It was the morning of the next day, and as Carrion returned from his work trying to suss out the mole in their operation, he walked into the observation room. Argo was suited up in a containment suit and sat inside the chamber with Andromeda. Inside was also Ferdinand, and they finished their business inside and then left through the containment doors.

“Hows the progress?” Carrion asked

“No major response. Even physical contact does nothing.” Ferdinand said.

“You say “Major”?” Carrion said.

“Yes…” Ferdinand said as he and Carrion walked to the glass to look over her. “Argo Lander claims to hear he saying those names under her breath on the occasion. I haven’t heard it myself, but have no reason to distrust him.”

“What is the significance of those…” Carrion stumbled over his own words, “Did you say names?”

“Yes, as you know. White is the name I have given Andromeda in her place as Arch Mage. But it seems in the course of being affected by Rapture, a being with the same name has established itself in her mind.” Ferdinand said, and he quickly continued as soon as he saw the slowly rising shock on Carrion’s face.

“It’s not as it sounds. This being with the name of White as well as the second being with the name Whisper seem to be benevolent, and Andromeda is very protective of them. It is best that we not interfere with that. I have no reason to believe they are a harm to her”

Carrion returned his attention to the glass and suddenly he was thrown back to the night before. He had almost resigned his thoughts to the idea he had hallucinated it. In all the years he spent protecting this land, and through all the countless feats of mystical ability he could claim to know, that was by far and away the most confusing, and deeply disturbing, moment of his life.

“Sir, may I ask a question?” Carrion said.

“You may, but I may not be able to answer.” Ferdinand said.

“Before, when the mana was going out of control. Something happened…” Carrion said, he was unsure how to continue. The silver glow that enveloped his whole being was a distant, and cold memory. Not unpleasant, but something about his very being seemed to be changed by the moment. Ferdinand did not look at him, and instead seemed to stare into the middle distance, past the walls of the building and at the unseen horizon. He shook his head and whispered under his breath “Will it end?”

“This is a conversation I do not have the right to speak with you about. Only High Magister Crowley can, and if he has not told you about it, that remains his decision alone.” Ferdinand said. Carrion recalled Elias’ story of Andromeda, how reality itself was torn apart as she was cloaked in silver. If what he experienced was anything close to that…

“Of course sir, I am sorry for bothering you about it.” Carrion said.

“Hmm?“ Alice said, she had been sitting quietly in the corner of the room till now, and only now seemed to react to something.

“What is it, Lady Magrisal?” Carrion asked.

“Do you feel that? It feels, well, I can’t certainly say what it feels like.” She said, then Argo stepped forward with a similar look of confusion on his face.

“You feel that too? I thought I was just imagining things.”

“What? Please, this is important, try to describe what you’re feeling.” Carrion commanded.

“Its… I can’t… I feel, well, drained.” Argo stammered. Then an alarm sounded in the room, and through the glass all those who could see her Watched as Andromeda jerked violently. As if startled from a deep sleep. Carrion and Ferdinand rush for the door to the containment room, but then through the glass they hear a sound equal parts confusing and concerning. The sound of tears, and laughter.

When they looked through the glass, Andromeda was sitting up. The swirling vortex of colors that made body had slowed considerably, and she was smiling.

Andromeda feels her mind come back to her at once, as a rush of feelings and emotions overwhelm her being, the wasting existence she felt just a moment ago washed away in a torrent of warmth, before she could even ask. She felt tears of joy fall down her cheeks, and she laughed with happiness.

“White? Whisper?” She said through the tears and laughter.

She felt the waves of joy and relief radiate through her being, before she heard two voices that she knew in her heart, but also felt different, lighter.

“Are you alright? Did anything happen?” A voice that could only be White said. How Andromeda knew in that moment, she couldn’t say, but there was not a doubt in her mind that was the case.

“I’m alright, I just think I was out of it.” Andromeda said.

“Are you sure? We’ll know if you’re telling us the truth.” Another voice that Andromeda felt in her heart said, knowing it was Whisper.

