Karanos stands with Crystal and Sah by the obelisk. Ash hasn’t yet arrived.

Sah is oblivious to what’s going on, but he senses Crystal’s melancholy and curls his tail around her protectively. Karanos’s expression is somehow even more stoic than usual, his gaze stern, callous, as though his body is trying to convince his mind that he doesn’t care what’s happening.

“Hundreds of years ago, I approached Ancient Ash for a return beacon,” Karanos says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I’ve mentioned it before, but the organization in charge of sending down descendants receives a steady supply of return beacons to bring half-step ascendants into Eternity. These are largely provided by the oldest and most powerful ascendants for whom creating beacons is least taxing.

“It was my task because nobody knew where Ash was, and I was best equipped for searching the planes for his location. When I did find him, he punished me for disturbing his practice. I won’t bore you with the details, but think of a boy with a butterfly caught in a jar. Imagine the boy plucking the butterfly’s wings off, then watching it squirm, wriggling like a grub, before tearing off its antennae, piercing through its eyes, and snapping off its proboscis. That, every day for five years.”

But there is no butterfly in Karanos’s story, no boy with a jar.

“Nobody went to Ancient Ash for return beacons after that,” Karanos says softly. “Though Ash did make beacons for me in the end, one for each day I was held captive.” He snorts. “It was the most beacons we’d ever received from a single ascendant at once, as though he was trying to fulfill all future obligations.”

Karanos sighs. “My success with obtaining so many return beacons from Ancient Ash reflected well upon me in the faction. Based on his behavior toward me during the pageant, Ash considers us on equal terms, without debts and obligations.”

Less than a day ago, Karanos angered Ash, resulting in the ancient squeezing Karanos’s throat until it burst in a shower of gore. It’s true that when Karanos resurrected, Ash’s anger had dissipated as though nothing had happened.

Maria hums in approval. “Better to take action in the moment and settle debts than hold grudges.”

The corners of Karanos’s eyes tighten. “So you say, but be wary. He will help you, but he will exact a price, and whether that price is worth the reward is up to his discretion.”

“You aren’t much different,” Maria interjects, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’d think people with unlimited time would be more generous, but you ascendants all have your own angles, age-long enmities and unfulfilled desires. You ask Ian to risk his life in exchange for a return beacon, an object that, while scarce, can be obtained with the right connections.”

Maria, I know you’re just trying to help me, but is this really the time? I transmit.

This is possibly the only time, she replies. At the end of your stay with Ash, returning to Karanos is not a certainty. That’s why he’s so nervous.

Karanos responds to Maria’s provocation. “Timeliness is the most valuable thing in this world.” He isn’t angered by Maria’s words, and appears to be considering them with utmost seriousness. “That’s the true value of what I offer.”

I nod my head slowly. “Ascendant Crimson Teeth made it clear that I’d be able to get a return beacon in a few decades, back when we first entered Eternity. But I can’t wait decades.”

Maria chuckles without humor. “So, you’re risking your immortality for expedited delivery?” She sighs. “I know it’s for the sake of our world, that the timeliness Karanos speaks of is crucial. If we wait too long, the Infinity Loop’s corruption will be irreversible. But doesn’t it sound like a cheap exchange?”

“Not to me,” Karanos says. “There is no way to rewind time, though there are ways to see the future, or simulate it–methods of imagining what might be, dreaming it time and time again. If there really was a way to go back and change causality...everything would be different. Immortality would be a sham. We could undo our regrets one by one and then choose our time to die.

“I mention all of this to make one point. Time can be the most valuable thing there is, depending on the circumstances. To the eldest amongst us, to whom years flow like seconds, who act very little on the world, time is insignificant. But to a mortal at the crossroads of fate, time may be the most valuable thing there is.

“Your world is at such a crossroads, thus the value of time is inflated. Do you regret our deal, Ian–a return beacon within five years and a means to contact home, in exchange for killing Achemiss?”

As I open my mouth to respond, I sense a new presence amongst us.

“Interesting conversation?” Ash asks. He’s wearing the most normal outfit yet–a robe constructed from centipede chitin, likely sourced from the chitin floating in the void after the hunt. Its shiny plates cover his body, ending at his neck. He’s shaped the chitin into decorative gloves and boots, while a short mantle made of small, wafer-thin scales falls over his back.

Maria and I flinch in surprise, the lich pressing against my shoulder. Sah hisses at the sudden arrival, but Crystal calms him. Karanos is unfazed. “Greetings, Ancient Ash,” he says deferentially, bowing his head.

“Ascendant Karanos,” Ash acknowledges. He walks forward and rubs Crystal between the eyes. “Crystal.” Then he turns to Maria and me. “Are you prepared?”

“Yes,” I answer. I shoot Karanos a meaningful look. I don’t regret meeting you, and I don’t regret our deal, I think, trusting Crystal to relay my thoughts to him. Regardless of what happened with Ari, Achemiss needs to die for the threat he poses to our world.

“Then it’s time to go,” Ash says. “Follow behind me–we’re exiting through the void rather than through the welcome hangar.”

Before Maria and I can process his words, Ash has already jumped up fifty feet into the air, his figure growing smaller by the moment. Sharing a look of urgency, we both leap off the ground, blue energy empowering our legs. After the initial boost, I use my practice to fly while Maria propels herself with fiery jets.

