Ebusuku’s PoV - Duskstone - Moradin’s Hall


    The glances don’t worry me, but being in this place is odd. I wouldn’t have been able to cross the threshold before, yet now it doesn’t merely tolerate me it welcomes me. The steady thump of hammers occasionally punctured by shouted instructions—or cursing—vibrates through my entire body. A steady wall of sound rumbling against my skin from the forges within Moradin’s Hall.


    None of the Dwarves near the initial forges resembles Jantar, and walking through the Hall I find myself the target of many an informal call and nod of greeting. Nearly at the back I spot her speaking to a young Dwarf, a roughly forged chisel between them, the focus of their attention. The High Crafter is holding it tilted to the light and pointing out irregular spots along the edge. The youngster listens intently, and after they’re both done speaking, moves back to a grindstone along the side, and Jantar looks my way.


    “Apprentice?”


    “Nah, he’s a Novice to Moradin’s Hall. He needs to learn to sharpen tools properly, so started him working through the flawed pieces that are only fit to be melted down,” replies Jantar amiably. “What can I do for you, Ebusuku? Has Amdirlain found something new to stir up?”


    Given the wary expression on Jantar’s face, I can’t help a burst of laughter. “I’m not even allowed to introduce myself, High Crafter Jantar?”


    “I assumed you’d be as casual as your Lady. Though I’m not sure what gave you away: golden armour, symbol on the breastplate, Elven looks, yet ebony skin,” grinned Jantar, stroking her beard happily. “Then again, you don’t have the six wings out and you’re stretched but not standing three or four Dwarves tall, so yes, I could be completely wrong. If it wasn’t for the fact, I got your description from the Priest handling guard shift when you arrived yesterday.”


    “I’m here organising something for Amdirlain. I need two recommendations for an Artificer weapon smith and one with containment experience.”


    “What are you looking to contain?” asks Jantar, a note of interest in her voice.


    Even among the forge’s noise, old habits guard my tongue. “An entity that I don’t want to risk wandering about for several reasons.”


    “Your Lady is alright with locking even a Demon up?” asks Jantar.


    Her bluntness is so similar to Amdirlain’s that I wonder if she expects me to be the same. “I don’t plan to keep her locked up, but I need to get hold of her first, even borrowing a summoning room might be enough. I need to dig into what she remembers.”


    Jantar is on her feet in a moment, but holds her position with her gaze fixed on me. “There is a secure room here. I’ll show you to it. Any reason you need to borrow one of Moradin’s?”


    “She has protection from a nasty Demigod; others that summoned her—things went sideways for them,”


    “This could be fun!” Jantar exclaims, before hurrying off the rest of her words cast over her shoulder. “Let’s go spit in their eye.”


    The doorway she heads towards is barely tall enough for her, and my armour adjusts the moment I take on a dwarven form.


    Jantar stops in her tracks to look me over, and when she strokes her beard, I mimic her—though mine is jet black, and I’ve opted for braids, I’ve seen on Dwarves from other worlds.


    “If only you could get your Lady to grow a beard,” sighs Jantar.


    “I can do many things but getting Amdirlain to do something she’s against is like solving a paradox,” I reply, and get a quick smile from them.


    Jantar leans hopefully towards me. “Would you even suggest a beard?”


    “High Crafter Jantar, might I suggest you’re on your own with that project?” I reply, and have to stop from laughing at the exaggerated, glum look she gives me.


    “No suggestion at all? I mean, beards grow on one.”


    The flat look she gets for her wordplay just broadens her quick smile. “Perhaps if you come up with a prank where you need her disguised as a Dwarf.”


    “She likes pranks?”


    Stepping around Jantar, I pull the door open and wave her through. “If the person being pranked would laugh afterwards.”


    “Some folks don’t take even kind-hearted pranks well. I’ll work out something,” murmurs Jantar, her fingers drumming on her beard.


    The moment the door closes, the forges’ racket thankfully cuts off. “Don’t rush. She’s off tending to some matters at present. I’m not sure when she’ll be available.”


