Mind filled to overflowing with conflicting thoughts and theories, Kano rounded the corner and nearly ran into An. The necromancer reached out to help steady her, retracting her hand when Kano regained her balance. “Where are you off to?” An asked, amused.

“Nowhere in particular. I was just thinking. What about you? Shouldn’t you be in the lab?”

“I’m taking a break for now. Despite my wishes to the contrary, there’s only so much I can do until the power’s back on. It’s a mixed blessing, but for the moment I find myself with a considerable amount of free time.” Flashing her teeth, An leaned in like she was sharing a secret. “I could have stayed in the lab, fretting over my work, but to tell you the truth, it was starting to drive me a little mad.”

An’s experience seemed surprisingly close to her own, though Kano didn’t feel much sympathy. As similar as their feelings might be, their goals were very different. Somewhat opposed, even. “And how is your work coming? I haven’t heard much about it so far.”

“As well as can be expected, I suppose. There have been setbacks but nothing I didn’t expect. I’d be happy to discuss it further if you’d like to join me.”

“Join you? For what?”

“From what Miusvon tells me, there’s a little garden inside the citadel. I’d been meaning to take a look at it since I first heard about it, but I hadn’t had the time until now. Would you care to accompany me?”

Kano hesitated, and An added with a burble of bright laughter, “I assure you, it should be quite painless. There probably won’t even be anything in need of killing. Barring, perhaps, some weeds.”

It sounded boring to Kano, but she was a little curious to see what this garden was like. Besides, this might be a good opportunity to learn more about what An was like. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

Tucked away in the upper floor of the living quarters, and contained entirely within one relatively small room, the miniature glass building was easy to miss. Kano was sure she must have walked past the room without the slightest suspicion that such a marvel lay within. Beyond the glass walls, vibrant green plants intermixed with colorful flowers with a narrow winding path leading through them. It was completely unlike the projection she’d seen in the lab; this was real.

Cleverly arranged to give the impression of a natural landscape, the plants instilled in Kano a sense of tranquility. Here, all her worries and concerns about the outside world felt muted and distant. What were they before the beauty of this wondrous landscape? This hidden paradise? But her sense of awe quickly faded. It was difficult to forget her troubles and appreciate what she was seeing when she was accompanying the personification of her problems.

For all that the black-robed woman disrupted Kano’s peace, she seemed to have no difficulty enjoying the spectacle laid out before them. Wearing a serene smile, she opened the glass door and went in. Kano walked beside her as she leaned in to smell and examine. She repeated the process with a few plants, her expression growing more brittle and her movements more frantic until she suddenly stopped. Looking over, Kano saw disappointment and shock warring across the necromancer’s features beneath her hood.

“What’s wrong?” Kano asked, mildly alarmed at the sudden change.

“It’s all fake.”

“Fake? What do you mean?”

An grasped a wide red-green leaf. “None of these plants are real. They’re all just artificial replicas. Other than us, I don’t think there’s a single living thing in this room.” She sounded utterly dejected, and her eyes glistened with moisture.

“Does that really matter?” Kano didn’t see what the big deal was. It was still nice to look at. Wasn’t that all it was for in the first place? Unless you could eat this stuff, she didn’t see how it was at all useful. It hardly seemed like something to cry over.

“Of course it matters!” An shouted before taking a breath and lowering her voice. “If it’s not alive, then there’s no point to any of it. It’s just a clever little fake, a meaningless decoration.”

“But how would it be any different if it were real?”

“It would be completely different. For one, it would have been something quite pleasing and worthwhile, rather than this rubbish. And then whoever was behind this would have truly recreated plant life. But most importantly, it would have meant that I could use these plants as samples for my own work.”

“Is that really so impressive? Didn’t Gresitosis do exactly that? His jungle was much bigger than this.”

An sighed. “No, he did not. While it was an exceptional effort, what he created weren’t really plants in the traditional sense. More of a clever biological fake, though far more sophisticated than these tawdry things. At least his were alive.”

“If it was alive, what was wrong with it? They were plants, weren’t they?”

It seemed like the necromancer was being far too picky with how she classified things. It didn’t seem to make much material difference.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“I’m not sure how they would be technically defined, but I wouldn’t quite call them plants, no. More like a system of plantlike life that was part of a very specifically designed ghoul.”

Kano still didn’t see why An cared about the difference so much, but she was tired of talking about it. “Then I suppose what you’re making is quite unlike either of the fakes?”

“Mm, well, not exactly,” An said, her frustration melting away as the discussion turned to her own work. “It would, of course, be something artificial as these fakes are. I’m attempting to create a type of self-sustaining organism, one that can form its own souls. Just as these naturals organisms once did. In that regard, it’s completely unlike ghouls or anything based on similar methods.”

“How far have you gotten? Have you managed to create something that can actually survive yet?” Kano still wasn’t sure if she should feel hopeful or suspicious about An’s work.

