3.3.3

Content warnings: coercive religious institutions, emotional manipulation, strong themes of death and grief, possession, violence typical of fight scenes (detail below; skip if you prefer surprises)

• A character is possessed by an alternate version of herself. This is not mean to be an accurate depiction of DID (see disclaimer here).

~.~

When Joel had said “temple in the desert,” Dani had expected something more put together than the mess of crumbled stone around them. Featureless desert stretched out for miles and miles in every direction, and the ruins were so well hidden by the sand that without Karyme’s power, Dani would’ve walked right past them.

The harsh desert sun beat down on the trio as they investigated what remained of the temple. The ruins were roughly circular in shape, with a radius of maybe a hundred feet or so, but time had long since eroded away any other details. There was no sign of an entrance or a buried secret hatch or anything. Ilia knelt every few feet or so, waving her arm to and fro to pick up any gravitational pull from Mateen’s bracelet, and Karyme scanned the sand with her power, but nothing seemed to be working.

“Mateen’s not a very good guide,” Ilia grumbled. “I kinda wish we had Jinal’s bracelet to help out.”

“Your bracelet’s not reacting at all?” Dani asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s reacting,” Ilia admitted. “But it’s weak. I think it’s maybe pointing downward?”

“That’s actually pretty useful info,” Karyme replied, wiping the sweat from her brow. “My sight can’t cut through the sand, but I think we’re looking for something underground.”

“Great,” Ilia sighed. “Now what?”

Try teleporting.

Dani nearly jumped out of her skin, startled by the sound of Kai’s voice. She’d forgotten that Kai and Joel were watching.

Don’t I need a destination for that? Ilia said with a frown.

Normally you would, Kai agreed. But if you allow Mateen to guide you, you shouldn’t have any problems.

Shouldn’t, Ilia repeated. That’s reassuring.

“Eh, I think you should go for it,” Dani said nonchalantly. “Worst case scenario, we end up hitting a wall, and Kai has to fix our bloody noses or whatever.”

“Riiight.” Ilia gave Dani a strange look. “You sound like Peter.”

“Well that’s not a compliment,” Dani said dryly. “But seriously—it’ll be fine. Mateen’s crippling guilt will probably save us.”

“I… wouldn’t have phrased it that way,” Karyme said carefully, biting back a smile. “But you’re right. We just have to trust.”

“Fine, fine.” Ilia took a slow deep breath. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”

There was a rush of cold air, a flash of red—and then they were left standing in a gaping void. Scattered rivulets of sand sprinkled down from the ceiling every now and then. The arched sandstone bridge beneath their feet cut a straight line through the darkness, leading to a hulking stone structure in the distance.

It should’ve been impossible to see any detail beyond that, given how dark it was, but the space was infused with a sort of sepia glow, like the kind that was always present in flashback sequences in movies. The temple’s silhouette was shaped like a jagged popsicle bar, almost, with a rounded roof and a long staircase at the base. Each level of the three-tiered structure was held up by a row of columns flanking arched windows. Intricate blue and white carvings were etched all along the temple’s exterior.

“See? Everything turned out fine,” Dani said casually. Her voice echoed slightly through the void.

“I… guess it did.” Ilia frowned at her bracelet, now glowing a brighter red than before. “Immortal guilt for the win.”

Kai, what was this place? Karyme asked. I know you said it was a temple, but… what significance did it hold?

The official order of Karai had many branch sites, and this was one of them, Kai explained. For Mateen, this was the site closest to xis place of birth.

Cool story. We ready to go? Dani asked, her gaze locked on the temple looming ahead. One hand was wrapped around the pistol at her side as she scanned the area for threats.

“Yeah,” Ilia said with a resolute nod. “I’ll lead the way.”

As the trio traversed the path to the temple’s entrance, Ilia took point, holding her bracelet in front of her like a glowing red beacon. Dani made sure to keep Karyme close, just in case he had to throw up a sudden shield, but the walk was rather uneventful.

And then, as they crossed the temple’s threshold, there was a flash of red—and that same sepia glow spilled across the floor, revealing an open atrium of sorts.

Rows of stone columns supported the domed ceiling, each sculpted to depict a goddess engaged in various heroic acts. To the left and right, the space extended into a blinding white void—probably contiguous with the outside—and up ahead, the columns joined to form flowering arches, leading the way to the temple’s inner chambers.

“This is incredible,” Karyme breathed, eyes wide with awe. “The archaeological value of something like this—it’s like history come to life.”

That is exactly what it is, Kai said wryly. Based on what your friends in the Himalayas are currently experiencing, you’ll likely see the past play out in real time.

Oh, Karyme said quietly. I see.

How far back in time are we going? Dani probed.

I can’t say for sure, since Jinal’s soul fragment might be connected to older memories of this place, Kai said carefully. But Mateen’s journey started here around fifteen hundred years ago.

Fifteen hundred? Ilia squeaked. That’s—that’s so long ago!

Yeah, yeah, we’ve been over this, Joel said dismissively. Kai’s an old man. Moving on.

Careful, Joel, Karyme warned. Keep teasing Kai and that physics homework might get harder.

I would never do such a thing, Kai said, voice laden with faux solemnity.

Dani was about to call Kai out on his bullshit—but her thought process was cut short by the appearance of three translucent apparitions a short distance away.

Standing in the middle was a humanoid swirl of red and blue, and even from here, Dani recognized the ghost as Kai. He was dressed in simple robes, just like the other two, but his posture was more relaxed. A portion of his hair was whisked into a topknot encircled by an ornate metal band, and the rest fell down to his shoulder blades.

The second apparition, painted a deep crimson, was a young boy, maybe ten years old, with a clean-shaven head and a defiant glare. His head was bowed in mock deference, so it was hard to tell for certain, but he seemed to be maybe a centimeter taller than the third apparition: a ghostly woman tinted a soothing sky blue. Her dark braid, wrapped with glittering chain, reached just past her waist, and atop her head sat a small ornate tiara. A rectangular strip of jeweled gold ran down the middle of her scalp, ending in a circular pendant at her hairline, and studded earrings, shaped almost like bells, dangled from her ears. A thin chain connected a right-sided nose ring to a clip in her hair near the back of her head.

“That’s… Kai, Mateen, and… Jinal?” Dani asked, keeping his voice to a low whisper.

It was mostly a guess. The kid didn’t look a whole lot like adult Mateen, but the resemblance was there, and red was Mateen’s color. Jinal, on the other hand, was a complete shot in the dark, as Dani had only really seen her in Haku’s memories—and her hair had been far shorter then.

“I think so,” Karyme whispered in reply. “That’s what my powers say, anyway.”

“She’s beautiful,” Ilia breathed.

Isn’t she? Kai’s voice was wistful with a touch of grief. Back then, she rarely wore jewelry, as it was considered too materialistic for the Temple—but for formal occasions such as this one, she presented herself the way a figurehead ought to.

Occasions like this? Dani frowned. What does that mean?

As if on cue, the youngest apparition sank into a proper bow. Dani immediately recognized the gesture as one of malicious compliance. It was stiff, stilted, and it in no way masked the open disdain in his gaze.

“Rise,” Jinal said wearily. “There is no need for you to act in such a way.”

“Oh, really?” Mateen sneered, straightening up. “I just figured I ought to pretend to worship you like everyone else here does. But wait—I’m special, aren’t I? You wouldn’t have taken me from my parents and dragged me all the way out here otherwise.”

Kai opened his mouth to respond, but Jinal shushed him with a wave of her hand. For a second, she carefully surveyed the space, as if looking for eavesdroppers. Finding none, she turned back to Mateen with a grimace.

“I could not care less whether you believe what the temple has to offer,” Jinal said bluntly. “I brought you here to keep you safe.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Mateen said thinly. “Especially considering how you got me here.”

“I will admit that our methods were extreme,” Jinal said carefully. “But the situation at hand is urgent. If we were able to find you, then the god who wants you dead will find you just as easily, and as soon as he does, your life will be in danger.”

“And that justifies kidnapping me and threatening my parents?” Mateen pressed.

“No,” Jinal sighed. “It does not. The Council made that decision on their own despite my repeated objections.”

“Well, that’s just great!” Mateen snapped, arms crossed. “My parents are in danger because of you and your crazy followers. And—”

“You’ll be the one putting your parents in danger soon enough.”