    “You should never rush good crafting,” says Jantar, and I move to walk beside her. “What weapon do you need made?”


    “I need someone with an inventive streak. Though I’ve got a sketch of the weapon, and someone with experience using it, they’ve not made one, so I’ll need someone open to experimenting.”


    Jantar’s grin fades to a thoughtful expression. “What’s this weapon called?”


    “Its name is Urumi, while it’s technically a sword, it has a very flexible whip-like blade,” I say, and Jantar’s blank look is the answer I’d expected. “It was a Human weapon. Farhad—he teaches our Celestials following the Monk Class—recommended it as something suitable to Amdirlain’s fluid combat style. He has experience using it, so I can bring him to speak with the crafter once we’ve found someone.”


    The years it requires to master might get her to sit still.


    “Let me make some enquiries. You might need a crafter from outside Duskstone,” says Jantar after some time spent walking through the Temple’s corridors.


    I don’t interrupt her thoughts until we enter the summoning chamber. The wards around the walls crawl with energy focused on containing and banishing entities from the lower planes. Etched into the floor, the inner summoning circle is mithril, instead of the Alchemical silver I’d expected. Protective Artificer runes underlay the wards, their energy waiting with the tension of a baited trap.


    “What do you use this place for?”


    Jantar motions at the walls, “Sometimes you have to get answers from places you don’t want to deal with. Demons like to boast, and they’re willing to stab enemies in the back. Never get the complete truth, but sometimes what they’ll boast about can tell much; best to have a proper place crafted well in advance. It should banish any entity the moment they’re released from the circle if a mistake occurs in questioning them.”


    “Agreeing to a something’s terms, you mean?”


    “Indeed, the moment the summoning barrier drops the wards would apply to banish them, we’d also know to break the Pact made.”


    “Or Deal.”


    The correction slips free from habit, but Jantar nods with a grim expression.


    “There is that, but it’s hard to sign a deal accidentally when you know you’ve summoned a Devil. The whole taking the document to sign it is a giveaway. Anyone stupid—or malicious—enough to do it on purpose would need to explain why they still count as one of Moradin’s.”


    She waves at the circle, and I move close to it; opening myself to the chamber’s energies. The Temple’s power is a stable, reassuring fortress against whatever protections Epochē put around Viper. The Spell’s energy manifests correctly within the circle but vanishes the moment I utter Viper’s name.


    “You sure you know what you’re doing there, Ebusuku?” asks Jantar, and I catch the teasing in her gruff voice.


    “The Spell didn’t fail, an existing bond blocked it!” I hiss in frustration and cause Jantar to gawk at me. “She’s roaming the Material Plane, anchored by a summoner or a Pact.”


    “How dangerous is she?” asks Jantar.


    “We don’t know. That’s part of the problem,” I admit. “Though If I can get my hands on her I can deal with her, or at least slow her down.”


    Jantar frowns, but I don’t plan on spilling secrets and she goes on before the silence draws out. “Worst case?”


    “Worst case, she has four classes over level one hundred to work with, plus other advantages.”


    “That sounds like a dangerous foe,” cautioned Jantar.


    “We’ve started setting precautions in place, especially after a summoner tried to call up Amdirlain.”


    “I think you should tell me more about this,” Jantar states, her tone uncompromising. “Most summoners wouldn’t dare risk calling a Power.”


    “A summoner not of Amdirlain’s faithful tried to call her to the Material Plane without warning. His name is Aleko of Chernihiv, which is a Slav name, and we’ve confirmed there is a village by that name. Though we’ve not tracked him down yet, he works as a mercenary, so potentially someone that Amdirlain’s upset along the way hired him.”


    “The Greek or Egyptian factions, if I understand all the noise right,” said Jantar, her eyebrows rising when I shake my head.


    “Not just them,” I admit. “There are also individuals among the Norse, Nova Roma’s Senators, and a few others that might wish her ill.”


