As more and more shards of the sky above them crashed down and the sickly violet miasma slowly descended onto the forest, Iris started to connect the dots between it and the violet sect the inquisition had finally come in contact with when Maya killed the being called Eminence some time ago. Obviously, her first thought was that she herself was on the list of people they would seek revenge on, she had been present after all. However, if they were after a bystander like her, something must have happened to Maya and Cobalt already.

While Iris dashed to Anastacia and frantically tried to shake her awake, the lich calmly stared up at the rift appearing above them, occasionally whispering a word or two and causing some of the shards to shatter on impact with something invisible protecting the area directly around them.

“Your heart speaks in worried beats, necromancer, do you know of the cancer bleeding into our realm above us? The arcane wails at its presence, it repulses the very fabrics of this world.” It asked in a stoic tone that hinted about its true strength, as opposed to the tired whispers so far.

“I… I’m not sure, maybe. I think it might be related to something called the violet sect – people who used to be necromancers but are… something else now. We killed one of theirs recently, but I honestly know very little about them past that.” Iris explained as well as she could while desperately peering into the direction of the simulacra, hoping to see the light blue glimmer between the trees, rushing to her aid.

“The obsession with shades truly runs deep in your kind, that much has not changed. I remember talk of a war amongst them in my time, red against violet – unshackled hate against reckless progress. No word of the outcome, nor if one of them was the lesser evil.” The lich reminisced of the time it had still been alive.

Iris considered bringing her questionable ally up to date with Mournvalley, but it was more that likely that the lich wouldn’t have cared in the slightest, and they had more pressing matters to focus on. Namely, the violet gash in the sky that had started to look more like a wound than a crack as the thickening miasma corroded its edges and quickly thickened into more of a liquid state than the vile mist it had been. Drips of the disgustingly viscous ooze fell onto the pure white snow and spread a somehow stinging version of a scent that reminded Iris of old books in Mournvalley’s libraries. Looking back up at the darkness visible through the crack, though she could only see black, the necromancer could feel a keen gaze observing the situation on the ground with great interest.

In a moment as short as a blink of an eye, when both the lich and the necromancer were distracted by what they saw, two beings took form in the fringes of their vision and landed into the snow a few meters away after a brief fall from where they had appeared. The first one to recover from the slight tumble was an unusually tall elf-like man, almost seeming like a mix between an elf and some larger species. His skin was pale blue, not that different from a fresh cadaver, and contrasted by his empty, completely black eyes. Clad completely in an amazingly reflective quicksilvery armor, not much besides his face was visible and even that just barely. Even with the armor he was impossibly lanky, to a point where his limbs were thinner than most men’s arms without armor, and the polished breastplate barely left room for much more than a rib cage. Resting on his right shoulder was a sword, much like him, outrageously long and thin, and a torn and shredded violet cape hanged from his left shoulder. From his neck dangled a confirmation to Iris’ fears, an amulet in the shape of the violet sect’s emblem – the sight of which made a strange warmth swell within her.

A couple of steps behind him, now dusting snow off her violet robes, was a more reasonably proportioned foxfolk woman. The orange fur on her head and tail was weirdly off colored, only barely being orange instead of light grey, and much like her companion’s, her eyes were blackened. The robes, lack of armor outside of a light chest plate made from the same strange metal as the elf’s armor, the pair of tomes firmly strapped to her belt and the rusted metal staff she leaned on suggested her to be a mage of some kind. Just as her companion, she carried an amulet signaling her allegiance to the sect.

Though they gave off an eerie feeling Iris remembered from the night she had seen Eminence on, there was something amiss; neither of these people was, nor had ever been a necromancer. Not a hint of necromancy, twisted beyond recognition or not, clung onto them. If anything, their bodies blocked all necromancy from passing through them, which left them immune to it, but not undetectable like Emilia or Armaata – it was as if they were so foreign to the functions and powers of this realm that they were incompatible with necromancy. What was equally baffling to Iris was that both she and Anastacia were being completely ignored. Neither the elf or the fox had so much as glanced at them, instead immediately turning to the lich, who was similarly inspecting them from a few meters up in the air.

