A week after the duel, Ana walked through the Manor alone.

She still habited her servant’s garb, but the Guard-Captain had ordered her dress tailored to allow her to comfortably bear arms. Daphne had, in stereotypical fashion, faux-grumbled about Ana’s ‘betrayal of her teachings and of all Chanterkind.’ But even the older girl couldn’t hide her happiness for Ana’s success.

The way the other servants talked to her had also changed. They had been kind towards her even before, of course - they were far too disciplined not to be. But even so, none of them had ever truly attempted to grow closer to her. Ana herself only knew a few of the other maids, most of them far older than herself. They had treated her as if she was something fragile - something to be pitied, but only from afar.

Refugee that she was, they must have thought Anabellum had been broken.

Now, though? She was Anabellum no longer. She was Ana. Second maid to Lady Everie of the Dukedom of Medea. Survivor of Alerich. Remnant of the Great Surge.

First-Ceiling Breaker, following the Path of Paths.

She thumbed the hilt of her blade, feeling the cold of the steel chill her fingertips. As Ana did so, her core throbbed. Her magic crackled at the touch, eagerly leaping from finger to blade, infusing - literalizing - it with her desired strength.

Ana sighed.

Her magic was proving to be of an esoteric sort. The powers she had displayed didn’t fit into any of the commonly known affinities - most of which started appearing after Layer three anyway, due to them being the nascent beginnings of actual paths - and their derivations.

Two weeks of practice had helped her hone her strength, however, and had also brought her a certain degree of insight. The Guard-Captain had called her the Pathfinder, in reference to the name that had been conceptually grafted upon her soul after her Awakening.

Correspondingly, her magic had allowed her during the duel to create the easiest way, or Path, possible to cut the Ghostfire the Guard-Captain had summoned.

As the First True Hero, Adelaide, had once said, she mused, a Sword is meant to cut.

My power allows me to create the trajectory my blade has to follow to fabricate my desired influence upon the world.

She couldn’t cut everything, of course. A Path was one’s influence upon the world, but there were many such influences. And her weight was still feeble compared to most others. Anyone above the second ceiling could likely deflect her blows easily with the mere presence of their ether alone. Those of an even higher existence, such as Lord Vernas, could likely breathe on her and shatter her bones as well as her sword. Enchanted things, and complex things, were also difficult for her to cleave, because of the sheer depth to which they manipulated the fabric of reality.

But Ana was certain now that the prospect of Pathing such previously untouchable things was well within her future grasp. That she had glimpsed at her Path so soon after her Awakening was, according to the Guard-Captain, an incredibly atypical occurrence. The Insight she had gained due to such would likely accelerate her growth in the years to come.

For now, Ana was fulfilled. More than that, she was happy.

She held out her hand in front of her, clenching her fist.

I can feel the spark, now, she whispered. For the first time in her life, Ana felt like her future had been clearly set out before her.

Now, Ana could profess confidently that she was worthy of standing at her side.

A smile cleaved a wide arc upon her face. Then she cursed - yet another way meeting Everie had changed her - as she tripped over her feet on the last flight of stairs.

“Ack!” she yelped, staggering to a halt on her knees. Ana blushed, shaking her head to dislodge her hair from her face.

Her head snapped up, and she glared, huffing, at the offending step. A rubicund flush spread out across her face. Her hands twitched towards her sword, then froze.

“No,” Ana said, shaking her head. Then she sighed. “What on earth am I doing?”

Fate conspires to humble the mighty.

Wasting time, that’s what, Ana grumbled.

She stood, brushing off dust from her otherwise pristine uniform, before she froze.

A massive figure glared down at her. It took a moment for Ana to realize it was just a painting and not an actual person-

-because by the Heroes is that an eerily lifelike work of art.

“Hello, great Ancestor,” she whispered. Unconsciously, she tipped her neck, bowing slightly to what had probably been one of the greatest mages in all of history... and Everie’s great-great-something-something grandmother.

The seconds ticked by. She sighed. “Well,” Ana muttered under her breath. “I better start heading back now.”

She turned to leave, and then paused. Ana frowned, squinting at the portrait.

