"Never better," Rall said, all the while conjuring sparks of white magic to sizzle violently through the air around his fists. What he meant as intimidation made Sharyah smile.

"I can see that. This fierceness was not there when I first met that clever yet timid boy. You are so much more than I expected..." she said, biting her lips. Sharyah remained seated, turning towards him, knowingly inviting his gaze to the places where her robes hugged tighter.

"Your face is different than what I remembered," he said, trying to keep his eyes on hers, which, to be honest, wasn't helping.

"And they say men don't notice when a woman does her hair!" She joked, laughing heartily. "You said it yourself, my boy. I am a demon - made by my ancient creators to infiltrate this world and set the stage for their glorious arrival. My form is ever-changing, morphing to whatever my mission requires. If you'd ever seen my true face, you would have fallen into madness."

As if to accentuate her words, her curly ginger hair slowly turned a deep black, all the while straightening into an elegant braid tied with an elegant golden hairpin. The pale skin on her face darkened while the sclera of her eyes turned white around her crimson irises. She snapped her fingers, and purplish particles of dark magic converged around her palm. Where once was only air, there was now a lacy black carnival mask. She took the peculiar object between two fingers and, with gracious movements, held it over her eyes. She was now exactly like Rall remembered.

As a boy, he had read much of the folklore surrounding the demons. Many stories came from the time of first contact with the Theorzeans. Those beyond the silver gate had sent their ambassadors to infiltrate and negotiate, and so they did. The tales talked about gorgeous, unaging creatures that brought wondrous gifts and mysterious magic unheard of in the world. Then the Fog came, marking the end of the ancient Kingdom, ushering a dark age that lasted many centuries. Slowly, superstition and religious fanatism made the people fear the demons, and many pointed towards them as the main culprits for their suffering. The tensions culminated with the First Crusade, forcing the demons into hiding and clandestinity. That was how the forces that controlled the Continent had rejected the demons' diplomacy.

Was Sharyah alive at those times, or did she arrive later? Rall burned with curiosity, but there were more pressing matters. "Why are you here?" He asked. "This can't be a coincidence. And do not even try lying. She will know," he said, pointing above him as the bright ethereal figure of Tui appeared.

"Coincidences," she chuckled, "there are no such things in this universe. That is how mortals call the work of higher powers. Take those beyond the silver gates, for example. They knew you would end up on these shores. More than twenty days ago, I should add. That's when a message reached my ears that a Candidate had finally passed the trials. I genuinely hoped it was you."

"So what, you just came to greet me, is that it?"

"Oh, no, my boy. That's not it," she said, turning back towards the pyre and the singing elves. "While I may enjoy a healthy amount of risk in my investments, They do not. They may ramble on for ages about their eternal patience, but the truth is, time is no one's ally. They don't want to wait another thousand years for another Candidate to pass their trials. They want you to succeed. And so, They sent me to help you."

"They that, They this... you are talking about Ayol--" As he pronounced the name, the atmosphere froze around him. It was like a pulse of cold, bringing along anxious feelings of fear and paranoia. In the distance, the mortuary pyre flickered, the flame visibly weakened. Sharyah abruptly stood up, her eyes wide open as she observed her surroundings in a panic unfitting of her usual poised persona.

When she was satisfied, she moved closer to Rall. This time the young light mage did not feel any threat in her movements. "I do not know whose names you think you know," she whispered, "but do not pronounce them. Even a small part of their truenames holds power beyond what you can perceive. Our target will feel it. If we are to succeed, we should not alert it of our arrival."

Rall felt the seriousness in her voice. Sharyah was terrified. Whoever Ayol, Lilith, and the rest of their 'people' were, he had only felt mere slivers of their power. And his mission was to kill the so-called 'Goddess of Light' - an entity that had resisted their assault for a thousand years? Did he even stand a chance?

"We are in way over our heads, aren't we?" Asked Tui.

"It's an understatement," he inwardly agreed.