“Greetings, undead master.” The elf quickly addressed the lich and bowed deep before continuing. “Before you stands Fames the Third and a Halfth, the half-king of Nua-Muur, as well as Nihila, Speaker of Forbidden Knowledge. We have arrived to investigate a surge of arcane power in the area, might you know something about it?” His voice clashed badly with his looks, sounding warm and making his words honeyed with nothing but their tone.

“A million voices of the arcane scream in the void, urging me to destroy you where you stand, violet ones. You do not belong here, that much I do agree with. Return to where you were and leave this world to its suffering.” The lich said, seemingly uninterested in the visitors.

The elf bowed again. “If that is the case, we appreciate your reluctance to heed their word – but we have come here with a purpose and can not abandon it so lightly. On behalf of our sect, we have been sent to grant an offer to the one responsible for the aforementioned event.” He explained with courteous gestures. “You see, our masters have great plans for saving this world, but it is so chock-full of selfish evildoers who would oppose us, that we need the aid of those significant enough to help in what’s to come – significant like myself, Nihila… and you. In exchange, our considerable combined knowledge is yours to use in its full capacity. You may use it as you like, to cut yourself off from the clutches of time, this plane – perhaps a master of undeath like you could find a way to bring back those already lost!”

“Don’t trust them!” Iris couldn’t help but to exclaim, she feared greatly that the offer would entice the lich.

This prompted both of the clearly corrupted sect members to finally turn their gazes at the necromancers, but no expression of recognition could be found on either of them. They truly may not have known who they were speaking to, or more importantly, who was calmly sleeping in the snow right by them. Regardless, they were not happy about the interruption.

“Who?... What are you, a pesky whelp, to lay your word against ours? You know not a hint of what’s to come, what we are so desperately trying to delay! It is exactly worms like you who callously waste what little there is left!” The elf furiously claimed before catching himself getting so heated and recovering his poise. “You are irrelevant and it is in your interests to remain so. Consider this your first and final warning.”

“Grand claims, are they not?” The lich suddenly stated, likely to take the heat off Iris and make the pair focus on itself again. “A sign of one of two things: possession of truly unforeseen power and knowledge… or daft hubris masquerading as the forementioned. How to tell them apart? Only possible through consequences. Was the purpose of your grand entrance to convince me of such things? For what I see before me speaks for the latter. Peddlers of broken philosophy, bumbling fools promised a greater purpose but fail to understand the bargain they have taken and further offer to others.”

The half-king exhaled in recognition of the comment and glanced at the gash in the sky their arrival had created. “Yes… There are always two sides to any exchange, and to gain something, each and every one of us lost a great deal, there is no denying that. Yet, the duty is clear and it falls on us blessed with greatness. Duty to hinder each and every grain of sand that falls through the hourglass, to delay the predetermined end forced upon us by the fates. To prove it is not the lot of ours to simply fade into the night as ‘higher’ wills demand! Surely you understand that no riches or earthly power amounts to anything if we do not stay the end?”

The lich floated down, closer to the ground and began to slowly circle the two visitors trying to recruit it. The elven half-king remained fairly relaxed even trough his passionate attempts to convince the lich of the importance of their offer, but at the same time, the foxfolk by him kept watch on the undead sorcerer. Tightly clutching the metal staff, she was far more on edge, perhaps prepared to immediately counteract whatever magics the lich could throw at them. The corrupting presence caused by the pair was a mere feeling of discomfort compared to what it had felt to stand anywhere near Eminence, but even still, an occasional wisp of violet miasma cropped up around them, only to be incinerated by a spark of pale green flame.

