Soolemar hoisted Ian up, gripping onto his forearm and inspecting his face as though looking for something.

“Soolemar?” Ian muttered, pulling away. He noticed that the green orb had fallen from his hands and was rolling on the ground.

The necromancer blinked, then let Ian’s arm go, his own limbs falling to his sides. He walked ponderously to the edge of the room, peering out over the moonlit canyon.

Ian joined him. When he looked out, he tried to imagine what the canyon would have looked like...at least during the summer.

“I’m glad you weren’t held back by your own moral quandaries,” Soolemar murmured, his voice uncharacteristically raw.

“Why would you give me the soul of your friend?” Ian murmured, rubbing his hands together to stave off the winter chill. “I almost didn’t do it.”

“All things must come to an end,” Soolemar remarked, sighing. “Woeshiv would have one day unraveled into a mindless soul or faced oblivion. At least this way he can be of some final use.”

How utilitarian, Ian thought. “Is that what he would’ve wanted?”

Soolemar snorted. “Who knows what he would’ve wanted; I have no idea. People don't know what they want.”

Ian could relate.

As his eyes scanned the horizon, Ian saw a lone, peach-colored soul bobbing in the far distance. “I don’t really feel any different from before. Is that bad?”

Soolemar chuckled. “I wouldn’t be concerned. It might take time for you to gather insights from your experience; for now, focus on getting to whatever safe location your Crowned Prime has prepared for you. In the end, whether you can defeat Ari is up to yourself...but I think you have what you need to succeed.”

The reminder that he had somewhere to be sent Ian into a mild panic.

Y’jeni, what time is it? It was night, so Ian didn’t have the sun as a frame of reference. How long was I in Woeshiv’s soul?

Ian fished his glossY from a pocket and took in a sharp breath. His gaze snapped to Soolemar, brows furrowing. “Soolemar...they’re going to surrender within the hour!”

The necromancer gave him a wicked smile, then gestured to the open canyon. “Well, then, you’d better hurry.”

He’s so flippant, Ian thought, clenching his fist. But then he remembered that Soolemar had brought him here to help him, going as far as giving him the soul of an old friend...

He’s trying to act unaffected, Ian realized. While Ian felt the urgency of the situation, he also realized he couldn’t leave just yet.

He took in a deep breath and bowed his head. “Thank you for everything, Soolemar.”

The necromancer rocked forward on his feet. “Of course, Ian.”

“You’re the third person I’ve met who’s believed in me,” Ian replied. “The first was my sister, the second my prime, and the third...you, my teacher.” A few people had helped him in one way or another, like Aunt Julia, but something critical was absent from their assistance.

Soolemar clasped his hands behind his back. “You’re worthy of my attention.”

Ian shook his head. “You should know by now that I’m bad at expressing myself. I can’t overstate how much I appreciate all the help you’ve given me. I feel like all I’ve done is taken away and given you nothing in return.”

Soolemar’s eyes softened. “Ian...you’ve reminded me how wonderful it can be to lead someone to enlightenment. There’s little in this world that interests me at this point...so you’ve been a welcome distraction from my monotonous state of existence.”

“I hope I can one day find a way to help you ascend,” Ian stated.

Soolemar gave him a tired smile, but didn’t comment, instead choosing to drop a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “I won’t keep you any longer. Go to your prince’s rendez-vous.”

Ian took another step closer to the room’s unwalled edge, the tip of his right boot hanging out. On a whim, he pivoted and pulled Soolemar into a hug. He felt the necromancer stiffen before eventually hugging him back.

Ian disengaged, then gave the necromancer a small salute. “Until the next time.”

Soolemar nodded. “Until the next.”

Ian dropped off the edge of the building and flung himself forward. Given how little time he had, he couldn’t take a hovergloss to the Jermal Trench–he’d need to rely on himself.

But I still need to remain inconspicuous, Ian thought. In the middle of the desert, nobody was going to be actively checking for decemancy, else Ian and Soolemar would have had a much more difficult time reaching Yurusi Canyon on their own. The main issue was when he drew closer to the more populous coast.

