Talek knelt in place upon Calamon's bloody cobbles. He stared off vacantly into the distance, as though still waging a battle within himself.

"I... won." he reminded himself, eased his body into compliance. His shoulders sagged just a few inches.

He looked to the nearby corpse of Cedric Castelbre. It hadn't repaired itself. This time, it was really over. Kogar—Talek had won. With Vekzul by his side, Talek had secured his throne once and for all. No more could harm come to his vessel; now it was up to time itself, up to Talek to await the fruition of the destiny which Kasian had laid before him.

And then he saw her.

He stood to his bare feet as the sky seemed to become platinum, brushed the long, dirty brown hair out of his eyes. As he pushed it aside, it began to burn into black hues again. His soft face began to harden.

He said through both of their voices, "Faunia Vleren."

And indeed, there she was. Armored in curving white armor beyond human imagination, curved like the many intersecting chitins of a hardened insect. Smooth, clean. Sleek. Armor that demanded order, wherein not one single piece was out of place.

And twenty more just the same stood in line with her. The rest of them, women all, seemed to twitch and writhe somewhat, like their skins, their bodies were still uncomfortable from their ages long slumber.

Then Kogar was done reforming. He grinned madly. Butterflies exploded around him as he drew his scythe from the air again. "So, this is playtime. You freed Evra. Any idea what the consequence of that should be?"

Faunia looked down to her open palm. There was a crystal there; a Relistar? Pale red with a strange white sheen around the edges. He couldn't tell from the distance, he couldn't quite see it...

Faunia said, "Tir. Do you see? He killed Cedric."

The crystal became more red by the second.

"He killed him. And that cannot be idly abided." said the woman.

She flung the crystal at Kogar.

"Ordinators—restore balance to this realm." She hoisted her sword up into the air. Her twenty matching soldiers rushed madly forward.

Kogar swept his scythe for the crystal. Just as it should have impacted—it was like the crystal itself avoided the blow, leapt an extra foot toward him.

Then Tirolith's bloody, spiked fist exploded outward from that form, broke half the bones of his face...

Down into hell—they're taking me into...!

Zanthiel and Azatos looked to each other. The white one said, "Always impressive how much they've learned about the Outer Rings."

"Don't do this...!" Cedric barked, digging his fingers until they were bloody into the thorns at his neck. "Stop! You want to be subservient to Kogar forever? To Kasian!?"

The white one knelt down to his face. "Subservient? You underestimate the Etherian ilk. We are not subservient. Everything so far has proceeded apace, all according to his plan."

"His...?" Cedric's mind quickly rattled off any and every suggestion of who it could be. But before he could come to a resolute decision, his back was dangling halfway over the precipice they'd prepared for him. "Stop! What do you stand to gain?"

The figure seemed to ponder that for a moment. "Is the grace of god not incentive enough?"

And with that to punctuate, the black Etherian leapt into the pit behind Cedric's head, yanked him downward in one swift, horrible motion that made a resounding snap like a branch shattering in half beneath a boot. His body chased, and down into an eternal pit he fell. The last thing he saw through the darkness was those two Etherians, standing just at the edge, looking down upon him.

He groaned as he fell, gasped in sickeningly for air. "Serkukan... my neck...!"

It was surely broken. The red Etherian was no longer there to help him. It was up to him, alone.

"My neck...!"

But try as he might, the twice-ley was too distant. The pocket dimension they'd thrown him into, he wasn't even sure where it might have been. He didn't know the dimensions, the span, even the realm wherein it existed. Was it all a figment of Kogar's fractured mind? Could he escape by simply imagining a way out?

He couldn't escape the pain long enough to try. The aching of his broken neck far surpassed much of the pain he'd felt in his life. He felt his consciousness waning.

If it waned entirely... would he soon find that nothing existed beyond purgatory?

The falling sensation made him want to puke. Or maybe it was the pain. Or the blood welling in his throat. He could feel his eyes going soft, though he already couldn't see anything beyond the pitch black engulfing him. He looked down to his red-bound body. Serkukan's armor. A visual to ground himself by. His fingers dug into one of the scales almost impulsively, pried it up, twisted it left and right like a tooth in its socket. Soon, the scale came free. He could see his bloody flesh beneath. It was as though the armor had become his skin, as though Serkukan had become his form.

Did I fail to take the pineal gland?

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He released the scale, watched it float upward and away. There it went into the void...

Then it hit something, or at least got caught in mid-air. It slowly started falling back toward him, floating down to his body like he'd become the center of this world's gravity entirely.

