Carer might play the part of an obedient fool, marching without a care, but I see beyond that facade. I know the meetings he held, the favors collected, and the things he whispers. It stinks of the West’ machinations, and Angan knows it as well. It was why we went away and made as one of the dead; to lie in wait behind enemy lines. Intelligence, research, and sabotage were to be the mainstay of our closed group. And yet, we were betrayed, as my sister came with Carer in tow. So we had to play the part of believers, with Angan as our hidden prophet. That was almost 200 years ago.

And now is the time. Angan has delivered a human girl with nothing special about her. That’s what I believed at first until I dug deeper. Beyond sinew and flesh, of mundane bones and the soul within, was a fragment of the old gods. The chunk was larger than the girl’s head, and yet until the very last moment, it was no clearer to me than my sister’s mind. But trying to pry it loose from the soul proved … difficult.

“Is something wrong, Onlander?” One of Oso’s assistant called out to her with her codename. “The meeting with Angan’s brother is not due for another ten minutes. I’d tell you to prepare yourself. He is a very difficult one to meet with.”

“And you know this how, Kinsand?” I asked with as much humor I could muster. “Were you intimate with the ghost herder?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Kinsand slid aside his eyepatch to reveal a wriggling ball of spirit-flesh. “The stubbornness of his minions has to come from somewhere.”

“Interesting,” I noted, making a plan to extract Kinsand’s glowing tumor for research. “But no, I’m not concerned too much about him. Reputation is a double-edged sword. What weaknesses are obscured makes ways to blind one from other obvious paths to defeat. Of course, the ways of the homeland are hard to shake off even out here.”

“We would not have to remain for so long if the proper steps had been taken,” Kinsand said what I hadn’t already known ages ago. “I still don’t understand why Angan let your sister in with that spy.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” I nodded, reminding myself to hurt Kinsand a bit more this time around. "Sometimes, I think we’re not here for the good of the East, but Angan’s personal ambitions.”

The guards by the door perked at my words but made no movements. Stupid tree golems. No mind to turn traitor, no will to resist, and with the strength of a wyvern each. Not to mention being walking reminders of Angan’s paranoia. I reached out to get a waylaid pen on my table and felt it as I brought it close. The firmness was pleasant and I put more pressure on it. No change occurred. I then shifted my fingers and snapped it with little effort. The gesture was looked on by Kinsand with not much change in expression. I smiled.

“Have our human guest prepared for an examination, please? I want to try something.”

I remembered a scream. Piercing, deathly, and most of all, familiar. It was like an animal’s cry of death, with how desperate and how lonely it sounded. Then I looked inside and saw a mirror. On it, I saw a man with a gruesome expression. It was loss and anger twisted into a messy knot. He beat the ground with bloodied hands before raising them towards heaven. His mouth swung open and that scream came forth. Relentless and without pause, it poured. For fear, I turned away and ran for seconds that felt like years.

But as soon as I stopped and took a look to confirm my escape, another mirror was in my sight. In it, yet again, was a man. This one had bloodied lips, while a hand of his had plunged deep into his chest. He seemed to take notice of me and turned, giving a frontal show with a heart clasped in a tight grip. Of broken ribs and pouring blood, he paid them no heed, serving only to remind him to squeeze harder. With every beat, I felt my own heart constrict. He mocked me with an outstretched tongue, only to find his head twisted around and made to face the sky.

The sky. I pondered the word as I beheld my surroundings. Falling but steady, nothing to divide above and below. But mirrors were constant, whichever way I see and whatever direction I take. In them is that same man, always tortured, by his own hand or others. In this madness, in this confusion, I saw a glimpse of hope. As I passed, a mirror reflected nothing in it. No man or anything, nor my own reflection, whatever I am.

