Neda listened intently- submerging herself in the woman’s recount as Kester uncomfortably shifted on his seat to stare at the utter blackness outside. Behind the carriage, Barrel’s cart followed the lantern lighting his way until finally, the small, fat man saw the mists disappear in an instant. Instead, he was in a large, spherical dome of a clear, warm atmosphere, looking up at a castle the likes of which he had only seen immortalized on canvas- despite his many travels.

It was a thing of beauty- a tall, spired, dark structure, lit with torches and radiant, polychromatic crystals and with a graveled road leading up to the tall stairs overlooking the alley of trees. The pebbles clattered against the underside of the carriage- pelting the fine wood beneath Neda’s impatient, tapping feet.

When the vehicles finally arrived in the rounded space of gravel beneath the monstrous stairs, Neda kicked the door open and leapt outside- hurriedly glancing about to see whether she could find any sign of Asrael having arrived, but with little result. All she could see were the surprised servants descending the stairs to tend to the freshly arrived visitors and neither Yurgen, Ellie nor Asrael were anywhere to be seen.

She was closely followed by Kester whose attention continued to be stolen away by the magnificent, breathing castle ahead of them. “What the fuck...” He muttered.

“Unhand me at once, you lusty harlot! Keep your hands off of my genitalia- this is assault!” Neda’s heart leapt with joy as she looked up the stairs to see Asrael being led by a pair of large, burly guardsmen in tuxedoes- closely followed by a golden-haired woman with a sour frown on her lips.

“Assie!” Neda abandoned her freshest companions and sprinted up the stairs- her arms stretched widely to her sides. Asrael was too preoccupied with struggling against his burly captors to notice the blood on her dress- in fact, he was too busy struggling to make notice of her alltogether. Therefore, he was surprised when she wrapped her arms around him and sunk his head between her breasts- leaping up to tightly close her legs around his waist. The men at his sides were stumped to see the embrace- so stumped they released him from their grasp.

The sour, golden-haired women was moved to see the reunion, but still... the sight of her Master required her report. “We caught this one sneaking where he had no right to be. As soon as the girl recovers, we send them away... until then, I will-”

The handsome, green-eyed gentleman pulled his hood back to stare up at the head resting on Neda’s shoulder- meeting the wide-eyed, terrorized gaze of none other than Asrael. With naught but the stairs and a lusty blightlander between them, they recognized one-another, each as unchanged as the last time they had seen one-another, some-thirty years past.

Thomas raised his hand and waved for his men to release Asrael. Heeding his command, they released him and allowed him to stand there- staring down at his should-be ancient nemesis. He voiced his disbelief while taking a step forward- the blightlander still tightly closed around him.

“What in the Hells!? You should be some seventy years old, you bastarding hack!” Asrael shouted atop his lungs. Nota disapproved, but her Master’s hearty laugh stilled her lips from shouting her protest.

“And you should be a pile of dust and long-dead maggots by now. How quaint- Asrael, in the flesh.” The handsome man was shocked, but only his apprentices and Asrael, himself, could see it. To Neda- had she cared to look over her shoulder, might not have seen the calm man as anything but the one who had saved her from the fog. Thomas straightened his robe and grabbed his companion by the hand before ascending the stairs, where the still-stumped Asrael remained locked in place- holding his apprentice up with his peculiar strength.

Neda tremored against him- filling her nose with his intoxicating scent as he shouted past her ear: “Of course I am alive. I am Asrael Nessarat- the finest magus ever to have lived! I conquered death- I told you I would. I told all you fools I would!” Thomas chuckled heartily and clapped the hand of his grinning associate.

The dark-skinned beauty whispered beneath her breath: “This is Asrael? The Asrael?” Thomas nodded, further irking the necromancer atop the stairs. Somehow, Thomas looked even more handsome than when he had last seen him- that night, thirty years ago. Asrael had finally had enough of Neda’s loving embrace and grabbed hold of her shoulders to free himself, only for the wildling to tighten her grip around him.

“Stop it, woman! You are embarrassing me in front of this hack!” Asrael whispered into her ear. Speaking into his chest, she replied: “Nu-uh. Not before you apologize for running away from me and for abandoning me, when we had plans, Assie!”

Asrael’s lips twitched. He wrinkled his nose and steeled himself as Thomas and his dark, beautiful associate arrived up the stair to stare up at the wildling-necromancer complex with bemusement and said: “Let us go find you something warm and dry to wear, old friend.”

Thomas’ wealth was undeniable- as displayed by the long, obsidian-glass-crafted table between Asrael and his companions and Thomas. On either side of the should-be ancient magus, the two women stared over at the curious gathering of visitors- one more miserable than the others. Asrael tapped his fingers against the glass table with displeasure while looking at Thomas’ dining hall. The crystal chandelier’s rays of light bathed the table in streaks of polychromatic radiance- further heightening the appearance of misery on Asrael’s frown.

The necromancer threw sideways glances at the tall bookcases decorating either side of the long, windowless study. These were the books he sought- this treasure trove of knowledge had been what he had scrounged around the fool’s cellar for, only to be caught by the golden-haired stalker’s predatory men.

Thomas cleared his throat and assumed his irkingly handsome smile again, before motioning for the glasses and bottles at his side of the lengthy table. “I must say... I never in my wildest dreams expected to see you again, old friend. Please- have a drink and let us discuss-” As he spoke, the golden-haired woman to his side poured a generous glass of deep-red wine and set it before her fellow female. Next, the nameless woman pursed her lips and gave the glass a gentle shove- sending it sliding across the table with a precise burst of air.