Kai did not so much as look at Mateen as he flung the words into the air, and Dani immediately recognized this as the same kind of feigned indifference her mother used to employ to rile her up. Though Kai’s crossed arms and distant gaze exuded an aloof aura, the neutrality on his face was too manufactured to be real. In fact, his eyes were razor-sharp, betraying a sort of hypervigilance, and Dani could tell immediately that Kai’s words were actually carefully chosen barbs, meant to measure Mateen’s mettle.

Kai’s strategy worked exactly as intended. Mateen went rigid with shock, unable to summon more than a stuttered whimper in reply.

“Wh—what does that—”

“They’ll die.”

Kai’s gaze flicked to Mateen, the intensity in his eyes a sharp contrast to his icy tone, and the slight upward angle of his chin intentionally highlighted the sharp contour of his face, maximizing the intimidation factor. Poor Mateen didn’t stand a chance.

“Yaran will find you,” Kai continued, leaning closer to Mateen, “and then he will turn every single person you care about into a hostage, and you will be forced to watch as he tears apart everything you’ve ever considered home. Is that what you want?”

“Kai,” Jinal said sharply, grasping Kai’s shoulder. “That’s enough. He’s only ten.”

“And?” Kai turned to face Jinal, one eyebrow raised. “How many of us survived past fourteen years of age without losing everything?”

“That’s enough.” Jinal’s eyes flashed blue in warning, but Kai refused to back down. He stubbornly held eye contact with her, his conviction clear in the set of his jaw. For a few seconds, the two engaged in some sort of silent debate—and then, with an exasperated sigh, Jinal broke off the staring contest between them, though her disapproving frown indicated this matter was far from over.

“Mind your tone,” Jinal said wearily. “And save the ominous warnings for when he is fourteen. There is no need to scare him so deeply just yet.”

“I’m inclined to disagree,” Kai said coolly. “Fear is a wonderful motivator—isn’t it, Mateen?”

Kai turned his gaze back to the child, who was finally beginning to thaw. Slowly, Mateen’s mouth settled into a thin line, xis posture straightened, and when xe looked to Kai, it was with a determined glare.

“I’m not afraid,” Mateen insisted, a slight tremor to his voice. “It’s just—I don’t want my parents to get hurt. But I’m not afraid.”

“I take it that you wish to protect your parents from Yaran, then,” Kai said smoothly. “That bravery will serve you well, but it will not be enough. You need strength.”

“And you’re going to help me get stronger?” Mateen eyes narrowed. “This is just a trick. You need me to become your next prophet, and you’re trying to scare me into saying yes.”

“You’re so eager to question me,” Kai sighed, shaking his head. “Yet you didn’t question how I could possibly know the danger you pose to your parents. Where do you think I learned what Yaran is capable of, hm?”

Mateen opened his mouth to speak, but something about Kai’s stony expression silenced him. There was a weariness there, one befitting Kai’s age, and it shone through as he slowly sank to one knee, putting himself at eye-level with Mateen.

“I know what Yaran will do to you, because he did the same thing to me,” Kai said darkly. “He wanted to kill me, and he was not afraid to tear apart an entire kingdom to do it. Had I been strong enough to hold my own, things could have been different, but… I was forced to leave behind everyone and everything I held dear to keep them safe.”

“I’m… sorry,” Mateen said haltingly.

“Don’t be. What has happened cannot be changed. But…” Kai’s lips twisted into a wan smile. “We can still change what has yet to happen, no?”

“Can we really?” Mateen’s gaze fell to his hands. “If Yaran’s really that strong, is it even possible to keep my parents safe?”

“Yes.” Kai’s response was so quick, so sure, that Mateen snapped to attention, eyes wide with shock. “If you accept your position as Karai’s next prophet, I will do everything in my power to give you a better fate than mine. I swear it.”

As Kai spoke, he extended a hand towards Mateen, fingertips aflame. Mateen stared at Kai’s hand with a mix of fear and awe, too distracted to notice the fact that the older immortal was still watching him like a hawk, noting every minuscule reaction.

“I just… take your hand?” Mateen said hesitantly, gaze fixated on the verdant flame before him.

“Indeed.” Jinal jewelry clanked and jingled as she, too, knelt next to Mateen, her expression solemn. “As the two of you join hands, your power will awaken in full.”

Mateen gulped. Slowly, tentatively, he extended a hand towards Kai’s—then withdrew with a yelp as green sparks brushed against his fingers.

“I know it hurts,” Jinal said softly, giving Mateen’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “But if you can get past that initial shock, we’ll help you through the rest.”

“You won’t be alone,” Kai agreed. “We will always be there to catch you—but only if you’re willing to take the first step.”

“This will keep my parents safe,” Mateen said quietly, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He searched Kai’s face for confirmation, eyes shining with a sort of guarded hope. Kai’s expression softened just a touch.

“I swear it,” Kai promised. His eyes glinted green, his gaze intense enough to pierce Mateen’s soul. “I vow to keep you and your parents safe, no matter the cost.”

Each word was clearly enunciated, each syllable a ten-ton weight, and Mateen’s eyes widened at the force of Kai’s resolve. At Dani’s side, Ilia inhaled sharply.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Kai, when Mateen killed you, his last words—”

They referenced this moment, yes, Kai said evenly. I vowed to keep Mateen safe—but in the end, that was a cheap set of words, and nothing more. I failed him.

“Uh, didn’t he kill you?” Dani said with a frown.

Yes, Kai admitted. But only after he made a deal with Yaran. And Yaran only reached his heart due to my negligence.

Dani was about to point out how stupid that line of reasoning was, but movement from the trio of ghosts caught her attention. Young Mateen had finished steeling himself for what was to come. He took one last deep breath to calm his nerves—and then, with eyes squeezed shut, he grasped Kai’s hand.

Without warning, a blaze of red leapt outwards from their interlocked fingers, funneling straight into Mateen’s chest. Mateen recoiled with a pained cry—but this was only the beginning. This initial spark fueled an even larger burst of red and black from Mateen’s core, and as the flames grew ever brighter, the boy curled inward, clutching Kai’s hand tightly enough to cut off the circulation to his fingers.

To Kai’s credit, he didn’t so much as flinch, even as rivulets of red flame enveloped his upper body, searing every inch of exposed skin. Kai simply endured Mateen’s flames with a serene smile, siphoning some of the excess light away while Jinal quietly coached Mateen through the process of reigning in xis power. Just as Mateen got a handle on his aura, the trio of apparitions faded away.

“Shit,” Dani breathed. “What the hell was that?”

“A… first awakening?” Ilia guessed.

Dani’s blank stare must have conveyed his confusion, because Karyme began to elaborate.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Karyme said, turning to Ilia, “But from what I can gather, Yaran’s curse sets in through a two-step process. First, a strong emotion of some kind kicks off the whole process, unlocking almost everything. The second step is usually a reaction to a fatal wound, and that unlocks future sight, immortality, and a soul splinter.”

“That’s basically it,” Ilia said with a nod. “My first awakening didn’t look like this, but—”

That was by design, Kai interjected. After a first awakening, Karai’s power takes time to set in. By the time you came along, we had learned how to force Karai’s power to settle into your body at a gradual pace—but without intervention, Karai’s power usually manifests in a series of sporadic bursts, with a high potential for injury.

That seems stupidly inefficient, Dani remarked. Almost like Karai wanted the curse to be as big of a pain in the ass as possible.

It certainly feels that way at times, Kai agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. And that made it all the more important for us to support each other. Every child with Yaran’s curse was assigned a mentor, and to mark the start of this bond, it was custom for the mentor to complete the apprentice’s first awakening in one fell swoop. This involved drawing all of the apprentice’s power to the forefront, then helping them navigate the fallout—as you just saw.

And then the apprentice isn’t as likely to become a danger to themself in the aftermath, Karyme finished. I… guess that makes sense.

It still seems stupid, Dani muttered. But whatever. Where are we going, Ilia?

This way.

Ilia led the trio to the right, away from the entrance to the inner chambers. As they traversed the atrium, the blinding white light of the surrounding void seemed to fade a little, revealing more of the space ahead. It seemed almost like the atrium extended an infinite distance in front of them—like someone had copied and pasted the same set of columns over and over—and sure enough, when Dani looked over his shoulder, the entrance had been enveloped by that same sepia light.

“So our entrance just disappeared,” Dani noted.

