Al-Hadun was nothing like a mountain. In fact, it would be more accurate to say It looked like a tower. It was tall and thin, though it was sturdy at the base. It twirled up into the sky like some sort of decorative dagger. It came to an unnaturally sharp point, which, as far as Tay knew, normal towers did not.

For example: the tower in Finick’s Bay was like a hundred clam shells stacked atop each other. It made for an unusual shape to be sure, and it was certainly foreboding, if not in design, then for the danger it held. But this was different. Just looking at it made Tay's skin crawl. He had slapped his skin more than once thinking a bug was moving beneath his clothes.

Along the side facing Tay was a crevice, dozens of feet wide at the bottom. At its edges flames billowed out like open curtains flapping in the wind. And inside, black as the ocean at night, was nothing. At least as the eye could tell. But Tay could feel more.

Around it, shockingly, laid a heavy sprinkling of trees, none of which Tay recognized. They looked to be on the verge of death; their leaves were brown, tinged with green. Their bark peeled, and the wood beneath looked sickly.

Beyond the circle of trees was a field of boulders that formed small canyons. And with every change in the wind, the visceral sound of animals followed. Tay had caught more than a few glimpses of all-too familiar tails peeking over the rocks, and it was obvious to all but the blind that they were not those of infants.

Tay had waited almost a half hour at the top of a dune before he decided to go further. All the time the dagger-like tower's crevice watched him like a flaming, abyssal eye.

He kept his sounds quite as he crawled up the massive boulders. He had nothing with him except his armor and sword, the rest he had left with his ride who waited patiently for him behind the dune. It was hard to find footing up there. Somehow, the rocks had been smooth, almost like those on the beaches of Finick’s Bay.

Shadows caught his eyes, making him jump and almost fall down into the pits that the boulders formed—down with the creatures. He took solace in the belief that the small caverns were too small for Umbras the size of the Aldin’s to fit in. Or at least he hoped they were, he was questioning his memory.

He lept from boulder to boulder, slowly traversing the field. It was bigger than he had thought, and progress was slow. And it came to a halt when a venomous tail waved beside him. He fell to the ground, his head and body molded as closely to the rock beneath as possible, his eyes fixed on the droplets coming from the stinger.

He waited what felt like minutes, his heart beating loudly in his ears. He had no delusions of beating an adult. He wondered if Raya could even beat one. Then he realized that the answer to that was obvious. Eventually, the creature moved on.

Tay took a few moments before continuing, regaining his composure and his breath.

Tay noticed unsettlingly, that as he went along, the crevice—the eye—seemed to still be facing him perfectly. He knew it shouldn't have.

The field of half-dead trees now laid before him. He jumped from the boulders down onto the sand beneath. And the sound that followed his landing was so loud that it made him trip over his own feet in surprise. He fumbled, trying to find his footing somewhere in the field of discombobulation he felt.

With each step, the sound was amplified ten fold. It was so loud that it made Tay's ears ring in only a few strides. It wasn't just the sound, either. The sand beneath him made even the slightest of vibrations into shockwaves like from explosions. The sound of massive crab-like feet soon followed behind him as he ran.

He didn't dare to look back, but he could feel more than one creature. The crevice was before him now, and he jumped. A pain shot out from his leg, and he felt something dangling. He didn't look down. The world disappeared.

Cold like the dead of winter gripped him. Like a bath in a frozen lake. Like he was scrolling around snow, naked. His body was shivering, his mind felt numb from the chill. But he sat up anyway. His arms gripped his shoulders, trying to keep his shaking to a minimum. He looked and panicked. There was nothing.

No sand, no trees, no monsters, no sky or rock. Simply nothing. Emptiness. And Tay felt a sudden surge of sadness, of loss. Odd. He thought. The void felt so wrong. There shouldn't have been nothing, right? Then he saw that there was something. Something sitting on the non-existent floor that shivered on.

His leg.

With a jolt for fright, he grasped for his knees, his shins and and his feet, and he looked down. That…doesn't make sense. He realized. His leg was still there. It might have been without the pant leg that was on the bisector limb, but it was there. It felt perfectly normal, like nothing had happened.

He felt at his waist and sighed heavily at the familiar—if crude—handle of his new sword. In the short time since he had gotten in, it had served him well. He already had a connection with it, and its near presence helped calm him.

“If you keep damaging you limbs, you might… one day lose them… permanently.” A terrifying voice said slowly. Tay's body suddenly stopped shaking. Perhaps that was A byproduct of him not breathing.

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He turned stiffly, like cog in a machine. He felt a prickle of warmth on his skin, and then His eyes found an almost imperceivable orange dot. It was hard to tell if it was simply far away, or very, very small. He squinted, trying to see it, then his eyes grew wide.

Like he had just traveled a hundred miles in a few seconds, the dot grew larger and larger. There was no wind, so it was hard for him to grasp how fast he was going, but then again, he doubted he would want to. As a result of this, he did not think about if there was no wind, and no air, how he wasn't suffocating.

His neck craned up, and he felt dizzy. It took everything he had to stay standing before it. Tay suddenly got the feeling of having shrunk. That must have been how an ant felt before him; small, hopeless and insignificant. He had half the mind to run, but his body wouldn't listen. And something about the being before him was familiar.

