“You recognize the name Ari, but not Achemiss?” I ask, exasperated. One is clearly more memorable than the other!

“We’ll talk about this later. You need to get out of here as soon as possible. Go back to my house and go to the second floor; I have a small white ring in my bedroom. It’s a void storage with some basic essentials in case I ever lose my main ring. Grab it, then get out. Please tell me you have a means of detecting weak spots in the veil?”

“That’s just about the only thing I can do,” I admit.

“Excellent. Also, it seems that the man who’s after you has realized you aren’t coming and is now just ignoring me.”

Lovely. I feel the familiar race of adrenaline through my veins as I backtrack, killing all boned creatures in my vicinity—including a smaller flock of nesting bats—while making a mental apology to Messeras. As I form their bones into a slim construct beneath me, I pray that I can use a bat scapula as a flight focus. As I realized more starkly when learning necromancy, decemantic constructs excel at doing autonomous, but simple tasks, like performing physical maneuvers or killing people. For some reason flying is a task they tend to have trouble with, requiring a decemancer to provide hands-on controls...or a flight focus.

Thankfully, the construct’s speed immediately increases with the scapula’s placement. I shift around a trio of soul gems to try and increase the construct’s speed further, clustering three soul gems together in front of the scapula to form a single cyclopean eye.

When I reach Messeras’ abode, I deconstruct the wyrm and send it into my void storage. I rush for the entrance and clamber up the stairs, throwing open the door to Messeras’ bedroom. On a small table across from his bed I see no less than fifteen rings in different shades of gold and silver, most of which could be ambiguously described as white.

While I’m thankful that Messeras is out of range because it means I still have more than a minute to find the correct ring and escape, I’m slightly annoyed he couldn’t have provided a better explanation. How am I supposed to know what ring holds basic essentials?

I grab the whitest-looking one from the pile and place it on my finger, only to have it dig into the flesh and immediately begin rotating.

I cry out and nearly bite my tongue from surprise and agony. I sever my finger and the ring retracts its blades and falls off onto the table, spattering droplets of blood on impact. The finger hovers in the air an inch from my hand, the white bone ringed by messy scarlet.

I blink once in shock, then reconnect the digit and try my best to heal the damage. Messeras...what the actual fuck? I have second thoughts about whether it’s worth trying to find the right ring, but steel myself and try again, peering down at the malevolent pieces of jewelry with new-found caution. I notice a ring a bit to the back that looks to be made out of a shiny platinum, nearly glowing white despite dusk’s dark shadows painting the bedroom.

Please don’t eat my finger. I place this ring on the same mottled digit, unwilling to offer up intact flesh to the ring’s potential wrath. To my relief, it doesn’t start attacking me. There’s a small diamond stud on the top; when I press it down, the ring shows me a dark menu of what I assume to be its contents before my eyes, though it’s in a language I can’t comprehend, something clearly different than the script used in the books downstairs. Frowning and pressured by the approaching enemy, I try to select a menu item by pushing on it with my finger, only to meet open air.

Perhaps...blinking at it? That seems to work: The menu closes and a sharp, serrated dagger appears in my ring-hand, my blood immediately coating its hilt.

Not helpful! I’m having serious doubts that I’ve picked the correct ring, but I decide to give it one more shot. I use my practice to clean off the blood from my hand, then press the diamond stud. I see that the first entry in the inventory list is now a darker color; I blink at it and the dagger disappears, the menu winking out along with it.

The glossY programmer in me cries out in outrage at the confusing, inefficient interface without a single icon to help me figure out what’s stored in the ring. I could see a Beginning practitioner memorizing everything and using the ring without much issue, but it’ll take a while for me to get the hang of it.

This time I blink on the last item in the list only to have a pair of plain, black boxer briefs appear in my hand. My first instinct is to toss them behind me–they’re someone else’s underwear, after all–but then I recall two crucial facts: First, I have a limited supply of underwear in my void storage, and second...I’ll be completely naked if I die and come back, none of my clothes “persistent.” Now, these might just be normal underwear, but if Messeras put them in a spatial ring, I hope they’re more than mundane.

Cursing, I strip my pants and change. While levitating myself off the ground eliminates the need to hop on one foot awkwardly while pulling my pants back on, I still feel like an idiot wasting time changing my underwear with someone hostile on my heels.

At least underwear helps to confirm that this is the right ring, I remind myself. If underwear isn’t a basic essential, I don’t know what is.

I leave through the window, angling myself so I can just pass through the half-opened glass, then draw the bones of the wyrm from my storage and remount. Flying in the direction opposite from where I came, I continue to draw new bones around me, dredging up dried remnants buried under leaves and dirt while keeping the wyrm below the tree line. Going through the jungle takes more time, but the small wyrm is nimble and I can use my practice to wither and drain any obstructions it can’t circumvent. I’m able to keep myself forcefully conscious even as it makes sharp twists and turns, relying mostly on my vital vision to orient myself, the world passing too quickly for my eyes to be much use.

I need a plan for if the ascendant captures me. The obvious solution is just to kill myself, but doing so will send me back to my location (approximately?) ten minutes previous without any of my belongings. While I can keep my constructs operating autonomously for twenty seconds after death, I’m not going to be able to cover enough ground in twenty seconds to reestablish control over them.

I need a way to make sure that my belongings are safe after my death–specifically the riftbeast soul gem–and that wherever I revive, I won’t be immediately defenseless.

I open the planar compass and frown as the arrow begins swiveling in multiple directions. I assume it means I’m close to a few weak points in the veil, but not close enough to any one of them for it to lock on to a specific direction. I try my best to choose the direction the compass most favors, all the while laying a contiguous trail of plant fiber studded by bones behind me. It looks like a small thread of moss snaking through the trees, innocuous but starkly visible to anyone with vital vision.