“That… does seem to be the case,” Karyme said mildly. “I think—that's not necessarily a bad thing. From what I can tell, we’ve just crossed into this sort of… liminal space? So we’re a little removed from the physical remains of the temple.”

“Like we’re walking through Mateen’s memories?” Ilia ventured.

“I think so,” Karyme said with a shrug. “Which makes me wonder what’ll happen when we find Mateen’s soul fragment, buuut—”

“That’s a problem for later,” Dani interrupted. “Look over there.”

Another ghost had appeared a few feet away—a teenage Mateen, with that same red hue. Xe was crossing through the atrium at a pretty fast pace, shooting furtive glances all around, cloak pulled tightly around him.

“Huh. I never would’ve pegged Mateen as the type to sneak out,” Ilia said, raising an eyebrow.

“Xe’s not very good at it, clearly,” Dani said dryly. “The first rule of committing a crime is to look natural while doing it.”

As if to prove her point, a translucent red Kai materialized, leaning against a nearby column. His dark cloak and hooded cowl helped him blend in with the shadows, to the point that Mateen didn’t even notice him—but as the teenager darted by, Kai announced his presence.

“You’re going to need a better plan than that.”

Mateen stiffened. For a split second, he was frozen with shock—but then he whirled around to face Kai, a retort already on his tongue. Kai didn’t even let him get the words out.

“I’m not here to stop you,” Kai said bluntly, arms crossed. “I’ve no interest in being a hypocrite.”

“What does that mean?” Mateen scowled.

“I did something similar when I was… much older than this, actually,” Kai said dryly. He leaned his head back, eyes closed. “I saved my brother from certain death, though I knew it would single-handedly changed the course of history for an entire empire. So no, I will not be stopping you.”

“Oh.” Mateen’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Then why are you here?”

“Is it a crime to visit the branch temples every now and then?” Kai said coyly, eyes sparkling with mischief. Mateen’s expression changed to one of exasperation. Before Mateen could complain, Kai tossed something to Mateen—and as xe held the small crystal up to the light to examine it, a frown crossed xis face. Mateen turned to Kai, question already on his lips, but Kai cut him off.

“They’re on the third floor, aren’t they? That’s too high to climb, even for you,” Kai said calmly. “And if you teleport or levitate, the temple will trace the power usage back to you.”

“But if I use this,” Mateen said slowly, “they could trace it back to you.”

“Tertiary powers are harder to track,” Kai said with a shrug. “So as long as you don’t create a cyclone out in the open, I’ll be fine.”

“But they could still find out,” Mateen insisted. “This is a huge risk for you.”

“And one I don’t mind taking,” Kai said smoothly. His gaze seemed to pierce deep into Mateen’s soul. “I promised I’d keep you safe, remember? So that’s what I’m doing.”

Mateen’s eyes widened in surprise. He stepped forward, halfway through voicing an objection, but Kai was faster.

“Mateen.” Kai’s voice was kind yet firm. “Go heal your parents. On the off chance that the temple traces this back to me, I’ll deal with it, okay?”

“I—” Mateen’s fingers curled into a fist around the crystal. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good luck.” Kai kicked off from the wall and turned to walk away. As he adjusted the cowl to cover his face once again, he paused. “Oh, right—I have one last piece of advice.”

“Advice?” Mateen cocked his head to the side. “About how to break into the hospital?”

“No.” Kai’s voice took an ominous tack. His back was to Mateen, so the young man couldn’t see Kai’s face. “Your parents—you will outlive them. It does not have to be now, but at some point you will have to let them go. Just… prepare yourself for that inevitability.”

Mateen went rigid. By the time he regained his composure, Kai’s ghost had already disappeared. With a determined scowl, Mateen turned his gaze to his fist, curled around a glowing green crystal.

“I’m coming,” he whispered. “Just wait for me, okay?”

And then Mateen’s ghost, too, faded away.

Good lord, Kai, Dani muttered. You really liked scaring the shit out of him, huh.

It’s his one-armed hallway cryptid energy, Joel said sagely.

One-armed hallway… what? Karyme said with a frown.

Oh, you know. The whole “I’m going to be all mystical and drop vague advice that is somehow useful but also unnecessarily dramatic,” Joel said lightly, as if the answer was obvious to begin with.

That was… not my aim with you, Kai sighed. I was too tired to be coherent when we first met. But with Mateen, it was often necessary to get through his thick skull.

Looks like it worked pretty well, Ilia noted.

Dani couldn’t deny that—but something about it didn’t sit right with him. Maybe it was the fact that his parents had used the same fear tactics—and while they’d worked pretty well, they’d also left him feeling vulnerable and small in a way that was still painful to think about.

Sensing Dani’s discomfort, Karyme lightly nudged his shoulder, a warm smile on her face.

“C’mon,” she said gently. “That was just one snapshot. We’ve still got plenty more before we find the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow.”

Dani gave Karyme a half-smile in reply. She was right, of course. This was just one small look at Mateen and Kai’s relationship—and it kind of seemed like Kai had stuck his neck out for Mateen in a big way. As the trio began to walk once again, Dani couldn’t help but probe further into the story.

What was up with Mateen’s parents, anyway? Dani asked. Why all the secrecy?

They had been severely injured in the wake of an accident, Kai explained. Mateen snuck out to heal them—which violated the temple’s creed. We were meant to be neutral arbiters of fate, so showing bias like this was—

But that’s—those were his parents! Ilia protested. They wanted Mateen to let his parents die?

As Karai willed it, Kai replied, an edge of bitterness to his voice.

That’s… harsh, Karyme said grimly. I’m glad Mateen had you looking out for him.

I was simply doing my job as his mentor, Kai said dismissively.

Dani rolled her eyes. He decided not to point out the fact that most mentors wouldn’t have gone that far. Most parents wouldn’t have gone that far. To have someone willing to go to such lengths to protect xim—Dani couldn’t help but feel a little envious of Mateen.

“I still don’t get it. Why do I have to take on an apprentice?”

Mateen’s voice rang in the air as another trio of ghosts faded into being around a small rectangular flowerbed. Ven was perched atop the raised brick border, and Kai and Mateen sat on the floor in front of her, playing a game of chess. The game looked more evenly matched than Dani would’ve expected, just from numbers alone—though she really knew nothing about chess, so her judgment could’ve been totally off.

“It’s a time honored tradition,” Kai said calmly, capturing one of Mateen’s pieces. “Check.”

“But Ven didn’t have an apprentice!” Mateen argued, ignoring the game entirely. “Shouldn’t the next one go to him?”

“Nope!” Ven said cheerfully. “I’m the special exception!”

“Like hell you are,” Mateen grumbled, scowling up at Ven. “You’re just spoiled rotten because no one can say no to you.”

“Correct!” Ven said sweetly, batting her eyes. “Glad you understand.”

“I don’t particularly appreciate the implications of that,” Kai said with a frown. “But putting that aside, I have a reason for trusting you over Ven. See, Ven doesn’t even have the discipline required to—”

“Hey!” Ven shoved Kai’s shoulder. “That’s not—”

“—incorporate constructive criticism,” Kai continued, fully unbothered by Ven’s outburst. “Would you want a teacher like that?”

Ven’s lip pooched out into an indignant pout. Mateen bit back a smile.

“I see your point, I guess,” Mateen said carefully. “But… do you really think I’m ready for this?”

Mateen’s eyes shone with uncertainty. There was an unspoken message there—he didn’t feel ready to fill Kai’s shoes. Kai seemed to pick up on this, because his reply was resolute.

“I wouldn’t be asking you otherwise,” Kai said firmly. “You know more than you think.”

“Yeah!” Ven chirped. “Plus—you figured out how to use two swords at once even though Kai said it wasn’t possible, so—”

“I didn’t say that,” Kai grumbled. “It’s just impractical, and—”

“—I’m sure you’ll be a much cooler mentor than Kai!” Ven finished.

“Right.” This time, Mateen failed to suppress a smile. “That’s putting the bar on the ground, honestly, but I’ll do my best to walk over it.”

The warmth from the memory seemed to linger in the air even after the three ghosts faded away. The look on Ilia’s face was bittersweet as she came to a stop at the edge of the flowerbed—now little more than a barren patch of sand.

“What’s eatin’ ya?” Dani asked.

“It’s… nothing, really,” Ilia said slowly. “Just… thinking.”

“That much is obvious,” Dani replied, rolling her eyes. “I was asking what you’re thinking about—but if it’s too personal, that’s fine.”