“Eury?”

The prince’s response was immediate. “You’re finally answering!”

“Sorry, I was...temporarily indisposed.” Quite frankly, Ian was surprised Eury hadn’t been spouting messages in his ear from the minute he woke up.

“Where are you?”

“I’m en route to the Jermal Trench,” Ian replied.

“Still?”

“Yes; I got held up.”

“Ian...be quick about it. You have less than thirty minutes at this point.”

Ian was definitely not going to make that deadline. “I’m going to get there as fast as I can. Where are you?”

“I’m in a small boat on the open ocean,” Euryphel replied. “Literally just waiting for you so we can dive down and enter the rift. We know exactly where it is based on its coordinates and depth; all we need is to swim inside.”

“I promise I’m coming as fast as I can. Any strategies for cutting across the coastal towns without drawing attention?”

Euryphel paused. “Dig underground?”

“If the Selejans find my trail, it’ll be obvious,” Ian retorted.

“Sorry...I’m exhausted and not playing out scenarios at the frequency I normally would. You seem to think that using a mannequin you’ve made with Soolemar would help. Something about the energy being more contained than for other decemantic constructs.”

Ian silently thanked whatever alternate self thought of the idea. He pulled out his void storage bag and widened its mouth, hoisting a wooden mannequin from within. It was one of the ones he’d worked on to practice when Soolemar wasn’t present, its simple exterior hiding ornate inscriptions and advanced energy threading.

When removed from his bag, the mannequin began to hover in place like Soolemar’s original example mannequin, its form balanced and steady. Ian positioned himself onto its back, his head settling onto the mannequin’s shoulder. His scarf served as a cushion against the hard wood, but the pose wasn’t exactly comfortable.

Ian tried out sending the construct forward, funneling a portion of death energy into the mannequin’s back. The mannequin sprung forward, gliding over the yellow sands.

It’s not a bone wyrm by any means, but it barely has any energy signature. Unlike with decemantic constructs, his soul construct didn’t light up like a beacon in his vital vision, appearing inanimate. The loop necromancer failed to create such clean constructs, relying on exterior strands of energy and inscriptions. With Soolemar’s guidance, Ian learned techniques to keep everything on the inside, thick wood shielding the energy from sight.

Even with Soolemar’s help, Ian still had room for improvement: the construct was slower than Ian free-flying, not to mention a proper flying construct like the bone wyrm.

I’ll use it when I get closer to the coast. Ian stuffed the mannequin into his void storage and flew himself across the dunes, gliding low to the ground. He couldn’t fully appreciate the desert’s harsh beauty while careening forward at top speed, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss when he contrasted Woeshiv’s memories with the Suvvan Desert.

What did Soolemar feel as he saw his canyon paradise desiccate? He considered how the desert would have spread, gradually subsuming stretches of land. Perhaps Sun and Moon practitioners intervened to subvert the desert’s advance, but clearly any actions taken were ultimately futile.

When Ian thought of Soolemar’s life and current state of existence, he felt a hollowness in his stomach. Soolemar reached the peak of his practice and lived out hundreds of years with friends and companions, sharing knowledge and promoting progress...but eventually, there was no one left, even his school eroding to literal dust.

Ian thought that in some ways, it was a living hell. He thought back to what Woeshiv said, how even when imprisoned in the static hold of his own soul, the man was unwilling to pass on, clinging to existence. Perhaps Soolemar was the same way, holding on because living out a hellish existence was better than oblivion.

But I’m going to ascend, Ian told himself. I won’t let that happen to me. Whatever the ascendant world had in store, it kept the powerful busy for long periods of time: It couldn’t be worse than this limited world.

Ian lost track of time; as long as he was going as fast as possible, knowing the exact minute and second would only add unhelpful stress. Eventually, however, Euryphel reached out.

“Ian, where are you? There’s only ten minutes until the surrender.”

