On the morning of the Winter solstice, Everie stood alone, barefoot, clad in only her nightgown, at the balcony of her bedroom.

For once, the permafrost had cleared, the storm-spirits faltering in their merciless attack. That allowed Everie full view of the nation- state that she now called home.

Her eyes flickered across the landscape of Medea, down the valley. The entire Dukedom had been bleached white - covered in snow.

Pure, innocent snow.

But there was one spot of the forest that remained static, untouched by snow. An inlet, only one that had become evermore apparent these past few weeks. The winds could not harm it. The faintly violet-tinged trees within refused to shed their leaves.

Everie could sense it. Everyone with a hint of magic in their blood could sense it, awakened or not.

The ether.

It was impossibly pure and massive; the mere presence of it rebuffed the continent-spanning permafrost.

Everie’s Well ached for it.

For use.

For completion.

She clenched her fists. Just wait, she thought to herself. Just a little bit longer.

Because she knew the Blessing awaited her - which Everie now suspected was the final key in the puzzle that was her magic.

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Two hours later, Everie was in a carriage with Daphne, Cherry, and Briar. It was her first time in such a vehicle in this world, but it didn’t feel very different from the rugged automobiles that she had sometimes employed in her previous life. In fact, because of how the carriage floated just off the road, there was hardly even a jolt when the elevation of the road changed.

Everie bounced slightly on Briar’s lap. She must have misconstrued that as nervousness, because the woman giggled, and whispered “There, there, child. It won’t be long, now.”

Otherwise, though, the carriage was silent. There was a solemn mood that not even Daphne dared to breach.

Everie didn’t dare talk, either.

Cherry and two of the other maids sat primly in the outside compartment of the carriage - which, now that Everie thought about it, was huge. It was pretty much a two-story tall block of enchanted wood or some similar material. The great horses that pulled it along were over twice the height of regular horses, although Everie was beginning to suspect that they weren’t horses at all. Rather, some strange species.

Everie turned her head to look out the window of the carriage. She didn’t say anything, but like usual, Briar somehow sensed her intentions and awkwardly lifted her up so that Everie could peer out the windowsill - she had to twist slightly in her seat so that she could get the right angle.

The Medean Covert was what this part of the forest, untouched by the permafrost, was called. Above, the treetops were a roiling mass of verdant green with spots of flowery coverage that looked similar to the Wisteria, only with a slightly darker indigo shade. Not a hint of snow could be seen. Soon, they would reach the Hero’s, or Ancestor’s Covert, as Daphne had helpfully explained to her.

Most significantly, though, ether was everywhere.

The place positively stank of the paranormal, and it was only growing stronger and stronger the deeper they ventured in. She could feel it, despite not being remotely able to manipulate it - Everie dared not. Not when her Well was pulsating so vigorously, in such a similar fashion to that first incident.

Whatever. This was her first time leaving the house since... her birth! Everie sat - or lay, really - languidly in Briar’s arms. Despite being the size of a small toddler, Everie was light for her size.

At the very least, Everie would take this opportunity to absorb as much of the Medean scenery as humanly possible.

The manor’s an incredible place, she thought, but one grows dreary of luxury if they see it constantly for a year straight.

Unfortunately for her, the carriage gradually began to slow. The foliage turned from a colorful blur to a mass that was appreciably visible.

The environment had changed. Before, where there had been nothing but an arboreal sea of green and violet, signs of things that looked more artificial began to dot the area around the root-covered road they were taking. Most of them were stone ruins of some kind, inscribed with faded runes and scripture that Everie couldn’t read.

They pockmarked the ground in sporadic amounts, growing in prevalence as they grew closer and closer to their target. Everie winced as her Well throbbed, causing her to immediately stretch out to exert the organ, only for it to fade just before she managed to do so.

They had arrived.

The carriage slowed, sinking as it did so, until it nearly rested on the ground. Daphne turned away from the windowsill and proffered Everie back to Briar, who had just then begun to slip out of her covers. None of that registered to Everie, though, who was still just so preoccupied with staring at the air around her in wonder.

Because she could see it.

It encapsulated everything: a colorless, roiling fog that looked nothing like she’d ever seen. It was different from the magic Daphne had used that fateful day, weeks after her birth.

More importantly, though, her Well and nascent fragment was resonating with it. It was unmatched to her past few revelations - when she’d first come into contact with Daphne’s magic, as well as when she’d read about the Fragmentation in that storybook.

The resonance was hard to describe. It was similar to hunger, but different - more like she was already full, and the energy within her was reacting to the ‘magic’ around her.

One thing that Everie knew remained constant, though, was that desire for completion. To be used. It had only grown stronger and stronger since her birth, and even more potent yet with the gift of the Crying Demon.

It is a mystery, Everie decided, that will be solved today.

It took some fumbling to finally get out of the carriage, with Daphne and Cherry and a few of the other maids helping Briar down the steps of the floating carriage. The soldiers that had been guarding the convoy stood to attention, snapping into the tidy Azer Luceran salute Everie had come to be used to.

