Unsurprisingly, the closer we got to the center of the battlefield, the more deaths there were. Lucet floated the idea of retreating to the edge of the hailstorm to camp out, but even though Sansen couldn't see that far into the future without setting up his ring of hope-inducing memorabilia, it was pretty clear that any remaining soul fragments would drift away if we spent days on end backtracking and re-entering the storm. And I wasn't going to let any information on Jiaola's whereabouts fade away if I could help it.

So at my insistence, we camped out in ramshackle tents that were battered by hail, trying our best to sleep despite the eternal thunk-thunk-thunk of falling ice.

I attuned regret later that night. I supposed my companions weren't too happy about my choice.

An indeterminate amount of time later, I heard rustling outside my tent. I hadn't been sleeping, exactly—the endless clamor of hail made it hard—so it was a matter of heartbeats to sit up and look into soulspace. Lucet's soul shone on the other side of the tent flap. I got up, put on my shirt and binder, and called out.

"I'm awake, Lucet," I said. "You can come in."

"Eep! Er, sorry." Lucet scurried into the tent, shucking off her winter coat, and gave me a confused look. "How'd you know it was me?"

"I recognized your soul," I said.

"I... I can't do that," Lucet admitted.

"Yeah, well, people's sorrow might look the same by coincidence," I said. "But when you can see someone's levels of calm, sorrow, passion, insecurity, joy, fear, spite, guilt, shame, disgust, regret, and self-hatred, it'd take one hell of a coincidence for all twelve of those emotions to look similar between two different souls."

Lucet fell quiet for a moment.

"You made another attunement," she said.

I winced. "I... yeah. I did."

"Okay." She didn't pry, which almost made it worse. Instead, she just wordlessly scooted towards me; I leaned on her shoulder and closed my eyes.

"I'm sorry if I'm keeping you up," she finally said. "I just... I couldn't sleep."

"You can't sleep because I fucking convinced you all to camp out beneath what I dearly hope is the largest rift in the world. Don't blame yourself."

"I'm not blaming myself," she whispered. "I just... don't want to be useless."

Rifts, I felt that. Because I was useless. I was worse than useless. I shivered and snuggled closer to Lucet, and there must have only been room for one or the other, because the voices seemed to shy away when she was around. "I..." I bit my lip, liquid metal roiling in my soul, then went for it. "If you... I've been having a hard time sleeping too. If you wanted to stay over for the night..."

Lucet smiled. "Yeah. I... I think I'd like that. Scoot over?"

I laid down on my side, facing Lucet, and she slipped beneath the blanket, putting one arm around my back and pulling me closer.

"Cozy," she murmured sleepily, and I nodded into her neck.

"M-hm," I said, and closed my eyes.

Our souls glittered together in the dark behind my eyes, and the clattering hail faded into the void of sleep.

###

Nobody said anything when Lucet and I came out of the same tent the next day, but I saw the dewdrops of joy and sparks of hope in Sansen's soul as he saw us smiling at each other. For some reason, passion was incredibly inefficient to use while we were under the rift, so we were stuck with mundane jackets and body heat. Thankfully, it wasn't like the conditions under the rift were that much worse than in the Silent Peaks, and the supplies we already had sufficed well enough.

I was prepared to spend another day hunting for soul fragments, but as Sansen led us deeper into the battlefield, he paused.

"Hey," he said. "There's, uh... there's an opportunity in a nearby future."

"What kind of opportunity?" Meloai asked.

"I... I really don't know what to make of this, but... there's a... settlement? No, a shelter of some kind around here. With... what looks like some soldiers who got left behind."

I rubbed my chin. "If we're trying to get information on Jiaola... interviewing living soliders is about as good as we can hope for."

"Especially if they're stuck here," Meloai said. "I mean, I don't know about you guys, but I'd run away from the giant death-rift in the sky if I could. The fact that they're still here probably means they can't leave. Maybe... maybe we could help them, and get information in return?"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Or, y'know, help them out because they're probably going to starve to death if they're stuck here," Lucet added.

"...Right, that too," I said. "Either way, we should check it out."

Sansen nodded. "Then we're going this way." There weren't really any landmarks in the never-ending hailstorm, so the only idea I had of where we were going was 'left,' but Sansen seemed to know where we were going. Before long, he paused, frowning, then said, "Follow me."

Then he took off in a dead sprint.

The three of us didn't hesitate—following the old oracle's directions had gotten us all saved more than once, and we'd be utterly fucked without him. It wasn't long before the future Sansen foresaw caught up to us: in the distance, I heard someone screaming for help. Something about... a medical emergency? Needing a healer?

Well. Grimly, I readied myself. None of us had attuned forgiveness, but... I had something else I could try.

I got an impression of a log cabin in the hailstorm before Sansen threw the door open, startling the collection of people inside. Before anyone else could speak, though, Sansen said, "You called?"