“I’m still on my way.”

“...How far away are you?”

Ian pulled out his glossY and opened a map of the area, finding a marker that indicated his current location. Considering the time and how far he was from Yurusi Canyon...

“About thirty minutes still to go.”

“Ian! You had one job!”

“Look, I’m coming! There’s nothing I can do.”

“They’re going to know where you were staying within minutes. We’ve evacuated the Vindradoons, but anyone who comes to their residence will be able to track you. If they find you before you enter the confounding area of the rift, it’ll be bad.”

“I’m moving quickly. They’d have to get lucky to catch me before I reach you.”

“Just...hurry. Don’t make me worry.”

Ian knew he couldn’t push any further than he already was, but he continued to give Euryphel periodic updates to ease the prince’s concerns.

“It’s time,” Euryphel finally transmitted. “Five in the evening.”

“Looks the same here as it did a few hours ago,” Ian remarked. “Gotta love winter.”

The prince didn’t seem amused. “They’re going to be coming for you. I’ll be running scenarios and let you know if I see anything.”

“Don’t burn yourself out,” Ian cautioned. Euryphel already said that he was exhausted from running scenarios earlier; knowing the prince’s habits, Ian figured he’d start running at least a scenario per second to keep tabs on him.

“I’ll be fine.”

Ian sighed and continued on his current trajectory; he figured he had another ten minutes before he reached the edge of the desert and needed to use the mannequin. His mental math put him at five minutes with the mannequin before he hit the water, at which point he could construct a bone wyrm and close the distance to Euryphel in another five.

A few more minutes passed before Euryphel stopped him.

“There’s something that’s going to explode in your face up ahead! Go left and around; I’ll keep directing you once I understand what’s happening.”

Ian’s body tensed, his focus tightening as he scanned the world around him for vital signatures. There were animals and plants, but the desert was a largely empty stretch of vitality.

“What do you mean, ‘explode in my face’?”

“Someone planted an incendiary. Okay, there’s an entire line of them, so going around won’t work; go higher above the sand instead.”

Ian had no idea what was happening. “So someone knows I’m coming, already?”

“As far as I can tell, yes,” Euryphel replied. “It has been several minutes since the Selejan’s would have gotten hold of your original location at the Vindradoons.”

Damn. There’s no way they could’ve tracked him down this fast, though, unless they’d already had agents ready in Gnoste. Perhaps they even had some people on the coast...

“I don’t see signs of anyone, so whoever placed the explosives has already left, or they’re waiting somewhere else.”

Perhaps going up to avoid them is exactly what the enemy wants, Ian thought, his expression turning grim.

“I’m going to go under instead,” Ian replied.

“That works. Wait. No, no...abort. There are explosives underground as well.”

Ian’s mouth popped open in disbelief. Seriously!?

Bracing himself for a seemingly-inevitable confrontation, Ian pivoted himself upward, his body arcing through the sky. At least they can’t plant explosives in open air.

What the strategy would do, however, was give any far-off enemy an excellent vantage point: Spotting Ian in open air was much easier than catching a glimpse while he traced the contours of the dunes.

The Selejans would be coming for him. But at least they won’t have had much time to prepare. He was impressed enough as it was that they’d planted explosives across the desert; just who was he up against that could do so in a matter of minutes?

“There’s a wind elementalist who’s going to try and disrupt your flight,” Euryphel transmitted. “Whoever they are has incredible range; you can’t see them even after a full minute of flying.”

“What should I do?”

“Just keep pressing forward for now. You’ll eventually need to confront them, but I have confidence in your abilities.”

“Gee, thanks. I have confidence in you, too.”

“Your snark might be the only thing keeping me going.”

Ian smiled despite the circumstances. A few seconds after Euryphel’s warning, Ian felt the breath leave his lungs as he slammed into a barrier of wind. It didn’t fully stop his flight, but it was jarring and sent him spiraling to the side before he righted himself. More and more barriers of wind appeared, and while Euryphel tried to help him avoid them, it was difficult when Ian could only react to vague descriptions of veering left, right, up, or down.