Ilia paused for a few seconds, as if debating whether to speak—and then she shook her head. Dani and Karyme exchanged concerned glances as they followed Ilia’s lead through the endless forest of columns. Neither of them pressed the issue.

The next set of ghosts to greet them looked slightly different than the others. Mateen was tinted red, as per usual, and he wore the same robes as before—but the other apparition, a teenage girl, glowed a faint grayish lilac color. She was dressed in similar robes, and her stick-straight hair was tied back in a ponytail.

“Why’s she purple?” Dani asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m… not sure,” Karyme said with a frown. “Any thoughts, Kai?”

That was… Skye’s color, Kai said slowly. Mateen still carries the remnants of Skye’s soul, so perhaps—

Wait, Ilia cut in. Is that Skye?

Yes, Kai confirmed. Skye was Mateen’s apprentice—as you can see.

Skye bowed before Mateen, her movements dripping with uncertainty. Mateen’s expression morphed into a frown. He took a step forward as if to stop her, but his body language was just as hesitant as hers.

“You… don’t have to do that,” Mateen said carefully.

“R-right!” Skye straightened up, still skittish. “Sorry, master!”

“There’s no need for that, either,” Mateen sighed. “You may be my apprentice, but I don’t need you treating me with deference.”

“Oh! Um, okay. Cool.” Skye shot Mateen a nervous smile. “So. What are we doing today?”

“I… haven’t yet decided,” Mateen said slowly. “From what I understand, you don’t have powers yet, so I guess I’m just going to teach you to fight. Or something.”

“Or something?” Skye echoed. “You sound like you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Because I don’t,” Mateen grumbled in reply. “It makes no sense to me to train you before your powers settle—but Jinal insisted, so sure. Whatever.”

Mateen tossed a training spear to Skye. The girl fumbled to catch it for a second or two before allowing the weapon to hit the ground. Mateen sighed.

“All right. Maybe we do have something to work on,” he decided. “Your reflexes aren’t great.”

“H-hey!” Skye protested. “You didn’t warn me!”

“If I’d warned you, it wouldn’t have been a test of your reflexes.”

“That’s not f—ack!”

Skye was cut off by a translucent red disc flying straight towards her face. She barely ducked in time to avoid it.

“That was better,” Mateen noted, the corners of his mouth tugged upwards in a coy smile.

“What the—are you seriously just going to throw stuff at me all day?” Skye snapped.

“It’s working, isn’t it?” Mateen said casually. “Kai did a whole lot worse with me.”

“Great,” Skye groaned. “So glad one of us is having fun.”

“Fun, hm?” Mateen contemplated that one for a minute, a subtle frown on his face—and then, without warning, he chucked a shield in Skye’s direction. This time, Skye was prepared. Her fingers closed around the high-speed projectile inches from her face.

“Aha!” Skye said triumphantly, grinning at Mateen. “You thought you had me that time, but you can’t fool me three times.”

“Oh, really?” Mateen raised an eyebrow. “Let’s test that with a little game. If you can block ten of the twelve shots I fire, I’ll start teaching you to use a lance—and if you can’t, we’ll try again until you can. Deal?”

“Oh, you’re on.” Skye’s eyes glittered with determination. “I’m gonna get this in one go.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

As Mateen began to bombard Skye with projectiles of varying kinds, the pair faded away—but the last glowing frisbee flew right over Dani’s shoulder, bursting into a shower of sparks behind her. From the ashes rose a new apparition of Mateen, this time dressed in more casual attire. He was standing at the edge of one of the arched windows, leaning against the flanking column with a wistful expression.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

A translucent red Ven dropped down from the ceiling, inches from Mateen’s face. Mateen stumbled backwards with a startled yelp.

“Don’t scare me like that!” Mateen said indignantly.

“Sorry.” Ven shot Mateen an innocent smile. “So—what’s bothering ya?”

“It’s… nothing big,” Mateen said slowly. “Annnd if I lie, you’re just going to pry it out of me, aren’t you.”

“Yep!” Ven chirped. “I can already kinda guess what you’re thinking about based on your emotional vibes. It’s Skye, right?”

“Yeah,” Mateen admitted. “It is. Her first awakening—you know she’s been trying to get it to happen for years, and now that it’s happened—I feel like she deserves some sort of… something.”

“Oooo, like a congratulations gift!” Ven said, nodding sagely. “I see the vision. It’s a sweet gesture—but you’re totally stuck on what to get her, aren’t you.”

“Pain in the ass,” Mateen grumbled. “Are you going to keep teasing me, or do you have any bright ideas to offer?”

Ven grinned. “Wellll, I have one. Skye can’t teleport like we can, right? She doesn’t know how. And you know she’s wanted to travel the world for a while, so—”

“That’s… not a bad idea,” Mateen said slowly. From his face, it was clear that the gears in his head were already turning. “She’s never been to the beach, so… that might be nice.”

“Aw, how come you never take me to the beach?”

“Because you can teleport to the beach yourself! Honestly, Ven—”

The pair of ghosts faded away, still bickering about beaches and family trips. Dani couldn’t help but smile. It was becoming clear exactly how close Kai, Mateen, and Ven had been—which made it even weirder that Mateen had chosen to kill the two of them.

That was a can of worms Dani didn’t really want to touch.

Hey, Kai. How old was Skye when she hit her first awakening? Karyme asked.

Sixteen, Kai answered. Yaran’s relentless pursuit usually placed us in enough danger that our powers awoke much earlier, but for Skye… that was not the case.

As I thought. She was something of an exception, Karyme noted.

In more ways than one, Kai confirmed. For instance—

Kai’s answer was cut short by the appearance of another pair of ghosts in a shaded corner, maybe a hundred yards away. Ilia’s pace was quick as she led them in that direction—but the ghosts didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move.

A translucent red Mateen sat at a low table across from a ghostly red Kai, who was in the midst of transcribing something with quill and ink. A stack of empty pieces of parchment and vellum sat in the center of the table. Mateen had writing utensils of his own, but the blank scroll before him went untouched. Instead, he stared at the table with an unfocused gaze. For a few minutes, the two simply sat like that—and then, as Kai set his scroll aside to dry, he decided to intervene.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Kai’s voice was gentle, laced with concern, but Mateen still jolted upright, startled out of his reverie. Kai had to bite back a smile as he repeated his question.

“Talk about what?” Mateen’s voice was as tense as his posture. “I’m not sure I catch your meaning.”

“Something is distracting you,” Kai said patiently, plucking a sheet of empty parchment from the stack. “So much so that you have not even touched the quill in front of you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mateen said stiffly. Feigned calm bled across his face, belied by the skittish bounce of his knee. “Nothing is bothering me.”

“Mateen.” Kai narrowed his eyes in disapproval. “Do you take me for a fool? Do you really think, after a century of knowing you, that I cannot see right through you?”

Mateen’s gaze fell to the table. Kai let out an exasperated sigh.

“If you do not wish to speak about it, then simply say so,” Kai said coolly. He dipped his quill in the ink pot with a flourish. “My intent was not to force you to speak. But please do not insult me by lying to my face.”

“Sorry,” Mateen muttered. He began to pick at a stray thread in his robes. “There is something, but—it’s difficult to make sense of. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Perhaps talking it through will help,” Kai suggested. As he spoke, his quill left neat, curved strokes across the parchment in a script Dani didn’t quite recognize. “As far as I can tell, you have been carrying this concern of yours for quite some time. It couldn’t hurt to share the burden.”

“You’re probably right—as you always are.” Mateen exhaled slowly, steeling himself for the conversation ahead. “It’s about Skye.”

“Oh?” Kai raised an eyebrow. “It seemed to me that she was faring quite well. Is something the matter with her?”

“No, no, it’s just—” Mateen ducked his head in embarrassment. “I think I carry feelings for her.“

“Do you, now?” A sly smile crossed Kai’s face. “Never thought I’d see the day when you admitted to that.”

“What does that mean?” Mateen grumbled.

“You like to bury your feelings,” Kai said with a shrug. “Unfortunately for you, Ven has a highly effective shovel. She and Minerva had a running bet—and both of them thought it would take you a couple more years to come around.”

With a groan, Mateen covered xis face with both hands. Despite the red tint of his ghost, Dani could just make out a faint blush along the tips of xis ears. To Kai’s credit, he successfully bit back a laugh as he set his quill aside.