Something’s off.

Her eyes flickered across the canvas, darting from layer to layers of black-purple paint; to the illusioned crevices of the exquisite shadowing that had been applied to formulate said painting; to each of Ancestor Medea’s meticulously portrayed features, each pale as snow and as delicate - yet striking - as man could possibly imagine.

Ana furrowed her brows. Everything seemed normal. There was nothing-

She froze.

The Ancestor’s eyes were missing.

The very air seemed to quiver, and then an explosion of sheer wrongness blossomed across the room. Tendrils of shadow pullulated in the peripherals of her vision, as if to entrap her sight.

Ana felt herself take an unconscious step backwards. Her right hand crept to her sword, within its scabbard affixed to the left of her waist, as her heart thundered in her chest under the nervous grasp of her left.

No, Ana thought. What - what am I doing? It’s just a painting. It’s-

“-just a painting,” she breathed.

Her fear subsided. Ana felt herself slowly relax, that supernatural tension releasing its grip. But she kept one hand on the hilt of her sword, and she continued to watch the painting warily.

Then, indignation permeated her.

“Who would dare do such a thing?” she whispered, trembling with irritance. To desecrate a masterpiece like this…

I have to report this. Right away.

She twisted on her step, with the intent to stalk up the stairs to find someone, anyone - which, Ana thought to herself sheepishly, likely just meant Daphne - before she stilled.

Ana frowned. Something didn’t feel right.

She felt herself swivel such that her vision now again encompassed the full scale of Ancestor Medea’s defiled portrait. Ana squinted, so as to inspect the twin apertures that had marred the pearlescence of Medea’s skin and punctured the canvas underneath.

That, she thought, suspiciously, is no puncture.

That alone should not have been sufficient to draw Ana’s attention for long. She was no sleuth, after all, and she was hardly well-versed in the forensic arts. But there was an eeriness to this whole situation that compelled her to stay, as if her honor demanded it.

Once again did the shadows seem to call to her. Gooseflesh ran in striations across her arms.

“All I have to do,” she whispered, barely cognizant that she was speaking aloud, “is report this to Miss Daphne. Right. That’s all I have to do. And... and she’ll take care of it. Someone will take care of it.”

Only when the sound of her footsteps reached her own stride did Ana finally realize she was running.

----------------------------------------

“You’re saying the Ancestor Portrait is missing its eyes?”

Ana nodded furiously. Daphne squinted at her, before sighing in that characteristically exaggerated way of hers.

“That’s weird,” she said, frowning. “I walked past it myself a few minutes ago, and I sure didn’t see anything of that sort.”

Ana blinked. “Wait, what?”

Daphne shrugged. “Well, I got here after you, didn’t I? You sure it wasn’t just the lighting, or something?”

“It’s daytime, miss Daphne,” Ana deadpanned. “And I think anyone would be hard-pressed to mistake something like that.”

She shivered.

The older maid snorted. “Well,” she muttered, “Not all of us have 20-20 eyesight like you do.”

“That - that isn’t the point!” Ana growled in frustration. “I- there’s something strange going on. I can feel it, miss.”

Daphne stared at her.

“Well,” she finally muttered. “Far be it from me to dismiss you. I guess we can go check it out.”

----------------------------------------

“See? Nothin’ to see here.”

Ana squinted at the portrait. True to Daphne’s words, there was nothing different or strange about the portrait. The Ancestor’s eyes, a microcosm of a universe violet-black, glared down at her in the exact same way it had every single day before.

“That... that can’t be,” she whispered. “I saw it. I saw it! There-”

“Could be a malevolent spirit,” Daphne mused. When Ana tilted her head in question, the older maid continued. “Kind of like ghosts. I don’t know much about that particular field of magicology - I never really liked the occultist sciences.”

“So, you think it’s a ghost that’s doing this?” Ana asked, shivering. She’d heard of ghosts before. They were old wives’ tales in many of the poorer districts. The sort that mothers told stories about to their children at night to keep them from misbehaving.

“Can’t be,” Daphne grunted. “The compulsion the blessing creates should be able to keep weak’un’s like them all out. And besides, the Manor’s the most protected place in this entire country. A lower-ranked monster of that sort wouldn’t survive a heartbeat if it approached here.”

