DEKHER FORTHRIGHT STOOD opposite an undulating mass of chaotic potential shaped like a man. In the upper center of the mass, where the chest would be, was a seed. Woven through a series of interconnected points of light, the seed was complex—certainly much more than the basic patterns of the commoners he’d grown accustomed to—with each individual point holding its own pattern layered within, a whole new series of points and lines to connect them.

“What do you see?” Baron Rom'Zar Neltrazed asked. His tone was inquisitive, likely born of genuine curiosity and nothing more.

“Many things.” Dekher inclined his head slightly. “Your family’s Crest is beautiful.”

“Much of the credit belongs to my father,” Rom'Zar said. “I have admired his work since I was a boy.”

Modesty. A rare trait among the nobility. Then again, living so far removed from high society was bound to change a man. “Perhaps, but it was you who realized the potential of his design, was it not?”

“It is as you say,” the baron agreed. “Yet without the foundation he paved for me, I am certain I would not have achieved the same measure of success. As I grow older, I find myself ever more thankful for his gift. Perhaps one day my sons will think the same of me.”

“I’m sure they will.”

The writhing mass moved, one of its tendrils lowering beneath seed-level, followed a heartbeat later by the clinking of glass on wood. The tendrils folded behind the main mass, becoming practically indistinguishable from the rest. “But I am sure speaking of such was not your purpose in coming here. What is it the church requires of me, Seer?”

Barely a greeting and straight to business. Dekher could appreciate that. “I assume you did not miss this morning’s commotion.”

The baron laughed—the mass jiggled. “Miss the great starcursed beast bursting from within the mountain? No, I should say not.” His tone was jovial at first, but the mass soon stilled. When the baron next spoke, his voice carried a heavy weight. “A town in the foothills below was nearly crushed under the falling rock. Many lost their lives.”

Dekher hadn’t known that. It was just like them to leave that out, the information likely considered unworthy of attention. In fairness, they weren’t wrong—there was little Dekher could’ve done. He had his own role to play.

“I was not aware,” Dekher said, truthfully. “My condolences.”

The baron gave a noncommittal grunt, and Dekher took the hint to get to the point. “Though it be a tragedy, the beast is not my concern—there will be others handling that. My purpose here is not unrelated, however; shortly after the beast’s emergence the Lady High Seer noticed something odd—a brief but blinding flicker of aether. Such a thing is unusual in itself, but unworthy of the Lady’s attention. No, the truly interesting thing about this flash of aether is in facts its origin, occurring deep within the mountain.”

The mass moved again, pacing the black void of its existence. “While that does sound unusual, you will have to forgive me for failing to see how it relates to me.”

“You are the Baron of this domain, are you not?” Dekher pressed. “You’ve noticed nothing odd or out of place?”

“Oh, I certainly noticed something odd and out of place—the great bloody serpent that broke the mountain in half!” The baron guffawed. “I may have a talent for botany, Seer, but being a good gardener does not qualify me to sense shifts in the aether. I do believe that is your area of expertise.”

Dekher sighed. “So you have seen nothing. Heard nothing.”

The mass moved carefully around an object Dekher could not see, and lowered itself into a seated position. “I am afraid not. But I assure you, Seer, when I do… you will be the first to know.”

Dekher inclined his head slightly. “Very well. Thank you for your time, Baron.”

His partner, distinguishable from the black void as little more than an outline, turned and opened the door, leading Dekher from the office. He might have had trouble following if not for the sword swinging from the man’s hip, disturbing as always—an immutable presence in the ever-shifting aether.

His Eye filtered most of the passive aether from the air, but it couldn’t filter everything. It was all around them, the grass and the trees and the birds and especially the people—wherever life existed, so did aether, writhing and flowing and alive. The sword was the opposite—a hollow space in the midst of an ever-shifting world. Being around something so still was almost maddening. Yet despite how uncomfortable the sword made him, there was no escaping it. Dekher would likely be following one just like it for as long as he lived. A Hand to an Eye—that was how it was. How it had always been.

Jai led them from the baron’s estate, which he’d promised Dekher was as ostentatious as one might expect, and through Baron Rom'Zar’s famous garden, which his partner had also described as an utterly absurd display of wealth, though yes actually quite nice. So long as one stayed away from the man-eating plants and the walls of thorn tougher than stone, that was. A wall of solid light awaited them past the grounds. Dekher passed through behind Jai, unable to resist the urge to squint but at least managing to not shield his face. Neither would help, and would only serve to make him appear foolish.