“So,” Kai prompted, leaning forward. “I am assuming the simple fact of having feelings is not what’s ailing you.”

“How astute of you,” Mateen grumbled, sinking further towards the ground. “It’s just—I initially thought what I felt for Skye was of the familial sort, borne from the natural love between master and apprentice. But that doesn’t feel quite right. And it isn’t anything like what I feel towards you, or Ven, or any of the others.”

“Well color me surprised,” Kai teased. “I almost wouldn’t know you care about us from the way you act.”

“Go to hell,” Mateen snapped.

“But I’m not Christian,” Kai said innocently. “They wouldn’t accept me, I fear.”

One withering look from Mateen was enough to shatter Kai’s air of faux solemnity. The older immortal burst into laughter—though the sound was as gentle as one would expect from Kai.

“You’re horrible,” Mateen said thinly. “And I’m already regretting telling you any of this.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kai said quickly, still smiling. “I’m done messing with you. Please continue.”

“We can pretend I believe you,” Mateen huffed, rolling his eyes. “In any case—I know that what I feel towards Skye is not platonic, and yet—I am not sure that my feelings go beyond that, either. Romance would be the natural next step, but I cannot imagine acting the way you and Jinal do.”

“To be fair, Jinal and I are a horrible example,” Kai noted. A bemused smile danced across his lips. “I have been told it is rather unusual to court someone for 73 years without marriage.”

“That’s… a good point,” Mateen admitted, wrinkling his nose. “For Karai’s sake—you are possibly the single worst person to ask for romance advice. I should have asked Minerva.”

“She would have teased you to the ends of the Earth,” Kai pointed out.

“And you haven’t?” Mateen said flatly.

“Guilty as charged!” Kai said pleasantly, a mischievous glint in his eye. Mateen threw his head back with a frustrated groan.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that,” Kai soothed. His expression shifted to one of contemplation. “I may not be an expert when it comes to love, but I do have some advice. Your feelings for Skye—it seems they do not fit neatly into one category, but perhaps this is not as vexing as you think. Have you tried talking to her?”

“No,” Mateen muttered. “I was thinking of waiting a century first—just like a certain someone I know.”

“That’s—” Kai frowned. “I thought I just told you not to learn from my example.”

“Then what should I do?” Mateen huffed.

“Ask Skye how she feels,” Kai said simply. “And then explain how you feel. If she reciprocates, then the two of you can define the kind of relationship you would like to have.”

So you don’t just give Joel a hard time, Dani noted, watching the apparitions fade away. You’ve always been like that.

There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun, is there? Kai said lightly.

Usually I’d agree with you, Joel replied. But you keep using your powers for evil. And math.

If you need help with your homework, I can take a look when I get back? Karyme offered.

It’s fine. Kai’s already soooo eager to help me, Joel muttered.

Dani and Karyme shared a laugh over that—but Ilia seemed too lost in thought to join in. Her expression had that same bittersweet character to it, and this time, Karyme couldn’t let it go.

“Ilia, is your bracelet leading anywhere in particular?” Karyme asked.

“Huh?” Ilia snapped to attention. “Oh, right. Um. This way.”

As the three of them began to walk once more, Karyme’s voice echoed in Dani’s head.

I’m using private telepathy here—excluding Kai and Joel, Karyme began. Because it’s clear something is bothering you, and I have a feeling it’s… strange to discuss around Kai. Am I right?

You’re… right on the money, Ilia admitted. I guess—it’s just weird to see moments like these. It’s all so…

Mundane? Karyme offered.

Yeah! That’s the word, Ilia said emphatically. It’s like—I guess it’s not the same for you guys, but when I was growing up, the Ennead—they were legends. And this—it’s so…

I get what you mean. Dani grimaced. It’s easy to be mad at the gods who ruined your life. It’s… a lot harder to see how human they are. And Haku’s trauma put some of it into perspective for me, but this—it’s different.

It’s more humanizing, Karyme agreed. It’s hard to relate to being burned alive and juggling the fate of the world in your hands—but these small moments are universal.

Dani swallowed. That was definitely true—but he had a nagging feeling that this was just the calm before the storm. There was a clear theme to these ghostly scenes—almost like Mateen was longing for a peace he could never get back—and based on Kai’s tone of voice when he’d mentioned coming to Kanem to learn about Skye, a tragedy was waiting at the end of their little temple run.

As if to prove Dani’s point, a flurry of ghosts suddenly filled the space around them, all tinted red and lilac. Hundreds of iterations of Mateen and Skye passed through the atrium in all directions, each pair a snapshot in time, and the joyful chatter was too much to process all at once, but Dani still caught snippets of dialogue here and there.

“Happy hundredth birthday, old man!”

“Why are we here?”

“Because it’s one of your favorite places. Close to home, right?”

And then across the way—

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Twenty-five years old, and my powers still haven’t fully awakened.”

“Just count yourself lucky that you’re not Yaran’s favorite new toy.”

Dani felt like she’d been splashed with cold water. She knew how this ended now—and she wasn’t the only one to make the connection.

“She never hit her second awakening,” Ilia realized. “Then that means—she never became immortal. So—”

“She died,” Dani said grimly. “And I bet she died young, since Mateen was pissed enough to kill Kai and Ven afterwards.”

“It gets worse than that,” Ilia said gloomily. “My future sight—it blurs around the Ennead and the Necromancer because of Yaran’s curse, but if Skye never hit her second awakening, she wouldn’t have been blurred that way, which means—they knew. All of them. And they…”

Ilia trailed off, unwilling to voice the accusation out loud. A heavy silence hung between them.

As you can see, Mateen was justified in his anger, Kai said quietly.

But—but why? Ilia said weakly. Why did you just—

There were no timelines in which Skye survived, Kai said dully. None that we could see, anyway. Mateen was able to prolong Skye’s life by a year or two, but it was unavoidable.

Dani swallowed. He understood, now, exactly why Mateen had gone off the deep end. To know his loved one was going to die, to spend years trying to save her, only to watch her walk straight to her doom—that would’ve broken anyone.

So we’re here to watch Skye die, Dani said bluntly. That’s what Mateen’s got in store for us.

Yes, Kai replied, an edge of weariness to his voice. I’m almost certain of it.

Then… what about Jinal? Ilia asked. Looking around—none of these ghosts are blue. And we haven’t seen her around at all, really.

I’m… still not sure what drew Jinal’s soul to this location, Kai admitted. But… given how scarce she has been so far, I believe her reason overlaps with Mateen’s, and she is being quiet out of respect.

Oh. I think I get it, Karyme said quietly. It’s like—if you’ve wronged someone, you don’t want to speak over them.

Annnnd we’re back to immortal guilt, Dani muttered. Awesome.

“Wait. Over there—I think that might be Jinal, right?” Karyme pointed out.

Dani followed Karyme’s line of sight, and sure enough, on the other side of a sea of red and lilac, he could faintly make out a flash of blue. The three exchanged glances—and then they took off running towards Jinal’s ghost.

Jinal was waiting for them at the foot of a long stone staircase, sitting on the edge of the bottom step. She fidgeted anxiously with her braid as she looked out over the atrium, a nervous glint in her eye. She had just finished re-braiding her hair for the third time when Skye faded into existence opposite her. It was the first time Skye’s ghost took a blue color—and the apprentice looked to be in her late twenties now. There was a spear strapped to her back and a water pail in her hand.

Jinal stood to greet Skye—and as soon as Skye laid eyes on Jinal, they hurriedly set the water pail down, settling into a bow.

“Stop that.” A frown crossed Jinal’s face as she waved off the overly formal gesture. “You need not treat me the way the regular disciples do.”

“R-right!” Skye straightened up. “Um, still—I appreciate you coming all this way to speak with me. I know you’re busy.”

“Skye…” Jinal’s frown deepened. “You’re acting like we haven’t known each other for well over a decade. What ails you?”

“It’s…” Skye averted her gaze. “It’s about six months from now.”

Jinal stiffened. It took her a few moments to recover her composure.

“I told him not to tell you,” she said quietly. “Because the knowledge would not help either of you.”

“I…” Skye averted their gaze. “I can see why. Mateen, he made it sound like there was a chance to change things, but he’s always been bull-headed so I-I need someone to give it to me straight.”

Skye’s voice fell to a tremulous whisper.

“Is there really no way for me to live?”

