Pherenike held a torch and lit sconces along the walls of a large domed room. At last the staircase stopped, and they stood at the tower’s pinnacle. Red light oozed through slits in the walls, and everywhere atop the ceiling and along its curvature were charms and runes and circles drawn in paint—wards to keep magic away. Bookshelves crisscrossed everywhere; another library, far vaster than the last, formed a labyrinth without symmetry or reason.

Aletheia glanced through one of the slits. She saw the City beyond, and the distant looming shape of the Regizar’s palace.

They were very high up. But she tasted no mana in the air.

Trito led Aletheia through the labyrinth. She felt like she could smell and see a million books and scrolls and more that had been gathered here. There was no index nor were there markings on anything, and many of the books were bound in plain but colorful leather.

It was an elf’s library. No one else would be able to find anything here.

Eventually it led to the room’s center. There, in a valley of shelves, sat a vast table lit by an overhanging chandelier. Eris was there already, and Corvo had been placed upon the table to sit. Neiaz waited for the others to arrive as he gazed ahead.

When they were rejoined, he motioned at the table.

“What do you see?” he said, tone sharp and condescending.

“Is this a trick?” Eris said.

“An assessment.”

Aletheia looked the table over.

It was a map. Clearly it was a map, of the whole of the City: at its center stood a model of the Palace, and around it were the many towers of Ewsos. Everything was detailed in the extreme, to the smallest flaw in every brick, yet it was from a time before the Fall.

The forests were green. The walls were solid. There were no ruins.

“It is a map,” Eris said.

“Indeed,” Neiaz said. “You have come this great distance because you seek to destroy that which was given life unnaturally. You cannot harm this life, because it dwells in the shadows. Your enchanted blade could slay it, perhaps, if it only appeared long enough before you to be killed, but it does not. Instead it stalks you, impossible to face, impossible to subdue. Correct?”

“Your Elven memory is truly infallible, to repeat what we have explained to you already,” Eris said. “And with these thirty minutes passed!”

“Correct?” Neiaz repeated. His tone was harsher and more pointed.

“Yes,” Aletheia said. “That’s correct.”

“Normally, a creature created in this manner, such as your child’s glass rider, may be destroyed as any living thing can be. But the darkness cannot be permanently killed. The only solution would be to force this Shadow Man into a physical form.”

“What use was it to come to you if you will do nothing but tell us what we know already?” Eris said. She had been sarcastic a moment prior, but now she sounded angry—even afraid. “Do you know a spell that might do this or do you not?”

Aletheia grabbed Eris by the shoulder, trying to ground her. She tugged, but her breathing slowed.

Neiaz held up his hand.

“We are approaching this topic,” he said. “I am very old, and I have learned many things. You stand within my very mind at this moment. I have read every book in this library, and many more beyond. And I have never forgotten a sentence of a single one.”

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“That is why I took the risk to bring you here, Eris,” Trito said. “Neiaz’s mind is not like yours. He has lived for thousands of years, and he has read hundreds of thousands of books. All that was known to the Old Kingdom is known to him, and much more beyond. He will have a solution for you.”

“And how precisely does a blind elf read?” Eris scoffed.

“The indentation of the ink is enough,” Neiaz replied. “And this blind elf could once see.” Another gesture at the table. “Tell me, Eris. You pretend to know much. What solution did you think I would offer, when you came to me?”

“I thought you would know a spell for unraveling this ‘unnatural life’!” Eris said. “Surely that which has been created by magic can also be destroyed by it. But I cannot devise such powerful magic on my own.”

Neiaz smiled. Aletheia had not seen him smile before, and it was a cruel and twisted look beneath his blindfold.

“Indeed. Such a spell does exist. It is not easy, to obliterate the soul of a living creature—to send it to its afterlife with nothing but mana. But I will not teach it to you, for it is a power too great for any mortal to wield, nor will we speak of it any longer.” He shook his head, and his smile faded. “No. I have considered this. The Shadow Man must be given form, permanently, and then destroyed. That is how we will settle this matter.”