"Listen, Rall, I don't know how you know this demon, and I don't like how she looks at you. But I sense great power from her. And you know we need all the help we can get."

"I can't trust her, Tui. She's a criminal, a demon, and she follows Their orders. And They covet our world. I am not naive enough to think that they would leave it untouched if we succeed," he replied telepathically.

"You don't have to trust her. She will use us, and we will use her. If she ever goes against us, we will always have each other. Plus, we have been away for many years. We need someone who knows the lay of the land."

He paused for a second, thinking about Tui's words carefully. She was right, but he still couldn't easily accept it. After pondering for a while, Rall turned to Sharyah. She had recomposed herself and was patiently waiting for him to think things through.

"Let's say for one second that I accept your assistance. What could you do for me?" Rall asked.

There was no grin, no seduction, just a business-like cold demeanor. "I have more funds than you would ever need, access to an exclusive network of contacts from the underworld, and a loyal organization that I have built over my decades here. Many high functionaries of the Northern courts owe me, and I have dirt on most of the rest. I have been monitoring the Church's movements in the North. I know the location of the Inquisition's interrogation sites, their high-level prisons, and their training grounds. Give me two hours, and I could tell you what the High Inquisitors have eaten for breakfast..."

As the list went on, Rall understood just how deep Sharyah was within the system. But that was a given since she was influential enough to have been personally invited to the Opal Palace. However, apart from making his journey a bit easier, she could not promise something that stood out compared to the problems she might create for him. Most of all, there was nothing precious enough to compensate for his distrust.

"...Last but not least, They told me you have an unnaturally powerful truename hidden within you. I can help you uncover it and harness its power."

That last part struck him. The power in him, chained down in the deepest ravines of his soul, had been calling desperately for release. His mind returned to the ashen tree in the hellish landscape, the metaphysical representation of the first part of his truename - the power to stand alone against certain death.

The hymn of the snow elves changed abruptly, turning into a deep guttural chant to accompany their last goodbyes to the burning dead. Under the pale dome of Rall's Lighthouse and the whirling darkness of the Fog, the final song of the ceremony served to fill the hearts once hollowed by grief.

"Before you accept," Sharyah said, interrupting Rall's thoughts. "I want to know how they got you."

"How they got me?" Rall repeated, her question pulling his mind back to the real world.

"Yes," she said, stealthily slithering closer to him, "you signed a soul contract with them. Why? Was it for a promise of power? Wealth? A longer life? No, you are not that boring. Why?"

"I did it for her," he replied, pointing behind his shoulders with his thumb. Sharyah's eyes followed, reaching Tui's luminous floating figure.

"Love. The reason behind every mortal's action," she sighed, stepping away from Rall and towards Tui, who reflexively floated back to avoid her touch. The demon halted her chase, her face becoming even colder. "A conscious Fairylight, made possible through a soul bond? I have never seen anything like this. Who did this?"

"Lil--" he stopped himself just in time. "The Empress."

The demon's eyes opened wide, and she immediately dropped to her knees with her face lowered to the ground, groveling at his feet. "I am sorry, your Highness. Your humble servant's senses have dulled," she hurriedly stated.

The sudden show of subservience made Rall embarrassed, and his first instinct led him to lower down and touch Sharyah's shoulder. "Hey, hmm. What are you doing?"

"You have signed a contract with the Highest, which means you are now part of her soul. For her to have moved personally means there is something special within you. I humbly ask that you let me serve you in your quest, and I apologize for any disrespect I have shown."

From her severe tone to her body language, she was dead serious. Was that really enough to justify such a sudden change in demeanor?

"I... listen, stand up, please. You are making me uncomfortable."

Immediately she rose back on her feet. "Yes, sir."

"Oh, gods..."

In his mind, he heard Tui chuckling. "That's how one should treat one such as yourself, milord!" She said, bursting into laughter.