The silence seemed to stretch far too long. Jinal let out a slow exhale, shoulders tense from carrying the burden of bad news. When she finally spoke, the words were heavy, reluctant, as if the confession was being dragged from her lips.

“I do not see a way out, Skye. There is a possibility that your second awakening will save you, but the course of Yaran’s curse is something I have never been able to predict, especially with you.”

“Right.”

Skye tried to keep a brave face, but her tears were already flowing. Jinal cautiously guided Skye into a hug—and then she went rigid as Skye practically lunged into the gesture, digging her face into Jinal’s shoulder with a sob.

It was as if the ghosts of everyone Jinal had failed to save came back to haunt her in that single moment. Her whole body trembled with guilt as Skye continued to cry in her arms—and despite that, Jinal did her best to soothe Skye.

Dani let out an exasperated sigh. This particular brand of martyrdom—it was the same as Haku deciding to read all the timelines all on their own and Kai cooking breakfast with a broken foot. All these assholes were hellbent on pushing themselves to the limit to keep others afloat, and it was infuriating.

Hey, Kai, Dani said bluntly. Is your wife ever honest about her pain?

Only if no one else is hurting, Kai murmured.

No wonder she’s at her breaking point, then, Karyme said quietly. She must have experienced hundreds of losses like this one.

That… comes with the territory, Kai said grimly. But this loss was different. We all expected Skye to be immortal, as we were. We weren’t prepared to lose her so soon.

Dani bit back a retort. As a mafia rat, he’d been taught from a young age to embrace death—and to keep people at arms’ length, since they were all bound to die in a matter of years.

But being prepared never made the losses hurt less.

At the sound of Skye’s sniffling, Dani’s attention snapped back to the two ghosts. Skye seemed to be calming down enough to form words again, but her voice still held an edge of hysteria.

“S-sorry. I just—I can’t—”

“It’s okay to cry, Skye,” Jinal soothed.

“I-I know,” Skye hiccuped. “I just—it’s already h-hard enough for you without me acting like this. I don’t want to—”

“—intensify my guilt?” Jinal offered. Skye remained silent. “Fortunately, I am well accustomed to this sort of grief. Lean on me as much as you need.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Jinal said firmly. She pulled away from the hug, forcing Skye to look her directly in the eye. “You aren’t allowed to worry about me. I’m not the victim here.”

“...If you say so.”

The two apparitions burst into a shower of blue sparks—and at that, the hundreds of ghosts around them disappeared in an instant, leaving the space empty and bare. A suffocating silence settled over the atrium, punctuated only by the ticking of a clock in the distance.

And then the lights went out.

Shit! Ilia hissed. A royal blue flame flickered to life in her hand. That came out of nowhere!

In the faint light of Ilia’s flame, Dani could see that the sudden change in atmosphere had spooked both of her teammates—and rightfully so. The darkness seemed to press in from all sides, and the silence was unnerving.

It would take more than that to scare Dani.

Ilia, Dani said calmly. Any idea where we’re headed?

Um—yeah. Yeah. Up the stairs, Ilia said quickly. But—

A spear whizzed through the air, landing inches away from Karyme’s left foot. She stumbled back with a startled yelp. Dani was already forming a shield around the three of them.

The ticking clock seemed to reverberate in the darkness, inching ever closer.

Ilia, lead the way. Shield yourself if you can, Dani commanded. Karyme, stick with me.

R-right, Karyme said shakily.

Roger that.

Ilia’s speech was clipped short as she jogged up the stairs, a royal blue dome around her. Behind her, Dani kept a moving shield around Karyme and herself, though the effort left her head spinning. It was preferable to getting skewered by a barrage of arrow-shaped spears.

And then monsters started surging forth from the shadows.

Amorphous blobs of liquid darkness, about the size of a large dog, with venomous claws and teeth—but easily deflected by Dani’s shields. The real issue was carving a path through the veritable throng. Ilia disintegrated the nearest monsters with periodic bursts of royal blue flame, but it was like the crowd never really thinned out.

Where are these things coming from? Ilia grumbled.

I think… there are specific spawn points, Karyme said slowly. Like—Dani, watch out!

Dani snapped to attention just in time to notice a flash of purple, inches from her feet—and a second later, a metal arrowhead sprang from the ground. Dani’s shield blocked the trap just in time.

Shit, Dani breathed. Thanks for the heads up.

N-no problem, Karyme said quickly. You’ve got really good reflexes.

Well, it was easy enough to see, since it was… glowing…

Dani trailed off. The arrowhead, shaped like the minute hand on a clock, was no longer glowing purple—and maybe it had never been glowing, judging by the strange look Ilia was giving her.

Karyme, Dani said slowly. Point to one of the spawn zones for these shadow blobs.

Um… okay? Karyme frowned. There’s one right there.

Karyme pointed to some random spot in the darkness—and there it was again. A flash of purple. It was too far away for Dani to hit with a pistol of all things, but he drew his gun and fired a shot regardless. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the void.

What in the world? Karyme’s frown deepened. You—you destroyed it.

As I thought, Dani said smoothly. You guided my shot—which means you can help me pick off the rest of these spawn points.

I did what? But—

Later, Dani cut in. Ilia’s not gonna last forever.

I’m definitely not, Ilia said wearily. Torching these things over and over is exhausting.

We’ll be quick! Karyme said firmly. Four to go. Let’s start… there.

It took Dani and Karyme less than ten minutes to take out all four spawn points. Karyme’s sight turned Dani’s dinky little pistol into a sniper rifle, almost, and then it was laughably easy to hit targets, no matter the distance. It almost felt like cheating—not that Dani cared. He was never much of a rule follower.

With that taken care of, Ilia had no trouble turning the remaining shadow monsters to ash—and then the trio made a run for it, dashing up the stairs before any other fun obstacles could show up. By the time they reached the top, Ilia and Karyme were both gasping for air—and Dani was tired, too, but she was used to running for her life, so she forged ahead, emerging from the stone corridor only to find—

We’re back where we started, Dani grumbled.

The statement was only half true. The top of the staircase led back to the surface, certainly, but what had once been a set of crumbling ruins was now a circular platform of smooth obsidian, elevated at least ten feet off the ground—and though the sun shone overhead, its light seemed dimmed, as if a black filter had been superimposed on top.

This is… weird, Ilia said with a frown.

I guess we’re halfway back to the real world? Karyme guessed. She knelt to examine the glowing red marble at her feet. And this might take us the other half of the way. Ready?

No, Dani muttered. Just get it over with.

Karyme grabbed the marble.

~.~

Mateen caught Skye on the way out. They were clearly dressed for combat, with a layer of chain mail concealed beneath their robes—cut shorter than the normal attire to allow for better mobility. A spear was strapped to their back, the glowing point brushing against the bottom of their tightly wound bun.

Skye’s back was to Mateen, but they paused as soon as they heard him approach, their foot hovering over the next step. They didn’t turn around to greet him.

“Don’t go,” Mateen pleaded. “Please. We both know how this ends.”

“I have no choice, Mateen,” Skye said evenly. “I cannot decline a mission from the Temple Council.”

“To hell with them!” Mateen said angrily. “They know they’re sending you to your death, and they still—”

“They’ve never cared about us,” Skye said quietly. “Even Jinal is a mere soldier to them.”

“And that’s all the more reason for you not to go!” Mateen argued. “They won’t protect you, and I won’t be there to—”

“And what exactly would you have me do instead?” An edge of frustration entered Skye’s voice. “If I go against the Council’s orders, they’ll exile me for sure.”

“So? At least you’ll be alive,” Mateen said forcefully. “The two of us—we can live somewhere else, somewhere they can’t find us, and—”

“Can you stop that?” Skye turned to face Mateen, eyes glistening with tears. “You’re not a god, Mateen! You can keep trying to defy fate, keep adding scattered seconds to my life—but if I survive today, I’ll die tomorrow, and if I survive tomorrow, I’ll die the next day, and—when will you finally accept that?”

Mateen inhaled sharply. Skye’s tears were flowing freely, now, and the absolutely broken expression on her face made his chest ache. He pulled her into a hug without a second thought.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “I-I was so focused on my feelings that I didn’t realize how this was affecting you.”

“I-it’s okay,” Skye said shakily. “It’s not like I want to die. I appreciate you trying. But I also—I can’t keep hoping.”

“I understand,” Mateen said softly.