    “Are they trying to start a Faith war?” asks Jantar, her narrowed gaze and bared teeth making it hard to tell what emotion is strongest in her. Maybe anticipation, by a whisker.


    “We’ve got a few people seeking information; I’ll let you know if we discover more. Amdirlain isn’t part of any Pantheon though, so action against her will not trigger one.”


    At the words, Jantar chews on her moustache for a moment. “No, but if her allies go smashing other churches because of actions against her, it will start one. Moradin has Priests that travel through the various Human kingdoms—to deal with old places that need tending. I’ll send messengers to get them to make enquires about this fellow,” offers Jantar. Pulling out a scrap of parchment she’s quick to note down the details.


    The series of crossed-out items on the scrunched parchment was too good to resist. “Amdirlain has her to-do list in her mind.”


    “I’m too old to keep it between my ears,” grumbles Jantar. “What do you plan to try next with this Viper?”


    “Immediately planned? I could open a Gate and see where she is, but I won’t be able to attack her through it. If I get Mortals to help, it’s a risky prospect for most Amdirlain knows; except for one who could have objections. Though, do you have a scrying chamber?”


    Jantar fixes me with a curious look. “Objections?”


    “If she’s somewhere that she’s legally allowed to be, he won’t act against her,” I say, and motion her on.


    She huffs but moves along readily enough, the typical rolling Dwarven gait more pronounced in her irritation. “Demon summoning isn’t legal in Human lands—it would be against the treaties.”


    “Just because she’s been summoned, I can’t assume she’s involved. Whoever tried to summon Amdirlain, could be completely separate, but her situation is a loose end I don’t like.”


    “Why do you believe this Demon might be involved?” asks Jantar.


    I smile at her lack of knowledge, but Jantar seems to take it otherwise with how she relaxes. “Has Moradin shared with you Amdirlain’s history?”


    Jantar''s smile vanishes at the question, but her posture stays relaxed. “Other than being a Fallen seeking redemption? Well, I know she has a following among the Norse and others; along with possessing an extraordinary ability with Mana. I hadn’t expected a Solar to be involved with her.”


    Maybe I should change the armour.


    “It’s a complex history and one I’d never have believed if I hadn’t become a part of it.” I say and pause when Jantar opens another door. “I’ll leave the long tale for another day.”


    In the middle of the chamber is a disk of polished crystal, wider than my wingspan. The edge, at first glance, appears molten metal, but it only takes a moment to realise it’s quicksilver held inside a transparent tube that gives the effect. The crystal’s surface is at chest height to my current form, and it’s not a levitation enchantment that holds it there, rather the crystal is out of phase. For all the scrying mirror’s fanciness, the room holding it is very simple. The natural stone they’ve shaped as a single piece, with no embellishment; an interesting precaution given the rarity of spells that allow divination to be reversed. The chamber is taller than the crystal is wide, but still barely big enough for several armoured Dwarves to walk around the mirror’s edge without bumping it


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    The divination enchantments sit thick across it, and letting my fingertips drift across it, I feel their energy attuning my focus to their power. The moment Jantar shuts the door, I push my knowledge of Viper and desire to see her into the crystal.


    The pale-skinned woman who appears centred within the crystal pane is smiling at someone—or something—out of view. Plainly clad in new attire—pants, blouse, and cloak—the garments, woven silk in bright arterial reds, and vibrant purples, still bright from being dyed. A silver headband holds back loam brown hair and shows off slightly pointed ears. The moment she looks towards the pane’s focal point, her gaze hardens with menace. The mirror’s magic doesn’t allow True Sight to function through it, but that doesn’t stop me from seeing the malice in her gaze.


    The crystal’s perspective gives a clear view of a busy marketplace behind her. A bazaar filled with stalls with a variety of produce on display and packed with Mortals of all ages. The garb of the men is like Farhad’s style, with guards carrying spears, notched shields and wearing scaled armour instead of the chain hauberks of the Norse.


