“Do you know what spell that thing”—Sera glared at Zyocuh and resisted the urge to set what remained of him on fire—“cast on Vur?” The sky-blue dragon turned back towards Grimmy and blinked at him with an expression that wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Grimmy didn’t respond as he flipped Vur over with the tip of his claw. He traced the symbols that Zyocuh had drawn and nodded. “I see, I see. This is simple, really.”

“Can you cure him?” Tafel asked.

Grimmy tilted his head. “Don’t you want to know what it is first?”

Tafel pursed her lips. “That doesn’t really matter as long as he gets better,” she said and shook her head. “So, can you fix him?”

“I would like to know what it is,” Sera said and nudged Tafel aside. Then she glared at Zyocuh again. “I have to choose a punishment befitting the crime. Whether I should crush it, chew it up, or tear it apart depends on what it did.”

Tafel tilted her head. “Is there a difference between the three? I mean, I get that they’re supposed to be getting progressively worse, but which one is the worst one to get?”

“Torn apart,” Alora said. “Definitely torn apart. Things scream the most when you tear them apart.” Tafel stared at Alora with an unreadable expression. The polymorphed dragon scratched her neck and looked away. “I’m just saying. And you’re the one who asked.”

“This spell,” Grimmy said, ignoring Tafel and Alora, “is something unoriginal folks use to achieve pseudo-immortality. Since they don’t know how to preserve their own bodies, they figure they’ll just take someone else’s before they die. Currently, Vur’s in the process of having his soul eroded away.”

Sera’s eyes widened, and she thumped Zyocuh with her tail, sweeping him back and forth along the ground. “Can you cure him?” she asked, ignoring Mary’s attempts at retrieving her uncle.

Grimmy cleared his throat. “Maybe?”

“Maybe? What do you mean maybe?” Tafel asked. “Can you do it or not?”

Grimmy lowered his head and puffed smoke out of his nostrils at Tafel, causing her hair to fly parallel to the ground. “When did you get so brave, squirt?”

“I noticed that too,” Sera said and nodded. “Whenever it comes to Vur, she stops trembling and grows a spine. I approve.”

Tafel placed her hands on her hips. “I’m brave all the time, okay?” Her knees shook, but she tensed her leg muscles to force them to stay still. “Can you stop Vur’s soul from being eroded? I really like him with his soul intact. That’s not to say I would leave him if he lost his soul, but it’d be really, really nice if he didn’t.”

Sera turned towards Grimmy. “Can you?”

Grimmy shrugged. “You know the phrases fight poison with poison, and fight fire with fire? This is the same concept,” he said. “To stop this foreign soul from invading, we’ll send in our own foreign souls.”

A wrinkle appeared on Tafel’s forehead. “And how do you know that soul is going to stop the invaders and not erode Vur’s soul further?”

“Oh, that’s simple,” Grimmy said. “We send in a soul familiar with Vur or antagonistic with the invaders.”

“A familiar soul?” Tafel raised an eyebrow.

“Right.” Grimmy nodded and swept his gaze over the people in the room. “Any volunteers?”

“This is safe, right?” Tafel asked. “Once we help Vur, we can easily get out?”

“Nope,” Grimmy said. “Once your soul leaves your body, you die.”

“What?” Tafel pointed at Zyocuh. “How come he’s not dead if that’s the case?”

Grimmy shrugged. “Exception to the rule. You know how those exist.”

The group exchanged glances with each other. Tafel swallowed and stepped forward. “I, I’ll do it,” she said. “You can send my soul inside of Vur.” She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. “Make it painless, please,” she murmured and clenched her hands.

Grimmy reached forward with his claw and placed the tip against Tafel’s forehead. He withdrew his paw by an inch, and then he flicked her. Tafel shrieked as she fell over onto her back and clutched her forehead. She wriggled on the ground, rolling back and forth from side to side before suddenly coming to a halt. Her eyes opened, and she looked up. “Is it…, is it done? Am I dead?”

Grimmy grinned at Tafel and patted her head. “I was just joking when I asked for volunteers.”

“Just … joking?”

“Yup.” Grimmy nodded. “Hilarious, right?” He ignored Tafel’s contorting face and turned his attention onto Vur. “Let’s see how far this erosion’s progressed.” Grimmy tapped Vur’s bellybutton with his claw and lifted. A layer of light black and red light extended from his claw to Vur’s stomach. A fourth of the light was black while the remainder was red. “Hmm.”

“How is it?” Tafel asked. “It looks like the red bit is eating away at the black one. That means Vur’s winning, right?”

Grimmy shook his head. “No. Vur’s soul is the black portion. He’s losing.”

Tafel furrowed her brow. “What? Why is Vur’s soul black?”

Lindyss cleared her throat from off to the side before gazing at Grimmy. No one noticed her except for the black dragon. Grimmy shrugged. “Eh, who knows? The color of one’s soul doesn’t mean much. Besides, that’s not the important part. What’s important is the fact that Vur’s losing and needs some help.”

“Wait,” Tafel said and pointed at the strand of light. “That golden bit blocking the red, what is it?”

Grimmy raised an eyebrow before leaning close and squinting at the strand. “Oh, that’s probably, uh, some sort of false god. You know Vur was blessed by the temple a little before your reunion from way back when?”

Tafel nodded. “You said you didn’t need volunteers? Then how are you going to help him?”

“Well, I don’t need volunteers because I already have plenty of souls,” Grimmy said. His eyes lit up. “You’re his wife. What kind of soul do you think he’d like?” he reached behind his wing and pulled out dozens of glowing orbs that seemed more gaseous than solid.

“…Why do you have these?”

“I don’t know.” Grimmy rolled his eyes. “Why do people collect coins? Why do people collect stamps? So, which one?”