Achemiss hadn’t expected any visitors today.

He’d known another confrontation would come eventually, but he’d put plans in motion to ensure it happened on his own terms, where he could use his perceived vulnerability to lure Dunai into a disadvantageous position. Perhaps even using the ancient’s family against him, though Achemiss knew such a venture might backfire. A Dunai with nothing left to lose might very well abandon this world–leaving Achemiss stranded.

Achemiss wasn’t sure exactly how Dunai had managed to find his rift, but it was clear he had. Achemiss knew because he had a Regret practitioner of his own. He peered over at Jenexa, one of the more powerful practitioners he’d captured since his return home. With a Regret affinity just over 80%, she could reliably give him thirty second’s warning on anything.

Well, giving her the credit wasn’t entirely accurate. Anything she did was because of his commands. She wasn’t really Jenexa anymore, though Achemiss prided himself on his ultra-realistic constructs, so her appearance should fool anyone who had known her. Only the glassy stare and vapid expression indicated anything was awry.

She was a special sort of construct. Not a lich–those were a trial to create, and frankly unnecessary. Achemiss didn’t want his minions to think independently or remember themselves. He wanted minions like Jenexa who were almost vegetables, but perfectly did what they were told to do.

Jenexa did the work of teams of Regret practitioners. Even many ascendants didn’t have the mental tenacity required to run Regret scenarios every few seconds over an extended period of time. Days, sure. Months? Years?

Jenexa could do so–would do so–until Achemiss gave her a different command. Tirelessly, without complaint–without mistake.

So it was that Achemiss had 29–28?–seconds in counting to figure out how to respond to whatever threat was knocking on his door. Jenexa’s grasp of the interloper hadn’t been very helpful. He’d gleaned from her limited thoughts that it was a necromantic construct, the kind that he would only expect Dunai to send.

That gave him precious little to work with. But that was okay.

Achemiss was a peak Dark practitioner and a master at creating void storages–though after the many breakthroughs he’d had after studying the way planes worked in Eternity, he thought of them more as dimensional pockets. Such spaces were isolated and often time passed incredibly slowly within them, so they supported only inanimate objects.

As an ascendant, Achemiss had never had much need for an accelerated pocket dimension–the opposite of the norm–but he’d still toyed with the concept.

The idea had returned to him when he’d first come back, weakened like an ember flickering in a storm. He had needed time to just think and come up with a path forward. So, he’d created an accelerated pocket dimension and ordered a construct to place him inside, with commands to withdraw him after a certain duration.

It was a plan that never would have worked were Achemiss still whole–a reminder that even disasters had silver linings.

Achemiss’s form sat on a stone throne whose seat was anchored to the pocket dimension. He was proud of the work–creating a pocket dimension within a rift was challenging and potentially dangerous, but he’d been sure of his abilities.

The throne itself was imbued with necromancy. A simple weave of dark tendrils and intent that had one function: controlling Achemiss’s passage into the accelerated pocket dimension. On the throne’s arm Achemiss could control a small dial, twisting it to indicate how long he’d like to remain inside. He twisted it to fifteen, then mentally triggered the construct into action.

The world flickered. Suddenly, Achemiss was surrounded by darkness. He was on a lone platform of ageless rock. The belongings he’d filled the space with were sparse–a desk, chair, pencil, and paper. Lots of paper, which was stupidly hard to acquire in this world’s contemporary era.

What he wouldn’t give to be able to use his practice in the dimension, but he found using his affinities destabilized it. That was a driving reason behind the timer system, versus him trying to issue commands to the throne necromantic construct from within the pocket dimension. It was a shame, but probably for the best. Working in a pocket dimension was a bit dreary.

Achemiss slid down into the chair–a mundane one, since Achemiss couldn’t manipulate a chair made from materials like hair and bone. It was somewhat annoying on principle–Achemiss loved highly-adjustable furniture–but his current state of existence didn’t experience discomfort in the same way, so the minor frustration faded to the background.

There was no air in the dimension, so when Achemiss leaned back and laughed, it was eerily silent.

He couldn’t say he was happy with the current development. Obviously he’d prefer not to be attacked in his own rift with thirty second’s warning. But he couldn’t deny the part of him salivating for a proper rematch–and the allure of being able to eliminate the greatest threat to his life on the planet. He didn’t know if Dunai kept the return beacon on his person, but if he did, then today’s victory would be glorious indeed.

Not that Achemiss planned to use it immediately. Once the beacon was secured, he would track down his stolen possessions. He’d ensure that the destruction of this world was still in full motion.

Next, he’d focus on rebuilding himself so that he wouldn’t return in disgrace as some half-living reject. For that, he’d need someone’s corpse. After all, it’s not like ascendant bodies grew on trees. Having Ari’s body in nearly perfect condition was already as much of a miracle as he could ask for.

But if he could have Dunai’s as well...

He shook off the thought. Regardless of what happened re: bodily reconstruction, he’d leave this wretched place–and hopefully never be able to come back.

But first, he needed to win.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He picked up the pen and let his ideas flow to the paper.

—

“Bad news,” Euryphel said. “Achemiss doesn’t seem to be in any of the rifts.”

Ian frowned. “That simply can’t be possible.”

“Send Maria in to the closest one to confirm, then,” Euryphel suggested.

