“You’re almost getting it,” Soolemar grunted. He and Ian sat across from one another on two stools within the necromancer’s cave, their eyes flaring with opposing green and violet energy.

Ian clenched his jaw as he rained an assault on Soolemar. The old necromancer resisted his intrusion, but Ian could feel pockets of resistance beginning to crumble. He didn’t think he’d manage to break Soolemar’s defense today, but they probably still had at least another week before Ari would descend. It’s going to have to be enough time.

After a minute of exertion, Ian let up his assault and reeled backwards, breathing heavily.

“Excellent,” Soolemar said, planting both hands on his knees. “You really gave me a run for my money. It’s honestly embarrassing that you’re forcing me to exert myself.”

That’s just because you’re only defending, Ian thought dryly. If you tried to seriously attack, I’d be forced to flee out of range, offense be damned. Ian wouldn’t have the opportunity to attack if Soolemar attacked him in turn.

Soolemar chuckled before continuing. “That means I’m going to go harder on you tomorrow.”

Ian sighed and gave the man a tired smile. Working with Soolemar was exhausting, but Ian enjoyed the feeling that he was actively improving.

Suddenly, words came into Ian’s head over quantum channel.

“Ian.”

“Yes?” Ian replied. Must be Eury.

“The SPU is going to surrender at five in the evening, Selejan Standard Time. When it does, the Eldemari’s people are going to have leeway to search every mind and every document to find your location. Thankfully, I have a plan to help you evade detection.”

Ian’s breath hitched, his expression falling.

“Ian?” Soolemar asked, his brow furrowing.

“I thought you said that the SPU was handling things without me?” Ian said, the words ringing hollow in his mind.

I told him that I’d come, that I’d keep the SPU from falling...did he not tell me how badly things were going because he was trying to protect me?

Ian turned toward Soolemar while waiting for Euryphel’s response. “The SPU is surrendering tonight.”

The necromancer froze, mulling over the news.

“We did our best,” Euryphel continued, “but in the end the Eldemari was able to capture too many cities to use as leverage against us.”

“What now?” Ian asked. He knew it wouldn’t help to dwell on why the SPU fell: He needed to focus on what to do next. “You said you have a plan for me?”

“Yes. I need you to meet me above the Jermal Trench as soon as possible; I’ll direct you my way when you get close to the trench’s general vicinity.”

“I’m pretty sure you need to be in the SPU when you formally surrender, Eury. Last time I checked the Jermal trench is a ways away.”

“I’m not accepting the surrender,” the prince replied. “I’m abdicating.”

“Wait...what?”

“The other princes accepted my abdication,” Euryphel replied. “To protect the others from the Eldemari’s scrutiny, I’m also being banished. I’m well-aware that doing so is an all-or-nothing gambit: I’m betting on our success.”

The pit in Ian’s stomach grew larger. “Eury...I’m not ready to defeat the descendant, nor the Eldemari. Why...why are you risking everything for me?”

“Because I believe not all is lost. Because I’d rather die trying than give up and give myself over to the Eldemari. Honestly, Ian, it’s complicated.”

“Most things are.”

Ian turned to Soolemar. “The Crowned Prime is planning to abdicate.”

Soolemar swallowed. “What are you planning to do?”

Ian’s eyes snapped up. “I’m not where I need to be yet. I’m not going to be able to defeat Ari.” He chuckled bitterly. “Damn. I thought...”

Soolemar’s eyes narrowed, a conflicted expression coming over his features. “How much time do you have until they officially deliver their surrender?”

Ian did the timezone math. “Maybe...seven hours? But I need to meet Euryphel somewhere, too.” I probably shouldn’t say that I’m supposed to get to the Jermal Trench. I take public transit across Gnoste to the coast bordering the Illyrian Ocean, it’ll probably take two hours. “I only have five hours max before I need to leave.”

Soolemar chewed his lip. “We don’t have much time, then.”

“We don’t. I’m sorry Soolemar: It seems that I’ve been wasting your time.”

“So, can you meet me at the Jermal Trench?” Euryphel asked.

“I can.”

“When do you plan to get there?”

“Ian,” Soolemar said, interrupting Ian’s private conversation with Euryphel. His expression was grave. “Do you need to return to your current residence to collect anything?”

Ian shook his head. “I didn’t leave behind anything important.”

The necromancer nodded. “I’m going to need you to trust me: I have an idea.”

“Ian?” Euryphel said, cutting in.

