Getting Veit into the basement was an odyssey and a half, in no small part due to the man’s insistence on getting there, and getting there now. The irony of her predicament was not lost on Malwine.

The main issue was, she still didn’t even know where the basement was located—the stunt she pulled to get there meant she had no real mental map for how to take anyone else there.

“I must reconvene with your grandfather before the day is done,” Veit said with a frown. Her continued delays were clearly getting to him. “How did you find it in the first place?”

Even knowing this was mostly her own doing, Malwine still chose to glare at him. “It was a combination of Skills that took me there. I’d rather not give more details on that front, it’s personal.”

“I can understand that,” Veit conceded, his arms still folded around his chest. “But I would prefer to make haste, given how serious a threat a sibyl can be, and this is inconvenient.”

“I told you, I set her on fire. She probably has bigger concerns now, if she can have concerns at all,” Malwine insisted—she was still slightly conflicted about OHeidi, not that it had stopped her from doing as she claimed. “Speaking of bigger concerns, shouldn’t the one that’s, you know, loose on the mangal be the priority here?”

“Setting aside however it was that you learned the one you encountered has ‘a friend’ out there, not quite. It would take both more time and effort to seek that one out than simply check on the one you have a location for, if only for the sake of efficiency. I must see what it is that you have done.”

“Hey, no need to phrase it like I’ve gone and committed a crime! I read a book that said sibyls should be set on fire, so I did,” Malwine frowned. As much as she wanted to snap back, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Though the forester wasn’t unflappable, she’d learned he wasn’t anywhere near as easy to push around as she would have preferred. “You can track this double, correct?”

“I can.”

“Then do that. I’ll dismiss it and get there, and you can just follow me there. It’s the easiest way. Just hop on your weird glass kite and follow.”

“My what?”

“That kite that keeps showing up before you enter rooms.”

“That is a gate.”

“Well, maybe don’t make your gates look like giant kites if you don’t want them getting called kites,” she grinned despite herself—this was a win in her books. “But none of that matters. Let’s go.”

Malwine dismissed the double before she could learn whether Veit truly had any gripes about her calling his portals kites.

She resummoned it within the still-blazing room, and the mosaic kite formed at her side within seconds. Veit stepped in, and immediately yelped. Light-colored shards manifested around him, spinning for a moment before fading from sight. “Did you not think it pertinent to warn me I would be literally walking into a fire?”

“I told you I set her on fire. The basement just happens to be where she was, and it, say… got caught on the crossfire,” Malwine snickered, ignoring the look he was giving her. “I should perhaps have just said I set the whole basement on fire, to be fair. My bad.”

“There’s setting the basement on fire and using the basement walls to contain a blaze,” the forester complained. None of that prevented him from just walking forward, in the direction of what remained of the sibyl’s corpse. After looking down at it for a few seconds, he sighed so loudly that it bordered on exaggeration. “You haven’t the faintest clue as to how fortunate you are.”

“What, why?”

“Because this,” Veit gestured at the flames shrouding his shielded form. “This was an unbelievably stupid decision.”

“The book suggested cremation! Or something like that, I don’t recall the exact word.”

“Whoever wrote that book was irresponsible in omitting some key details, then. Under no circumstances should you ever seek to bring harm upon a sibyl. For all intents and purposes, they are the sea,” he pointed at the flaming remains. “Shattered sibyl. Do you know what that means?”

“I thought it was because she was missing a leg?”

“No. Somehow, this sibyl was cut off, likely through isolation. You mentioned it wouldn’t move—that would be a good sign even if it were not labeled as shattered. While I’m at it—” Veit glanced at Malwine. “Level 64.”

“Wait, you hadn’t identified me before?”

“No. I confess my path makes me prone to relying on panels as infrequently as possible. It’s actually easier for me to use Perception than this. And unlike [Identify], sensing your surroundings on your own doesn’t leave you with a simple unknown when something is too high a level for you to identify.”

