There, in the empty shop, I learned far more about the soul I had replaced than I might have wished.

“I failed Sylv,” Gil lamented. “I lost her boy, just like I lost his father. Sylv, Victor’s mother and my own sister, left on a business trip to Orham a few months ago. She was trapped inside when the Veil descended.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what the Veil was, but I did not want to show off my ignorance to someone that had known Markus, nor did I wish to interrupt the man’s grieving process. Instead, I filed the question away for a later time.

“His father died soon after the Veil came down, you see. He was killed by some muggers, just walking through the streets at night. Damn fool. I had told him that it wasn’t safe, what with the city being the way it is now.

“Victor changed, after that. He was angry at the world, disappearing every day to go Saviors know where. Then, one day he came back. He was just...giddy with excitement. The strange thing was, his clothes were ragged and bloody, like he had been in a fight recently - and he was wearing an expensive looking black stone around his neck. It looked strange; something about it was uncomfortable to look at.”

I perked up at that, reaching into my pack after undoing the clasps.

“Do you mean this?” I asked, holding out the strange stone.

He nodded, appearing even more sorrowful at the sight. “Yeah, that was it. Do you mind if I…” he trailed off.

I shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, it belongs with you.” Placing the stone into his waiting palm, I offered a tremulous smile.

He returned the gesture, nodding in thanks and clasping his hands tightly around the black gem. They shook with the strain, his fingers turning a pale white under the strength of his grip.

“Thank you.” He sighed softly. “I’m not sure where he got this, but I know he thought it was important. Kept saying that it would let him bring his father back, that they would be able to go find Sylv together and be a family again. I don’t know what got into his fool head. You can’t bring the dead back, the life price is far too high. Even were it possible, Neladrie herself couldn’t bring back a shattered soul. It’s why we cremate bodies in the first place - so people learn to let go, so they don’t obsess over the idea of returning them to the living. It’s a hard thing, accepting that - for all of the power we’ve been gifted - some things are forever beyond our reach.” He shook his head. “I suppose the boy just couldn’t believe it.”

I was confused, now. Was Markus just a unique case, brought back by the synergy between my power and Neladrie’s Mark? I had saved him. I had brought him back. He was alive.

Wasn’t he?

I shook my head. Native though he was, Gil must be confused. He was just a shopkeeper, after all.

“Got in a row about it. He kept saying that I didn’t care about him or his parents, that I wasn’t looking hard enough for a way to fix it.”

He scoffed at the memory. “Of course I cared. Even now, I fight the urge every day to pack up my things; to pass over the Veil and make sure Sylv’s okay. It was the boy that made me decide to stay. I knew that she’d never forgive me if I took him in there with me.”

His voice caught in his throat, thick with emotion. “Looks like she has a lot worse to blame me for, now. Saviors’ abodes, I deserve it.”

Gil shifted on the bench, palming a bone carving that had been displayed directly beside it. “Took me a day or two to realise he’d bolted, you know. After our fight, I thought he was just cooling his heels. Damn fool. Not sure whether I’m more angry at him or myself. Both of us, I guess.”

The shopkeeper’s hand trembled; the carving snapped, sending fragments of bone splintering into his palm. A drop of blood spilled from the wound, a crimson imitation of the tears that ran down his cheek.

“Damn, damn fools, the both of us.” Ignoring his injured hand, he looked towards me. “Were you able to give him a proper send off?” The words were pleading in a way, as if begging for the answer to be in the affirmative.

Guilt surged through me as I replied, the deception like ash on my tongue. “I’ve ensured that the body is well taken care of.”

The grieving man nodded repeatedly, his eyes focused somewhere off in the distance. “Good, good.”

We sat in silence for a few moments more, just two solitary souls lost in our own thoughts.

Finally, after what felt an eternity, the silence ended.

Gil, the man’s face layered in tears, stood up and walked behind the counter. He placed Victor’s black stone into a prominent position on a shelf, to serve as a memento of his deceased nephew. Afterwards, he bent down, his grief-bent figure disappearing underneath the counter’s bulk. Following the telltale jingle of metal on metal, he came into view once more.