“I’m still trying to figure out when I’m leaving,” Ian replied, trying to keep his two conversations straight. “I’ll let you know in a minute.”

“Fine. Trying to make a plan over here with the other princes; do try to figure it out quickly.”

Ian took in a deep breath and met Soolemar’s gaze. “An idea is better than none at all.”

The necromancer nodded and twisted his ring, sending two stools and crumb-specked plates from dinner back into his storage. He strode toward the cave exit, gesturing for Ian to follow.

“Where are we headed?” Ian asked, falling in step behind him.

“A place you’ve visited before.”

—

Soolemar didn’t know what spirit compelled him to drag his student back to Yurusi Canyon.

It’d be so easy to bid Ian farewell and watch the naive, fledgling necromancer meet death on the edge of Descendent Ari’s hammer, or potentially even lose his head to the Eldemari.

Technically, Soolemar barely knew the man at all...but over the past two or so weeks, the decemancer had transformed from Mr. Dunai into Ian, his student...the very first in over a hundred years. He couldn’t explain what compelled him to take Ian under his wing; perhaps it had been the way he unthinkingly followed him into the canyon and into the temple, earnestly rising to his challenges.

Perhaps it was Ian’s childlike curiosity toward the study of necromancy. For all that he seemed to find working with embodied souls distasteful, Ian pursued necromancy without judgment, questioning theory without engaging in pointless moral discussions. Ian reminded him of the students he used to have back when he still had his school, when being a practitioner meant being above the regulars and free from the persecution of the unenlightened.

As they climbed the steps to the Yurusi Canyon temple, moonlight painted the world in cold blue. The brazier smoked and smoldered, casting a warm light on the temple’s entrance.

“Ian.”

“Yes?” His student turned his way, his eyes glinting with the orange of the approaching incense burner.

“There are shortcuts to power, however...they always come with a price. Sometimes the price is your own body or your lifespan. Other times it might be your sanity.”

Ian frowned, but remained silent.

“I’m going to offer up to you a shortcut to power that demands none of these things. What it does demand, however, is something you might find morally worse: annihilation of another.”

Ian’s eyes widened, his mouth popping open. “Soolemar...please speak clearly. I’m not following.”

The necromancer arrived at the entrance to the temple and stepped forward onto its cold stone floors, his steps echoing as he passed into the chamber with a pedestal. He kicked its side, causing the pedestal to open up and reveal the green orb. Soolemar turned back to Ian, his eyes steely.

“I wasn’t planning to guide you through devouring souls,” Soolemar murmured. “It’s not a pleasant art.”

“Then why did you eat that soul the other day?” Ian asked, horrified curiosity reflected in his expression.

Soolemar hummed. “Because I’ve eaten thousands more and I don’t really care, to be frank. Millions upon millions of disembodied souls float through reality; an individual soul devoured is not missed, but will never be returned the same.

Ian scratched his nose. “It’s as it says in the Misery of Mal’dor: ‘Man enters and exits coiled, lofty crown to lowly soil; but a moment to rise and spoil. Skoda’nel no’we...borrowed, but returned the same–one trifecta: flesh, soul, and energy.’

Ian continued, reasoning, “The body returns to the soil in the natural cycle, while energy is by definition indestructible. Destroying souls, on the other hand, is destroying something in the ethereal domain...something that won’t return.” He turned to Soolemar. “I think you must have another justification for devouring souls, else you wouldn’t do it. Why did you start?”

Why did I start devouring souls? The question cut through his defenses, dredging up memories of a past characterized by desperation and doubt.

“Why else, other than to gain power? I was willing to do anything to ascend, to prove Achemiss wrong. It doesn’t matter.”

“I suppose the souls you devour now are mindless, disembodied souls...I can see why you might not care about them,” Ian added in justification.

“There’s very little to gain from disembodied souls; they’re vapid, devoid of meaning. If you want a shortcut to power, you’ll need to gain it by devouring those still invested with the human spark, so to speak.”

Ian took in a deep breath. “I don’t sense any people nearby; why bring me here, then, if that’s what you had in mind?”

Soolemar pointed at the green orb. “Grab it and follow me.”

“Can’t you just explain what’s going on?” Ian hissed. “Soolemar...I want to trust you, but I don’t like where this is going. I don’t even understand the difference between embodied and disembodied souls since the former reverts to the latter given enough time. Can you please explain to me what you’re trying to do?”

“Ian, unless you want to die, it might just be better for you to follow along.” Let me bear the burdensome guilt in peace, little student.

