“If it’s a matter of the soul, even a necromancer wouldn’t notice anything amiss,” Maria continued. “Necromancers can’t see embodied souls. There would be no traces, so long as Ian can keep existing End oaths intact.”

Euryphel arched an eyebrow at Ian. “Can you do that?”

Ian shrugged. “I’ve never done it before.”

Maria reached under the table and squeezed his leg, giving him a knowing look. “That doesn’t mean much, coming from you.”

“I’d need to experiment,” Ian continued, though he looked uncertain. “What we’re talking about… it’s the kind of necromancy that gives all necromancers a bad name. You both know that, right?”

Euryphel looked completely unfazed. “Necromancy is a tool. So long as you use it with good intentions, I see no problem.”

Ian didn’t know why he felt disconcerted. He should be relieved that his companions saw nothing wrong with a disturbing form of necromancy like soul jacking. And yet… Something gnawed at the back of his mind. Was it his conscience? Ian didn’t think so–it’s not like his hands were clean.

His eyes moved between Euryphel and Maria, his iridescent irises hypnotic. “Do you understand what my experiments will need?”

“Human test subjects,” Maria uttered calmly.

Ian closed his eyes and took in a deep breath through his nose. He understood that human experimentation was sometimes necessary for the greater good. But so far, he’d always experimented on himself. The few times he had performed risky procedures on others–like when he’d resurrected Zilverna and Maria–he’d done so because there was no alternative. Either he succeeded or they died.

“You won’t be experimenting on just anyone,” Maria added. Euryphel hummed his agreement.

Ian understood the implications. He’d probably be given criminals. Or more specifically, Euryphel would give him criminals of the Selejo Imperial Federation.

Here it is: the burden of responsibility, Ian thought ruefully, driving me to undesirable ends. He thought back to the events that had brought him to this room, this very moment.

Ian had never asked to be a practitioner… but having spent nearly ten time-dilated years as one, he could no longer imagine his life any other way. His old goal to be a glossprogger seemed so small. It wasn’t so much a goal as a cop-out. He’d needed a way to achieve financial independence, and developing glossware was a high-paying profession for regulars. It had been a practical path to pursue.

His current life had everything his old life lacked. Despite its faults, Eternity was a magnificent land that promised adventure. He’d never need to worry about money or basic necessities. While living forever might drive him insane eventually, he wasn’t too concerned about finding a way to avoid Floria’s torturous fate. And above all, he had Maria and others who cared about him, like Crystal and Karanos.

What did he have in this world? Euryphel, Germaine?

I could just take them away with me, if I really wished, Ian realized, his Beginning leading him to consider a radically different path. They’d need to become liches if he did so or they’d slowly wither and die, but being a lich wasn’t so bad. In some ways it was ideal. Liches could die when they chose, unlike ascendants.

Just keep telling yourself that, he thought scornfully, thinking of Maria and what she’d lost.

Still, he considered taking the only two people he cared about and escaping, leaving Achemiss trapped without any way to leave aside from intercepting future descendants for their return beacons. That was certainly one path he could take–a path where he shed the yoke of responsibility entirely. A path that might be ideal, in some ways. If Achemiss were truly stranded on this world, he’d have an incentive to keep it healthy until he secured a means of departure. After that, though… nothing would stop Achemiss from destroying the world.

Another path stretched before Ian, one where he continued on his current path, using every ounce of his ability to corner and kill Achemiss.

Ian once had a line he swore he wouldn’t cross regarding necromancy. In a few short months, he’d crossed it to save Maria, turning her into a lich. At least then he’d done so because he’d wanted to.

Now, he was being asked to cross another line. This time it was for the greater good, not because of his own desires.

Ian didn’t need to follow through with the soul jacking plan and its prerequisite human experimentation. They could find another way. But Ian had a sinking suspicion that no matter what path they followed, he’d be forced to do things that he’d never otherwise do, things that he’d never want Germaine to know about.

Alas–he stared at his wrists as though he expected to see shackles. Responsibility.

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Then he looked up and saw Maria’s steely expression and Euryphel’s determined gaze. The second path–the difficult path, the just path–required him to be the kind of necromancer that had horrified him in the Menocht Loop.

But Ian wouldn’t be the weak link. He couldn’t be. How could he live with himself if they failed because of his selfish unwillingness?

Without letting more of his inner turmoil show, he said, “I’ll do it.” After giving them each a searching look, he sighed self-deprecatingly. “Let’s see if I’m as talented as we all hope.”

—

Drained by the hours of strategizing, Euryphel motioned limply at the door. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to your rooms.”

Maria spoke up. “If it’s not an imposition, could you send me to Kaiwen Chowicz’s location? Assuming she hasn’t left Ichormai yet.”

Euryphel’s wind elementalism was cut off in the secure area beneath Ichormai, but it was easy to check in a Regret scenario. He left the subterranean complex and his control of the wind allowed him to sense all within the palace. He found Chowicz easily.