“I am, I’m just happy you two are back. If the memories you two have are anything to go by, it was something.” Andromeda said, then she felt the jolt of them both recalling what happened ago.

“We were in this void, and this thing called-” White started.

“The Voice of Archerops told us were-” Whisper continued.

“Parasites. I told that stupid jerk to shove it and-”

“then she pulled me aside, and called me her sister.”

“Which she is, I told that thing that I wouldn’t leave her, and I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

“Then I felt a heat in my heart and-”

“A bright light overwhelmed us!”

“I felt so at peace in that moment,”

“I felt so free.”

“Then-” White Said.

“Then-” Whisper said.

Andromeda smiled

“You became sisters.” Andromeda finished.

“Yes!” They both said in unison, a feeling of pure joy washed over her. Stronger than she had ever felt in her entire life. A feeling of warmth, and love, and happiness.

Andromeda wanted to enjoy the moment a little more, but the little part of her mind that made her paranoid brought her attention forward. She couldn’t see, or hear. Only feel, taste, and smell. The warm happiness slowly fell away and White and Whisper realized the same thing. But not entirely.

"We’re in some kind of interrogation room." White said. Andromeda strained her eyes to try and see through the black, but she couldn’t see anything at all.

“What makes you say that?” Andromeda asked.

“There’s double sided glass, a steel lamp, and nothing besides a table and a few chairs.”

Whisper then flooded their senses with a feeling of alert, “Guys, I heard something, it sounds like doors opening.”

Once again, she tried, but Andromeda couldn’t sense what they had. She just had to trust them.

"The doors opening… Its, huh, oh Ferdinand is here too." White said.

“Here too?” Andromeda asked.

“Yeah… The other guy looks like a fox.”

Orden's footsteps echoed through the dense undergrowth as he ventured deeper into the heart of the foreboding forest. The towering trees stood like ancient sentinels, their gnarled branches reaching towards the stormy skies above, casting long, skeletal shadows upon the forest floor. The air was heavy with an eerie silence, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional creaking of the ancient trunks.

A sense of dread gnawed at the primal element of his mind, making his every nerve tingle with unease. His heart pounded like a war drum, echoing the primordial fear that coursed through his veins. The forest seemed to tighten its grip on him, its oppressive presence suffocating his senses. It almost seemed as though there was an ungodly heartbeat radiating through it.

After what felt like an eternity of winding paths and twisted roots, Orden's eyes widened with a mix of horror and stomach-turning dread as he stumbled upon a clearing. It appeared to have been transformed into a nightmarish fusion of flesh and vegetation. The ground, once covered in soft moss and hardy stormgrass, now writhed with pulsating tendrils of sinew and sinuous vines. A putrid stench assaulted Orden's nostrils, a nauseating blend of decay and sickly sweetness that threatened to overwhelm his senses.

In the middle of the morbid perversion of life that this space had become, sat the equally twisted figure he was sent here to bring back. Her eyes were as red as fresh blood, and her ghostly complexion and hair were splattered with the remains of her experiments. The very seat below her pulsed with ghastly regularity.

Every instinct, no, something deeper, the very most core part of Orden's mortal soul screamed for him to leave. But he did not move. The foolish, heart-stolen part of him would not relent.

"Valotia, you are ordered to return. If you do so quickly, you may be forgiven, but if you resist this order, I will personally drag your corpse back with me." His threat gave him a small bit of strength, enough to calm his shattered nerves.

Valotia stood from her throne of flesh and waved her hand gently. The seat faded away into nothing but a faint spark of purple light. The smile that crossed her face was all he needed to know that his words didn't matter to her.

"Oh, Orden, I must apologize. I never knew how intoxicating the touch of magic might be. How the world itself bends at my finger, and curves at my touch. Why would I do anything less than I wish?"

"Because it is an order," he retorted. "You know what is at stake in refusing this. The hell you would invite on yourself and your people would be immense."

"I am beyond the petty blood feud of Mage or Medea. Let all of you burn for all I care. Whatever you suggest you are capable of, I am sure I am above it."