Ian shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

Soolemar snorted. “I don't think it is. Frankly, I don't want to explain. If I think it through I might change my mind. Now, are you following or not?”

“I...” Ian trailed off, clenching his fist, dark energy flaring across his knuckles. “I don’t think I’m worth whatever sacrifice you want me to make.”

Soolemar looked him dead in the eye. “If I agreed, I wouldn’t have brought you here. Now, are you coming?”

—

Ian stepped forward, his gaze focused downward, but he eventually stood by Soolemar’s side. The necromancer nodded and climbed the spiral staircase leading to the partially-exposed chamber at the top of the temple.

“Now with your hands on the green orb...I need you to just focus for a few minutes. Think of it as meditation. It’ll be easier with your eyes closed.”

Ian shut his eyes, his ears tracking Soolemar’s steps off to the side where he began to do...something. Ian snuck a glance and saw the decemancer reenacting the ritual from last time and forming a ritual circle on the ground.

Soolemar noticed Ian’s gaze, his brow furrowing. “Focus!”

Ian snapped his eyes closed. A few minutes passed before he heard Soolemar perform a ritual chant; Ian couldn’t tell if it was different from last time.

“Shoramaia shui jinshara, shaeradel woeshiv shur shruin shollastry.”

Ian felt something inside of him tearing as the words formed on Soolemar’s lips. He was turning inside out, his vision curving backward and into nothingness...

Into a void filled with golden stars.

But they aren’t stars. The golden arrows of fate streaked forward, millions of them pointing toward him. Even if they moved faster than light itself, they were so far away that they’d take years to reach him.

Suddenly, Ian realized that there was another grouping of rainbow arrows cutting up from under him. They pierced through his body as though trying to rip pieces of him away. He was defenseless before their onslaught, his body torn and buffeted.

Ian tried to reorient himself, but it was impossible: He couldn’t move when rainbow arrows were peppering him from below.

Is this what my corrupted soul feels like? Ian wondered, feeling oddly amused. Torn to pieces, but hanging together by a thread? That was how he felt right now.

What even am I right now? Ian wondered, trying to look down at his body. Is this my ethereal body?

As the thought crossed his mind, Ian broke free from the unceasing arrows, his consciousness expanding out. He noticed that the multicolored arrows were forming into the shape of a resplendent rose, their shafts bending and contorting to form the rose’s stem and petals before zipping off at tangents.

Feels like a Yuma Tai party, Ian thought.

The rose’s petals started to fall off, arrows swirling outward as though pushed by a heavy wind. Ian realized that the petals were forming into a circular image, clumping together...

His focus was stolen by the arrival of the golden arrows; had they jumped through space itself? He couldn’t think of another explanation for their expedited arrival.

The golden arrows converged on the mass of rainbow color; at this point, the rose was a wilted husk, its components continuously dissociating and joining the round, jagged clump.

What is all of this? Ian wondered.

The golden arrows began to collapse inward; where before they radiated from all directions, now they only filled half of the sky. Ian had no sense of time as he watched the arrows shift and reorder themselves like so many threads of a convoluted tapestry. Meanwhile, the rainbow mass began to condense down into an elongated oval. It’s a person, Ian realized, noting the formation of arms and legs and a rough face, colorful arrows twisting tightly to form the eyes, nose, and lips.

Closed eyelids opened to reveal brilliant starburst. Behind the figure extended wings of gold that spanned the entire void, endless arrows serving as feathers.

Ian felt the figure’s attention focus on him, a heavy weight settling over his body. It didn’t say anything, but its expression was imperious and lofty, unmoving, as though content to hang in the void like a statue.

Who are you? Ian wondered. What kind of entity emerged from a rose chrysalis?

The figure blinked. I am Woeshiv.

So that was a name, not just an archaic word, Ian thought, considering Soolemar’s ritual chant. What are you?

Whatever I wish, Woeshiv soundlessly replied. Why are you in my soul?

Ian paused. Was that where he was? I’m looking for inspiration. I need to understand souls.

The figure’s lips curled into a sneer. You need to understand yourself and what you want before you can understand souls. The soul is the human spark. What makes you human?

I’m still learning, Ian replied. Isn’t that the point of living?

Sometimes. But what if you’ve seen all there is to see, learned everything there is to learn?

That’s impossible.

Not if your world is dead.

Ian let Woeshiv’s words sink in.

The world of my soul is me, Woeshiv replied. Aside from myself, it’s static. There is nothing new to see or learn.