Rall groaned, trying to ignore an incoming headache. "Sharyah, I accept your help, but I need you to behave like usual. Well, mostly."

"Very well, sir."

"Cut the sir, just call me by my name."

"I wouldn't dare..."

"It's an order," he declared.

"Very well, Rall," she said. The change was slight, but he noticed her body relax. It was strange seeing such a confident woman become so rigid.

"We will depart southward when the Fog retreats. I've been gone for some time now. How is the Alcia doing?" He asked, changing the subject in an attempt to break through the awkwardness that was squeezing his stomach.

"Mostly fine. Although, I've heard that the Kingdom is deep in debt with the Central Alliance. But I guess that's just the usual cost of war," she casually noted.

"War?!"

"Yes. Right after your escape, the Avian Kingdom of Motu Rere sent a declaration of war to the Alcian Kingdom and the Borian Empire.

"They did what?" Asked Tui even though the demon couldn't hear her.

"Why?"

One of Sharyah's fingers moved to her chin, and her gaze rose to the misty sky as she collected her memories. "If I remember correctly, the King of Skies declared that someone in the North had kidnapped a member of his country's royal family. Her name was Tui, one of the last mermaids of a pure lineage. He even sent a portrait with the declaration."

Rall turned to Tui, and she looked back. As their sights crossed, it was clear both shared in their astonishment.

***

The Red Peaks were a lifeless range of sharp mountains famous for the unnatural redness of its stone. One theory that tried to explain such weird pigmentation said that a mysterious species of fungi had spread through the range, helped by its resistance to the Fog.

Independently from its scientific and naturalistic value, the Peaks were also of great strategical importance. They were both the gateway and the great wall standing between the western Alcian region from the Northern Tundra and the Aks'ala to the east. Moreover, while traveling through the Peaks was a tortuous endeavor that usually required months of intense preparation and planning, the thousands of deep crevices and intricate cavern systems made it the perfect hideout for those who knew them by hand.

Inside one such cave, three figures completely shrouded by darkness were walking through the Fog under the golden light of a small peculiar lamp. Since they entered the cavern, they had walked in complete darkness for about three hours, counting their steps to know when to change direction. Without a care in the world, they strolled through the inhospitable environment like they'd walked that same path a hundred times before.

"How unlucky are we! That damn number 2, I bet he somehow knew the Fog was coming!" The shorter of the three shadows said.

"Shut up, Number 30. A distress call is not a joke, so shut up and keep your eyes on the mission. If I miss something because of your whining, I swear someone else will have inherited your numbers by tomorrow morning," replied the bulkier shadow that walked in front of the group. Then they heard a low thumping sound, like someone kicking a sack of flour.

"Number 11, Number 30. Come here," the lanky last shadow said. The tone of his voice was enough to stop the other two from their bickering.

Their thin companion had stumbled on a corpse. The upper half of a corpse, to be exact. It laid there like a broken toy torn apart by an angry child. The shadows quickened their steps to investigate further, finding more and more of the corpse's innards plastered on the cavern's walls and the stone floor. And as they kept walking, they found several more mangled corpses and body parts. They were humans - they all wore the same white lab coats. And lastly, their bodies had all been brutally and cruelly dismantled.

When the path finally stopped, the shadows found themselves in front of a tall metal door, thick as a giant's thigh and as heavy as twenty of them. Such an impressive door now laid on the ground, unhinged and violently bent out of shape. And judging from the copious amount of blood dripping beyond the opening it once guarded, there wasn't anything alive left inside.

Immediately, the bulky Number 11 reached for another portable Lighthouse on his belt and handed it to his shorter companion. "Number 30, run back to the Spymaster. Tell her that the laboratory in the Peaks is lost and that one of the subjects has escaped. If it went straight from here, it has probably already reached the Tundra."

Number 30 answered with a silent nod, then turned the lamp-like object on and disappeared into the shadows.

"This is the worst timing. Let's hope it dies of hunger in the Tundra..."