Ceyda was fairly certain she was dead. She had been in an explosion, and she had died, disintegrated into a thousand pieces, and her grimoire was dead so she couldn’t even heal back.

There were moans of pain. Oh no she was in the underworld. All those toxic ruminations sent her to the bad place!

She opened an eye, to see Rembrandt and the other mage in crystal clarity.

The other mage had a fully shaved head, a brown coat, and a black waistcoat like Rembrandt. He had bony, pronounced cheekbones, and a grizzled jawline.

Just the three of them.

Existing in, as far as Ceyda could see, a black endless void.

It wasn’t the dream world. It didn’t feel the same, not even a little. That had the awareness of being asleep, but Ceyda didn’t feel asleep right now. Of course, her eyesight suddenly improving told her that wherever they were, they weren’t using their eyes to see.

Could she turn herself into a giant pink elephant?

She shut her eyes and glanced down at her hands. Alas. Not here either.

“...you’re a girl?” Rembrandt spat in shock and disgust.

Ceyda opened her mouth to say yes, stopped, and did not do that. “Ah, great disguise, no?”

Rembrandt and the other mage stared at her in bewilderment.

Ceyda waved her hands in what she could only assume was a mystical manner. “I have used my great Esterath abilities to conjure an illusion! You are now trapped in my Locii!”

Excellent lie. Absolutely nailed it. And expertly conveyed too! Completely foolproof.

“Yeah, little girl, sure we are,” Rembrandt snarled.

“Who the fuck is Stereth?” the other mage chimed in.

“...Esterath? Avatar of Dreams?” Ceyda asked.

Rembrandt gestured forward, and his grimoire faintly sputtered into existence, a thin book with a glossy wooden cover.

“Making up fairy tales and practicing blasphemy, are we?” Rembrandt hissed.

“Avatar huh?” the other mage asked. “You mean like Eido?”

“Fontaine! Now is not the time!” Rembrandt snapped.

“Eido?” Ceyda stared blankly.

Fontaine smiled. “Perhaps if you were to come here and surrender, Rembrandt and I will be more than happy to explain to you how magic truly works.”

Rembrandt cracked his neck, and flattened his collar. His grimoire disappeared.

“You tried to stab me!” Ceyda said flatly.

“You tried to kill us with those magic beams,” Fontaine said. “And you stole from the Blanches. That’s quite the crime. Those items are on loan from the Crown--you stole from the Crown itself.”

Ceyda wilted. Rembrandt had been hot, fiery, first to attack. But Fontaine was calm and logical.

“That’s a life sentence for you, or possibly even a lobotomy,” Fontaine continued. “I’d probably get, what? Five for causing harm?”

“You could argue that down to a year,” Rembrandt countered. “You’re a mage and they’d just turn it into house arrest anyway.”

Fontaine chuckled. He summoned his own grimoire, a dark blue book with silver embossing. He reached into it, and retrieved a pair of shackles.

“Why don’t you just surrender now? You’re a pillar of low status, but if you surrender now, we could make sure your family doesn’t take the brunt of your mistakes.”

Ceyda opened her mouth to correct Fontaine, but did not do that. Correcting would be bad, even if it was very tempting.

“You-- you need me to get out!” Ceyda said. “And I saw all the other mages--they’re dead! So unless you know how to resurrect, it’s just you!”

“That’s ridic--” Fontaine’s words faltered. His eyes widened in horror.

“Shit!” Rembrandt cursed. “Rumination!”

Ceyda whipped around, and saw what the two mages were panicking over.

It was some sort of--creature?

Upright. Gray skin. Claws. Curly horns. Long black hair like some sort of mane. Glowing red eyes. Tusks.

Ceyda took a step back, and tried to summon her own grimoire. But no such thing happened. She had no magic here. Shit.

The creature staggered towards Ceyda, arms swaying numbly back and forth.

“Wh--why did you call it a rumination?” Ceyda whispered, her voice hoarse, as she stepped closer and closer to Fontaine and Rembrandt.

“They’re the toxic thoughts manifest, they haunt the World of Rites--,” Rembrandt supplied. He paused, stared at Ceyda in confusion, and cursed.

“What’s the World of Rites?” Ceyda asked.

“No! I’m not telling you that!” Rembrandt snapped.

“It is where the demesne of mages reside,” Fontaine supplied.

Rembrandt glared at Fontaine in annoyance, and Fontaine shot back an apologetic look.

The creature let loose a rumbling growl. It lowered its head, and raised its arms.

Rembrandt and Fontaine attacked. Rembrandt unhinged his jaw and let loose billowing steam, but in the inky nothingness, it did nothing to alter vision. Fontaine, meanwhile, summoned chains dripping in blood.