Ian gnawed at his lip. “Fine.” They’d touched down closest to the rift just to the southeast of Sere’s southern coast. It would take Maria minutes to reach the rift’s entrance if she went stealthily, but if she went full speed in a Regret scenario... she could probably get there in thirty seconds.

Maria, I’m going to tell Eury to enter a scenario. When he does, you need to sprint to the rift as fast as you can.

She nodded at him. Need me to confirm if he’s just hiding or absent?

Yeah.

Not long after, Euryphel contacted him.

“So... Maria entered the rift, as planned. Inside she didn’t detect Achemiss. No End arrows at all, so nobody is in there. What do you plan to do?”

Ian’s Beginning tried to make sense of everything they knew. None of the rifts seemed to contain Achemiss as far as the mannequins could tell. Not even Maria entering the rift he’d deemed most likely to contain Achemiss–though only by a small margin–revealed his presence.

Something felt off. Achemiss seemed to have predicted their arrival to some extent. Perhaps he had a Regret practitioner working for him. Technically nothing was off the table. Normally, remaining in a rift meant communication with the outside was impossible, but Achemiss had already proven such restrictions were little more than an inconvenience.

If Ian assumed Achemiss could assume they were coming... what could Achemiss do?

That depended in large part on how much notice Achemiss had. Had the ascendant somehow gained privileged information from a traitor? Ian found that possibility unlikely. Achemiss probably was operating on less than a minute of notice, then–which shouldn’t be enough for him to act on. He didn’t have a Beginning affinity to help him process faster, nor did he have Regret to stretch a second out.

Wait, Ian thought to himself. Unless Achemiss was never in the rifts, or always hides within them, he would only know to hide if he knew we were coming. Even with his Beginning affinity, Ian felt a headache coming on as he considered Regret-on-Regret tactics. Battles between Regret practitioners were always horribly convoluted because each side would respond to whatever the other side did, with each constantly adjusting tactics based on the updating behavior of the adversary.

Beginning was often a foil to Regret since Beginning practitioners had a heightened ability to discern whether they were in a scenario or not, but that effect was lessened when acting remotely, as Ian was now. Maybe his Beginning affinity was just too low. Ian couldn’t say for sure–it’s not like he remembered anything from scenarios aside from what Euryphel told him.

We’ve never actually entered the rifts in the real world, obviously... but in some scenario potentially only known to Achemiss and his Regret helper, we did enter the rift holding Achemiss because we detected him and decided to go in for the kill. That’s the only situation in which we would have attacked one of the rifts in reality.

That means Achemiss really is in one of these rifts. The question becomes, would we have sent a mannequin to attack Achemiss if me and Maria weren’t there in person? If the answer is no, then it’s almost certain that Achemiss is in this rift, End arrow or not. If the answer is yes...

Ian sighed, shaking his head, his heart pounding. He heard the blood rushing through his body. Every second gave Achemiss more time to prepare countermeasures.

I don’t think we’d send a mannequin ahead of us, Ian concluded a moment later. The chance wasn’t nonzero, but Ian couldn’t let small chances weigh down his decision making. If he failed to be decisive here, he stood to lose everything.

Maria, he finally said through the lich bond, I think he’s in this rift. I don’t know how he could hide his End arrow, but... I think attacking it with everything we have is our best shot.

Are you certain?

He laughed. You can feel how certain I am.

And it isn’t a comfort.

Ian sighed. There’s a good chance Achemiss has a Regret practitioner in his pocket. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me–the only way he could know to hide preemptively. We won’t have the element of surprise no matter what we do unless we remove Regret from the equation, but that’s a longshot. The practitioner could be operating from anywhere.

You’re thinking, the longer we delay, the more things shift in Achemiss’s favor?

Something like that. We probably had the element of surprise until two minutes ago or so. I think we can still win if we attack now.

Maria frowned. You’re assuming he benefits from more time, she said. That his goal is to stretch things out. I don’t think that’s right. You’re dealing with a deeply paranoid, vengeful man who has likely spent every waking moment considering how he’ll destroy you and regain what he’s lost. He’s not trying to deceive you into thinking he’s not here so that you’ll leave him be, or so that he can run away. You coming here today, and placing mannequins at all his rifts, means that he’ll never be able to return to them. His shelter in a rift strategy is done. He’s not going to play cautiously, Ian. He’ll be playing to win–to kill you.

Then he’ll need to exit the rift and dirty his hands personally, Ian said. I’m not going in, if that was a concern.

And there’s no chance of him attacking you through your mannequins?

Ian had specifically designed them so that he could sever his necromantic connection to the mannequins at will, preventing Achemiss from exploiting the connection the way Ian had with Achemiss’s own construct. I hesitate to say none, but there shouldn’t be anything obvious for him to exploit.

Then... Is there a possibility that he can attack you through me? she asked.

Ian paused. He felt like his mind was a hovergloss and Maria had just pulled the brakes. Because you’re connected to my soul?

She nodded.

That’s... a very good point, actually, Ian said. Yes... if Achemiss is looking for a target I won’t see coming, a way to get to me, it really might be through you, if we send you into the rift to fight. Assuming he could defeat you, which is still an ‘if’–you’re a terror.

Thank you, but I don’t see why you’re getting excited over this. This isn’t a good thing.

It’s how we win, Maria, he said. You’re the ultimate trap.