I was alone on the beach, somewhere between snaking trees and a smooth bluff that rose into clouds, thinking about how nice it would be to build a small house above ground, with a castle beneath it, where I could sit in relative warmth, or rise to my modest roof and look through a telescope into the sky. As soon as I thought it, it was, and I looked back at the winding stair that twisted its way into darkness, then put my eye to the lens and looked upward. In the clouds crowning the bluff were wisps of moisture, puffy and swirling, and rain came down in sheets, black on grey soil. Above the clouds was something else, and it drew me in, the rocks and crystals tumbling slowly in low orbit, as if beyond the sky was ocean, invisible, no natural water but a spell upon the air that fooled it into thinking the ground beneath it had gone, leaving no place for the debris to fall to. Above the floating boulders and shards of ice was a blanket of soot, the ground up bone meal of six continents and ten billion living souls. And were there not the ashes of animals and trees there too? The armies of the dead are indeed staggering.

I was alone on that beach, until I saw a figure in the foam. I called out to her, but either my voice was lost in the crashing of the waves, or she had no desire to speak, so I let her enjoy her solitude while I resumed my inquiries into the past. Wanting to summon such things as I had my castle and observatory, I pictured a vast aerial serpent with feathered talons that scooped away the dirt above the sky, peeling back its layers until the Sun shone through white and blinding. Nothing happened, and I remained looking through my telescope with no new knowledge beyond the difference between our prison veil and rain bearing clouds.

Astus was asleep on my floor, his breath whistling rhythmically as it had inside my tent. I think his breath woke me, and I fought the urge to kick him as I walked by. But I let him sleep, passing through my door instead of creaking it open, and I strode unseen for as long as I could. The sycophants, grasping for distraction in the nightlife of the pseudo rich, yelped when I appeared, short of breath, fingertips tingling. I walked past them silently, grinning inside at the effect I was having on Jadus's populace. My own comrades rolled their eyes at me, as did the Ophidians and some of Jadus's veteran raiders, but the general public was becoming more and more wary of the shadows now that I lurked between them.

A thing that bothered me, though I didn't know it at the time, is that when I first began to pass from one plane to the other, I forgot about Eris somewhat, and the significance of losing her diminished a great deal. I thought of women's faces who had no names; sisters not Kendra, mothers not Tomorrow Gives Her Hope, and a wife not Eris. And there were men's faces too; brothers not Caduceus, fathers not Turk, and a face not mine, only... If there was a Dolomite in that unprompted blur, it may have been one of the white robed elders I saw stooped with their chin folds pressed against their necks.

I wandered so for close to a week, seeking crowded areas at night where there were no sleepers, emerging from the rift, or from behind a tall plant, anything to keep them unsettled. When Goth and Jadus were convinced that Lord V was not mounting any reprisals, Turk began the preparations for our assault on Pandemonium.

During our wait, the pegasi had been retrained in a number of ways, including adjustments to their tack for our subterranean flight. Also, they were taught to recognise only their new masters, and there was some trivial whinging over my refusal to hand my pegasus over to the 'king'. I made it clear to Jadus that he held no authority over me or my hard earned prize, and when he protested, Turk made it clear that unless Jadus left the matter alone, his assault on Pandemonium would be delayed until after Blitzkrieg laid waste to Thieve's Gate, a thing I did not know had been so imminently feared. Jadus stopped his complaining eventually, though he withdrew the Ophidians out of pettiness.

Jadus's mewling over the white pegasus made it difficult for me to respect any request Turk made of my behavior, and when I heard he had defended my right to an apartment within the palace, I said that I'd prefer the company of my fellow soldiers to that of these thief-adjacent lickspittles.

"The thieves are your fellow soldiers," Turk urged, so I relented, and stayed below ground.

"Couldn't have done it without you, precious," Jadus said while showing me my living quarters. It was a spacious apartment, compared to most, with a kitchenette and a shower so large that I had to fully extend my arm to reach the curtain while standing under the spout. Definitely a far cry from my silo back at Haven.

I was involved in a few meetings regarding our attack. I'd shown more aptitude than anyone expected, especially since I'd retained what skill my proximity to V had awakened. The higher ups discussed for hours how I might use my gift, occasionally setting up obstacles in one of the dojos to test my capacity. Turk smirked when I used the need for practice as an excuse to harass Jadus's subjects, though only those who lived far below ground found me to be a nuisance. Those above ground revered me for it, and I soon found myself with something of a following. Now that irritated Jadus, and even Turk asked me to contain my antics to the elite districts.

I did, having a great deal of fun while extending my tolerances for both transfer and duration. The transfer remains the most difficult aspect, moving from one world to another, as it means carrying the nature of one across the threshold with me, and enduring the burn of it being expunged. The dust from the waking lands cannot survive among the whirls of dreamsand, and what encompasses that unseen span is poison to things touchable. Meaning, one cannot hold the void in their hand and hope to keep it.

I was reading to Astus from a codex I'd saved from the Bibliotheca. There was a jinn in my apartment that could decipher its script, and we looked together at images of a foreign world of branched trees and painted hills where sprigs grew ripe in abundance. Kendra would have danced there till she died, then risen to dance again. The seasons would turn with her as she spun herself to dropping, and her singing would be accompanied by the chortle of birds who did not fear the leaping worms that enter through the bill.

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Abdiel rapped on my door, and when I opened it he scanned my dwelling intently, then gestured for me to follow him after a moment of quiet inspection.