I know it’s a risk that someone could use it to track my location, but I can’t think of another way to ensure I won’t be defenseless after Death. As I continue to fly through the trees, I kill and reanimate three bats, socketing a small soul gem in each one’s mouth. As I’ve elected to preserve the bats as intact corpses, the gems glow faintly violet behind their cheeks.

If I disappear, take my belongings and fly away as fast as you can, avoiding engagement, I command them. If you see that this vine I’ve created starts to move, return to it. Hopefully they’ll be able to blend in with living bats and avoid notice before they fully deanimate, but they’re only one contingency.

I dilate the opening of the void storage and retrieve my necromantic practice mannequin, nearly dumping it onto the fast-moving blur of the ground. It begins to hover over the side of the wyrm, legs dangling precipitously close to oncoming branches. I snag the mannequin’s arm and pull it onto the construct’s back, just behind the neck ridge.

Taking off my half-incinerated outer jacket while the wyrm is careening like a mad bull isn’t easy, but I manage. I use the small shards of bone woven into the fabric–Euryphel knew I’d find them useful–to drape the jacket on the mannequin, roughly stuffing its arms into the sleeves and tying everything together.

Dressed up, the humanoid mannequin can serve as an effective double, and if Life or Death practitioners try to track it, its non-existent vital signature will keep it hidden. The wooden puppet can give me–or the animated bats–time to hide while it leads the enemy on a false trail.

I reassemble my bone armor over the black skinsuit I was wearing underneath my jacket. Given the heat of the jungle, it’s a wonder I didn't think to disrobe sooner. My hair is longer than I’d like, bangs whipping across my face, though it’s still far too short to put into any kind of tail. It’s easy to keep my face clean-shaven using my practice, but I don’t trust myself to give a good haircut.

That’s going to be something you’ll have to pick up. I doubt Eternity has many dedicated hairdressers.

I recognize that my thoughts are latching onto mundane, unrelated issues to keep my mind off the reality of the situation: I’m being chased by an almost-certainly hostile ascendant who’s able to overcome Messeras. I may have defeated Ari, but I did so mostly because she didn’t take me seriously.

I have to assume this ascendant is coming with a plan and already knows what I can do. There’s no alternative aside from escaping this place as soon as possible and getting as far away as I can.

I squint against the wind and compulsively look down at the compass, expecting it to show the needle wavering wildly. Instead I see it solidly pointing forward and slightly to the right.

Finally. I adjust the wyrm’s course and maintain my vigil, focusing on the periphery of my range. As I fly for another two minutes, I remember that it took hours to reach the veil’s weak spot in Vizier’s Crown. I just have to hope it’s not hours away.

“I’m following at a distance, slowing him down,” Messeras whispers in my ear, startling me. “You chose the wrong way to go, but it’s not impossible to salvage the situation. I see you have a decoy: Send it ahead with your wyrm and I’ll create a momentary distraction to mask your movements. Act when I finish the count down. Ten, nine, eight...”

Messeras doesn’t give me any time to process. I’m frustrated that he’s forcing my hand. Moreover, I have no idea what he’s capable of–what if making a distraction for him is buying a split second of time? It won’t be enough for me to get away.

“...Two, one.” A giant shockwave erupts from the forest behind, annihilating trees and animals as it rockets through the overgrowth. I seize the opportunity to drop off the wyrm’s back, leaving the mannequin to ride the wyrm forward into the trees. My animated bats stay with me, swooping through the air and alighting on tree branches.

The wyrm should continue moving while I’m still alive, the soul gems keeping it powered. As for the mannequin, it should stay animated even after I’m gone, though it’s limited in what it can do, barely able to complete simple actions.

“Good, I think he’ll follow the decoy, at least for a while.”

Suddenly, I detect someone entering my range from behind, racing above the canopy. I turn around and try to see them, but the trees block all visibility. I can tell that it’s a well-muscled man thrumming with white vitality; definitely not Messeras or Maria. From the way his hands are held out behind him, he seems to be propelling himself forward, probably with gouts of flame.

“Can he see me?” I ask, scarcely daring to breathe. I’m still unclear what affinities the ascendant has.

“I don’t believe so. Don’t engage as he flies past.”

I hunker down against a tree, head peeking out over the side. I should be able to see him right as he passes overhead...

A moment later the figure crashes into the trees, skimming their tops. He snarls and rights himself, seeming to somersault in air without anything to propel him. His graceful, untethered movements remind me of Holiday or Ari.

My heart races as he hovers above the treetops and extends out an arm, his face obscured by leaves. I don’t think he’s stopped here because of me, but it’s a terrible coincidence.

“Messeras, this is ridiculous. We’ve already ruined miles of jungle–don’t make me torch the whole plane. You have no idea if this is even the person I’m looking for. My quarry shouldn’t have even been able to get here for another few days. I’m just trying to cover my bases.” As he finishes speaking, his fingertips begin to glow with red light.

“If you’re trying to ambush someone, DON’T DO IT IN MY JUNGLE!” Messeras growls back, amplifying his voice. He’s still far enough away that I can’t sense him. “I don’t care if this is the person you’re looking for or not. I want you gone!”

The unfamiliar ascendant snorts, his lips curling into a sneer. “If I lose my quarry because of you, you’re going to regret it.” A burst of searing light cuts through the sky, half-blinding me. It looks like the kind of attack I’d expect of a Sun and Light affinity fire elementalist. The sounds of falling branches and lemur shrieks echo through the jungle.

Satisfied, the man shakes his head and turns around. “Why must everything be so complicated?” he grumbles. He positions his hands at his sides and angles his body forward. Then, the man seems to push off of solid air, spiraling forward. As he finishes one languid rotation, his hands erupt with gouts of flame. In a flash, he’s gone.