After Lindon declared that he wanted to take guardianship of Sophia, Argrave asked the first question that came to mind. Life wasn’t one or the other—it was a gradient.

“Why not both?”

Vasquer projected only uncertainty, as the messages she bore could not answer such questions. It faded as something welled up from within her being, and Argrave felt something dormant come to bear. Lindon, who had been waiting and watching, spoke in appreciably non-mental terms.

“The dictates of the treaty make such a thing impossible.”

Argrave realized in hindsight that the question might’ve been foolish, but tugging on the corner of this shared space within Vasquer’s mindscape, he felt Orion’s confusion and hesitance. In ages past he might’ve thought Orion simply didn’t understand something, but he knew better now. His brother’s hesitance made him gain some of his own—hesitance quickly mirrored by Elenore.

Argrave was going to ask what Lindon wanted with Sophia, but Elenore’s voice cut through the din.

“Why were you able to contact Vasquer now where you couldn’t before? That, too, was dictated by the treaty, no?”

Argrave’s own question caught in his tongue—or mind, as it were. Hers was a good question that everyone, including even Vasquer, came to mirror. Argrave could hear Elenore’s voice bouncing around without end as all reflected the inquiry with their own minds.

“Because the circumstances of the treaty allowed me to,” Lindon answered.

“I think it’s well past time that you show us the damned treaty, then,” Argrave said with a laugh. “You keep mentioning it, and then defying what you’ve established.”

“I cannot show it, for reasons you can doubtless guess: the treaty itself.” Quietude reigned for a few seconds before Lindon appealed briefly, “You know my nature. I have given to you without end. This will not be an exception.”

Orion’s confusion deepened into suspicion. Argrave felt that something was off, too. Lindon was ordinarily anything but brief. He might be called wordy, even verbose. He almost seemed desperate, right now. Argrave assumed there was an ulterior motive. From his worldly experience, such a thing made sense. Lindon had given a lot, but at some point, favors would need to be reciprocated, even for giant bodyless snakes. Sophia was someone who could do nearly anything. He didn’t particularly like treating her as a bargaining chip, even after what he’d learned, but the situation demanded it.

Perhaps Lindon wished for a new body, free of the symbiosis with his fellow Gilderwatchers. If it was just that, Argrave didn’t see something too wrong with it. It wasn’t all that different from her healing the disabled, as far as he was concerned. Still, Argrave needed more information before he could give the idea genuine consideration. And above all, Sophia’s opinion still mattered. No eight-year-old would be thrilled to go on a vacation to Snakeville.

“I’m positive the treaty won’t keep you from telling us what you want Sophia for,” Argrave continued. “I don’t care who they are, no one could’ve predicted an eight-year-old could hold the keys to the universe.”

“I wish only to safeguard her and this world’s future.”

“I don’t buy it,” Argrave disagreed. “There has to be some way to compromise, here. I’m not too fond of meddling with the mind too much, even if you claim it’s already been done to me without my knowledge. Sophia is fine as she is. If we can play around the treaty—perhaps have Sophia visit you as we did, or something of that sort—then we could do it. Unless, of course, there’s something more you intend to do with her that you’re keeping from us. Something you think we might not approve of.”

There was silence for a long few seconds, and Argrave felt that he was catching onto something.

“I intend to remove the treaty.”

Argrave was taken aback. Everything that he’d experienced while travelling through the Tree of Being with his siblings told him that wasn’t a common sentiment, or even a sentiment at all, among the Gilderwatchers. They had their presence of mind, the ability to communicate with one another, and that was all they needed. Argrave got the impression most had little desire to interfere with the trivialities of the surface world. Argrave supposed that Lindon was different. It would make sense, right? Without a body, his existence was the mind alone. In a word, dull.

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But along that train of thought, Argrave caught a snag. If the Gilderwatchers, by nature, didn’t care to interfere with the mind much, how could they have drawn the notice of the wider world? How could they have provoked a genocide against them? It must’ve been Lindon. That was concerning. But then… by his power’s nature, it had quite the subtle touch. And Lindon himself seemed to outwardly share his people’s value.

“Why remove it?” Elenore asked.

“Any would chafe with their freedom restricted,” Lindon argued.

Vasquer interjected with her own thoughts—memories of Lindon, who, despite being vastly more subdued than any other Gilderwatcher, never raged or spoke of rebellion against the hand that fate had dealt them. Though tricksome and troublesome, he was always warm and kind. He had discouraged Vasquer from seeking out the surface, even. Her testimony was fuel for further suspicion.