The chain whipped around, as if it had a mind of its own. The chain lunged towards the creature, but it easily dodged, not even stumbling as it curved its own body to expertly get out of the way of the chain.

Rembrandt froze in horror, and the creature attacked, slamming Rembrandt into the ground, clawing at his face and neck.

Oh by the crown it was going to kill them!

On the other hand, that might be a good thing!

Ceyda inched away, trying to not be noticeable. She didn’t want to leave two people to die, but at the same time it wasn’t her fault there was some strange creature from the “World of Rites” that evidently just Murdered people.

Was it the dream world? Did they think they were in the dream world? What Reiner had called a locii was awfully like a demesne, and that’s what Fontaine had mentioned…

The issue was they weren’t in the dream world. Ceyda had been lying! Oh no, what if they had made a mistake? Should she correct it?

Wait, no, she wanted them dead! This was the correct action! Them dying was good!

They would die and then the rumination would attack her and then everyone would be super dead! Ceyda froze. Crap. She didn’t know which decision to make! There was probably an obvious one but all she knew was she had no magic, she was stuck in nothingness, there were two mages that wanted to arrest her and some weird creature that was attacking them!

The rumination was wrapped around in Fontaine’s chain, levitated up in the air, and slammed into the ground. It landed without dust, dirt or sound, save for the clanging of chains against the ruminations struggle.

Rembrandt teleported in front of Ceyda, only to snap back to his original position, appear between the two, then behind the rumination, and then back to his original spot. Teleportation didn’t work here. Was it possible to teleport when there was nowhere to go? Were they just going to walk in a giant circle? If Ceyda ran, would she just end up behind the rumination?

Rembrandt stood up. “Screw this! That thing isn’t right!”

He ran. Fontaine’s chain broke, and when he saw Rembrandt running, he groaned, slapped his face in aggravation, and ran after him.

The free rumination stared at Ceyda, and lowered its head again to charge.

Ceyda took after the two mages, and the three ran. Now would be the perfect time to take off in a different direction, but she didn’t want to encounter more of whatever those things were. She needed them, and luckily for her, they needed to arrest her.

“Shit!” Rembrandt cursed, as he disappeared from view. Fontaine skidded to a halt, and Ceyda followed suit. The ground was… not slippery. Not like a polished floor, but it lacked the traction and give of cobblestone or dirt. There was something unnaturally smooth about what they were running on, something unnatural. Ceyda didn’t like it.

“Brandt?” Fontaine said uneasily. “Where’d you go?”

Ceyda looked behind her. No rumination. No creature in sight.

“I’m right here!” Rembrandt’s voice rang out.

“Supremely unhelpful,” Fontaine replied dryly.

Rembrandt’s hand jutted out of nowhere, and grabbed Fontaine by the collar.

“Here, dumbass!” Rembrandt yelled.

Ceyda blinked, and took a few steps to the left. There was a thin golden line where Rembrandt’s arm was. Like a sort of thread. And when she turned just right, it moved. There was something special to it, like a mirror but only at the right angle. Maybe if she squinted right, she could see into it--

Fontaine forcefully grabbed Ceyda by the arm.

“Hey!” Ceyda yelled.

Fontaine ignored her complaint and took a step forward, dragging Ceyda along with him.

Inside, was a dome, interwoven with golden strands. Rembrandt was no longer invisible, and instead of a blank nothingness there were small wooden boxes and toys littered across the floor.

“Is this someone’s demesne, ya think?” Rembrandt muttered, idly nudging a small, badly carved bear-thing with his boots. The wooden toy vibrated, popped up, and ran away, not with its carved legs, but by merely gliding across the floor.

Rembrandt took off his sunglasses, rubbed his dual-irised eyes, and dragged his hand down his face.

The other toys and boxes started to vibrate.

“A trap!” Fontaine exclaimed.

“Hardly!” Ceyda shot back. “You made them angry! They were sleeping!”

The words came to her before she even realized what she was saying. It certainly sounded true, but she wasn’t sure why she knew it so intimately.

A little rocking horse popped up and rammed its head against Rembrandt. It being only a few inches tall meant it didn’t hurt him so much as severely annoy him.

Rembrandt responded by growling an invocation of the King, and kicking the toy across the dome.

High pitched screams erupted across the dome, and in a slow staggered motion, the toys started to swarm Rembrandt.

“Brandt, I swear to the crown--” Fontaine hissed as he summoned his grimoire again and the chains erupted yet again.