You’re a friend of Soolemar, aren’t you? Ian thought he recognized the name Woeshiv from the ritual Soolemar performed two weeks back.

It’s funny how friendships can transcend even death itself, Woeshiv replied. Suddenly Woeshiv’s form changed, his features becoming more mortal, taking on a certain softness. His form shifted, the wings folding behind him.

Soolemar respected my wishes and helped to preserve my soul in our school, the one we helped to found in Gnoste together after his previous academy burned down.

This place is a school? Ian had always thought it a temple, the kind that cults used to create in antiquity.

It was our refuge, Woeshiv replied, a small smile crossing his face. It was our world.

It’s beautiful, Ian replied.

Woeshiv nodded. We chose the most idyllic location South of Lake Shattramar. The land was isolated, dense forests stretched in every direction. We erected our school to overlook the Yurusi Basin’s azure waters. The sound of the waterfalls rushing over the edge of the gorge was the sound of home.

Yurusi Canyon... Ian tried to imagine it as Woeshiv described, all those years ago. Yurusi now was beautiful, but as it was in Woeshiv’s memories sounded like a paradise. It doesn’t sound like the location of a school for necromancy.

What do you want from me, Student of Mar?

Ian flinched. He knew why he was here...he just didn’t want to think about it. Everything started falling into place as soon as Woeshiv revealed himself.

I’m here to consume you.

Woeshiv’s avatar smirked. Are you prepared?

Are you?

The avatar’s lips twitched downward. I don’t have a choice if you’ve made up your mind. This may be my soul, but I’m defenseless as I am. It’ll make it easier for you if I tell you that I’m willing, but no soul wishes to meet extinction. I won’t lie to you.

Why do you think Soolemar sent me to you, then?

I’m not sure, Woeshiv replied. I’d prefer not to think of it as a betrayal.

Have you ever devoured embodied souls?

No. I was never talented in souls; I taught osteomancy.

Soolemar told me there is a way to consume but not destroy, Ian said. He said it might work for me with my tattered soul, but...he only mentioned it in passing. We never discussed it as more than a theory.

Your soul is rather...threadbare, Woeshiv replied.

Ian waited for Woeshiv to say anything else, but the avatar remained silent.

Soolemar...is this what you want?

Whether you’re willing or not, I’m going to begin, Ian finally said. He felt his ethereal body swell in power and formed an avatar of his own, a hand of violet formed not of arrows but irradiated darkness.

Woeshiv didn’t step away, but the avatar expanded his wings out to the side, their magnificent golden rays stretching into infinity. Once more the avatar’s features projected an air of superiority, his eyes flaring an even brighter gold than before.

Ian crossed the distance in a single bound. Woeshiv raised his chin slightly as Ian extended a hand.

When Ian’s index finger grazed Woeshiv’s chest, the world began to fold in on itself, Woeshiv disappearing as though he’d never existed. Ian felt a fiery heat rising all throughout his ethereal body and he suddenly could feel every part of his ethereal self–including the soul sheltered within–with extreme acuity.

Memories began to flash across his vision of a different lifetime; while his exercises with Soolemar prepared him to understand the memories of others, Ian struggled to absorb the volume of information. He caught flickers of old Yurusi Canyon as Woeshiv described it, a verdant gorge with waterfalls and shimmering blue waters. He saw robed students crossing bridges of bone to reach buildings on both sides of the canyon, then saw one such bridge rise up and change into a massive wyrm, its head flaring a gout of energy at intruders coming from the sky.

Soolemar’s school faced frequent conflicts, but never fell. Slowly, though, it began to dwindle. Woeshiv seemed to live for longer than a normal person, but he, too, eventually shed the mortal coil, dying in peace.

Woeshiv didn’t just die peacefully...he died at peace with himself and the world. And yet...he asked for Soolemar to preserve his soul at the school.

Why not move on?

Some questions do not have an answer, a voice said from within. You fight your way forward without knowing why, hanging onto the edge of tomorrow. Forget the future, dismiss the past...time is ultimately meaningless to the soul. The voice paused. The world has changed, hasn’t it?

I wouldn’t be able to say.

Soolemar was wrong, you know. I can feel myself disintegrating. There’s no coming back from this; even your ruined soul is too powerful.

Ian was left at a loss. Thank you for your sacrifice.

You better win.

Woeshiv’s last thoughts resounded through Ian’s mind as the world shattered into color. With a start, Ian found himself back in the temple-like school building, Soolemar’s solemn form standing over him.