“Is it so much to ask for a little bit of earnestness? You’ve seen me—greedy as can be. Even if you’ve got some strange wants, A), given Vasquer had children with a human, you can’t be the weirdest Gilderwatcher. And B), you’re right on one point: you’ve given without an end. We can, at the least, hear you out with an open and possibly forgetful mind so long as you’re honest.”

The silence was deafening. Argrave was ready to speak again before Lindon’s voice came back, dark and dreary. “This was never going to work.”

“What?” Argrave was taken aback.

“We will leave this place, together. If you wish to help Sophia, give in.”

Argrave placed what was wrong. It was Lindon’s voice… but not his tone.

Darkness surged out at Argrave’s mind, seeking it out with fury, rage, and destruction manifest. It was just as it had been in the brief memory that Argrave saw, where Lindon’s body perished after probing that which he should not. The memory of the attack did little to prepare for the reality of it. As it came closer, Argrave’s body ceased to function. When it was almost upon him, he felt nothing other than certainty it was all over.

A wave of protective gold swarmed into the path of this darkness, and Argrave felt a fury that was barely able to match what approached. This second power was not born of malignance, however—it was born of love. It was the rage of a mother who had seen her precious child enter into harm’s way, and carried with it a ferocity that enabled action far beyond what it should’ve ever been capable of. With that shielding him, Argrave gathered strength enough to rip his hand away.

Argrave collapsed backward onto the stony mountain rock, covered in sweat and worse. He saw Elenore and Orion spasming, their hands grasped onto Vasquer, and rushed to move them. Seconds before touching them, Argrave stopped with his thoughts blaring warning signals. He conjured a rod of ice as quickly as he could, then used it to pry and throw them both back without touching them. Had he touched them, it might link him back to the madness.

With his siblings free, Argrave stepped in front of them and gazed at Vasquer. “Contact Raven, Anneliese, everyone!” he told Elenore, even though he couldn’t be sure she could hear him. He, himself, was trembling terribly.

Elenore likely didn’t need to send a message, though. The entire mountaintop rumbled as Vasquer’s body, stretched out along the whole of the Blackgard mountain range, spasmed and thrashed. Argrave could feel something emanating out of her. It inspired a primal terror that Argrave wrongly thought he had conquered. Her feathered mane bristled wildly, and her head thrashed about with the jaw unhinged wide in what looked like a silent scream. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“What’s happening?!” shouted Orion. “What can we do?”

Argrave could think of only one thing, and stepped forth, declaring, “In this domain, my allies have strengthened mental ability.”

The domain encompassed some Vasquer, and the tremoring quieted briefly. Then, Vasquer’s eyes shot open, their golden brilliance flecked with a dark red. Argrave thought it was over, yet half a moment later her gigantic body craned backward, far away from them. Blood flowed from her eyes like tears of pain, raining everywhere.

Argrave’s heart tore in two from the sight, and his brain moved at a thousand miles a second as he thought of what more could be done to help her. But before that power, he’d already been proven totally inadequate. He considered searching out the Fruit of Being, using that. They had been left them in a safe, distant location. Argrave weighed the possibility of teleporting there to retrieve them, planning out the fastest path.

When he resolved to leave, Vasquer’s movements changed. Argrave watched in horror as her head contorted backwards. Her fangs pierced into her own serpentine body, drawing blood. Seeing such a desperate unhinged action, Argrave intended to retrieve a Fruit of Being and bring it back for some hope of saving her life. He grasped at spirits for the shamanic magic to teleport… yet felt nothing. It was like ice water poured upon his flame of his resistance when he remembered why. He had changed; spirits were not as they were, anymore. If there was another way, he could not figure it out quick enough to matter.

“Elenore, I need…!” Argrave began, but then Vasquer’s body grew tighter and tighter until it seemed as taut as a string.

The great feathered serpent’s jaw slackened, coming free of her own flesh. Her spasms ceased, and she fell to the ground. The impact of bone and flesh against stone was loud, and sickened Argrave to hear. That terror-inducing energy began to lessen, but Argrave couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or an ill omen of Vasquer’s fate. At first, Argrave feared to approach. As the seconds passed, concern won the debate roaring in his mind.

He approached, intending to learn what Gerechtigkeit had done… and if it was too late.