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They both paused, and Ana knew at that moment that Daphne had echoed her own thoughts - that being of the MudWraiths. But that simply couldn’t be. From what the Guard-Captain had reassured her, the Guard had before been overly assured in the capabilities of Medea’s blessing to protect them from insidious pests of the sort had been summoned by the Great Surge. They had been duly chastened, and the Guard had heavily upped its security since then.

The Dukedom was still on high alert. A dastardly beast of the sort that had invaded Medea at its moment of weakness once would be hard-pressed to invade it now.

“I’ll report this to Lord Vernas anyhow,” Daphne said, after an uncomfortable silence. “S’pose we can’t ever be too careful.”

Ana swallowed. “Thank... thank you.”

“That goes the same for you, too,” Daphne said, frowning. “You’re part of the young miss’ personal guard now. The only permanent member, too.”

She blinked. “Aren’t you her guardian, though?”

Daphne scoffed. “Me? Look at me, Ana,” she said, mockingly. She flexed her biceps, which... well, even Ana could admit they were nonexistent. Her own ten-year-old limbs, barely strengthened through training, had more mass on them. “I can't protect squat. Best I could do to an assassin is tickle them with wind... or something.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Point taken,” she said, sighing.

“Where is the young miss anyway?” Daphne asked. “I haven’t seen her all morning.”

Ana paused. “Neither have I,” she said, frowning.

They stared at each other.

“Shit,” Daphne said.

Ana was already mid-sprint by the time she heard the curse, but she couldn’t help but echo it in the recesses of her mind.

----------------------------------------

It was hardly the first time Lady Everie had conveniently disappeared herself. After all, such was a talent she’d possessed since birth. And it wasn’t the first time she’d disappeared under Ana’s own care, either.

But that would never be an excuse for negligence. It was, after all, Ana’s duty to find the mistress and foil her escapades. She’d even grown to find a sort of pleasure in them, as if she were playing hide-and-seek. Ana didn’t mind the frustration involved with the whole process, so long as it was to offer her mistress a chance to live the childhood she deserved.

She found no pleasure in the process now.

“What-” she blinked. “What do you mean, you’re not going to find her?”

Mikhael was a fourth-ceiling Guardsman that Ana had gotten to know during the many drills the Guard practiced every week, mostly because he had been a refugee in the Great Surge like herself. He’d defended the western ramparts of Alerich valiantly before his platoon had ultimately succumbed to an assault of overwhelming numbers. He was slightly… dense, but the Guard-Captain had been impressed by his valor and suggested a probationary position as a junior Guardsman.

Said Guardsman now winced, flinching away from Ana’s outburst. “Uh.”

“I- sir,” Ana said, trying to calm herself. “What I meant, was, how can you not find her? This is your job!”

“I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to,” he said, tilting his head. “I’m saying I can’t. She’s not here.”

Ana blinked. “And... and you didn’t notice before this? You didn’t tell anyone?”

Her shriek seemed to stun the guardsman.

“I figured she’d be on a trip down to the city, or somethin’,” he said. Mikhael frowned. “I’m just a new hire, lil’ miss. I wasn’t aware I had to report stuff like this.”

“No, no,” Ana whispered, sighing. “I forget myself. I suppose this isn’t your fault, if none of your colleagues discovered a breach in security either.”

She leaned back, covering her face with her hands. “Are you sure the mistress is not currently in the Manor?” Ana asked.

“Yeah,” Mikhael said. He squinted. “Yeah, she’s not. I can ask some of the other patrols to see-”

“No,” Ana said, decisively. “I’ll take care of it.”

Mikhael froze.

“Is this a problem?” he asked. His eyes turned frantic. “I- I can’t lose this job. I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

Ana closed her eyes.

“I’ll see that you won’t,” she said, sharply. Then she turned, and marched back towards the Manor.

----------------------------------------

“I can’t sense her,” Vernas said, frowning. “That’s odd. Why didn’t I notice sooner?”

Ana suddenly felt quite queasy. The walls of the Guard-Captain’s office were looking very wavy.