Before he could go any further, I rose from my seat, lifting one hand in a gesture of supplication. “I can’t take that. You asked me to bring Victor back; I failed. All I ask is that you forgive my failure.” I lowered my head. Though the words were true, they held a different meaning to the two of us. Regardless, the answer might still manage to ease us both.

“No, you deserve something more for your efforts. I understand if you won’t take my coin, but surely there’s something…” His eyes swept across the room, alighting upon an object. He strode with purpose, crossing the shop and pulling an object off of the wall.

“Here,” he said. “Take this. Just something to remember my appreciation by, regardless of the result. It’s the effort that mattered, to me.”

It was a mask of bone, carved with a level of artistry sufficient to make any hero proud to wear it - and many a villain, as well.

It was perfect.

Unable to refuse, I accepted his gift.

Soon afterwards, after promising to check on him in the future, I found myself exiting Bone Garden.

Gil turned the sign on the door, flipping it to CLOSED and stepping back inside.

I tried to ignore the muffled sounds of grief that filtered through the door’s cracks.

I didn’t feel much like a hero, today.

After a time, I realized that I had been standing still as a statue, frozen in my thoughts and the mask in hand. The world had taken on its familiar haze, forcing me to blink it back into a degree of normalcy. Placing the mask into my pack, I sighed.

I was really wishing that I could get drunk. The lack of most of my organs would prevent that, even if it were actually possible for a Risen to become intoxicated - which I highly doubted.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

I looked up at the rising sun, attempting to estimate the time. It wasn’t very accurate, but I could at least tell that it would be a long time yet before it would be time to meet Roy at The Pits.

With nothing else to do, I decided to visit the Spectral Guard HQ and try to dig up some information. The night had been dark enough that it was unlikely that I would be recognized, and if my face was known, then it was better to head off any trouble before things snowballed out of hand.

If not, surely I could take the chance to learn more about the state of the city.

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

The Spectral Guard HQ was nestled against the city’s southern wall, deep in the heart of the Barracks District. Pressing up against both the poor and the affluent districts as it was, along with the well-patrolled nature of its streets, it exhibited an intriguing mixture of demographics and lifestyles. Poorer housing lined the edges of the Low District, the houses growing in splendor in a wave as one moved eastward through the Barracks District.

A moment’s look was all it took to observe the stark difference between the well-maintained district and its destitute neighbor. Here, there were no beggars to line the streets. Here, there were no Dusters hiding away in shadows. Here, it was peaceful.

Yet, at the same time, it felt less alive.

It was an interesting contrast.

Unlike my adventures through the labyrinthian streets of the Low District, the travel posed no difficulty. Nor could it, what with the sturdy bastion of the Spectral Guard HQ looming over the district like an everpresent sentinel.

The HQ brought to mind castles of old - had they been formed of gleaming bone - mixed with a separate prison building. The fortress pressed against the Guard’s private southern gate; its towers soared into the early morning sky, exuding strength and stability.

The entrance to the HQ stood open, though it was immediately clear that it could be sealed shut in only a moment’s notice. I walked across the threshold with no opposition, making my way into the main building.

Just before I entered, I placed my hand over my open mouth, blocking it from view. I crawled upwards, ascending my empty throat and spilling from my spread lips. I dropped to the floor, a simple spider scrambling its way through the HQ.

With my spider-self released, I walked on two feet into the building and approached the front desk clerk.

“Hello,” I said. “I was wondering about applying for a permit for a Risen that I’ll need. Would you be able to help me with that?”

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

While I passed the time at the front desk, I was also in the midst of exploring the HQ. My eight limbs scurried as quick as they were able - unfortunately, that didn’t amount to much. Still, my tireless stamina allowed me to remain at a spider’s breakneck pace, shortening my travels considerably.

Eventually, I found something interesting.

“...Just admit that I was right, Elias. It was a Corrupted.”

“We still don’t know that,” a voice replied. Though it was slightly distorted in the ears of my spider-self, I recognized it as one of the guards from the night prior.

“Those two in lockup said that bugs ate him from the inside out - and then ate them, too. If that’s not a Corrupted, I don’t know what is.”

“They’re barely even coherent, Leo. It’s just terrified rambling and raving. That’s not exactly a clear witness account.”