“Survive? Yes, though only quite simple organisms at this stage. But I haven’t managed to create anything that can reproduce. From what I can tell, what I’ve created should be capable of housing a natural soul. But I can’t get them to actually attract one, or accumulate one, or whatever. How that part of the process works is still quite hazy.”

“Uh, shouldn’t you know about that part? Given that you’re a necromancer and all. It seems kind of important.”

An chuckled. “Oh, I wholeheartedly agree. It’s very important, and I’d very much like to know more about it. But the thing is, no one has ever been able to discern anything about the source. At least that I know of. Sure, there are theories about it, but they’re far more in the realm of theology rather than science. And thus they are of very little use for my purposes. Despite all our knowledge and tools, we’ve never been able to detect even a hint as to how souls get here. We don’t even know if they’re created here or just moved from somewhere else.” She laughed again, though there was a note of bitterness to it. “It’s terribly frustrating at times, but I just try to focus on those things that I can change or figure out.”

Having gained a broad idea of what An was doing and the problems she was facing, Kano moved on to something at the core of what she didn’t understand about the necromancer. “Why do you do all of this? You put all of this time and effort into your work, but what’s the point of it? Why not just live a normal life like other people do? One where you don’t really try to change things.”

Kano wasn’t sure she had any firsthand experience of what that was like, but that was how she viewed the lives of most of the ghouls she’d met. Even Shorin, a natural, seemed to have preferred to lead an easy, carefree life as a ruler rather than try to make any real difference.

Staring at nothing in particular, An took a deep breath and exhaled. “I suppose it’s because if I don’t, then no one else will. Perhaps it’s arrogant of me to assume that, but I find myself unable to do otherwise. And besides, I think I’d find a more mundane life terribly dull.”

“Is it such a big problem if no one does whatever your work is? I don’t think it really makes much of a difference.”

An gave her a bewildered look. “Of course it is. Don’t you care if there’s never any new life on this planet? That it will end up as just stretches of barren land and water?”

“No, I don’t.” In theory, Kano thought it was a lofty aspiration. But when it came to caring? She was much more focused on reality, on what she could actually see and touch. The dreams An spoke of didn’t move her.

An shook her head. “See, to me that’s just incomprehensible. How could someone not care? The thought of this massive potential for life and the continuation of our collective existence that my work represents could ever be considered inconsequential… It’s unthinkable.”

And there it was. The true core of An’s beliefs, that her own work mattered beyond all else. As far as Kano concerned, the rest of what the necromancer had said was just dressing. Not unlike the false decorations that filled the glass structure around them, and just as pointless.

“You necromancers really are all the same. I thought you seemed different from the others I’d met, but you’re not. You’re as blindly obsessed with your own work as they were. You talk about the world around you, but none of it matters to you, does it?”

“Of course it matters,” An spat, features twisting into a sneer. “Have you heard nothing I’ve said? Reviving the world is all I care about.”

“You say that,” Kano said, not backing down in the slightest in the face of An’s rising ire, “but you don’t actually care about other people or the world you live in at all. All you care about is your work.”

“That’s absurd. How can you possibly suggest I don’t care about them when my work exists solely to benefit them? I’m trying to give them hope of a future that’s more than a slow but inevitable decline.”

“So you’d be perfectly happy if it were someone else’s work? With helping someone else to accomplish the same goal?”

An blinked, though to Kano it seemed more like she was acting than genuinely surprised. “Of course I would. That doesn’t matter to me in the slightest. All that matters is that we fix things. Nothing else can compare to that.”

It was a fine way of putting things, but Kano didn’t buy it for a second. There was no way An would ever be okay working under another necromancer if this had been their idea instead of hers. Kano had seen An’s delusional, self-obsessed type all too often. Especially among the necromancers she’d met.

But her experience also made her pretty sure that there was no way she could ever convince them. “Whatever. Keep thinking that if it helps you sleep at night.” She was moving to leave when An caught her arm. Recalling what had happened last time a necromancer touched her, Kano leapt backward. But she wasn’t paralyzed, An had just wanted her to wait.

“Do you really think you’re in any position to judge me?” An said, her expression hard. “You’re nothing. Just a deranged natural with delusions of her own self-importance.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who asked for my help.”

“I asked for your help because I wanted you to share in my great work.” There she was, talking about how important her work was again. “And to be honest, I felt bad for you. Just like I do with ghouls. You’re all sorry little creatures, caught up in your own tiny worlds and unable to see anything beyond that.”

An was the last person she wanted to hear that from. “Are you done?”

“Not quite. I realize you never quite shared my vision, but I hoped I might be able to convince you. But I can see that I was a fool to even try. Take the people you brought with you and get out of the citadel. My citadel.”

“Gladly.”

As disillusioned as Kano felt, as angry at An and herself for being such a fool, she had no desire to do her any harm. Much as Kano was eager to dismiss what she was doing and lump her in with the other necromancers, An did have one difference—regardless of her intentions, she was ostensibly trying to improve things.

And for that reason, and that reason alone, Kano swallowed her pride and outrage and left the room.