    Suddenly Viper smiles and blows a kiss before presenting the back of her hand, the middle finger extending in a blur of motion. Her motion is far too fast for the best-case scenario, though I’d like to know why she still possesses Classes of any significance when Amdirlain kept the levels. Was she leeching experience from Amdirlain all along?


    The moment I lift my fingers from the mirror’s rim, the energy cuts off, taking the image with it.


    “The worst case looks possible. I’d hoped it had purged her classes.”


    The exasperated mutter I let loose makes me realise how much dealing with the Celestials has lowered my guard.


    “Human marketplace, from the looks of it. Any idea where it is?” asks Jantar.


    “I’ve never stood on your world, and it’s the first I’ve seen any of it,” I reply, and it’s the simple but foolish truth—I should have checked on him. “There were some banners in the background, Farhad might recognise them. I’ll send a message and image to Aggie in case Viper keeps that disguise.”


    “Aren’t there Human’s on other worlds?”


    “No, there aren’t. There are beings close to Human, or Humanoid as Amdirlain calls them, but not Humans. These seemed similar in appearance and garb to Farhad.”


    Amdirlain’s PoV - Limbo - Monastery of Will’s Hand


    Zenya put her wax tablet on the shelf next to the others Amdirlain was setting in place. “Know we have a bell until dinner.”


    Amdirlain snuck a glance at the impressions on the tablet’s surfaces before setting them in place. Their maths lesson had been far more complex than she’d expected, but then, a base twenty-one number system had been unexpected. It was strange that while learning the Gith language had told her all the words for their numbers, it hadn’t included their numerical system.


    “Novice Amdirlain, would you explain what you meant by the difference in our Monk ways to yours? Also, what was the light you used healing me?” asked Zenya hurriedly.


    “Githzérai Monks unleash their physical potential by applying natural psionics to empower flesh. The way I follow empowers the flesh to exceed its limits via the use of spiritual energy called Ki.”


    Furrows appear on Zenya’s brow, and after nipping at her bottom lip she continues on. “But you still use your psionics with your Monk abilities?”


    “I use psionics and I also use Mana with them,” agreed Amdirlain. “Though my incorporating of psionics is likely different, I didn’t have time to learn much of your people’s approach.”


    The Novice’s gaze snapped up at Amdirlain and went wide-eyed. “You have an Affinity?”


    Surprised by Zena’s reaction, Amdirlain finishes stacking the tablets in place before she answers. “I’ve a Wizard Class.”


    Zenya’s mouth twisted into a mournful frown. “A Wizard as well? Know my siblings take after my parents; they all had affinities before they were eight, so I doubt I’ll ever get one.”


    With a reassuring smile, Amdirlain just rubbed her shoulder. “Don’t worry about others. Focus on what you want to achieve in life.”


    “And if you still want a dream that won’t occur?” asked Zenya.


    Amdirlain bit back the offer that was on the tip of her tongue, yet Zenya’s sad expression twisted painfully inside her. “You don’t know gaining an affinity won’t occur, just that it hasn’t yet.”


    “Know that gaining an affinity—never mind, you’d know—I think I’ll focus on who I am now,” sighed Zenya.


    “That’s an excellent idea, but never give up on your hopes,” Amdirlain said and headed for the door.


    Hopefully Duurth is open to an offer.


    “Know that I’ll try, but that hope fades more every year,” muttered Zenya, and followed her. “Could you teach me your fighting techniques?”


    “How about I help you and any others practice Zerthi? You can practice strikes or kicks against me.” said Amdirlain and immediately hoped them hitting her wouldn’t hurt them.


    “Know that doesn’t help us practice blocking,” Zenya said with mock frustration.


    “Sorry I’m not throwing an attack near any of you,” said Amdirlain


    “Know when you were practicing you were just a blur,” Zenya said, her eyes lighting up to match the sudden energy in her voice.


    Amdirlain nodded sharply, still annoyed with Tenzin. “I was following instructions.”


    “Didn’t Master Tenzin say to take your time?”


    With them nearing the doorway Amdirlain lowered her voice, and Zenya had to lean close to hear her speak. “That was me taking my time Zenya.”