“To taunt the ones who condemned us to this wretched world, a considerably more interesting prospect.” The lich stated, showing first signs of interest in what had been offered. “It is true that your twisted forms appear out of fate’s immediate grasp. Your mangled souls torn free from the accursed cycle, even more so than my own. If this is the doings of your masters, they do possess a degree of capability indeed. So tell me, pawn, who are your masters? Why should I offer my services for masked beings who only saw it fit to send their minions to speak to me?”

Likely as intended, his status below someone being pointed out repeatedly chipped away from Fames’ almost creepily pleasant expression. “The violet sect is ruled over by its last fiv- four remaining original members. The ones who first freed themselves from fate and learned of the coming end. Each of the four was once a necromancer of great might, but has seen their powers altered by the corrupting nature of the end they all witnessed and barely escaped – the end they know no one else should be forced to witness. However, unlike the necromancers remaining in this plane, they have not limited their scope and possess almost limitless knowledge of things no mortal was meant to know. Ancient magics, alchemy, mechanisms both divine and otherwise…” He briefly summarized the origins of the sect, and confirmed that Eminence indeed was no more. Much of this was already suspected by inquisitors, including Iris, but she still made sure she remembered each and every word. “Of the four, we serve under Lady Tekhelet, as would you. Our task is to search for knowledgeable individuals, who can not only help us in our righteous struggle, but whose knowledge Lady Tekhelet may inscribe within her Library of Forgotten. Secured there, the knowledge you once possessed will remain secured far past the time any mortal archives have crumbled to dust.”

“Much of what I know is better left as dust.” The lich whispered almost disdainfully at the idea of preserving his knowledge. “So let us assume that your masters are wise to the ways this world operates, its basest of functions. Wise to the fact that each wave that hits a rocky shore will erode it, just as each dying soul erodes to feed the deity it belongs to before returning to the cycle, just as each step taken slowly grinds the dirt below it – the finite nature of things. Creation from nothing is an impossibility, which leaves your masters but one way to extend the suffering of this dying world… Have you, the menials, inquired what that may be? What does the grand and righteous plan of your masters include?”

“Those are not worries that should weigh down the shoulders of anyone but the four.” Fames stated proudly, unwavering in his faith in the sect.

The lich halted its floating and for a moment stared into the woods where the necromancers had emerged before saying more. “End is but the one mercy left for us in this world, to delay it goes against my interests – but ultimately, I am indifferent to the fate of this miserable world and will not hinder you. So, return whenst you came, puppets, return to your master, while I still allow it.” It stated, very clearly as a threat.

Iris audibly exhaled in relief after hearing the lich decline the offer in the end. For the entire time she felt like she should have said something to further warn it about the sect, but not being recognized was a blessing in their current state and something she didn’t want to risk.

The elf briefly turned to his partner to share a look of understanding. “Those are not our orders, I’m afraid. Individuals sought out either join us… or perish, as they risk of becoming obstacles in the future. Does that change your answer, master lich?” He stated, slowly moving his feet into a better position and gripping his sword tighter.

“It does… Flee, flee to the safety of your master’s archive, flee while he still allows it.” The lich said, voicing out what sounded like the first ounces of joy he had expressed during the entire day. He then pointed into the forest.

Suddenly the most terrifying mechanical screech filled the wintery forest as the coagulated blood of the undead he had been keeping at bay flash boiled out of the gaps and crevices in King’s armor. For a while, the simulacra had been tracking Iris and Anastacia at a moderate pace, but witnessing the disgusting color of the rift in the sky had brought unforeseen haste into their steps, as both of them knew the implications violet had. For the first time ever, the sight of a simulacra brought relief to Iris, as it took mere seconds for King to crash into the elf by bringing down the edge of his shield at his opponent.