“I did not hurt you at all!” Ceyda yelled to the toys, sticking her hands up in surrender. “Tear them apart if you must, I support your bloodlust, little wooden creatures!”

Rembrandt cursed at her, calling her several vulgar and crude terms, which were used as invocations that created mighty beams of magic against the toys. It didn’t destroy them, however, merely pushed them back, and they marched back to Rembrandt with their tiny little toy steps.

“Peace. Peace. Sleep my children, come, what is this havoc?” an unfamiliar voice boomed across the dome.

The toys froze, vibrated, and tipped over back into the position they were initially.

Footsteps echoed across the dome, and Ceyda gulped in panic. Who were they going to meet? What could be in here?

Was this--was this Doc? Was she going to meet Doc?

The speaker was human, at least at first glance. They wore long, silk robes that twinkled even in the dark with bright green and blue hues. They had no eyes, just empty sockets, and long, red braided hair with strands of metal interwoven.

They had a crooked nose, broad shoulders, but most peculiarly, their skin was spotted-- splotches of pale white intermingled with tan skin, as well as veins of bronze. Bronze metal flowed through their skin like trickles of water, going down one eye, traveling across their chest and their hands.

“Is this your demesne?” Rembrandt asked.

“I suppose,” the strange human said.

“We didn’t mean to attack your toys!” Ceyda said. “It was Rembrandt! He did it!”

“Children. They are my children,” the strange human corrected. The wooden creatures vibrated as they stepped near, only instead of panic and rage, there was a slow contentment to the toy’s movements.

“Speak your name and designation,” Fontaine ordered.

The strange human cocked an eyebrow. “I have not been told to do anything for quite some time. It is a novelty most strange. But I will humor you, it has been so long since I’ve had company. I am called Teractus.”

Teractus. Why did that name sound familiar. Teractus.

Ceyda clapped her hands together and yelled. “You! You’re the cast out Avatar!”

Teractus tilted their head at Ceyda. “You have heard of me?”

“Yes! You and Wa--Waziria! You had a fight. And you lost. And now--now you’re not an Avatar,” Ceyda said proudly. “But you used to be the Avatar of War!”

Teractus smiled. Instead of teeth, glistening gems were revealed behind their lips. “Let us have tea.”

A small wooden table appeared with straw mats to sit on, ceramic cups and a single plate filled with large red grapes.

Ceyda clapped her hands in happiness and sat down. Rembrandt and Fontaine remained standing, staring at the Avatar in suspicion.

Teractus gracefully sat down, and rested their elbow on the wooden table.

“Now, who are you?” Teractus asked.

“You don’t know me?” Ceyda asked.

Teractus shook their head. “Alas, I do not, little one.”

“So you’re not Doc,” Ceyda said in disappointment.

“Most likely not, no,” Teractus replied. “I haven’t left here in a thousand years.”

“Does the name Blanche mean anything to you?” Rembrandt asked.

Teractus stared at Rembrandt blankly. “No. And that is the last answer you will hear from me, lest you wish to be cut down where you stand.”

Rembrandt opened his mouth to squawk in annoyance, but Fontaine held his hand out. “Did you send the rumination after us?”

“Pray tell, what?” Teractus asked.

“It was this thing with horns and gray skin--” Ceyda stood up to pantomime the height of the creature.

“Ah, that sounds like a frenzy,” Teractus replied. “Not one of mine, I’m afraid. I only make my azads.”

“Azads--those are your children? The wooden toys?” Ceyda asked.

Teractus nodded.

“What the fuck is a--” Rembrandt paused, shut his mouth, and nudged Fontaine.

“What is a frenzy?” Fontaine asked.

“Annoying, senseless beasts. They have it out for me. They quite want me dead, it’s very problematic,” Teractus said.

“Why?” Ceyda sat back down and grabbed a grape, only for it to turn into ash the moment it broke from the stem.

“Well, I do have their creator imprisoned, I suppose,” Teractus said, their head tilting upwards.

In unison, Fontaine, Rembrandt and Ceyda looked up to see a chain dangling from the nonexistent ceiling. Bound, gagged, and upside down, was a human with glowing red veins coursing through gray skin, and horns like a bull.

“Who--what--” Rembrandt hissed.

“Why do you have a man captured?” Ceyda whispered. Oh no. Teractus was maybe a little evil.

“Not quite a man. Not quite a human either,” Teractus replied. “Its name is Rage.”

“What--what is it?” Ceyda asked. She grabbed an entire vine of grapes and bit directly from the stem, but it yet again turned into ash.

“I don’t know,” Teractus said. “They were there when I got here, and I presume if I either leave or crumble into dust they will remain. And until that moment, the frenzies will attack me, as last ordered.”