Unlike on Vizier’s Crown, where we flew upwards through the cloud layer and the gradient of thinning air, Voidkeep’s atmosphere is almost like a bubble. It suddenly ends after thirty seconds of flying and I careen into weightlessness. My lungs nearly burst from the inverse pressure since the transition catches me unaware.

Ian, Maria says. Your vitality–

It’s fine. I’m already recycling the lysed tissues to foster new growth. With repairs underway and ascendant energy infused Death wraps compressing my body, I activate the artifact that allows me to breathe. Karanos returned it to me after the pageant’s conclusion. I keep it in the void storage along with Maria’s phylactery.

I turn my attention to Ash and sense vitality thrumming through his body while a faint aura of red energy glows from within his eyes, swirling around his rainbow irises–the only visible sign of ascendant energy usage. He makes a small gesture with his fingers and a glowing sigil forms in the nothingness before splitting in two and imprinting itself onto Maria and I, stamping our chests. I look down in surprise at the golden glow radiating through my black bandages.

“This is a modified interrogation oath,” Ash says. “It will allow us to send thoughts to one another while in this nothingness.”

End affinity acts in the nonphysical domain, with fate arrows extending unhindered through walls and other obstructions. But End arrays and oath scripts are physical anchors for meaning, channels through which End energy flows to affect the world.

He didn’t even– she says before stopping to collect her thoughts. There’s no medium, none at all, she continues. He just created an End oath on nothing.

Ash grins at Maria. She sent her thoughts to me alone across our bond, so he shouldn’t have been able to hear them, but that doesn’t mean he can’t understand her expression. “I’ll teach you this and more. It’ll be up to you how much you can learn, Maria the lich.”

I feel like I should be more nervous about this whole endeavor after what Kuin and Karanos have shared, but their stories only increase my anticipation, I transmit to Maria. Think of all the things we might learn from him.

Their warnings make me uneasy putting ourselves at his complete mercy, but even if I only learn how to do this modified interrogation array, the next six months will be worthwhile.

We only travel through the void for a short time before Ash cuts the way to a plane dominated by a wide canyon with a river basin. He raises his face to the harsh light of the sun facsimile, a coil of yellow-orange energy wound so tightly as to look like a sphere.

He turns to Maria. “The suns on the planes are unlike the stars that fill the heavens beyond Eternity’s domain, but they all radiate energy. You’re a novice child of Sun. Fire elementalism is only one tool of a Sun practitioner.” He closes his eyes. “Think of your affinity when you gaze upon the sky coils and feel their heat on your skin.”

I thought he was going to be teaching you, Maria transmits. It’s refreshing to be more than a tag-along.

You share two of his four affinities, I remind her. Ash and I don’t share a single one. If I were training another Death practitioner, I’d mention suggestions as they came to mind. Ash is probably doing something similar with Maria.

“Are we going to stop here for a bit?” I ask, inspecting the surroundings for points of interest.

He opens one eye. “You need to breathe, don’t you?”

“I have an artifact that handles that,” I explain. I’d pulled it off when we left the void.

He opens his other eye and gives me a coy expression...and I realize that I’ve probably fallen into a trap. There’s no way Ash wouldn’t have noticed my breathing artifact.

“There’s no need for unnecessary crutches,” Ash says.

I cough. “With all due respect, how are you defining ‘unnecessary’?”

His mouth opens slightly, revealing pale fangs. “Pay better attention to my body when we enter the void. We’ll stop as often as necessary, but you can’t rely on an artifact for your survival. If you die deep in the void and lose it, what will you do?”

If I can’t cut through to a hospitable plane for refuge, I’d have you bring me to safety or get help, I think to Maria. But I get Ash’s point–if I’m alone, without Maria or other companions, things might quickly spiral out of control if I don’t have a method of keeping myself alive for long stretches of time.

“I confess that I’m concerned about how stopping every few minutes to breathe will affect our traveling speed.” It’s not that I don’t think it’s important, but do I really need to learn this now?

“I have a feeling you’ll be a quick study.” Ash reopens the way to the void that we came through and gestures for us to enter.

I empty my lungs, then fly through after Maria. My body protests almost immediately, my chest tight. Artifacts exist to be used, I think, tamping down on my frustration.

“You had no issues fighting the centipede in the void without a source of oxygen,” Ash says, leading the way into darkness.

“That fight didn’t last very long,” I reply.

His lips quirk upwards. “You can last longer than that. You’re not even paying attention to me, stiff as you are.” His body rotates around and he slams a palm into my chest. Vitality prickles through my clothes and across my skin, leaving goosebumps. Resisting the urge to fight his intrusion is like suppressing a gag reflex–difficult, and uncomfortable, but possible.

I sense how Ash’s vitality sinks into my body. My tissues feel like they’re shutting down, their functions slowing, approaching stasis–death. But the infusion of vitality keeps them alive, reminding me of a current of electricity stimulating muscles to contract.

“I am paying attention to your body, but your flesh glows with vitality,” I reply. “It’s blinding, overwhelming.”

“If my body is suffused with Life, why not yours with Death?” he inquires.

My eyes flit to Maria. “Like an unliving construct?”

“No,” Ash says. “Like a Death practitioner.”

This is going to be a long trip.