“I’ll make a note of that, for all the things I expect you to give me suggestions on. Safety and hiding, as well,” Malwine said and meant it. Unfortunately for her, this double had [Shieldwork] on it, not [Write Anywhere].

“Had this been an active sibyl, you would likely have brought trouble upon everyone here, girl. Do not treat this as a joke. The sea is… fickle, and it takes offense often.”

“Is it like, a sapient thing?”

Veit sighed. “I… I confess I know not. It acts in certain ways, inconsistent ways. It is unpredictable save a few patterns, and if it wants someone punished, there is no salvation anything under the waves could provide.”

Malwine wasn't sure as to how to respond.

“Level 149,” the forester mused. “But it had a Skill for level obfuscation, in life. The displayed level feels… hollow.”

“So it's not really Level 149? Wasn't, I mean.”

“It presumably last used this ability to choose to display that level soon before its death, but it's an odd choice given how nothing is obscuring their core stage.”

Malwine nodded. “The gold stage,” she felt her own expression darken. “You said she was an Immortal.”

“In life,” Veit agreed. “I have heard most sibyls were Immortals once, smitten for hubris or disrespect against the waves. Rarely does anyone have any real tales to back that claim with—connecting one to the person they once were is almost impossible.”

“Oh,” Malwine looked at the pile of what little remained of OHeidi—she’d rather not risk giving away that she knew exactly who this had once been. “If she was Immortal as you say… that’s not going to be a problem for confirming she’s dead-dead, right?”

He scoffed at that. “All sibyls are dead even as they stand. But as for the state of the one you've burned? It will soon be less than ashes. I confess I know not whether to laugh or mourn your ignorance.”

Malwine glared back at him. “Being mean to a child is not a good look, buddy.”

“Perhaps I am being harsher than I should be. At the end of the day, you’re young,” the forester sighed, tipping his head back. “Here, you got lucky. Ridiculously so. That candle harvestable you used… Do you recall which type it was?”

She raised an eyebrow. “There are multiple types of candle harvestables? But no, I don’t recall. The description said something about connections and existence? It was further down my list of priorities than taking the sibyl out was.”

“That is how you’ve done it, then. This is why she burns.”

“What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, he moved further into the flames. He did not appeared unbothered, his brows furrowing noticeably.

“These,” Veit ran a hand through the iridescent flames. They parted for him, almost dancing around his skin. “I confess, without seeing the harvestable, I cannot name them for certain. But these touch upon the concept of Existence itself. You could have used this candle to advance, if you knew how to cultivate your core. Or to destroy a body no longer connected to anything that Exists, I suppose.”

“Explain it like I'm five, please.”

The forester looked back at her over his shoulder. “Aren’t you four or something?”

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“And? Well, explain it like I haven't heard a single one of those things in my life.”

He turned back to play with the flames too swiftly for her to be sure on whether he had also rolled her eyes at her.

“One of the first things you need to understand in order to cultivate your core is that you Exist,” Veit started, looking a bit pensive. “It’s… It was explained to me a long time ago. Not everyone’s beliefs on it are the same—but the way I was taught, our experience as living things is what makes it possible for us to grow. My father had a favorite quote on the matter: ‘Only that which Exists, and understands that it Exists, can someday become Eternal.’”

“So it’s a cultivation thing,” Malwine nodded along. Serious ‘I think, therefore I am’ vibes, honestly. “Then cultivation requires what? Awareness?”

“In a sense. We are insignificant pieces of whatever force in the universe enables consciousness. All we get are mortal souls, and the goal of anyone who can advance is to change that. To become something, the Existence of which will never end.”

“The quest for eternal life, got it. And what does this have to do with the candle?”

“You mentioned the description included the term of Existence, and something about connections,” Veit waited for her to nod her assent before continuing. “Combined with that which I see here, that leads me to believe you revealed either a Candle of Connections or a Candle of Ends. Either would be usable for advancements because they’re meant to assist in understanding Existence. I confess this is… a creative use for one. But this? I’m genuinely impressed by what you achieved in your ignorance.”

