a decomposed plastic bag. Like a contagion, your soul would attach to those souls disembodied...and the corruption would spread.”

Ian nodded his head slowly. “Good thing I don’t intend to die.”

Soolemar blinked, then began to laugh uproariously, his hands pressing down onto his thighs as he rocked forward. “You are Ian Dunai, are you not?”

Ian took in a deep breath and chewed his lip. Soolemar has no motive to support Selejo, he told himself. I could try to kill him now, but there are no guarantees I wouldn’t just be killing a remote puppet and making an enemy. He obviously had an idea of who I was from the beginning and didn’t make any hostile movements...

Despite his reasoning, Ian knew that having an unknown factor like Soolemar privy to his identity was a bad idea, but all the same...sometimes you just had to take risks.

“One question first,” Ian interjected. “Do you recognize the name Achemiss?”

The necromancer’s hands shuddered almost imperceptibly. For Ian, that was answer enough. He nodded and said, “You’re right, I’m Ian Dunai.” He cocked an eyebrow and tried to convey confidence he didn’t feel. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“I don’t believe so.” Soolemar shimmied forward and dropped off the cliff, his shoes and socks left behind on the edge. He touched down on the ground below, a small plume of dust rotating around his shins. He looked back up and motioned for Ian to join him.

“Walk with me.”