The Guard-Captain’s expression darkened. “Even when suppressed, my Inner Eye’s at a level where it should be able to detect abnormal changes like this. Especially on a charge it’s my entire responsibility to ensure the protection of,” he muttered. “This is concerning. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Ana.”

She swallowed. “I- is there anything-”

“It’s not your fault, Ana,” Vernas said, waving his hand. “Little Everie’s a free spirit. Like my cousin, back in the old days. If anything, this is my failure to confront.”

Vernas stood, and Ana snapped to attention in front of him. “I’ll mobilize the Guard,” he said, holstering his scabbard.

Ana trembled. But then Vernas patted her on the head..

“I’m sure we’ll find Everie in no time,” Vernas said, smiling. “Nothing gets in and out of Medea without the Guard’s permission. Nothing at all.”

He furrowed his brows.

“Especially not now,” he growled. “I won’t let them.”

----------------------------------------

By noon, the Manor was in full-blown panic.

The search, performed with increasingly alarmed haste, had thus far yielded nothing. It had been only a few squadrons at first, and then a platoon, and then eventually the entirety of the Guard.

Some point throughout did Ana realize that something had gone terribly wrong.

The entire mountain was swarming with Guardsmen, dashing through the surrounding forest at gale-force speeds or rocketing across the skies in search of their mistress. Lord Vernas had already vanished off into the horizon to call Duke Haswalth back from the border, who had been overseeing the installation of new wardstones to buttress the powerful barrier the Blessing already provided in light of the recent Great Surge. Daphne was off somewhere, having probably been called by Miss Cherry along with all the other maids to search the basement floors.

As for her? Ana was pacing around the Manor, doing absolutely nothing productive.

Where could she possibly be? She wondered. Ana twitched, her hands pausing mid-aimless and frenetic search through a pile of Everie’s linens - as if the heiress could be hiding under the covers or inside one of her wardrobes.

There just isn’t any possible way she snuck out. Something’s afoot. Something-

The world pulsated, and Ana doubled over, gasping for breath. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to manage the pain that had suddenly overwhelmed her senses.

She felt inside her magic raging on the precipice of chaos. Ana stumbled, bracing herself on the walls for support, as something seemed to crack inside her. The feeble Layers of her nascent core seemed to vibrate in anticipation.

Not good, she choked. What... what’s happening to me?

Her chest heaved. Ana cracked open her left eye to introduce herself to a shifting world; a kaleidoscope of colors, warped and deformed. Psychedelic flashes of light seemed to flash across her vision as-

Something cold settled into her hands, and Ana felt her vision clear.

It took her a few seconds of bleary blinking for her to compose herself. It took her another few to realize that she was now holding her sword in her hands.

Ana blinked. She turned the blade in her hands, letting the light emanating from the magically-inscribed lamps above scintillate off its edge. The ray reflected off the steel in a ray that... almost seemed to cut a path straight out of the room.

She blinked again, and it was gone. “Strange...” she muttered.

Ana walked slowly, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around her. It was as if she was in a trance. She thought she caught sight of Daphne once, running up to the third corridor. The older girl called out to Ana, but she didn’t bother to respond.

Soon after, the maid was gone. Ana remained.

I know what I have to do.

Ana couldn’t remember when exactly she reached the landing of the Grand Medean Staircase. In fact, in retrospect, she couldn’t remember much of anything else about the events leading up to that moment.

She could hardly think. Hardly so much as blink. It was like she was in a cosmically-driven stupor; following a set of instructions that had been dictated for her by some unseen force within. She knew naught but the path forward, as she placed one foot ahead of the next, and the next, and the next…

Until at last she reached her destination, and all the fog and mist finally drifted away.

I can see it.

The stern-faced visage of the Great Ancestor scowled down at her. Ana gazed right back at it, as her senses crept back into the caress of her consciousness.

No. It wasn’t just scowling. It was crying.

Rivulets of a tenebrous fluid, like viscous ink, burst from the punctured eye sockets of one of history’s greatest sorcerers. They fluiced down from above in a reversed geyser of darkness, staining wherever on the canvas they touched black.