    “Oh!”


    The wide-eyed expression had Amdirlain chuckling and she had to wave off Zenya’s hurt expression. “Did you have anything planned for the break before the last meal?”


    “Know you have my thanks for your concern. Know I need to help sweep the courtyard,” said Zenya.


    Amdirlain immediately headed in that direction, and Zenya walked quickly beside her. “I’ll come help then, since I’ve not been told what duties to perform yet.”


    The rest of their table was already out in the courtyard when they arrived, and Sarith pointed to two broad brooms propped up by the door when they arrived, the gesture’s snap matching her tight-lipped expression. Tempted to just restore the courtyard to a pristine condition, Amdirlain felt for the material that had accumulated and felt the will that kept it from disappearing.


    Giving them more exercise or an exercise in humility?


    Cleaning the courtyard—and washing up afterwards didn’t take long—and they joined the other tables in the refectory after the chimes had barely finished. Amdirlain’s bowl being offered first again made her aware of the pattern on the other tables. A recognition made clearer with the heated gaze Sarith fixed her with even while she nodded thanks.


    “Why are you here? Can’t you just leave, oh powerful one?” asked Sarith.


    “Know you should apologise,” said Gemiya.


    “It’s alright, Sarith can say what she wants as it doesn’t worry me,” said Amdirlain, and gave Gemiya a relaxed smile. “I’m glad she’s confident enough to express herself.”


    “Know her behaviour isn’t right,” Zenith said, and carefully took her own bowl.


    “Relax, her question doesn’t worry me. I know your places aren’t normally open to outsiders, I apprec-”


    “Know you talk a lot,” Sarith growled quickly.


    “I do, but I was also defending your right to trash-talk me, so chill angry girl,” teased Amdirlain, trying not to smile at Sarith’s frustrated expression.


    Did I upset seniority? I wonder how it’s worked out.


    Sarith swallowed a quick mouthful of the stew and grumbled. “Know that you make no sense.”


    Amdirlain stopped herself from laughing at Sarith’s mood and gently chided her instead. “Vinegar is good for preserving vegetables, but not everyone enjoys the outcome.”


    The statement only earned another flat look from the upset girl. “Do you know how weird you look?”


    “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so just as well they have eleven,” quipped Amdirlain, her word play making her wonder if the eye-stalked monster actually existed in this reality.


    “Know that you make no sense,” said Sarith.


    “You’re assuming I need to make sense to you,” said Amdirlain, fighting to keep herself from laughing.


    “Novice Sarith and Novice Amdirlain are you finished eating?” asked Tenzin, and Amdirlain couldn’t resist smiling at the heated glare Sarith gave her.


    After having been escorted to see Master Healer Elliyna’s rooms once, apparently she could find her own way back again. Master Tenzin simply instructed her to attend her session and started assigning evening duties to others. The Healer responded to her tap on the door while her hand was still in motion.


    The old Githzérai was sitting stretched out on a different couch, but again had a blanket over her legs. Without being told to sit, Amdirlain just took the seat closest to her centre of vision. Her ready selection of the backless stool got a puzzled look from Elliyna.


    “What’s got your thoughts in a vice right now?” asked Elliyna, immediately upon Amdirlain sitting down.


    “I’m trying to behave myself, and speak to Master Duurth about something first,” replied Amdirlain.


    Elliyna didn’t respond immediately, rather she studied Amdirlain and let the silence stretch uncomfortably. “Merely behaving yourself etches a thousand frown lines into your face?”


    “That’s an exaggeration; I’m trying to avoid causing disruption as a Novice,” said Amdirlain.


    “Given the disruption you caused as a guest?” asked Elliyna, and waved her immediate response away. “Know you aren’t the only one I’m speaking to while here. Know that shouldering more concerns by yourself isn’t your purpose here.”


    “It’s an issue I’ve helped others with and I feel it would be wrong just to ignore her distress. There is a Novice whose parents are High Anarchs, and whose siblings are all able to follow that course. She doesn’t possess any affinities, and it upsets her—I want to help.”