Jadus had many tyflochs in his ranks. They flocked (ha!) to Thieves' Gate for the prosthetics once made by the good Doctor Danders. Many had raised a wing, natural or no, to Abdiel, hoping for a sign of camaraderie from the legendary avatar of Abaddon. He ignored every one of them. Now the hope of replacement limbs was gone, and they all knew why, so the tyflochs of Thieves' Gate sneered at us both as we made our way to the hangar where the pegasi were stabled, but one look from Abdiel calmed them, and they would turn their heads before making their threats. I chose one group of four to emerge in front of, my nose nearly scraping the snout of the biggest. While approaching the hangar I asked Abdiel if he did not have any affection for his own kindred. He looked at me and laughed with frowning eyes.

Nowhere in Thieves' Gate had so many guards as that stable. I expected either Abdiel to have obtained clearance for a flight, or for Turk to be awaiting us. Instead, Abdiel loitered by a console where several groomers were monitoring the vitals of our new mounts, and waited for me to rift my way into my pegasus, using the rush of angry guards and stablehands responding to my unscheduled departure as a distraction for his own horse thieving.

I asked over the comms if we would not be pursued. His response was silence. I asked no more questions, nor harbored any further concerns, and enjoyed the sight of an ashen horizon rolling beneath me. We rode high for a time, our windscreens showing their strength against the millions of tiny stones that pelted all who strode midheaven. Then we swooped down and skimmed the saltless earth, and I found that when I saw through ghostlight, the blue lamps lining my saddle and reins turned to undulant green, and beneath me was a white ocean that writhed like steam in a crowded bath house. I let go the reins, and my horse then galloped on his own, devouring the ground beneath his folded knees. Abdiel soared above me, then banked and cut across my path. I responded by whispering a feeling of triumph to my pegasus. He bounded upward with a menacing sound, lifting a cloud of ash with his rise, and pushed the world behind him with the power of a wrestler, then dodged Abdiel's black beast like a child skipping over a puddle.

We flew less jovially when we passed a certain rise. Beyond the circular ridge was the land I once called home. The village of Ossary was not even there as ruins, though I wanted to believe I could see its old shape in mounds beneath the billowing grey sands. The space within my horse's windscreen grew deeply quiet, or perhaps I became so still within myself that even dead silence was muffled. I slowed my pegasus to a canter and we circled in a wide arc, my eyes glowing bright with sadness and awe. Where once I walked the broad ramp beneath the caldera doors, heading into what dread service only the Winds could tell, there was now a hole in the world that left a thin ring of scorched bedrock between the land left for the villagers, and the borders of the Dolomite sanctum.

Time became sluggish, the horizon tilting as if on a gimbal, but slow as a storm wave deceptively appears to be from a long ways off. The hole seemed a world on its own. No swirl of dust or wind tossed rocks molested its edge, and beneath its rim were long gouges that looked as if they'd been there since before the islands were summoned from the sea. The old ring of tall torches still stood, driving away winged vermin and insects. The light had never been bright, but they once emitted a stronger protective ward that also trapped their light. Now it was more dispersed, and cast an eerie pall. When we landed and dismounted, I noticed no more noise than when my windscreen was closed. Even the wind was afraid of approaching this primordial doorway.

"We'll enter here," Abdiel said, standing far closer to the rim than I dared. He never spoke loudly, at least not in the presence of my ears, but so empty was the world around that alien portal that his whispered snarl was clearly heard. When I did not reply, he gestured for me to come close. I did not, and in anger, he gestured again, sternly with his wing. His pinions flared and rattled like a viper's tail. I walked to him, and felt my blood turn to cold slush when I looked down. We may not have stood there for more than a minute or so, but that brief moment brought a lasting change to my heart. When we returned to Thieves' Gate I would waste no more time taunting the sycophants.

When we were done looking into Darkness, Abdiel wanted to spar. I was too dumbfounded to ask questions, so I simply raised my fists and lunged forward. I'm not the greatest warrior of Tarthas, but I am far from the worst. I did not feel surprised when my first jab found Abdiel's brow, nor when my second and third found his ribs and jaw. But when blow after blow struck without a block, dodge or counter, I began to wonder, and I slowed my dance and raised my guard before asking what his purpose was. He wiped his mouth with his wrist and spat a splotch of crimson, the only answer I would get.

He did speak to me while we waited for our mounts to drink, however. They were of a golden age design, and could quench their thirst with the passive power emanating from Gaia's cold tomb, only needing processed fuel when reserves were nill and takeoff was urgent.

"Thirty-nine?" he asked. He leaned with his arm on his horse's haunch.

"Yes," I answered, standing tall and still, and curious. He nodded, and was silent for quite a while, during which time I paced slowly in a circle around our steeds. He spoke again when I had my back to him, and was staring across the black surface of the hole.

"How old? When Turk found you?"

"Fourteen," I answered, still looking across the black surface of the hole. There was a distortion in the gouges of the hole's steep wall, like a living rain, vanishing with all things into the black expanse within. Only with my deep vision could I see them, and that too failed at the brink.

Abdiel was silent, but I may as well have heard him nod. "How old were you?" I asked, not looking over my shoulder, as other creatures had braved the hellmouth, loping near the edge on the far side. They were difficult to see, even with the increased acuity of my dark adaptation, but I recognized their spindly silhouettes from the day my beloved died.

"Same."

I began to turn my head at that, but stopped, for as I turned the gangrels made to run away, and I wanted to look at them, far and close to invisible as they were, to maybe learn what they could be, or maybe just to savour the feeling of muted fear they evoked.

"How old are you now?", I asked.

"Old." His reply was delayed.

For as long as I looked at them in shadesight, they remained, mostly still, occasionally darting to escape, then stopping suddenly and falling backwards, as if my eyes had caught them in a snare.

"Come on."

I sighed, then turned, leaving the phantasmagoria that had felt so restfully disturbing.