Fames only barely managed to move his sword onto the path of King’s blow, but it stood no chance of stopping it. However, the mysterious quicksilvery armor did not buckle under the incredible strength of the hit. While the elf got taken off his feet and sent tumbling into the snow, it did not injure him. The foxfolk mage reacted to the sudden appearance of a blood-soaked stone warrior by spinning her staff in the air a couple of times, hastily drawing some kind of a glyph in the air with its tip, but just as something was about to happen, the glyph was engulfed in pale green fire and broken as the lich whispered something in his usual manner. With his initial target stunned and grounded, King turned his burning gaze towards the next thing he could see: the lich.

“The lich isn’t with them!” Iris was quick to correctly predict that the knight would simply challenge anyone he did not recognize, and spoke out in the hopes that she was heard by the fuming construct.

“Make haste, old one, for there is no telling of their vile tricks.” The lich suggested and whispered another spell, this time locking the mage’s staff in place where it happened to be.

The mage tried to hurriedly tug and pull on the metal staff that was left stuck in the middle of the air, but wasn’t able to make it budge before having to dodge the first swing of King’s spear. By quickly casting some kind of a dampening force as her hands mirrored the spear’s movements, she was able to just barely avoid any subsequent swings, each one getting closer and closer. While this was happening, the elf had quietly gotten back on his feet and was seeking to use King’s focus on his partner to his advantage. Carefully staying out of the knight’s view, he moved behind King and raised the tip of his sword in the hopes of finding a gap in the stone armor. Just as he was about to make his move, a lump of snow flew from the nearby trees and hit King in the back, causing the knight to glance in Fames’ direction and for the tip of the sword to simply scrape across the surface of one of the stone plates. The light blue flare of King’s eyes no doubt sent chills down the elf’s back as he immediately abandoned the idea and backed away.

“What is this damned thing?!” Fames exclaimed, now also having to deal with King’s spear whenever the lich could chip in and keep the mage occupied. Though he was no slouch when it came to a fight either, and had far less trouble staying safe with skillful parries and movements than his partner. He even managed to reach King with the tip of his sword a couple of times, but the freshly changed plates of stone armor were in no risk of being broken by such a flimsy blade.

During the scuffle, however, the half-king’s eyes happened upon the pair of girls in the snow, the ones he had completely ignored as laughably irrelevant bystanders compared to the lich they had originally come to recruit. An unfortunate connection must have been made in his head as he realized that one of them had barked advice to the nightmarish machine they now had to contest with. “Nihila! Buy me a moment!” He requested from his partner.

Visibly annoyed but still completely silent, the mage tore off one of the tomes hanging from her belt, opened it and angled it to stop King’s next swing. A violet flash of light exploded from the pages as the edge of King’s spear magically welded itself into the paper and stopped. Hundreds of small glyphs erupted from the light and warded the spell against the lich’s intervention, only slowly being burned away by the pale green flames. King attempted to let go of the spear as well, but found his hand to be similarly stuck on it. The whole process was clearly taxing to the corrupted mage, as she had to grit her teeth and support the tome with trembling arms.

With King at least momentarily occupied, the elf removed himself from the situation and approached the necromancers with a cocky smile on his face, already congratulating himself for the realization. Though she was obviously outmatched, Iris could do little more than grab the enchanted mead knife from its scabbard on Anastacia’s belt and stand between the elf and her friend. Already raising his sword once more, with his smile twisting into a grin, Fames approached the inquisitor. Suddenly, his smile froze as the gaze of his empty eyes was met with a second pair of glowing light blue eyes suddenly appearing out of the trees.

“There’s a second one?!” The elf shrieked as Leggy stepped over the unconscious Anastacia, passing by Iris and taking the small knife from her in the process. He must have figured his chances were better against the smaller of the two simulacra, as he chose to thrust his long and thin blade directly at Leggy’s chest.