Maybe Teractus was Doc. Just one who didn’t remember anything that went on the outside of the book and vice versa.

Or maybe Doc was…

Ceyda glanced up, staring at the humanoid creature named Rage.

She really hoped Doc was not the one tied to the ceiling.

Rembrandt and Fontaine weren’t saying anything. They just stared. Rembrandt had his hand on the sling he held his spell book in, and Fontaine had his arms folded tightly.

Just staring.

They were trying to get information. She would have to be careful what she said. If she said something wrong they could use it against her, somehow. She didn’t know how or why but she really didn’t want them knowing anything about her.

“Where are we?” Ceyda asked.

Teractus shrugged. “Not sure. I’ve been here for a while. Trapped in a golden net, unable to die, unable to live. I’ve learned to not question such things, lest I fall into despair.”

“Can we get out?” Ceyda asked.

“Probably not.”

Rembrandt hissed in anger. Teractus reached into their robe and withdrew a greatsword, far too long for the space it was hidden in. They set it on the table, and stared at Rembrandt.

“You can kill them if you want!” Ceyda said brightly. “They suck.”

“Alas, while I could strike them permanently down, if I were to do so, my concentration would break, and no doubt Rage would escape,” Teractus said. “And then I will spend another hundred years being tortured, my insides picked away until I gain the upper hand again--I doubt the same trick will work twice.”

“Is that why you have no eyes?” Ceyda blurted out.

Teractus took a sip from a cup with no contents. “No. My eyes are in your realm. As are some other parts--”

They lowered their robe, revealing several holes where skin should be. Instead Ceyda could see straight through to the inside of the glinting robe.

“Is that bad? Do you need me to get them back?” Ceyda asked.

“No,” Teractus said. “It allows my power to still affect those in your realm. They live on as artifacts, collected by emperors and warlords, who do not know my name but call me in their prayers every night with what I have gifted them.”

“Someone just has an eyeball and is using it to cast spells?” Ceyda sputtered.

Fontaine sat down, his lips pursed in concentration.

“Perhaps. It might have taken on another form. A spyglass. A pebble. It does not concern--”

“--A spell book?” Fontaine cut in.

Teractus stared at Fontaine. “Perhaps.”

Holy shit. That was it, wasn’t it? She had some artifact of Teractus. That was what was giving her magical abilities. And Teractus was trapped here, in some underworld-like dimension, with nothing but their weird toys to protect them!

“I have one of your artifacts!” Ceyda blurted out.

Teractus raised an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

Ceyda nodded. “And--and I think I’ve been talking to you? Through it? Or maybe just a piece of you?”

Teractus did not react. Their hollow eyes bored into Ceyda, and she shifted and squirmed as she tried to figure out how to explain what she needed.

“And then this jackass broke it! And then it exploded and killed a bunch of people and now we’re here!” Ceyda continued.

Fontaine snorted, Rembrandt started to pace back and forth, wringing his hands.

“Your tongue should be cut off,” Fontaine said. “To save yourself from your own ruminations.”

“I haven’t died yet!” Ceyda declared.

Teractus’s right hand went to their left, and unscrewed their bronze artificial ring finger off. They then screwed it back on. Off. On. Off. On. Still no response.

“Will you help us?” Ceyda asked. “Help us escape?”

“If I could help individuals such as yourself escape, I assure you, I would not be here,” Teractus replied, continuing to idly screw and unscrew their ring finger.

“Then what, we die of starvation?” Fontaine asked.

“Oh, goodness no. Your body will have no need for sustenance here. Your human brains will merely hit the point where it will have experienced too much isolation and new information for thousands of years, and you’ll go a bit mad. Then the shell of your body will wither away, dooming you to wander the chaos for the rest of eternity, no longer conscious, your soul torn to shreds by your own being,” Teractus replied.

“There-- there has to be some way to escape, right? Something maybe only humans can do that Avatars can’t?” Ceyda asked, grinning as forcefully as she could.

Teractus laughed. It had a tinny quality to it, like she was hearing it on a gramophone.

“Perhaps. If there is, I would not know of it. Feel free to look, it will undoubtedly keep you occupied for the next fifty years.” Teractus stood up, returned the sword into their robes, and vanished the table.

“And by fifty years you mean like, fifty years in here, five seconds out there, right?” Ceyda asked. “Because of time magic!”

Teractus glanced back at her, and gave a sad smile. “No.”

The Avatar walked into the inky darkness, leaving Ceyda alone with nothing but her thoughts, and the two mages who now undoubtedly wanted her dead.