Clare had not forgotten her death. That was impossible. But she hadn’t thought about it in a while.

It had been in Guatemala. Her Spanish was, to be honest, barely functional. The year she’d been there had been filled with more pantomiming than palatable grammar.

The locals hadn’t seemed to mind though. Just appreciated the extra help running the orphanage. Clare was lucky she’d gotten a sponsor for the trip—the place couldn’t have afforded to pay her, and she couldn’t have paid for it herself.

Well, maybe if she’d saved up for it. She’d never been very good with money, though.

Her mind wandered while Van Gogh made a gorgeous depiction of the dungeon’s origin. Checking his status, she found he was drawing the information from his [Storyteller of the Dungeon] modifier, although she couldn’t guess how he’d gotten it.

She turned to ask Kepler—

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

He wasn’t there.

A knot of anxiety lodged itself firmly in her sternum.

Van Gogh was attempting to paint(?) the Rift now, pulling ooohs and aaahs from his audience but failing to communicate the true scale of the thing.

Astrid looked thoroughly confused. Most of them did, in an entertained way.

Except for Arachne.

Clare wasn’t sure what the faerie had understood, but it had lit a fire in her eyes.

Van Gogh reached the part where Clare met Kepler. The symbiote was painted in obsidian, mercury, and purple musgravite. His flowing form pooled around the crystalline depiction of herself.

Golden links tangled around them both, before Van Gogh moved to the next panel. The two figures were tangled together; hands clasped, foreheads touching, eyes focused nowhere else but on each other.

Her chest hurt.

Clare paced their mind space. Anxiety had dyed it a lurid red.

The system nudged at her with a notification.

Does it have information about Kepler? She asked. It would take time and a headache to decipher the prompt on her own.

Negative.

Clare scowled. Put her hand on the wall of their mind space, connected with his warm unconscious, reached for him.

Wherever he was, it was too far to reach.

Dissatisfied, she tried again.

Again.

Again.

Again...