Cedric caught the scale, winced in agony as his neck pulsed pain through his whole body. He stared at it for a long pause, took deep, groaned breaths through his nose in an attempt to stay alive through the pain, to move without moving his neck, and flung it back up again.

That time it was obvious; the scale struck some type of wall, bounced off, spun back toward him.

Not an endless pit. Not forever. I just need to reach the end... Just need to map it out.

He shut his eyes. He did his best to trace that path within his mind, to feel if there was a layer of twice-ley where the scale had traveled. He couldn't feel it.

I'm suspended in the middle. It's a bubble. Round. Is it round?

He opened his eyes again, found the scale floating beside him. He took it into his hand, flung it with more strength than the two attempts before. That time, it slid along the wall like a boomerang before it found that path back to him, traveling in a spiral around the circumference of the chamber.

Cedric spun toward it, tried but failed to catch it as it approached. It bumped into him, slid along his armor. He grabbed it clumsily, positioned himself for another throw.

Rounded. Gravity suspended in the middle. No light except the light on me. And the scale. Is it light from the outside? Black walls?

Doesn't matter. Can't reach twice-ley... I'll... die...

He released the scale lifelessly. It slid along his hand, stuck to him like a magnet. His eyes began to shut lifelessly.

What would Serkukan... have me do?

"...Is he still alive? I'm surprised. I suppose, then, that he's no longer human. Forcible reincarnation?"

The black Etherian had his cold fingers pressed deep into Cedric’s neck. He was laying, again, upon the bloody cobbles of Calamon.

Then the Etherian pressed down hard, and a loud crack resounded.

The white Etherian said, "Fixed him? Good. I'm curious to know what he's made of." He rubbed the loose red scale between his fingers. "He's red, in part. But we saw violet, and we saw gold. Is he the first true Hybrid Etherian? One Etherian which seamlessly blends each power into one being? Bronze, perhaps. As Evra is silver, platinum. He appears to be bronze."

Finally the black one responded with only a metallic groan, like sheets of steel scraping against each other.

"No. Dyosius wasn't pure in that way. Even Stabilis did not reach such a fine blend. Perhaps we should ask Axys Amar."

Then approached a red suit of armor between the two of them, much alike to Serkukan’s brutalist appearance. Perhaps the starkest contrast between them was the white star in the center of his chest.

"Leave him to me," ordered Vekzul. "Kasian has his designs for this one."

The white Etherian lowered his head. The black one stood from his crouch.

"...You intend to defy me?" asked Vekzul.

"Does Kasian's plan usurp the very designs of Azafel?"

“Somehow I'm lacking in confidence that you want to cooperate.”

“And I'm inferring that you won't go quietly.”

Vekzul cocked his head.

Then—thwiiish! The black and white Etherians vanished in a flutter of wind.

Vekzul launched himself up from the ground, dodged away from the shadow which was quickly engulfing the surface of the world.

Then the white Etherian was behind him—he blinked behind the white one in turn, let fly a flurry of impossibly fast strikes which shattered the pale armor with every blow.

Then he warped again in front of him, grabbed him by the skull, launched him at the ground.

In a final warp, he met the white Etherian just as the black shadow engulfed him, stomped him hard into the cobbles with both of his boots. Then he flipped backward, landed where the ground was still light beneath the sun.

The shadow rushed him.

Vekzul slammed his hands together and the buildings slid together, removed the road ahead entirely from existence as though it had always been so. That didn't stop the shadow—and the light one was already in the sky above, falling with his oversized weapon brandished.

BLAM! Azatos struck and a spray of crimson exploded across his white armor. There was a sickening cackle from within the helmet—then a groan of dismay.

“...Tomatoes?”

Shk!

Vekzul’s own blade slid true into Azatos’ spine. Where he'd once been standing, a pile of crimson tomatoes had replaced him. Reality need only be convincing long enough—then the illusion may fall.

“I agree completely.”

THOOM. The world shook as Azatos dropped the end of his man-sized blade to the ground. A blade shaped, by no coincidence, like a golden cross. It was adorned with careful scrawling; scripture from long forgotten languages, commandments from religions which no longer existed.

“Wherein there is reality, blinded man can be by faith.”

Vekzul lunged backward and skidded his boots along the ground. He fell into a low position as he moved back toward the barrier of houses.

“...Or darkness, in kind.”

The shadow suddenly engulfed him and all became black. Vekzul let out one single gasp before a white moon lit up in the distance. He threw his fists forward, braced for impact…

…No. I can do one better.

The air sucked in around him and became frigid. The moon rushed forward with cataclysmic force.

And Vekzul painfully dragged time to a halt.