“The good baron was somewhat less than helpful,” Jai said, breaking his silence when they were out of earshot. He never talked during meetings with the nobility… or any meetings, really, preferring to leave the talking to Dekher. According to him, knowing when to stay silent was an important duty for a Hand, though Dekher suspected the man simply didn’t trust himself to stay his tongue once it’d begun to wag.

“It was to be expected,” Dekher said. “Rom'Zar had a point; his skill set, while impressive, remains ill suited for the task at hand.”

“That it does. Well, what now? Shall we scour the countryside?”

Dekher was about to begrudgingly accept they might not have any other choice when he noticed something in the distance. His Eye was not as focused as some of the elder Seers, but occasionally he would see something that was otherwise beyond his Sight. He’d spotted just such an oddity—a mass the likes of which he’d never seen. It was… dark, almost darker than he could believe. Most aether was luminescent, varying from softly glowing to blinding, but this was something else entirely. Unlike the eerie stillness of his partner’s weapon, this darkness was very much alive, writhing ominously as if any moment it might lash out and swallow the light of the aether surrounding it.

“Jai, I see something… a shadow amongst the aether. It may be what we’re looking for.”

“Where?”

Dekher raised an arm, his own writhing mass becoming visible before the thin strip of cloth covering his eyes—but not his Eye—and pointed in the direction of the dark aether. Jai’s muted outline and the discomforting stillness attached to his hip turned toward the darkness and began moving toward it.

Soon, masses of aether swarmed around them, the people of Plainskeep going about their business while the sun was still up. Dekher hadn’t seen the sun’s radiance in many years, but he would always remember the way it used to light his world, the way he used to rely on it to guide him, just as these people did now. The familiar ache of loss swelled in his chest, but Dekher forced it down as he always did. Though he could no longer view the world the same as others, Dekher had been given a gift. A purpose.

He need only glance around to know what his fate could have been. Each and every mass of aether scurrying about in the void held a constellation—a filter with which to process aether. A constellation’s shape was determined by the intent of the forger, though in a place like this almost all were depressingly simple; greenery and plows being the most common in Plainskeep. The effects of such constellations would be mild at best due to the limited nature of their design. He imagined Foragers saw herbs and other useful plants much the same as he saw all aether, though to a lesser degree of course, and without the peculiarities of his Eye.

Yet even basic patterns held the vast potential of the soul, and Dekher noted a few particularly advanced souls whose constellations had morphed over time to become brighter and more detailed than their counterparts. Those men and women would be exceptional in their professions; Foragers who might coax an herb to uproot itself in pristine condition, Farmers who might till swathes of soil with a single swing or direct livestock with little more than a gesture. Such souls were invaluable to society.

And yet… many would never possess such aptitude for their assigned profession. Once upon a time, Dekher had believed it was a matter of effort—those who never came into their own simply weren’t trying hard enough, perhaps to spite the ones who’d assigned them—but since he’d been named an Eye of Ouranos, that opinion had been slowly shifting. The soul was malleable to an extent, and would accept almost any pattern Forged upon it… but souls were also more. Every soul was unique; individualistic, and naturally sought that which would make them greater, drawn to such things by the intangible pull some called destiny.

But Dekher didn’t believe in predetermined fate, and the practice of assignment only reinforced that belief. To force a soul to take on a shape it was not suited for was to cripple its development. Those who’d been shaped in this way spent their entire lives feeling a wrongness they would never understand, a yearning on such a deep level it was intrinsic to their very being that could never be satisfied even in a thousand lifetimes. Those souls were sickly, their light dim, and in time they would wither and fade to nothing.

“How far, Dekher?” Jai asked, shaking him from his thoughts.

It took a moment to reorient and locate the shadow again, still rather far off in the distance—he wouldn’t be surprised if it took most of the day to reach it. “Still some ways off. Perhaps not in Plainskeep at all, but one of the surrounding villages.”

Jai gave an audible sigh, the clinking of his armor on cobblestone ceasing. “We’ll need supplies. The last of our rations saw us here.”

Dekher nodded, trusting his partner to sort things out—keeping them alive was one of Jai’s many duties. Jai led them through through the streets, always one step ahead of Dekher, careful to warn him of any obstacles. They’d been doing this for long enough it had become second-nature, Jai paving the way as Dekher trailed behind, completely reliant his partner to guide him. If Jai ever decided to walk him off a cliff, he wouldn’t even see it coming.

Dekher made sure to treat his partner well.