“I will ask only one more time. Come quietly,” Orden said, his rationality slipping away as he watched in horror as the macabre scene bit at his senses.

Valotia’s expression only grew more demented. “Do you think I am unaware of what you are capable of? Just like all mages, all their eggs in one basket. What’re you going to do, make a ward and fail to trap me?” Valotia mocked.

Orden breathed deep, ignoring the sickening smell of iron and blood that filled his nostrils, and focused his mind. The ground beneath them shook, the heartbeat that echoed through the twisted branches of the forest halted. The rain stopped, the wind stopped, every blade of grass and every leaf on every tree ceased their movement. For a single moment, the world was put into a standstill.

Then, with thunderous cacophony, the ground underneath their feet was blasted away, revealing an intricate blue circle of light below. Before Valotia could react, the entire clearing was thrust into the sky. A blue pillar of light, headed by the runic circle under their feet, rose and breached the clouds within moments, reaching far above into the thin air above the crust of the planet.

It stopped on a dime, and Valotia was sent hurtling into the sky above. Far above, another rune filled the sky, easily matching the size and scale of the pillar of light below them. Orden stopped off the edge of the pillar and let himself fall with gravity. The rune in the sky sent forth another pillar, crashing down on Valotia. The force of the pillars meeting together with her in the middle was so great that the storm clouds that rested below ebbed and bowed like a stormy sea. Orden dispelled the pillars and magically slowed himself while he fell to the ground. A mist of red fell past him, falling into the clouds below. After a minute of falling, he returned to the remains of the clearing he just destroyed.

Orden looked around at the red earth below him, but his heart was restless. He raised his hand once again, and a ward formed beneath his feet. Rising above the ground, he waited as the blanket of red particulate on the ground shuddered with otherworldly force. Orden observed as it slowly rippled and waved back toward the center of the clearing.

The word she had been using, ever since this power was given to her, was "Necromancy." In his studies, he had learned about the history of magic—an ancient technique, one of the first attempts by The Magi to try and heal. It was an art so ancient that it predated Medea. The theory was simple: living flesh could not be healed, that much was clear. So, what about dead flesh? To his surprise, it did seem to work, but not in the way anyone desired.

"Necro-" a word associated with death and the dead. "-mancy," the designation of magic as an art form.

The day the art was discovered, they also discovered the true scope of what it meant when a mage said "they could not heal." It didn't mean that the flesh couldn't be restored to its previous state.

The mass of red filling the clearing gathered in its entirety, gurgling with uncanny regularity. It rose slightly, initially forming a spike, but with more definition and form. Jagged shards of bone emerged from the emulsified sludge, followed by the skin, and then everything in between formed in the space below. For a few gruesome moments, the vague shape of a person sluggishly writhed on the ground, resembling a dead fish.

Necromancy was a banned technique, falling under the style of body, utilizing the Expliza and Criontil Reflex. The reason for its ban was the unfulfilled intent. The technique aimed to bring life back to dead flesh, but the result was far from the same. Although one could make blood pump, lungs breathe, and eyes see, they were not truly alive.

The hulking mass of flesh in front of him could no longer be called Valotia. Its face was twisted in a grotesque mockery of life, with a twisted smile resting on its lips, and poisonous words emanating from its throat.

"S-So... T-Try for two?" the twisted form spoke in the voice of a dead Medea. Then, with inhuman speed, its repulsive form rushed forward, moving from the edge of the clearing to right before him in an instant. Just as Orden thought his life might end, the scenery around him changed. He no longer stood in the middle of a bloodstained battlefield but found himself in a library.

Across from him was a young man named Grant, his hands gripping the edge of a sphere covered in runic etchings. A look of terror was clearly visible on his face. Orden then heard a sigh behind him and turned to see the gray-skinned face of the king.

"My lord... I couldn't..." Orden stumbled, feeling his body trembling beneath him.

"No, that thing was beyond your ability to bring back," the king said.

Grant released his grip on the sphere, and the glowing lines covering it faded away to nothing. "What do we do now, King Alderaus?" he asked.