That night, Ian slept like the dead.

Ian couldn’t remember the last time that he’d gotten more than five hours of sleep. The never-ending stress and constant meetings, not to mention commencing the war on Godora...all of it conspired to leave him sleep-deprived and reliant on decemantic intervention just to keep himself moving.

For the first time in seemingly forever, there was nothing demanding his attention. He’d already found a necromancer, checking off the main objective from his list. Now all he needed to focus on was keeping a low profile and absorbing all that he could from Soolemar.

After getting thirteen hours of sleep, Ian finally decided to get up. He yawned and stretched his limbs, slinking out of bed and exchanging his clothes for a towel.

He wasn’t ready for his host, Jo Vindradoon, to be waiting outside his door with a glosspad clenched in her hands. He recoiled, a shocked smile plastered on his face.

“Can I help you?”

“Have you seen the news?” Jo asked. “I have a feeling that a traveler like yourself might be interested in global affairs, even in the West.”

Ian tensed. “What news?”

Jo handed over the glosspad. “Take a look.”

Ian inhaled the presented article in a single minute, his expression inscrutable. When he finished he handed the glosspad back and smirked. “Doesn’t seem like the West is the best place to be taking a vacation right now. Good thing I’m in the East.”

Jo’s lips quirked. “...Right.”

“Thanks for sharing this. Definitely interesting stuff.”

The hostess nodded and turned back, heading for the stairs. “When you’re ready, we’ll have lunch for you downstairs.”

Ian smiled. “Sounds good.” He headed to the bathroom, draped his towel on a hook, and entered the shower.

The water melted the smile from his face. He clenched his fists and leaned his head against the shower wall, his entire body tense.

Selejo finally commenced a serious offensive. They’d known it would happen, known that his Deathseeds alone wouldn’t be able to stop the most powerful practitioners Selejo could bring to bear...but damn: Ian hoped that the Deathseeds would slow them down a bit longer.

All the same, the conflict was out of his hands: It was up to Eury and the others to put their countermeasures into play.

Speaking of Eury...

“Hey,” Ian transmitted over quantum channel.

“I’m in a meeting,” Euryphel responded. “I tried to contact you earlier but you were asleep. I take it you’ve heard what’s happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Euryphel added. “We knew this was coming. Your Deathseeds bought us valuable time to establish a series of defenses, so thanks for that.”

“I wish there was something I could do from over here,” Ian thought.

“If you learn how to defeat the Eldemari, that’d be a big plus,” Euryphel replied. Ian tried to imagine the prince’s probably-cheeky expression. “In all seriousness, focus on doing whatever possible to help defeat the descendant. On that note, how goes your continued investigation into Soolemar and Ventrebel?”

Ian smiled, water trickling into his parted lips. “I thought you were busy in a meeting; is now the best time to report in?”

“Scoff. I’m perfectly capable of such simple multitasking. The reports from the other Regret practitioners watching over you were quite sparse.”

For good reason, Ian thought. He certainly wasn’t going to tell just anyone what he was doing with Soolemar; all the Regret practitioner agents knew was that he was chasing down the man for some nebulous intelligence.

“I was able to meet with him.” Ian paused, sighing. “We’re meeting again tonight.”

“That’s excellent news. What was meeting him like?”

“He seems to know a lot about souls,” Ian replied. “I get the impression I won’t need to look for Ventrebel.”

“I have no idea how you got so lucky, but I’m not complaining.”

Ian’s mouth widened into a grin. “I really was lucky to meet you back in the loop.”

Euryphel rolled with the change of subject without missing a beat. “Psh. Don’t downplay my own self-interest: I had every incentive to bring you over to my side when I realized I was in a dilation chamber.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it was possibly the best thing that came out of that whole experience.”

“...‘it’?”

Ian snorted. “Becoming friends. But also...I didn’t know I was going to ascend when I left the loop. If I had stayed in Selejo...I might already be dead by the Eldemari’s hand. Meeting you was a twist of fate, one that’s already saved my life.”

“Let me know how tonight’s meeting with Soolemar goes,” Euryphel said, changing the subject again.

“Will do. Have a good meeting.”

“Thanks.”

—

Ian finished getting ready and popped downstairs to get lunch. The Vindradoon couple was preparing four dishes of savory meat curry over potatoes; sitting alone in the dining room was little Bradley, his feet kicking rhythmically under the table.

“Hello,” Ian said, announcing his presence.

“Tired?” Porshek asked, pushing his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose.

“Not any more,” Ian replied, flashing a wry smile. “Lunch smells good.”

“What are your plans for today?” Jo inquired.

“Still figuring that out. I have something later, but I don’t have anything planned for the next few hours.”

Jo’s expression grew contemplative. “If you’re looking for something to do, you could take Bradley to the park.”

Bradley’s legs stilled; he looked off to the side all nonchalant as though he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“What park do you have in mind?”

“There’s a really nice preserve just a short hovergloss ride away. It’s not too cold today so it should make for a nice walk.”

Ian considered the idea. At least it’ll keep my mind occupied on something other than the war. “Bradley, what do you think?”

The kid’s head whipped around. “I would be amen-able!”

Ian’s lips curled into a smile: Bradley had the syllabic emphasis wrong. What kind of six-year-old uses the word “amenable,” anyway?