It was obvious when they’d entered the plaza, the swarm of aether around him fanning out from the corridor-like streets to become a teeming mass in over a broader area. Delicious scents wafted through the air, overpowering the stench of crowded men; freshly baked bread, and meat he could still hear sizzling on the fire, fat dripping and popping in the crackling flames below. He was careful not to stop longer than a moment lest he get separated from Jai, but his stomach was becoming rather insistent. Still, he would not complain—it was unbecoming of an Eye. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before they’d stopped and Dekher heard Jai bartering with a vendor over the price of his meats.

Ouranos bless him.

It was as he was waiting to feast on succulent meat, mouth watering, that a mass of aether bumped into his shoulder, almost sending him tumbling to the cobblestone. Dekher turned to find what’d hit him, and came Eye to aether with a thin figure shaped like a small man, aether swirling frenetically within its shell of flesh.

The figure gasped. “S-sorry,” it said.

A young man after all—scared. He likely hadn’t expected an Eye in Plainskeep until the year’s Assigning; the church’s presence in the outer settlements had dwindled in recent years. The chaos of his aether was almost overwhelming, and lacked focus… it lacked a constellation. Dekher reached out, grasping the flowing tendril of aether that was the young apostate’s arm.

“N-no, please!” The young man struggled, but lacked the strength to free himself of Dekher’s grip.

“I can’t do that,” Dekher said, frowning. “I’m sorry.”

The young man knew why. Apostates always did. Sometimes it was a choice, sometimes they simply slipped through the cracks… either way, living without an assignment, without a constellation, was a violation of church law. To have gone this long without being noticed was impossible if he hadn’t been actively avoiding it. The young man would be brought in and registered, given an assignment, and reintegrated into the population as a contributing member of society.

This, too, was his duty.

The young man screamed as the aether around them parted to form a circle, the deafening buzz of the crowd slowly falling silent as they witnessed the spectacle.

“Let go!” He struggled against Dekher’s grip, flailing helplessly against the larger man. “You bastards killed my brother…! He was never the same after you took him! He never would’ve done that to himself! Never! You broke his spirit!” The young man’s voice was raw with terror and sorrow, and it was obvious he was shouting through tears.

Dekher watched as the the young man’s other tendril reached for something behind its main mass.

Steel sung as it was drawn against scabbard… and the light of Dekher’s world was snuffed out.

Each and every mass of aether around him vanished, the warm light of life that was his only comfort in the void gone, leaving him alone in the vast, empty dark.

A frozen hand gripped his spine, causing him to release his own grip, fingers trembling with a new surge of fear in his heart.

Not alone; there was something else--its frostbitten hands around his throat, its icy breath on his neck chilling him to the bone.

Then came the clinking of armor on cobblestone, and a blood-curdling scream Dekher thought might’ve been his own.

It was cut off a heartbeat later by a soft thud.

The plaza was silent as the grave, allowing all to hear the wet gasping and gurgling of a man drowning on his own blood.

Soon, that too ceased.

“Foolish boy…” Jai said from somewhere nearby. His tone was hard, but full of regret.

Dekher fell to his knees, overwhelmed by darkness and terror and death, shivering against the profound cold that’d seeped into his flesh.

And yet only moments later, he was all but blinded by the light of aether rushing back, the sound of Jai’s horrible blade sliding into its sheathe heralding the return of his Sight.

The young man’s form lie prone on the street before him, his once-frenetic aether now eerily still, spilling slowly from the gaping hole in his chest to return to the Sea of Aether.

Jai’s strong hands pulled Dekher to his feet, the man’s hardy presence steadying the tremors wracking his body.

“Why…?” Dekher asked. He wasn’t certain if he was asking why the boy was dead… or why Jai had subjected him to the darkness.

“The lad pulled a blade,” Jai said, quietly. “It was inches from your heart when I took him.”

“…Oh.”

The news he’d almost died filled him with a fresh terror. He’d been so careless—he was an Eye, not a Hand. It was Jai’s duty to handle physical altercations, not his.

He was lucky to be alive.

“I’m sorry…” Dekher hung his head. “I didn’t think…”

Jai gripped his shoulder. “You did your duty. Still, I urge you to be more cautious, Dekher. Next time I might not be so quick.” Jai let the words hang in the air for a moment, and turned to walk away. “Now come… we’ll need to make a report.”

“Of course...” Dekher agreed. “And… Jai?”

Jai’s dim outline paused.

“Thank you.”

Though he’d never seen his partner’s face, Dekher liked to imagine it held a reassuring smile.