Haswalth, who had been absent in the procession - he had been busy preparing the ceremony at their destination - was waiting for them, Vernas at his side.

“You’ve arrived,” he said, voice flat. Everie quirked a brow; unlike usual, Haswalth sounded very serious. There was no waver in his voice like when he usually talked to Briar or Everie herself.

Instead, all that was left was cold, unbending steel.

Briar stayed silent, pursing her lips. At her side, Daphne shifted nervously.

The maidstaff bowed. Haswalth ignored them, instead raising his palm.

“To progress beyond this point, I’ll first have to cast a binding vow on anyone that is not already part of the Guard, or the heir.”

He stepped forward, face grim. “This is no small matter. A binding vow of the caliber I am about to present is the most powerful compelling force there is - it enchains the recipient’s promise to fundamental law. It cannot be broken.”

Then he coughed. “It’s also very expensive, so those that do not have to hear the secret must stay behind.”

The secret? Everie breathed. That confirms it. So there is something more to the ceremony after all.

“The maidstaff will stay behind, husband,” Briar said, shaking her head. “Only my daughter, myself, and Cherry should pass.”

“Daphne too,” Everie said, tugging at Briar’s dress. The woman frowned, before relenting.

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Haswalth grimaced. “Alright, then. Anyone not willing - stand back.”

The maids and the coachman stood back as ordered, and Haswalth began his magic.

It was not a Chant, as Daphne would call it. The magic didn’t come from Haswalth - rather, it came from a number of spherical gemstones that he held in his other fist. As she watched, Haswalth’s ether flowed into each, dissolving them.

Then it was over. Everie blinked; Haswalth had made it out to be this extremely momentous act.

“Binding Vows are ancient magicks,” Haswalth explained, stowing the remaining gemstones away. “Illicit usage of them is a most heinous crime. Of course, for them to fully function, the oath must be reciprocated; however, for most, even a weak oath, improperly applied, is enough to nearly completely enslave a soul.”

“There is even a hero that once brought a crusade against such a form of slavery, and after the Fragmentation made certain to lock the secrets of soul-magic away.”

The Minarious, Everie remembered. His legend was about the slave-revolt he led against his oppressor-kingdom.

“Our Ancestor, too, especially anathematized binding-vows,” Haswalth said, turning ‘round. “Reciprocally, they may be unbreakable promises. But it is good to be cautious with such magic - the artifacts I used were created by the Artisan before the fragmentation itself.

Another Hero, Everie thought. Over the past few months, she had memorized the names of many of them. It was hard not to. According to legend, they were the beings that had reconstructed this world after the war between heaven and earth: the Fragmentation. It was understandable why their influence would be felt, even today.

And of course, Everie thought, today, I visit the grave of the Ninety-Ninth.

My Ancestor. Medea.

There was… something about that name. Everie narrowed her eyes.

But Haswalth had already begun to depart. As he did so, he turned, raising a beckoning hand.

“I shall lead the procession. The guardsmen will escort you, my dau- heiress.”

They walked through the wilderness as one. Briar stumbled ever so often, but was caught by Cherry and Daphne, the latter of whom had even gained a solemn air around her.

Then they arrived.

One moment, there had been nothing but a thick copse of trees ahead of them. The next, an enormous mountain range that ringed a supermassive depression in the ground popped into existence, replacing the illusion that had been present before. The tips of the farthest mountaintops seemed to stretch almost to the horizon’s very edge. And the aura - the sheer aura - beckoned her forth.

And there, in the center of the depression, was a massive sinkhole, covered by a barrier that glowed with starlight. The pit seemed to stretch infinitely down into the deepest crevasses of the earth.

Haswalth led the procession, although he looked noticeably more solemn. Daphne and even some of the younger-looking guardsmen were looking around the air in muted fascination.

Eventually, their procession stepped on the barrier with a hiss that made Everie jump and Briar clutch at her all the tighter. Everie let out a startled wail, before pausing in wonder as her core simply vibrated at the sensation of the waves of manic energy oscillating through her body.

Their entourage stopped perfectly in the center of the forcefield, which was inscribed with fizzling runic lines and hieroglyphs. The treeshore looked so far away now - Everie hadn’t noticed they’d been walking for so long - that the crackling energy covering the canyon looked more like a flat plane of blue glass rather than a valley. The Guard arranged themselves in order. The knight-captain snapped to attention, as did the rest of the men behind him. Briar stiffened as Haswalth stepped next to her. Cherry and Daphne took two measured steps backwards. Even the usually effervescent maid looked slightly discomforted: not just because of the solemn atmosphere, but also the fact that the energy here was so dense and singular.

For Everie, though? It felt amazing. And it wasn’t even a sensation she had actively sought out.

It was subtle, at first. Eyes widening, Everie felt the aperture that was her Well widen slightly as the ambient magic was absorbed. Then it widened- and widened- and widened-

She drank it greedily, trying to absorb as much of the energy as she could. Most of it was instinctive, her body naturally assimilating as much of the natural energy as possible, but she also reached out to her internal force to try to manipulate it the way Daphne did every morning when activating the folding runes on her bassinet.