In one precise and beautifully fluid movement, Leggy moved out of the way, grasped the blade and began pressing the edge of the small knife into it while levering it from closer to the tip. Mysterious alloy or not, the enchanted knife proved harder and a good forty centimeters of the elf’s sword snapped off into the simulacra’s hand. Not wasting time gloating over Fames’ horror as the sword his masters had given him was broken, Leggy leaped forwards past her opponent, simultaneously jabbing the mead knife into the gap between armor plates in the back of the elf’s knee and throwing the broken off tip of the sword. In a blink of an eye, the piece of the sword flew across what must have been about ten meters and ended up embedded deep into the corrupted mage’s thigh.

Without so much as a whimper, the mage fell on her back in the snow and the spell she was casting dissipated. She was obviously in great deal of agony as dark violet puss oozed from the wound on her leg and she desperately dragged herself away from the knight.

The elf turned around in pain and panic over the complete collapse of his plan, only to see his partner struggling even more. “This is getting out of hand! Speak! NIHILA, SPEAK!” He grunted and kneeled in agony.

The mage stopped her struggle momentarily and looked at her partner, almost horrified at the command. Regardless, the approaching stone knight must have left her little in terms of options and she opened her mouth for the first time. Immediately, all sound vanished from the world around them. The lights on King’s armor and weapons flickered and died as he collapsed into the snow, soon to be followed by Leggy. For as far as Nihila’s voice carried, every pine and spruce quickly browned and lost its nettles, the birches and old oak trees shed their weakest branches in a desperate attempt to survive, moss dried and fell off rocks, wind no longer swayed the trees, snowflakes were frozen in the air and Iris fell on her knees. She had heard nothing as far as she could tell, but the complete silence made her feel violently ill and lose her strength. Even pushing her hands against her ears didn’t cause noise at first, but when the mage finally closed her mouth, her hearing began to come back very slowly. The lich fell into the snow as well, but seemed to remain animated, though greatly weakened as its own voice no longer echoed from the woods. Even the two sect members weren’t spared from whatever horrifying effects Nihila’s words had, the mage herself immediately began coughing up the same dark muck her wound oozed and Fames’ empty eyes as well as his nose began bleeding similarly. But even in his shaky and weak state, he was the only one who could stand up.

His first instinct must have been to use the chance to kill the one person he knew he could, and so Fames turned to Iris once more. He stumbled towards the inquisitor and winced as he lifted his broken sword to rest it against his shoulder. As he approached, the strange warmth within Iris grew into a great flame, and all of a sudden, her heart was filled with joy – though not the kind she preferred. Despite being on her knees before a member of the violet sect, she felt the joy a beast would as it had its prey cornered. The snow around her began to slowly melt as the heat radiated from her body and the elf lifted his sword. Iris had no idea what was going on or what was about to happen, but for some reason she was not worried in the slightest.

Yet all of this was put on halt as a dry but bellowing laughter echoed from the woods all around them, its voice was familiar but not one Iris would have expected to hear in such a revelous tone. Both she and the elf recognized it as the lich, and turned to see the undead sorcerer dragging its skeletal remains to a nearby stone so that it could rest against it. The laughter continued and only intensified every time Fames tried to ignore it and continue, until he no longer couldn’t.

“Pray tell, what is it that you find so hilarious at a moment such as this?” He asked, just as angry as curious. Intrigued and recognizing that the lich was about to become a threat once more, Fames gave up on what he was doing and shambled over to the corpse. “What could possibly be this humorous?!”

As the fire within Iris began to calm once more and her thoughts became more collected, she couldn’t help but to be just as puzzled by the utterly miserable lich suddenly finding something funny.

“You…” The lich whispered. “You allowed your soul to be broken by these masters of yours, to escape time and fate, to release you from their grasp… But fail to realize no such possibility exists. Sure, you may for a moment reside out of sight, but the moment you enter into this accursed world, fate will move its pieces to ruin your plans. It will search for suitable pawns of its own and place them where they are needed.” It explained with waning strength but a constant undertone of laughter. “What bottom of a barrel the fates must have reached, to bring together a broken lich, a god-tainted inquisitor, two crimes against nature from ancient times… and well… you will find out… as the sleeper awakens.”