And he did understand. It was wearing him down, too—this constant search for a way out. He felt so helpless. So tired. It seemed so cruel that even with all his strength, he could only delay the inevitable—and a selfish part of him wanted to cling tightly to that distant hope with everything he had.

But if it was hurting Skye, it wasn’t worth it.

And so he held her for the last time, his tight grip the only sign of his grief. He was too numb to cry. It took Skye a few minutes longer to spill the last of her tears.

“If this is your choice, I’ll accept it,” Mateen said quietly. “But I still think you deserve better.”

“You always do,” Skye mumbled. “But…” She gave Mateen a watery smile as she pulled away from xis embrace. The grief in her eyes was a perfect mirror of xis own. “I think I was pretty lucky, actually.”

“Lucky?” Mateen couldn’t keep the bitter edge out of his voice. “In what world is this lucky?”

With a contemplative hum, Skye took Mateen’s hands in their own.

“I do wish my life had been longer,” Skye admitted, gently brushing xis knuckles with her thumb. “But… I wouldn’t trade this life for any other. After all…”

Skye brought Mateen’s hands to the level of her heart, eyes shining with tears once more.

“I got to meet you.”

Mateen swallowed around the lump in xis throat. He felt like he was crumbling into sand. The statement was so damn genuine, even though he’d failed her in every way, and that smile of hers—it was too much. He couldn’t breathe.

“Thank you, Mateen,” Skye said softly. “For everything.”

She planted a quick kiss on xis cheek. His brain short-circuited.

By the time Mateen regained his ability to speak, Skye was already halfway up the stairs. That didn’t stop Mateen from calling after her.

“I’ll miss you!”

The plaintive goodbye rang hollow in the empty corridor. Skye paused at the top of the stairs.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

She didn’t look back.

~.~

Dani came to right as a forest green shield flickered into place in front of him, blocking an incoming fireball. The last bits of mental fuzz cleared away in an instant, and in a burst of adrenaline, Dani’s mafia-born instincts kicked into gear.

Priority one: establish a safe zone.

Sight was always the slowest sense to recalibrate, so Dani relied on the wealth of information provided by her other senses first. An angry snarl from the right. A sweltering heat from the left. A cacophony of screeches from above.

Dani grabbed the only person within arms-length and threw up a dome around them both. Seconds later, a shadow beast barrelled into the shield with snapping jaws, followed by a swarm of bats from above. The incoming fireball dissipated in the face of Dani’s will.

Priority two: assess the scene.

Maintaining the shield took energy but not concentration, allowing Dani to take a look around now. The person she’d grabbed was Karyme. That made Dani’s next priority finding Ilia—except Dani couldn’t see anything through the swarms of enemies around them. The pavillion was crowded with far more shadow beasts than they could ever hope to destroy on their own, and the air was thick with shadow bats.

There! Karyme cried. She pointed to the left, at around the 8 o’ clock position, and sure enough, Dani could just make out a royal blue glow amidst the chaos, maybe a hundred yards away. Notably, Dani couldn’t actually see Ilia, but she took Karyme’s word for it.

Kai, we need to get over there, Dani said firmly. Can you clear us a path?

I could, Kai replied. But—

There was a blinding explosion of royal blue up ahead, punctuated by the distraught cries of disintegrating shadow beasts. Dani didn’t even wait for the light to clear. He took Karyme’s hand and sprinted blindly in that direction, using the increasing pressure of Ilia’s attack against his shield as a compass.

The searing light didn’t fade until Dani and Karyme skidded to a stop in front of Ilia a full thirty seconds later. Dani blinked the spots away, breathing heavily from sprint. Maintaining the shield was starting to make his head spin, but he expanded the dome to include Ilia as well. Though she had effectively decimated everything within a few feet of her, the shadow beasts were starting to regroup.

Ilia, are you—are you okay? Karyme’s voice was full of static, perhaps due to the fact that she was currently hunched over and gasping for air. Dani tried not to chuckle at the fact that a measly hundred meter dash had so thoroughly decimated Karyme.

That is… an interesting question.

Dani stiffened. The voice sounded like Ilia’s, but it was slightly distorted, almost doubled—and Ilia still had their back to Dani, but now that Dani took a closer look, he could see that they were hovering a couple inches off the ground, their form ablaze with royal blue and black flames.

Ilia, Dani intoned, backing away slowly. Answer the question.

You think you’re talking to Ilia? How quaint.

Slowly, deliberately, Ilia looked over her shoulder at Dani and Karyme. From this angle, Dani could just barely get a glimpse of Ilia’s umber eyes—and the shadows roiling within them.

Dani’s thoughts stuttered to a halt. Karyme inhaled sharply at his side.

Scared you, did I? Ilia(?) sneered. Sorry, but Ilia can’t come to the phone right now. You’ll have to leave a message after the tone.

Before Dani or Karyme could ask what the hell that meant, Ilia(?) leapt through Dani’s shield, landing daintily atop the nearest shadow beast’s head. The beast howled in pain as royal blue flames ate through its skull, bit by bit, and the gruesome display was enough to briefly frighten the surrounding creatures. Ilia(?) used the opening to mold royal blue light into a double axe, sized perfectly for her lanky frame, and with practiced calm, she swung the blade down on the beast’s head, vaporizing it instantly.

Ilia(?) landed with the grace of a large cat, and as their feet touched the ground, a pulse of royal blue light emanated from the spot, tearing through the closest shadow beasts with ease.

I am going to locate the soul fragment, Ilia(?) said smoothly, her calm tone a stark contrast to her crazed smile. She swung her axe in a wide arc, and a halo of sharp blue light cut a path through the swarming shadows. Back me up if you’d like, but stay out of my way.

Ilia(?) was gone before Dani or Karyme could respond. With an exasperated sigh, Dani strengthened the shield around Karyme and herself. Ilia wanted to handle this by herself? So be it.

Kai, Karyme said shakily. Is that Ilia’s soul splinter?

Yes, Kai said calmly. Is something wrong?

Um, yes? Dani frowned. As far as I’m aware, getting possessed is never a good thing.

For Karai’s sake, Kai muttered. First Juli, now you. Where are you people getting these ideas about soul splinters and possession?

None of you fuckers ever bothered to explain how this shit works, Dani grumbled. So I’m just going off what I saw in Haku’s memories.

That was how Ilia described it, too, Karyme chimed in. She made it sound like a constant fight for control.

I… see. Kai huffed out a laugh. Your understanding is incomplete because one of your sources is too stubborn to compromise and the other is too inexperienced to bargain.

All right, Mister Smart Guy, Dani said thinly. Tell it to us straight, then. Why is Ilia going berserk not a bad thing?

Had she gone truly berserk, you would be dead, Kai said simply. Take a closer look and you’ll see that she’s actually quite rational.

With a frown, Dani turned her attention back to the fight. In the distance, sporadic bursts of royal blue marked Ilia’s ever-changing position. Amid the throng of shadow beasts, Dani could just barely make out the fluid dance of her glowing axe, slicing through beasts with impressive skill and efficiency. Every minute or so, she deployed an explosive burst of light to keep the beasts’ attention on her—and away from Karyme and Dani.

It was strategic—the farthest thing from a mindless rampage.

I… didn’t know Ilia could use an axe like that, Karyme breathed, eyes wide with awe. She’s incredible.

She wouldn’t be able to replicate this if you asked her to, Kai replied. Just as Juli was unable to make a knife of flames on command until he saw Peter get shot through the heart.

That was adrenaline, though, Dani pointed out. Not… whatever this is.

I would argue the two are quite similar, Kai countered. Adrenaline raises a physiologic threshold to unlock hidden potential—and a soul splinter removes a limiter of a different kind.

A different… kind? Karyme said slowly. What do you mean?

Dani already knew the answer. A sense of dread settled in his chest as he watched Ilia hack through the crowd of shadow beasts without even attempting to dodge the claws and teeth of her assailants. It wasn’t like the damage was permanent. Her wounds healed in the blink of an eye. But most sane people tried to avoid pain instead of plowing right through it.

In her right mind, Ilia would’ve done the same.

This is the removal of inhibition, Dani realized. The ability to do things you’re normally too afraid to try.

Correct, Kai said smoothly. In most cases, allowing the soul splinter full control is a terrible idea, but unlocking this sort of inhumane ruthlessness can be a valuable asset in battle.

This is messed up, Dani muttered. But sure. I guess being a reckless animal like Peter can be a good thing sometimes.