Jo and Porshek shared a look as they held in laughter. Jo grabbed two bowls and walked over to the dining table, Porshek following behind with the other two. The household ate while holding basic conversation, talking about the weather or Bradley’s school. Today was a weekend so the kid had the day off, but his parents both had work, leaving Bradley alone with the neighbors.

After they’d all finished eating and cleaned up, Ian donned his jacket and put on his boots. “Alright, Bradley, let’s go.”

“Yes!”

Ian smiled and tugged the precocious kid by the hand, shielding his eyes against the afternoon sunlight as they walked to the hovergloss station. Soon they found themselves at the Kelwin Exotic Flower Preserve Station, a hovergloss terminal surrounded by a small town. A fifteen minute walk took them to the opening of the preserve.

“What is that!?” Bradley exclaimed, pointing to a cactus near the entrance with a massive pink bloom.

It’s exactly what it looks like. “A flower.”

Bradley hustled over and inspected the bloom, his eyes wide. “I like it. Is it poisonous?”

What a specific question, Ian thought, raising an eyebrow. “Probably not.”

Bradley’s expression morphed into one of disappointment. “Alright, let’s keep going.”

The last time that Ian visited a nature preserve had been back in the SPU. Zukal’iss had beautiful parks leading to the scenic cliffs overlooking the Bay of Ramsay; Ian realized that despite his best intentions, he’d only found the time to take Germaine there once.

The longer he spent with Bradley, the more Ian found himself thinking of the long-term future. Do ascendants take partners or have kids? He considered the possibility that ascendants lost the ability to procreate. What if kids are categorically prohibited in the ascendant realm? He didn’t see how anyone Bradley’s age could master an affinity.

It’s not worth worrying over what I have no control over, Ian reminded himself as he helped Bradley over a fallen tree. Maybe I can ask Soolemar more about what to expect when I ascend; he’s not an ascendant, but he’s been around for a long time.

—

Ian hesitantly regarded an unnamed cave sticking out of an elevated mesa. He had almost missed the cave entrance in the dark left by the early, winter sunset. The cave lay midway between the Vindradoon’s house and Morinapol, serving as a halfway point between Ian and Soolemar.

Ian noticed the presence of arrays inscribed on the entrance; Soolemar assured him that they were harmless, but he had trouble fully taking the man’s words at face value. If he took the time to make an array with repetitive cursive in size five font, something tells me it’s not exactly “harmless.”

To be fair, Ian supposed that the inscriptions might be primarily focused on obscuring the presence of illicit activities. All the same, he doubted Soolemar’s cave lacked defensive measures. Perhaps Soolemar disabled his defenses before I came.

As soon as Ian crossed the threshold into the cave’s mouth, he could see Soolemar’s dead vitality in a spacious chamber just around the corner. As Ian entered the room, he noticed that Soolemar was playing fetch with Divian, the gray-colored, long-legged hound returning with what looked like a shoulder scapula.

“Good girl,” Soolemar crooned as he scratched Divian under the ears, sending the dog’s tail into overdrive. He tugged the bone from her jaws and sent it flying again before facing Ian. “Good evening, Mr. Dunai.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet with you.”

Soolemar smiled. “I was a slight bit worried you’d get cold feet: Being summoned to a remote cave to meet a practitioner of forbidden arts alone and at night might not sit well with many of your contemporaries.”

“The inscriptions on the outside did give me a moment of pause,” Ian admitted. But one thing you said is incorrect: I’m not really alone. While the Regret practitioner agent on the quantum channel line didn’t know what he was doing, if Ian actually got into a dangerous situation he’d speak up. He was still confident that with a few seconds of advance warning, he’d be able to escape.

“I hope you’ve been ruminating on the nature of the soul since yesterday,” Soolemar said, crossing his arms across his chest.

Ian shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m joking,” Soolemar chortled. “I hope you don’t think that’s what necromancers do all day.”

Ian’s mouth quirked into a half-grin. “Of course not. So what do necromancers do all day?”

The old necromancer snorted. “You’ll have to find that out yourself.” He bent down and petted Divian behind the ears, then twisted the ring on his right hand. The two mannequins from the day before reappeared on the stone floor; Soolemar’s immediately righted itself into a steady hover while Ian’s began to repeatedly slam its back against the floor.

Ian winced and walked over to the head-banging mannequin. Mentally shrugging to himself, he hoisted the entire thing up by the Death energy sinews covering its surface. The mannequin continued to flail, but at least it wasn’t actively damaging itself.

Soolemar nodded. “Now try and get it to hover like it’s doing now autonomously.”

Ian had the feeling this was going to be a long night.

Two hours later, he managed to get the mannequin to stop flailing and hover itself a foot off the ground, though it could only do so in a prone position. Compared to teaching this thing to hover, directing it to move its limbs is easy.

Soolemar glanced over from his seat on the ground where he was cuddling Divian. “Are you satisfied with how you layered your intentions around the soul?”

Ian sighed. “There’s clearly a way to get the mannequin to stay upright; I think it has to do with controlling the Death energy sinews around the core, but I wasn’t able to get it quite right.”

“It’s exhausting work conveying meaning, isn’t it?”

Ian cocked an eyebrow. “Just a bit.”

“What you’re doing now may seem to have no practical application, but remember that it’s giving you the necessary experience manipulating disembodied souls so that you might begin to modify those embodied.”

Ian padded over to Soolemar and sat down on the floor behind Divian, giving the jovial dog a light scratch on the back.

“Soolemar...how do you know Achemiss?”