But the man saw it as well, and he was not amused. He crashed, again and again, mirror after mirror, trying with maddening vigor to get in my way. I dashed in light of this threat, running away from every reflective surface in sight. When the mirror was at arm’s length, the man’s screams had turned to howls of pure rage. I braced myself for the impact … only to find it never came. Something soft and cool enveloped me, feelings that soothed the anxiety within. I turned to face where I came, to see the man watching me with a forlorn expression. He brought his hands to his face and sobbed, to which I felt like doing the same. As I did, an intense pain came from everywhere at once. My hands gripped my face in a death vice as I screamed and screamed.

A flash of memory and revelation passed into my mind. It broke me, and yet I found myself wanting to say a single name. A declaration of who I am.

“I am ... Hosea Zai.”

“ ” ” This is the place. ” ” ” The ghosts announced, after which I gave them their freedom back. With triumphant screeches, the lousy parasites flew off to find a new haunt. I chuckled as their kin twisted themselves in envy. Their leashes were very much present and bound to yours truly. I waved one of the ghosts over to check on something of mine.

Reflected on polished, spectral bones was the visage of a very handsome man. Deep-set eyes of pure obsidian. Sharp cheekbones and a jaw you can trust. My hair presented itself as an unwieldy raven’s nest of black hair. Familial heritage, for which I thank my mother for that. With a sigh, I bring out a comb and my trusty hair-gel, made from the purest white slime and unicorn tears.

“I hate forests,” I announced to the world. “The air gets too wet around these southern parts, and yet it’s also too dry. There’s also monsters with no manners and a sister with no tact.” I directed that last part to a hideous cave, hidden with moss and other detritus. How she stays sane living under the dirt with no style is beyond me. I noted, writing my thoughts on a random ghost’s skull. I wonder what she’s going to show me in her dark and damp pit. I’m expecting something good since I arranged everything in the first place. Waiting things out is so not my thing.

“I need some company. Pleasant ones.” I looked at the ghosts and sighed at their inherent ugliness. “What do you think, Bonker?”

The question, of course, was for my staff. By shape, it resembled more like a lengthened club. The larger tip was blacker, composed of a solid mass of wood impregnated with steel. I haven’t had much need to use it as a proper weapon, but a few unlucky fools did get quite the “bonk”, hence the name. It’s needed for something else now, though, as I gathered a bit of power into my hands. My leashed pets squawked and struggled against their chains. An appropriate response, as I began to force them onto Bonker’s tip. My staff responded to this new meal by squirming and shifting, prompting me to plant it on the ground.

Once I used up all the ghosts, Bonker was positively livid, with awesome power coursing inside it. I woke up another pair of my arms to help me prepare a spell. With the intent “to create”, the desire “to have fun”, and the preference of a female company, I executed the magic. My staff responded almost immediately, latching roots to steady itself in its transformation. The changes were small at first: hard bark to smooth skin, blood instead of sap, and limbs where there were none. Then it gets more interesting, with Bonker turning more of a Stunner. Satisfied, I had it turn back-and-forth from female to male as an amusement.

“It never ceases to me how amazing I am,” I said as I waved Stunner over. It walked a few steps before dropping down and turning into a long mink. It scurried up my perfect naked form and wrapped itself around my neck. I petted it and started walking to the cave.

"Angan, you better surprise me with something good," I said in a sing-song voice. "Or Riil will make your nightmares real. Ha! Good one me."

The construction of the device, as ordered by Angan, remains tenuous at best. The lead researcher, Onlander, is trying to glean insight into soul manipulation. To do so, she used a human subject procured during an intrusion. Separating "the soul" was a trivial matter. The true challenge was how to process it into something useful.

Angan was … displeased. She and Onlander had a shouting match, to put it lightly. This almost ended up with everyone getting killed by the guards. I considered desertion right then and there, but I still have a reason to stick around.

Whether that reason stays the same as time passes, no one knows.

For now, though, I have an experiment to take part in. The conclusion of the Submer phase is at hand, and I wouldn’t want to miss it for anything in the world.