Sometimes, Karyme echoed. The frown on her face made it clear she was completely unconvinced. At least… she’s mission-oriented.

Dani followed Karyme’s gaze towards Ilia—and the flash of sky blue in front of her.

Joel, are you there? Dani asked.

On it! Joel chirped. I’ll keep you safe. Have a nice nap!

~.~

As the planned date approached, Jinal found herself retreating to the viewing platform more and more often. It was nice to just sit on the edge and let her feet dangle in the air as she stared out over the desert. Most people would have found it chilly, but being surrounded by the clear night sky, miles from any cities or settlements, helped Jinal think—and tonight was no exception.

Jinal still couldn’t bear to look at Mateen. Five years since he and Felix had defected from Yaran’s side, and he still brought with him a complex cocktail of negative emotions.

She had so many reasons to be angry with him. A century’s worth of war crimes. The loss of everything she held dear. Kai. Ven. Minerva. But time had long since swept that rage away.

“Nice night out, hm?”

Mateen’s voice came from behind Jinal. She didn’t so much as twitch in response. Her expression was neutral save for the chronic weariness in her gaze and the slightly disapproving arch of her left eyebrow.

As Mateen took a seat next to Jinal, an uncomfortable silence settled between them, laden with over a century of unspoken words. They stared at the horizon in parallel, unable to look each other in the eye—and it was always like this, wasn’t it?

Five years of working together, and they still reminded each other too strongly of Skye.

Jinal took a slow deep breath. She knew this wasn’t sustainable. She turned her gaze to the stars above, as if that would make this conversation any easier.

“Have you ever thought about why Skye died?”

Jinal’s voice was almost too quiet to be heard. Mateen went rigid at her side.

“I think about it quite often,” Jinal continued, her voice hollow. “Why didn’t that fatal stab wound incite a second awakening? Even Rukmini, who hadn’t yet experienced a first awakening, burst into flames when she was stabbed—but for Skye there was nothing. Not even a flicker.”

“Karai willed, it, right?” Mateen said dully. “Skye’s powers didn’t save her, and those powers came from Karai, so—Karai wanted her dead.”

“Right,” Jinal agreed. “But doesn’t that strike you as odd? Why would Karai write a death into the timeline for only one of her chosen soldiers? What made Skye so special?”

“Maybe she hated Skye,” Mateen spat. “I don’t know. What’s your point?”

“Always so impatient,” Jinal sighed. “I’m trying to apologize, you idiot.”

“You—what?”

The shock in Mateen’s voice was the most genuine emotion Jinal had heard from him in over a century. Something about that brought a bitter smile to her face.

“You were right about Skye,” Jinal said evenly. “And here’s why. Her situation was not unique. Karai wrote a death into the timeline for all of her chosen soldiers—and as you can see, most of us lived past our time.”

“So Skye could’ve done the same,” Mateen said bitterly. “We could’ve saved her.”

“Maybe we could’ve,” Jinal said quietly. “And I didn’t even bother to try. I-I know this is too little, too late, but I’m… sorry, Mateen. I should’ve listened to you.”

“...It’s too late for that now.”

Mateen’s voice was hollow, drained of any residual anger—and it mirrored the emptiness Jinal felt about Kai and Ven nowadays. He leaned back, resting his weight on his hands, his gaze turned towards the sky.

“How does that work, anyway?” he asked. “Why did we survive?”

“I’m not omniscient,” Jinal said with a shrug. “But I can give you my best guess. I think Karai’s plan can be manipulated only by forces she didn’t account for—and Yaran is at the top of that list.”

“Oh. Then—half of our powers come from Yaran,” Mateen said slowly. “Specifically the second half.”

“Right,” Jinal said with a nod. “So as soon as our second awakening hits, Karai’s plans mean nothing to us. Our fated deaths cannot come to pass. And… I think Yaran knew this.”

“Fuck,” Mateen growled. “You’re telling me—Yaran stopped going after Skye on purpose? Because—because he knew she’d die as long as she didn’t—”

“Yes,” Jinal said quietly. “That’s exactly it. As long as he could avoid inciting her second awakening, she would be doomed to die at the age of twenty-seven.”

“I’m going to kill that bastard,” Mateen said furiously. “Mark my words.”

“That is the goal, isn’t it?” Jinal said dryly. “Or did you come here for refreshments?”

“Smartass,” Mateen grumbled. “You know what I meant.”

“Fair enough.” Jinal’s expression sobered a little. “You can certainly blame Yaran for Skye’s death—but the blame really sits with me. I should have made an effort. I know you couldn’t change her fate on your own, but… perhaps we could’ve managed it together.”

“I… don’t think you should be the one apologizing.” Mateen turned his gaze to his hands. “Maybe you wronged me—but that doesn’t excuse anything I’ve done in the last century and a half. You’re not supposed to murder the people who raised you just because they hurt you.”

“Maybe the people who raised you should have taught you better conflict resolution skills,” Jinal said lightly. Mateen huffed out a laugh.

“I’ll be sure to let them know. Right after I…”

He trailed off, brow furrowed in contemplation. Yellow and green flames flickered at his fingertips, though he hadn’t consciously called upon them.

“Looks like they agree with me,” Jinal noted, the shadow of a smile on her face.

“...It’s not really them, is it?” Mateen extinguished the flames with a sigh. “It feels like them, but it’s just… an echo.”

“Maybe so,” Jinal agreed. “But I don’t think that makes it any less real. The snippets of emotion I get from Haku and Minerva are still true to who they were in life—and I’m sure it’s the same with Ven and Kai.”

“Well that doesn’t make me feel better,” Mateen said miserably. “They’re trying to comfort me. I murdered them, and they—”

Mateen’s voice broke. Jinal’s expression softened.

“Love is rarely rational,” she said quietly. “Knowing Kai and Ven, they cared about you up until the moment they died.”

Mateen let out a mirthless laugh. “I didn’t deserve their efforts to reach me. Not back then—and not now.”

He turned to face Jinal for the first time all night, eyes shining with resolve.

“I think it’s time for me to return something that belongs to you.”

“Belongs to me, huh?” Jinal hummed in disagreement. “I wouldn’t describe it that way, but… if you want to give their souls back to me, I’ll take them. Minerva, at least, will appreciate it.”

“Thank you.” Mateen extended a hand towards Jinal with a grateful smile, fingers aflame with green and gold. Jinal took his hand without a second thought.

The influx of energy was immediate—but more painful than that was the flood of emotion. Ven’s buoyant smile. The footsteps of a child running up the stairs to the tune of giddy laughter. A desire to make them proud. A vibrant concern. Searing inadequacy. Guilt, sharp like a knife. And then Kai’s gentle warmth, accompanied by years of wistful glances and mutual pining and yearning for the distance between them to close. Even now, he was proud of her. Even now, they were too far apart.

Jinal broke free from Mateen’s grasp with a strangled sob. After a century and a half, she had come to terms with Kai’s death—but coming in contact with his soul brought the grief right back. It took her more than a few minutes to recover.

“...Sorry,” Mateen said quietly.

“It’s—it’s okay,” Jinal gasped. “It just—it took me off guard.”

“I… guess it would.” Mateen’s gaze turned back to the sky. “It’s interesting. Kai and Ven were so loud, but Skye—I can’t feel her at all, even though I took her soul. It’s… almost like she’s gone, and… maybe that ties into what you were saying earlier.”

“That is certainly possible, but…” Jinal frowned. “I’m not sure why.”

That was partly a lie. Jinal could think of one reason—but it was too far-fetched, and she refused to let a futile hope blossom in her chest. The dead did not come back to life.

~.~

Dani was much faster to recover from this memory—not that it mattered. By the time he came to, the platform had reverted to a mess of crumbled stone, and the desert had gone quiet around them. Ilia was laying at their feet, seemingly unconscious—and there was no sign of the shadow beasts.

What… happened? Dani asked.

Oh, uh—looks like Ilia’s soul splinter didn’t go to sleep with the rest of you, Joel said mildly. Except maybe Ilia did? I don’t really get it. But—her soul splinter took care of things.

She took out all of those beasts herself? Karyme gasped. But—but there must’ve been at least twenty of them! And—

And they’ll come back if we don’t get moving, Dani said grimly. He knelt next to Ilia, already halfway through activating his teleportation crystal. Let’s go.

Right. Karyme took one last look at the ruins—and then the trio disappeared.

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