“I’ve heard enough out of you. You were given your chance.” The elf sighed, annoyed at being mocked and not heeding what was being said. He wiped the vile violet blood seeping from his eyes onto the broken tip of his sword and unceremoniously jabbed it into the lich’s ribs. The corruption immediately began to take its toll and spread in the bones as the laughter grew more and more quiet, but never ceased. “I’ll handle the rest here. Get ready to move us back home.” He instructed the mage, who was still profusely vomiting blood onto the snow and in no condition to do anything else. “Okay, maybe take a moment first. This might-“ He was about to continue but fell silent as he turned back towards Iris and saw the groggy necromancer in a violet cloak get up behind the inquisitor.

Already in a bad mood thanks to the less than fresh feeling left by the ‘helpful’ tonic, Anastacia would have been ready to snap at anyone daring to speak to her. Waking up to see her friend on her knees and her precious simulacra laying in the snow while someone wearing the color and emblem of the violet sect loomed over them was enough for her to reach for one of the spears she had rather uncomfortably laid on.

“Who are you? That cloak-“ The elf managed to say before being hushed by Anastacia.

“No.” Anastacia simply stated as she threw her spear from only a few meters away. The mysterious metal the sect had access to may have been unnaturally durable, but that hardly mattered as the spear took it as well as the entire upper body of the half-king along with it. It crashed through a few trees on its upwards path and disappeared somewhere into the distance.

The lower half of the now quarter-king collapsed into the snow and began staining the snow violet with the rotten mess it bled. Anastacia kicked it a couple of times, expecting the opponent she didn’t even know to return just like Eminence had, but nothing seemed to happen.

“He wasn’t a necromancer, what’s up with that?” She asked from Iris and went to take a look at the second sect member, who seemed to only be barely alive after bleeding profusely for a while. “This one isn’t either.”

“They… they’re just minions.” Iris tried to explain as best as she could at that moment while trying to get back up on her feet. “Working for someone called Tekhelet.”

Thinking back, recruiting was something even Eminence mentioned and tried, and what happened to the baron of iron must have been something similar – but Anastacia wasn’t in the mood for thinking and would figure out things later. Instead, now that she had a name and sufficient anger in her, she glared up at the rift in the sky and considered throwing another spear into it to see what would happen.

“Hey, Tekhelet, you dumb shit! I killed your loser, come fight me yourself!” She yelled to mock the sect, partly actually hoping that one of the remaining members would come down, since obviously the warning she had given Eminence hadn’t made it to them before he was killed.

“Anna, please don’t…” Iris exhaustedly pleaded for her friend to not invoke the wrath of any more powerful corrupted beings. Much to her relief, the rift suddenly grew shut just as quickly as it had appeared. With it, the barely living mage collapsed into a fine mist that vanished into thin air, presumably as whoever had sent her down decided to rescue her – the lower half of Fames, however, remained in the snow.

With her threats heard, Anastacia sighed and collapsed into the snow by King. After waking up, she had been entirely powered by anger, and as it faded, so did her strength. She did her best to see what was wrong with the simulacra, but couldn’t find anything obvious. The core was still firmly in its place and everything she could see was still intact, so she didn’t really know what to do.

“Fret not, little one, your abominations will wake soon. They were touched by naught but vile knowledge, not corruption.” A weak whisper reached her ear from somewhere. When Anastacia turned around, she could see the lich resting against a stone, slowly moving its arm to get her attention. The violet mark on its chest, where Fames’ sword had punctured the fancy ritual armor had already started to spread. Violet veins wrapped around the bones and even up towards the veil-covered skull. Though she hadn’t seen the lich before, the signs of corruption the sect’s members spread were apparent to her after seeing it firsthand on simulacra and even on one of the copies of herself. “I have a request, one that you know would be but a mercy to fill…”