The group of soldiers—and they were definitely soldiers, clad in the uniform of the Silent Peaks—stared at us, baffled. They'd formed a loose semicircle around two men, one standing over the other, who was bleeding out on the floor. The one standing regained his composure first.

"Yes. I—I don't know who you are, but if any of you are a healer—"

"We're not," I brusquely said, "but... I might be able to do something after death."

There was a moment of shocked silence as everyone in the room except Sansen turned towards me.

Then the man broke the silence. "My husband died fighting necromancers!" The man screamed at me. "And you expect me to let some junior necromancer defile his soul?"

"Your husband died fighting necromancers?" I asked.

The man nodded fiercely, standing over the gasping, bleeding body of his husband.

"Out of curiosity, who does he have to thank for coming back to life from the dead? Any school of magic in particular that could take credit for resurrections?"

He blushed furiously. I got the feeling he wasn't used to people applying silly little conventions like 'logic' and 'internal consistency' to his tirades. "That's irrelevant! I can see the greed in your eyes. You just want to steal Mertri's soul. But I won't let you!"

"Literally every single word you just said is incorrect. Look, how about this." I raised my hands in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. The man—Mertri's husband, I suppose—stood opposite me in the large wooden dining hall. Behind me, three of my friends watched Mertri's husband nervously; a handful of people I assumed were simply bystanders stood opposite us, forming a complete ring of bodies, locking Mertri's husband and I in with each other. I raised my voice to be heard over the thakka-thakka-thakka of hail on the wooden roof. "Ask around. See if literally anyone else has any relevant medical expertise. Let them have their go first. And then if they fail... let me help."

"I already asked, you idiot. You think I'd be talking to a necromancer instead of staking him through the heart if I had any better options?"

"You're thinking of vampires, not necromancers. And you've admitted it yourself—you don't have any better options." I grimaced. "I don't, either. I wish I was a normal healer. But... salvaging what's left afterwards is the best I can do."

The man started to speak, but Mertri coughed wetly from the floor. I wasn't entirely sure what the nature of his injury was, but judging by the blood on his chest, it... wasn't pretty. "Vuliel," Mertri managed.

"I'm here, love." Vuliel knelt by his husband's side, and I could see the raw anger and sorrow in his soul. "I'm listening."

"Let... the boy... try." Mertri managed a weak smile.

Vuliel jerked back, shocked. "But—if he—you could become a monster. Why would you..."

Mertri focused on his husband. "Because," he whispered. "I'll take any chance to see you again."

And before my very eyes, Mertri's soul began to fracture as the bleeding man died.

"It's now or never," I said.

Vuliel closed his eyes.

Then he stood, expression inscrutable. "Do your worst."

And I knelt by the dying man's side as his soul began to shake apart.

Necromancy was a vast and complex field, and different people had different approaches to it. I had absorbed fragments of souls on broken battlefields, trying to piece together narratives from dying memories; I had stitched together the souls of animals to form ghosts and demons of terrible light; I had even reached between planes to chase departed souls as they tried to move on from this world.

But here and now, I could prevent having to take any of those measures before they even happened. I could hold the dying man's soul together before it shattered into uncountable memories. All I had to do was draw upon the core of necromancy:

Regret.

All necromancy was, fundamentally, an act of regret. A wish that the dead never died. And I was no exception.

In order to call up necromancy, I simply had to remember the day I'd decided to fight back against death.

I closed my eyes, remembering another place, another time. A girl named Astrenn who had loved to feed crows.

My helplessness as I arrived at her cold, long-dead body, her head caved in by a falling roof beam.

The regret that had flooded my soul ever since.

The wellspring of power came sludgily at first—then as I let my regrets sing through me, it flooded from my core and down my hands and into the dying man's cracking soul. The magic was thick and swampy and fetid, but it was mine, and I hardly had to lift a finger as my regrets did what they did best.

They tried to hold together a broken heart.

And, miracle of miracles, they did.

Only those with soulsight could see what happened next, and from what I could tell, Vuliel was not one of them. But a bitter, forlorn pride swelled in my heart as the man's soul drifted free of his body, stabilized, anchored in this world.

"What... what did you do?" Vuliel whispered.

"I kept his soul from breaking," I said. "I... I'm not powerful enough to reunite it with a dead body. But... he could still live on if his possessed someone else. Someone who cared about him an awful lot. Someone who'd be willing to share their body with a man who lost his own." I gestured towards the invisible soul. "All you have to do is let him in."

Vuliel looked down at his husband's corpse.

"It's not what I wanted," he managed to say.

For a heartbeat, the only sound in the wooden hall was the crash of hail on the roof.

"But it's the best I have," he finished. He looked up, meeting my eyes, and said, "I'm ready. Tell me what to do."

I shook my head. "There's nothing simpler. Just reach out and touch his soul."

Vuliel swallowed, then stretched out a hand.

And in a flash of memories absorbed, two souls became one.