It sat on a throne as big as a city. The flaming form of the being sprawled on it as if it had no cares in the world. Its head rested on its hand, its barely distinguishable eyes.were locked onto Tay.

“Forgive my…speech.” It said, it's voice like thunder. “It's difficult to speak the language of man again in this form.” He tilted his head. “Though it is pleasant to be able to finally speak to you.”

Tays breath started to come back, and he narrowed his eyes at the being. “Orby?” A low rumble came for him. “That Is the name you called me by. However infuriating it was.” A bead of sweat dripped down the side of Tay's head.

“Sorry…I didn't know your name. You never said it.” The being waved his hand haphazardly. “I couldn't. The form I was given in your world was incapable of conveying anything more than the most basic of emotions. At least without me forcing it, which is not pleasant.” He added.

Tays head nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the giant being. “So, is this what an Elder Spirit looks like?” He asked. A rumbling chuckle came from the spirit.

“I would hope not.” He sat up and then leaned his elbows against his knees. “I'm afraid to say my children don't quite have my stature.” Tay's heart stopped at that. Children? Tay only knew of one type of being who could create spirits, and that was-

“No…” He said. The shaking was back, but this time he didn't stop his knees from giving out. “That's impossible. I couldn't have summoned you. No one could have!” He yelled.

The being seemed to ponder that. “Indeed. It is a miracle; what you have achieved. And yet here you are. Here I am. Spirit and summoner. Connected. Nothing about it makes sense, but what does that matter? We're here, and neither of us can do a thing About it. Not even me. We are bound to the same fate now as long as you live.” He sat back on his throne.

Tay stared up at him, sweat beading on his face. His eyes wandered as his mind slowly caught up with reality. “So, I guess I can't call you Orby anymore.” A sheepish chuckled snuck into his voice.

The being shook his head. Tay took a moment to think. He had heard the Spirit kinds names before—or read them. “Ifirit, right?” He asked, and a smile crossed the spirits face. “Correct. It's good to know my name Is known even in a city such as…yours.”

“How couldn't we know you?” He asked. “And the others. You're legends—myths, even.” Ifirit stared intently down at Tay. “But…no one thought it possible to summon you, so I never considered that possibility.” Ifirit grunted dismissively.

“I didn't expect you to. But this isn't what's important, is it?” He asked. Tay smiled weakly. “I don't know what to do. It feels like wherever I turn someone is trying to use or lie to me.” He stood, shrugging the tremors away.

“I expected something like this from Carval, but from Alexander and Raya?” He blurted a sour laugh.

“And why are you so sure they're lying?” Tay scoffed. “You were there when I told Alexander the story. They all died.”

“Didn't you say that your parents' bodies were charred? They could have been anyone.” Tay narrowed his eyes at that.

“Someone else in my parents room?” He questioned. Ifirit shrugged. “Perhaps they were put there. You've said it yourself: you didn't know much about your parents' working lives.” He leaned back. “It's not out of the question. I’m assuming there were no bodies left inside?” He asked.

Tay’s eyes fluttered and looked away. “There was nothing left.” He said quietly, almost like a whisper. Ifirit didn’t have an issue hearing him, however, and nodded. “Then there’s no way to know one way or the other. You’ve been living with either a truth or a lie and no way to discover which. Your friends have given you an out, and even if you think they're lying, leaving the possibility unchecked will undoubtedly haunt you.” He shrugged.

“But it’s up to you, my summoner. I go where you go. If you wish to continue to the mountains, and eventually the lands beyond,” He smiled.

“Then we will forge a path alone.”

Tay sighed. He was tired. Tired like someone done with everything. He looked down at his hands, seeing the blackened skin. Even if it didn’t hurt, it was still an ever present reminder of his mistake. He lost his self control, and it had cost him. But somewhere far, far away, in parts of his mind he didn’t much like, he blamed the Phantoms and Henry. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that if they hadn't tried to use him, or rather, if they hadn't tried to obtain him like some decoration, then he wouldn't be where he was—personally or physically.

But above it all, he knew Ifirit was right. If there was even the slightest possibility that his parents were alive and that he could know what really happened, then he needed to know.

He sat up, brushing the sand that still clung to him off into the void. It wasn’t stopped by the invisible floor.

“We’re going back.”

Suddenly, the space around him lit up with flames. They flared out from Ifirit, each tendril impossibly huge, even without comparison in the void. The fire seemed to spread and engulf him, the walls of the sphere they formed felt just out of grip, but yet so far away. As he looked back to Ifirit, he saw that he was at the Spirit’s eye level.

“Not as we are now.” He said in a growl. Tay cocked his head. “This is my domain, Tay. Within here, almost nothing is impossible, which is why I had you come. Besides reconnecting with your soul after the stunt I pulled in the tower, I can alter your soul in way’s impossible elsewhere.”

“By alter, you mean—”

“I’m going to forcefully evolve you.” Tay’s mouth hung open slightly, his eyes wide. “You can just…do that?” His voice quivered. “Once.” He confirmed. “And only once. Anymore and I risk causing even more permanent damage to your soul, and in your case, that could be deadly.” He pointed to Tay with a massive finger.

Tay’s whole body quivered as a wave of power washed over him. “Then…” His arms stretched out, his head lulling back. “Let’s get this done with.”

Tay couldn’t remember anything but pain after that.