Neda cut Asrael off by rising up from her seat next to her master and shout: “That was air-magic! Assie- that was air magic! She’s like me!” As opposed to her palm-to-face Master, Neda remained in her wet, blood-streaked clothes, but with a blanket wrapped tightly over her shoulder. Next to her, Kester desperately attempted to keep it there, as all could see through the thin, wet fabric as she jolted from her seat.

Thomas laughed as Ellie- Asrael's left-hand companion grabbed the glass and drained it down with her freshly healed, numb hand. “A fellow air-affined? How wonderous- you must display your gift for us! But if I may ask... who are you, in relations to Asrael?” Neda looked across the table to the bemused, handsome man before proudly raising her thumb to her chest and proclaiming: “I’m his Pa’Namph! What’s that word you guys use? Wife?” Asrael continued to rub his palm against his face.

Before the necromancer could protest to her introduction, Thomas roared a laugh and clapped his knee. “Asrael’s wife!? Goodness- had it not been rude to ask, I might’ve wondered what he has done to warp your mind!” Asrael narrowed his eyes and scowled at the handsome version of himself as Thomas motioned for the women at his sides.

“You have already met Nota- a healer with few to match. This is Marlena- my freshest, but equally talented apprentice.” Asrael had seen the women’s prowess for himself. The precise burst of air- the astounding fleshmending-… He looked to either side, to Ellie- his scarred, murderous, apathetic apprentice, clad in the oversized, black dress of the golden-haired woman. On his opposite side, Neda- covered in blood and barely capable of expressing her magic at all, stood and proudly grinned a sheepish, foolish smile- satisfied with her slaunder.

What, he pondered, would be the least shameful confession? Lie and claim they were his daughter and wife or confess that they were both his airheaded, foolish apprentices, when Thomas was so proud to display his own. Sizing the two women up from across the table, he found that he had nothing on his ancient colleague. His apprentices were obviously more talented and far prettier than anyone on his side of the table...

To Asrael’s fortune, Ellie- forever the attentive, observative, favored apprentice had eyes for the unspoken and intrapersonal. Whether egged on by her Master’s apparent discomfort or by her pride, she took the word and said: “We’re all here because of him. He’s saved us all- one way or another. For that, we owe him our lives.” Kester snorted a laugh, but could hardly disagree- not entirely.

This seemed to surprise the young man on the opposite end of the table. Thomas leaned forwards and raised his right brow- hoping the girl would go on. Not one to disappoint, not willingly, at least, she continued while twiddling her thumbs atop the table:

“H-he saved me... from a rapist. I would have been killed, had it not been for him- like they killed my mother. He took me in when I had nowhere else to go and, for that, I love him.” All looked to the dark-haired, dark-eyed, pale girl whose nervous hands continued to fidget atop the table. Asrael blinked as it dawned upon him that there was one way in which he could easily outdo his ancient enemy. Philanthropy. He grinned and confessed:

“Oh, yes, this cruel world had her beaten and afraid when I found her, but with my guidance, she will be a warrior capable of earning her place in this mad Empire.” He motioned to his right- towards the excited blightlander and continued: “This one- I found her in the blighted lands and took her from a life of servitude, then I-” Neda- not to be outdone by Ellie, realized, however shallowly, what Asrael and Eleanor were doing and proudly stated:

“He filled me with enough seed that I thought I’d break at the seams! Right there on top of Manjuseth’s body!” All fell silent as Neda once again slandered Asrael’s already well-tarnished name. Mistaking the women’s disgust for confusion, she explained: “She was my village elder. He killed her and claimed me from the Blight. Then-” Having had enough of being painted like a murderer of the elderly and an outrageous pervert, Asrael’s hand shot out to cover Neda’s flapping lips.

“Now, now... dear... I am certain Thomas has heard more than enough-” Thomas laughed and motioned for Neda to continue, but Asrael’s clamped hand over her warm lips made such an action impossible.

Ellie gently jumped from her chair to straddle across the floor to stand behind the tavernkeeper’s chair. Kester’s fingers rhythmically tapped against the glass surface as her freshly healed hand landed atop his shoulder and she explained: “Kester’s wife kicked him out. She cuckolded him and took his daughter, but Asrael came to his rescue and we took him with us.” All could see by the terrorizing stare that Kester had lived through dark days.

Before Ellie could move on towards Barrel, Thomas raised his hands and spoke: “I can see that you’ve truly turned a page, little Assie. It is hard to believe that you have changed so- from the cruel tyrant of the Necromancarium to a genuine lover- a savior, even. If only Yurgen was here to see how his beloved protégé has matured... he would be proud, I swear it.”

The off-handed reminder of Asrael’s Master caught the necromancer unaware. A brief, pronounced contortion of his lips conveyed more to his companions than any of his harsh words ever would- to Neda, more than anyone. She had seen that fleeting, solemn expression before- when he was staring into a glass of untouched spirits in Kester’s tavern and, for the first time, appeared human to her. She ceased struggling against his hand and watched as he recovered by straightening his dark robes to stubbornly state:

“Well... he is not here. Which brings us back to the question, how, Thomas, are you still here? Better yet, why do you appear so-…" Thomas motioned for his face and chuckled.

“Young? Handsome? Untarnished by the tooth of time?” Asrael impatiently tapped his fingers against the table and leaned back on his chair- grunting his reply.

Thomas continued: “Well, now... perhaps, old friend, we should do as we always have? I will show you mine, if you show me yours.” Asrael’s fingers ceased their tapping, ever-so-briefly as he mulled over the suggestion.