“Yes, she’s still here,” Euryphel said. “And no, she’s not with Zilverna.”

Maria’s relief was nearly palpable. “Where is he?”

“In the gardens,” Euryphel said. “He’s walking by himself outside. I assume he wants to be alone.”

“Won’t he be recognized?” Maria murmured.

“He slipped into a sweatshirt and has the hood up over his head, paired with jeans. He’s walking around with a regular tour group.”

“… Why?”

Ian gave her a look. “Probably because he needs an excuse to make sure he doesn’t run into one of us.”

Maria exhaled her frustration and pain. “Very well. Please send me to Chowicz.”

Soon only Euryphel and Ian were left in the corridor. Euryphel swallowed, suddenly aware of their privacy.

He slipped into a scenario.

“Can you tell that I’m nervous around you?” Euryphel asked. He bet that if he hadn’t been raised for politics and skillful oration, he would be stuttering.

Ian cocked his head. “We’re in a scenario, aren’t we?”

Euryphel didn’t answer the question, though he cursed how Ian’s Beginning affinity helped him to sense when he was in scenarios. “Just humor me.”

“Yes, I can tell,” Ian said slowly, “but you don’t want me to know. I respect that. I can’t ignore what I sense, but I can choose not to act on it.”

Euryphel nixed that scenario, entering into another one where he screamed loudly, venting his frustration.

That was a short scenario.

Then he entered another, poised with a new statement. “We should establish a quantum channel again, for easier communication.”

Ian looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. “Makes sense.”

Euryphel remained in that scenario for a few seconds, processing Ian’s response. It was so thoughtless. Quantum channels were mostly used in professional settings where instant, secure communication was a requirement. For instance, the military made judicious use of quantum channeling, though only for soldiers on active duty. The channels were typically unregistered as soldiers returned home.

Best friends didn’t establish quantum channels; most spouses didn’t even have them. Nobody normally needed that much intimacy. Use it enough and your brain would hurt. And if you weren’t careful with your thoughts, something unintended might slip out.

As a case in point, Euryphel didn’t even have quantum channels with the Guard. He had one with Urstes, but scarcely used it. Even establishing one with Ian before had been a necessary leap of faith after war broke out and Ian went east to find a necromancer teacher. Ian had needed to leverage Euryphel’s Regret scenarios while continents apart–and do so securely.

Now they faced another severe threat, one that might require them to act continents apart. Instant communication was a powerful boon, so it made genuine sense for them to have the quantum channel re-established. All the same, Euryphel had feared that Ian would hesitate.

That hesitation was what Euryphel was really searching for–a break in Ian’s masterful façade. He knew this pursuit stemmed from his toxic personality rearing its head. Why did he need to look for the worst in people? Why was he so intent on proving to himself that Ian found him… what, disgusting?

Euryphel snapped back from his scenario, then re-proposed the question in the real world. Ian agreed as before.

“After you get settled, we can perform the procedure.” When Euryphel opened the door this time, it revealed a well-furnished guest room. It was like the one Ian had stayed in before he ascended, with fine crown molding and pale green walls that complimented the emerald bed linens.

The Crowned Executor gave Ian a few minutes alone while he sulked in his room. His mind wouldn’t stop playing over the scenarios he’d run earlier when Maria had left them to find Kaiwen Chowicz.

He grabbed a pillow and smothered his head in it, screaming. Then, with a tired sigh, he padded over to the door and went to collect Ian. It had been long enough.

Euryphel walked inside Ian’s room, closed the door, and reopened it, revealing the quantum channeling room. When he and Ian stepped inside, the dim overhead lighting brightened, revealing a large, tower-shaped device in the left corner of the room. Euryphel patted it. “This is how we register quanticodes.” He then walked over to a small device in the back connected to a hollowed-out half sphere fixed to a thin, clinical table. “And this is how we set you up to handle quantum channeling. Again.”

“Let me just make sure I need to do everything again,” Ian said, walking over to the quanticode tower. Fifteen seconds later, he sighed in defeat and lay down on the table, his head positioned under the curved hood. He stared at it with sharp focus. Euryphel wondered what Ian would sense, if anything, as the device’s arrays activated.

The procedure was quick, inexpensive, and reversible, so many regulars had it done, even if it provided limited practical use. Euryphel figured its popularity was a reaction to regular impotence. Why wouldn’t regulars embrace any power they could? After all, to the ignorant, quantum channeling seemed almost like Remorse. Moreover, having the capability wasn’t the same as using it. Euryphel bet that only a fraction of the regs who could quantum channel actually had quanticodes registered.

Euryphel walked over and hovered a finger over the start button. “Unless you have any reservations, I’ll proceed.”

“None here.”

Euryphel pressed down, initiating the procedure. All he needed to do was wait, so he lounged on one of the thin couches on the wall and lost himself in his thoughts.