And unlike before, it didn’t hurt. It was like absorbing Daphne’s magic had been a forceful awakening, Everie realized. This was just… widening the aperture that had already been made.

Perhaps because of her distracted state, Everie hardly noticed that the ceremony had already begun. Haswalth stood before her, looking down at her slight form from his superior vantage.

“Great ancestor Medea, the Ninety-Ninth Hero, we will now fulfill our sacred covenant,” intoned Haswalth, voice tight. A small susurration ran through the small crowd of Briar, the maids, and the guard.

I was right, Everie breathed, shivering. The Well was waiting for this.

I was waiting for this.

Like a black hole, huh? Seems like that analogy was more accurate than I thought.

A vortex of ether was being sucked into the Well. The fragment shuddered from the onslaught, but Everie ignored it; it just felt so good.

She felt the aperture widening, and she could almost see a hint of something within. Those motes of nonstandard energy that she was only barely capable of feeling - they were so close to passing through the tear in reality that was her Well-

Everie blinked. Wait. This isn’t just regular Ether. It’s something different. What-

“Under your guidance, we begin the Ceremony of Names.”

With each word Haswalth said, the magic grew stronger. And then, within Haswalth’s core, Everie caught a hint of something. Her eyes widened.

“We ask you to bestow upon this child your grace, your wisdom, your fealty, your faith - so that she may carry out the sacred task.”

Haswalth perused the various runic symbols that made up the barrier separating the Herofall from the outside world. Only after several minutes did he finally return his attention to the ceremony - during which the rest of the participants had been watching with bated breath.

“It is a success!” Haswalth shouted. A palpable susurration ran throughout the crowd, and Everie felt her mother’s grip on her tighten. Daphne let out a little squeal, and even Cherry looked relieved.

Everie blinked, finally snapping out of her stupor. Her Well was still continuously widening, being fed ether as it was.

That can’t be it, Everie thought, desperately. I’m so close! Just a little more ether, and I’ll be able to get at the energy within-

“The Ancestor’s magic has spoken! This one’s name is Everie. And she, like the Ancestor, shall guard the seal ‘till her dying breath.”

Immediately, two things happened.

The first was that Everie thought what the fuck.

The chances of her receiving the same name by chance... no, there was more to it. Haswalth had inspected the runic formation that made up the barrier below for several minutes before announcing her name, so it was likely that the magic that bound this place had somehow recognized her existing title.

Or the one that sent me here, Everie thought, is connected to this land, somehow.

Still, this likely meant that whatever magic infused this place at least understood to some degree that she was a reincarnate.

The second, however, was far, far more important. Right after Haswalth shouted out her new - old? - name, the ether that had been swirling in her body, rushing to her Well suddenly agitated. They stilled just ‘around the point of her fragment, settling on the fractured edges of the half-grown spiderweb-lattice.

“And now, the Blessing.”

The thing in Haswalth’s core shot out in a blaze of magic and power unlike anything Everie had ever seen before. Even the Crying Demon- even those two beings could not compare.

Then it settled in Everie’s abdomen, fusing with the fragment the Crying-Demon had given her.

And the fragment was no longer a fragment.

It felt wrong. As if a fundamental part of the universe that made up the laws of this world - as broken as they were already - had been torn apart to make way for something greater that lay beneath.

Because it completely encapsulated her Well, containing the black-hole force that it was, distorting reality itself. It was like space itself was warping near her core. Everie shuddered; the distortions hurt, but vexingly… they also felt right. As if things were returning to a way they should be - but how could that be?

She collapsed to her knees. This was too much; though the torrent of magic in her had stabilized, everything hurt. It-

Haswalth was at her side, eyes widened in panic, shaking her by her arms. Someone- Briar? Was running to her, mouth open, trailed by two figures...

Everie tried to open her mouth to scream, but her body refused to move. It was as if her body - this new, infant form of hers - was being overwritten by something ancient. Something powerful.

Then, for the first time, Everie felt it.

Magic.

No. This was something more fundamental than simple sorcery. It blurred her vision, sending the world spiraling into a single focal point. Reality tore at itself, ripping apart layer by layer.

A plane of colorless energy, roiling in an infinite mass.

A realm of spider-webbing red-black lines, stretching from node to node.

A field of distortion, shifting with every second.

A world of white mist, untouched.

A dark void, empty save for a single thread - only now that she looked upon it, it began to fray.

An entire world of pillars, made of a substance Everie couldn’t construe, stretching from a seemingly infinite pit below to an endless sky above.

A universe of strange symbols, perfectly static.

A plane of ash, long having been burned to end and beginning.

And then-

A land of perfect, tenebrous blackness, interrupted only by a truly all-encompassing something.

And Everie remembered.

It was just an empty universe, disturbed only by the presence of what looked like an infinite number of different streams of silver, flowing from the confluence the Crying Demon had been guarding.

Then even that began to peel away - and Everie saw something beyond both mortal and divine.

She blacked out.