“Damn.”

“What!?”

“You’re within an array that’s partially hidden by the sand. Look down.”

Ian’s eyes snapped to the dunes, but he couldn’t see very well in the dark, and vital vision wouldn’t help him pick out array inscriptions.

“What do I do about it?”

“It’s probably an array that interferes with quantum channeling. They’re rare and extremely difficult to make, requiring a peak End and Regret practitioner. If I had to wager a guess, the Eldemari herself and her principal retainer, Kaiwen Chowicz.”

“Eury...don’t tell me...”

“Yes; when I try to look into the future, you won’t talk to me. It’s infuriating.”

“So I’m going in blind?”

There was a pause for a second. “I believe in you.”

“I know.”

“The area of effect can’t be large; no more than a hundred meters. Unless the Eldemari prepared tens of them to deal with you...” By the way Euryphel’s thoughts trailed off, Ian was willing to bet that they’d both reached the same conclusion.

The Eldemari needed one thing: Ian dead. She wasn’t going to worry about the cost of producing an expensive array, nor would she worry about demanding the time of her retainer to produce it. For all they knew, the Eldemari had made hundreds of the array all ready to be placed under conveniently-obscuring sand.

“Eury?”

No response. Ian steeled himself and continued forward, scanning the area for vitality. Suddenly another blast of wind knocked into him, hammering him toward the ground. Ian barrel-rolled to the side and continued forward, intent on escaping the array’s range of interference.

But before he could go much further, a massive explosion of fire erupted under him. Bluebird formed an energy shield in defense, while Ian’s eyes narrowed against the harsh light as he tried to see how an enemy triggered the attack.

Perhaps they’ve found a way to obscure their vital signatures at long range. If so, Ian needed to use another strategy. Figuring that any attempts at stealthily leaving Gnoste were already shot thanks to the massive gout of fire, he began to pull a stream of bones from his void storage, shaping them into bat-like decemantic constructs with one primary goal: hunt.

The bone-bats surged forward on wings of oily night, silently gliding over the sands. Ian continued onward to transgress the bounds of the array.

A hundred feet off to the left, one of the bats went up in a column of flame; others nearby congregated to search the area. Ian adjusted his own trajectory to try and see if he could detect anyone, but as before, he couldn’t sense anything notable.

Suddenly, a pincer of wind tried to slam him into the ground again; Ian resisted, but ran into a wind barrier, knocking his head. With a snarl, he formed a shield of bone while flinging Bluebird into the air, directing the construct to level a blast of energy as soon as it detected any movement other than Ian’s constructs.

The wind shifted to engulf Ian from above and below like invisible jaws, forcing him to expand his bone shield out to abate the pressure.

This is taking too much time, Ian thought, frustrated. The Selejans have prepared well to stall me. I bet they’re trying to hold out for reinforcements; they’ll try to avoid a direct confrontation at all costs.

As Ian prepared to continue forward, a familiar blast of energy appeared within his bone shield, sidestepping his defenses and forcing him to react reflexively with a plume of Death energy.

Ian’s eyes widened. Zilverna?

The attack burned part of his neck, but Ian set to repairing the damage. He broke past the wind and headed forward again, only to have a lance of fire erupt in his face.

This isn’t a joke, Ian thought, grimacing. Zilverna can’t be too far if he’s attacking me like this...but where? His bat constructs still hadn’t found traces of anyone.

If only I could see his soul...Ian thought, grimacing. He had never tried to sense someone’s soul at a distance, however; now wasn’t the time to try something he had no confidence in doing.

So what can I do, then? Continue forward? Even if I leave this array and escape the vicinity with Euryphel’s help, I’ll lead my pursuers straight to the rift. No: There must be something I can do to ensure a swift advance and reach Euryphel without leaving a trace.

Woeshiv, you said that I’d better win. If there’s a time for inspiration...it’s now.