“You just don’t want to lose the bet. Oh, sure, it’s fine to take my money every time I’m wrong - but when I’m right, suddenly it’s ‘Oh, no, we can’t be sure Leo’. Give me my money, Elias.”

Elias grumbled. I heard the clinking of metal on metal. “Fine. If it turns out he’s not, you’re giving me that back.”

Leo laughed. “Trust me, you’re not seeing this again. I know a Corrupted when I see one.”

“...first of all, you’re wrong every other time. Second, you haven’t even seen him.”

“...don’t take this from me.”

Elias grunted. “Any word from the Captain on how we’re dealing with this, yet?”

“Carefully, it sounds like. Don’t know that there’s any other option, really. She’s still interrogating one of the men now, trying to see if we can find something else out. If we’re lucky, we won’t need it: he’ll just disappear and we’ll never see him again. He brutalized those thugs, but it sounds like they had it coming. Still, there’s always a chance he’ll escalate. You never know, with Corrupted.”

“And if he does?”

“Then we’ll put him down,” Leo said grimly, “as hard as it takes to stick.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.” He paused for a moment. “Did we decide on a name for the reports?”

“Carrion, it sounds like. Has a nice ring to it.”

They continued speaking after that, but mentioned little of importance. Meanwhile, I was caught in a dilemma. Was it best to come clean to the Guards? I hadn’t done anything terribly wrong, after all, and it sounded like they agreed with that. Yet, at the same time, it was clear that they held a huge bias towards whatever a Corrupted was; while I didn’t think I was one, I was also more than aware of the fact that I was far from normal.

There was no real danger to me, but I didn’t want to risk Markus’ life by naively showing my cards to law enforcement that may or may not have my best interests in mind.

When they finally left, I turned to my exploration anew.

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

While I navigated the myriad forms and mysteries of Risen permit applications, my spider-self had found the cells.

I was surprised by how full they were. I hoped that implied that the guardsmen were effective, rather than that they were heavy-handed.

Near the cells, I discovered a set of rooms. Each held a desk to which sets of manacles were affixed. However, not all of them were empty.

“You have to speak to me if you want any degree of leniency, you know. You assaulted that couple, you and your friend. We know that. The question is: are you going to cooperate or am I going to have to come down even harder on you for it?”

I couldn’t make out the reply; it was muffled, indistinct.

I crawled closer, slipping under the door’s gap.

A man leaned against the table, his wrists bound to its surface. A woman, who I was nearly certain was the Captain from the night before, pressed against it.

“Well?” she demanded. “Which is it going to be?”

The man looked up, just as I began crawling up the wall for a better viewpoint. He stared at me, eyes wide and terrified.

“He’s coming for me!” he screamed hysterically, pointing at my spider-self. “He’s going to eat me, he’s going to eat you, he’s going to eat us all!”

I froze.

The Captain spun around, tense, only to relax upon seeing my form.

“It’s just a spider. Calm yourself.”

“No. No no no no no no.” He shook his head violently, pulling as far away from the table as he could; the manacles tore at his skin under the force of his tugs, etching small lines of blood on his wrists. “You didn’t see him. You don’t understand.”

He jerked again, twitching nervously. “He’s hungry.”

The Captain sighed, turning around once more. She walked towards the wall, scooping my frozen figure from its surface.

Shit. Be a spider. Do spider things, I thought. What do spiders do🙹 I panicked.

I remained frozen, standing motionless on the surface of her skin.

The thug grew ever closer in my vision, his skin pale and sallow. From here, I could see the sweat that poured down his skin. I could see the fear that clouded his eyes.

I could even smell the piss that ran down his legs.

“It’s harmless,” I heard the Captain’s voice say. “See?”

She crushed me between her fingers.

My spider-self was torn away.

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

I stiffened, standing up with permit applications in hand.

“You know what?” I said with an apologetic look. “I’m going to have to finish these up another time. I just realized that I have a meeting that I will need to be at, soon.”

The front desk clerk gave me the brilliant, fake smile that was the domain of hospitality workers everywhere. “Of course,” he replied. “You have a nice day.”

“You as well,” I answered.

With that, I made a hasty exit.