Ana took a step back.

Then the moment the first of the liquid-dark struck the floor, all of the energy coalesced into a single mass. There was a bang, and-

-in a single streak of crackling midnight, the darkness rocketed out the Manor door, sending the gates flying open, and vanished off into the woods.

Ana stared, flinching as the aftershock of the blast left undulations in the frizzed mass of brown that was her hair.

“What...” she blinked.

There was still that pit of unease in her stomach. The weight of duty was something Ana had sought, but had yet to experience - thus, it was obvious she would feel a measure of distress when confronted so suddenly by it.

But more than that, she felt awake. Free.

I know what I have to do.

And if I’m to trust my gut, she thought, darkly, this thing’ll lead me right to it.

----------------------------------------

Ana dashed through the woods, dodging trees and bounding over boulders without so much as a flicker in her concentration.

Two weeks ago, she would have already been tired. Two weeks ago, she had still been mortal.

Now? Ana was running at almost twice the speed her former self would have been able to reach, and with certainly more than thrice the reserves of stamina. Her muscles seemed more like pistons than actual organs, moving in the exact same way Ana had trained them in countless times before.

And if she concentrated a little harder - let her newly awakened Inner Eye flex - she could even feel her internal ether circulating, staining her ligaments and hardening her muscle-fibers.

“EVERIE!” she yelled. “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Two weeks of progress meant Ana should have found Everie long ago.

The darkness-tendril seemed to stretch on practically forever. Save for rare excursions out the city, Ana had never once left the Manor grounds of her own volition. She’d seen the Medean Covert plenty, of course - it was hard not to, considering how the forest stretched so far north it literally crossed beyond the horizon - but Ana had never actually entered it.

“EVERIE!”

A frenetic panic filled her voice. Her breathing, though soft, quickened, and Ana felt her heartbeat shudder.

This- she grunted. -isn’t helping.

There were men and women stronger and wiser than her perusing this very same tract of forest at this very same moment. What would I find that they haven’t already discovered?

“EVERIE!”

She grit her teeth. Agh! Forget it! Just-

-trust the Path that you’ve been given.

A wall of darkness.

She yelped. Ana stumbled, feet skittering on a patch of fragmented stone.

The mass shuddered, and at Ana’s presence split, making way to grant her a way forward.

Her velocity carried her forth without need for intervention. Ana barely managed to keep herself from rocketing past the ledge that had somehow manifested before her without her realizing it.

She exhaled, steadying herself on a nearby tree. Then, Ana opened her eyes.

She blinked.

It was a spring. A massive one. The waters were as crystal beyond what she could possibly imagine, and the body itself was probably large enough to accommodate the entirety of the Manor Guard at once with a comfortable distance between each member.

“What...” Ana whispered. “What is this?”

The sight should have been beautiful. Even in the pastoral fringes of Alerich Ana had never seen anything like this. Electric-green lichen clung to perfectly smooth spheroids of rock, imbuing the brook with an almost ethereal quality. The tree canopy covered the spring in a curtain of verdant, hiding the waters from an excess of sunlight, but allowing in just enough to illuminate the area with a soft glow.

Most glaring of all was the ether. It was massive; almost like the Blessing, which every Mage in Medea could feel pulsating like a cool hand pressed to the back of their necks every waking moment of the day.

But this was more than just raw, artificial power. It felt natural. Clean. Ancient.

This... this is old magic, Ana’s thoughts whispered to her. She couldn’t tell why - she just knew.

Magic older than the Fragmentation itself.

Little fairy-lights that Ana suspected were actual fairies clung to the sides of the grove in masses of pink-purple, skittering anxiously. Had she been younger, and more fairytale-inclined, the presence of these legendary creatures might have enthralled her.

But what lay in the center of the spring was more than enough to trump even such mystical phenomena for her attention.

Black. Night. Whatever it was, Ana found it impossible to describe. There were but two things she could tell about it. One was that it was something old. Ancient.

Primordial.

Greater than anything she’d ever seen before.

Second was that her master, her Lady - that Everie - was currently trapped in its thrall. And the yawning maw of fear that swept over her whispered to her that there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.