    “How did this topic come up?”


    “We spoke briefly about my Monk Class’s difference to the Githzérai’s Monk Class. During my explanation, Mana came up in the conversation, and she told me about her family,” explained Amdirlain.


    “Know it is good you are talking to others, but don’t shoulder what you cannot change,” said Elliyna.


    “That’s just it. I can change it, or I’ve managed it with every other species,” replied Amdirlain.


    “Know the fact is you’ve not spoken to Master Duurth, so worry is a waste of energy you need for healing. How did you go separating yourself from any of those murderers’ memories?”


    Amdirlain considered the progress that dragged on slower than the cliff climb. “It’s hard going.”


    “Why do you find it so hard?” enquired Elliyna. “Do you see yourself capable of their actions?”


    “I’m a murderer.” state Amdirlain. “I’ve killed thousands, judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one.”


    “You see battles as murder?”


    “I’ve killed sentient beings outside of battle, while they slept or distracted. I justified it to myself, but it was still murder. An entire priesthood has perished at my hands, many sleeping, and a bunch of their servants that were involved in their foulness.”


    Elliyna’s gaze fairly pinned Amdirlain in place. “Had you murdered anyone prior to viewing these Souls’ memories?”


    “No,” admitted Amdirlain, fighting to let the tension that had built go. “I’d trained to defend myself, but I don’t think I’d ever hit someone outside of sparring prior to killing a Demon.”


    “Who was the first being whose death you count as murder?”


    “Unless you count a freshly gestated Demon, or when my Demonic side was in control? An animal who’d been raping young women, some of them barely older than the Novices. The legal process needed one of them to stand up and accuse him, but he’d left them so afraid they wouldn’t or couldn’t risk it.”


    “So you avenged them?” questioned Elliyna.


    “I couldn’t do anything for them, except give them the peace that he wouldn’t hurt another. I had no way to heal what he’d done to them.”


    “What happened to him?”


    “I let him lure me to his house. He hadn’t been planning to let me leave alive—an escalation on his part. When he grabbed me, I kneed him straight in the crotch. Then we had an unpleasant talk in his cellar. He didn’t die cleanly. I didn’t know everyone he’d hurt, and I wanted the authorities to get them help. I’d ask him questions and just read the answers from his mind. Some of his thoughts had me wanting to hurt him more. When I was sure he’d given me all the names—I killed him quickly, and I''m still glad I did.”


    Elliyna pursed her lips a moment before she spoke. “You were sure they would help them?”


    “No, but I gave them information, so they’d help the girls. My choice was to give them a chance to help them. I couldn’t make their choices for them,” said Amdirlain, and missed the look Elliyna gave her when she rubbed her face.


    “Did you enjoy hurting him?” asked Elliyna.


    Memories of his muffled screams rose up and the urge to hurt him worse carved its way through her tensing muscles. “I hurt him enough to get what I wanted.”


    Elliyna’s question snapped like a whip. “Did you enjoy hurting him?”


    Amdirlain shift awkwardly on the seat, and almost changed spots but held herself in place. “Yes, and no. When I could see what he’d done to them in his thoughts, yes; but afterwards, no, I was just glad he was dead.”


    The barrage of questions didn’t continue, and it was only after a pause that Elliyna spoke softly. “What did you do afterwards, Amdirlain?”


    “I wrote his victim’s names and pinned the parchment to a beam near his body. I left the backdoor propped open to attract attention. The next day I gave his purse of coins, and some gemstones to the girl’s mother so she could get her daughter healed.”


    Elliyna’s gaze didn’t leave Amdirlain, but she didn’t leave her waiting. “Do you see yourself as a monster for what you did?”


    “I didn’t even talk to anyone about it, and later the authorities went ''nice work. no problems,” replied Amdirlain, and waved a hand to one side.


    “Did it upset you they accepted your torture of him? Or did you take it they confirmed you were a monster and thus merely acting as expected?” Elliyna whispered, the volume drop making Amdirlain focus to catch the words.