“But how?” Eris pled. “Has there ever been a spell to make the darkness manifest?”

“No,” Neiaz said. “But there is magic to transfer the soul of one being into that of another. It would require great mana. But it can be done. Then the new vessel may be destroyed, and your foe slain with it. This is what you shall do.”

“And what vessel would be sufficient?” Eris said. “Can we give life to a teacup?”

“A lifeless thing is not ideal. A body will be easiest, for a soul does not wish to reside in that which is not alive. Fortunately, you have in your possession such a thing as will do nicely already, or so I hear.”

Eris stared ahead. She realized before Aletheia did.

“The glass rider,” she said. “You would have me put the Shadow Man into the rider.”

Neiaz nodded.

“No!” Corvo said. He clawed at Eris from where he sat on the table. “That’s my favorite toy!”

Eris took hold of him by the shoulders. For a moment she glanced to Neiaz, but he was unmoving; so she looked back to her son, shaking her head, and said, “I am sorry, Corvo. But it is just a toy. It is nothing compared to your life. One day you will be grown, and toys will mean nothing to you; but you will always value your life free from the Shadow Man.”

So she nodded. Yet then, suddenly, she hung her head. She ran a hand through Corvo’s hair and pulled him into her chest.

“Yet there is a problem,” she said. “This plan will not work. The Shadow Man cannot be felt with my Essence. He has no soul to take.”

“Can you speak with him?” Neiaz asked.

“Of course.”

“Can he be reasoned with?”

“Yes,” Aletheia said, but Eris shot her a narrow look.

“Is he intelligent?” Neiaz continued.

“In some sense,” Eris said, sighing.

“Then he is alive, and he must have a soul.”

“Do not fret. I felt it,” Trito said to Eris. “When he appeared to me. Faintly, in the darkness. That is why you do not notice his presence. He disperses himself through the shadows. If he is present, and we linger long enough in the dark, you will be able to sense him, too.”

“You have not tried,” Neiaz said. “You have not sat, with Corvo, in the dark, since you first learned of his presence. You have not tried then, you have not focused enough to, find his soul in such moments.”

Eris shook her head slowly. She seemed embarrassed, almost flustered, at this thought.

“No,” she admitted. “I—have not. It has always seemed too great a risk. After what he did to our goblin, and the troll….”

“What if he catches on?” Aletheia said. “He’s listening now. I know he is. Maybe he won’t come.”

“This is a risk I know not how to avert,” Neiaz said.

“It is one I am willing to take,” Eris said. “He has not left Corvo alone for a moment until now. And if we are in the dark—he will take his opportunity to kill us while he can.” She looked to Neiaz’s covered eyes. “This will work. If you know the spell that must be used to do this ritual, I would—be grateful to learn it from you. And I would thank you. Humbly. For my son’s sake.”

Neiaz sneered. “I do not do it for you. Nor for your son.” But he continued on, quickly, “I possess a scroll of magic of this kind within this library. I will retrieve it for you when you depart. But it will take immense power to channel. More than most magicians will ever wield.”

“We’re high up here,” Aletheia said. “Would that be enough?”

“No. You must enter the Aether itself. You will have to pierce the clouds and enter the dimension of raw magic. There you will be able to do this. Fortunately, there are structures so tall still standing in Ewsos.”

He pointed to a place on the map, near the city’s center, where a tower stretched up nearly so high as the Regizar’s palace. It was rectangular and solid, and Aletheia recognized it from her view of the City. It was a tower of almost unimaginable size—as high reaching as the Tower of Pyrthos itself.

“That is where you must go,” he said. “To the Obelisk of Serapion, at the City’s center, and climb to its top. There you will be able to channel mana freely, and you will be able to rip the Shadow Man’s soul from the darkness.”