    “I don’t know what I felt!” snapped Amdirlain. “There were others to help, and then I got verbally ambushed on other matters; I didn’t even stop to consider it.”


    Elliyna motioned her to relax, and only after Amdirlain’s expression calmed did she speak again. “Know we’ll come back to this. For now, when you arrived on that ledge, had you killed anyone?”


    “Do animals for food count?”


    Her response had practically blurted itself out and left Amdirlain wondering why she was being evasive.


    “Did they count to you?” asked Elliyna, her focus not budging an inch.


    “No, I was a meat-eater, never honestly considered it,” admitted Amdirlain, and caught the amusement in Elliyna’s gaze.


    “Know that’s a downside to a monastery; I’ll not get a good cut of meat while here,” said Elliyna, lightly smacking her lips. “Did you kill the animals you ate yourself?”


    “Never. It was so impersonal where I lived. We didn’t kill the animal, we just went to the store and purchased it already neatly cut up. Even seeing someone cut, or having a nosebleed, was an unusual day for me,” replied Amdirlain.


    Elliyna nodded thoughtfully at Amdirlain’s words and her focus shifted away momentarily. “Know that is quite a change, to go from never having killed for thirty-odd years, rarely seeing blood, to killing thousands.”


    “Do Demons and undead count?”


    “Know I’m certain no one would count destroying undead as killing. Demons though; do you count their destruction as killing?” asked Elliyna, brought back to the moment by Amdirlain’s question.


    “Pest control mostly. I’ve met very few Demons that didn’t enjoy far worse deeds than the murderers I look into,” admitted Amdirlain.


    “You looked at them with Soul Sight, did you?” Elliyna probed, her gaze fixed on a sudden twist in Amdirlain’s expression.


    Amdirlain tried to smooth her flinch away before she replied. “Their minds mostly said enough.”


    “Know including mostly means yes,” observed Elliyna.


    “Yes, there was some I looked at with Soul Sight,” grumbled Amdirlain.


    Elliyna nodded grimly and fixed Amdirlain with a worried look. “Now why did you ask if either counted?”


    “If they counted, then it’s millions; I’ve killed thousands of Slaadi in a day,” replied Amdirlain.


    She paused before responding, but finally Elliyna nodded. “Know that no Githzérai will count dealing with Slaadi as killing; that is indeed pest control. Do you count them?”


    “They’re intelligent,” retorted Amdirlain


    “Know when you work to analyse memories—try to remember how you were—not how you see yourself now. Know the impact of the memories is making your view of yourself worse,” instructed Elliyna.


    Amdirlain gave her braid a tug and dropped it in reflex when Elliyna glared at her hand. “I don’t even recognise myself anymore.”


    “Know partly it might be because of all the pain you’ve allowed yourself to accumulate. Though can you imagine surviving all you’ve been through as you were? Are any of the horrors you see your doing? Do you even know any of the Souls whose lives pressed into you?”


    “No.”


    “Now, what is the first memory there?” insisted Elliyna.


    The effect of Soul Sight had been a brief instant; a single frame sliced into a film running fast within her mind. A thousand facets of moments in lives, not hers—had stabbed into, bled across and stained through her. The first surfaced from amid the wreckage in her mind palace and Amdirlain twisted in disgust within its coils. Reality stuttered within it as she found herself both the participant and observer through the perpetrator''s senses. Sweat so thick it was a membrane of foulness sliding across his/her face. It came oozing from every pore in the heat of his/her exertions, wrapping around her as the body’s cooling fluids splash across his/her legs.


    “I’m fucking a corpse.”


    Elliyna flinched back at the flat statement, and her gaze softened. “Know the action isn’t yours and analyse it. Know you need to keep to the pattern you choose, so it’s in your control. What’s on the upper left of your perspective?”


    “A severed head watching me—them.”


    “Know you are doing well, keep going. Know you should break it down, turn it into facts of an act that is not yours.”