“Hey, what did I say about being mean?” You would make Adelheid sad if she were here! Malwine reflexively checked her surroundings just to ensure that indeed wasn’t the case, despite their currently incandescent location.

“This is fire, strictly speaking,” Veit seemingly chose to pretend she hadn’t spoken at all. “But it’s not meant to burn. It’s meant for enlightenment. So actually using it like this means you stumbled upon one of the few ways to destroy this sibyl, and entirely by accident. It’s impressive.”

“Not meant to burn? It’s looking perfectly functional to me.”

“Because none of what it’s burning Exists,” the forester insisted. “A living Immortal would be mildly irked at worst, if not unaffected. But a sibyl is empty. Neither the person’s original rank nor the sturdiness of their body matters anymore—only the question of whether there is anything that Exists within. And there is not.”

“Wait. So the candle actually worked only because she was dead?” Malwine flinched. She hadn’t expecting her success to have been a fluke… not entirely, at least. “She wouldn’t have burned otherwise?”

“No,” Veit raised a hand, and a flash like glass shattering surrounded it. He touched the flames, wincing. “This can be… a source of unease. But it’s not going to bring harm to anything that Exists, nor to anything that has never been alive. You burned what, leaves?”

“And some spices,” Malwine admitted.

“I see. You are the reason I have found myself forced to hold my breath, then.”

“You’re surprisingly whiny for a level 400,” Malwine huffed.

Veit eyed her. “I cannot help but be somewhat perturbed by you knowing that.”

“I have my ways,” and their name is Adelheid. “Don’t worry, the secret’s safe with me.”

She reached forward gingerly, and before she could think better of it, accrued a single point of [Toll] to dip her hand into the fire like an overly curious child about to learn of the consequences of their actions.

It wasn’t that hot. No, it was just fucking weird. She gasped despite herself, caught off-guard by the visceral sensation. It felt like something was peeling layers away from her and just left her very being bare. Neither revelations nor insights followed—it was simply bringing her a disturbing sense of openness.

Malwine returned her hand to intangibility. “Thanks, I hate it.”

Veit laughed. “You’re too young to be needing this sort of thing to advance, honestly. Though taking some of these into your core would do no harm. You’re at the peak of the Early Esse, no?”

“I’m stuck at the peak of the Early Esse. I’ve been there my entire life, literally.”

That seemed to get his interest. “Truly?”

“Yes, since just after coming out of stasis. I read I need to be five to rank up, so I have been waiting. But it’s annoying.”

“I confess your claims make it hard to determine what you should and shouldn’t know. You might be older than you appear, but that still doesn’t tell me how to treat you, and you still look like a child to me,” Veit took a long, deep breath despite his earlier statement. “Pardon the brusqueness of it—but are you aware that you could die?”

“What?”

“Your stasis claim would make you older than your body, and the mind, the soul, is what matters for the first breakthrough. A part of Existence—the crux of it—is sustaining it. During the Early Esse, we come to terms with our Existence. We start our lives, be it as mortals or as beings with potential. We become curious children who might someday grow into something larger than the limited lives we start with. And at some point, children learn they will someday die unless they break free of mortality.”

Malwine gaped at the forester, gathering her thoughts. “Well. I’m going to cultivate. So that’s not a concern.”

“If you intend to ascend through the ranks, to reach greater core stages, it is absolutely a concern,” Veit insisted. “The Mortal Esse is about understanding our limitations. Our vulnerability. It’s about truly coming to terms with the knowledge that it could someday be over. Mortality must be comprehended to be transcended.”

Malwine scoffed, but within, she was spiraling. She wasn’t going to die. Well, she had died, but much as the widow had since her middle age, she had the tools for life extension within grasp. Living forever—or at least for longer than she could fathom—was absolutely a possibility.

So why would she ever consider the alternative?

“My apologies if it is a bit much,” the forester whispered. “I believe you. I find some of your statements dubious, but it is, frankly, too specific to disbelieve. Overall, at least.”

“Please. What is there to disbelieve?”

“I misspoke, perhaps. Let’s say I believe you have an odd relationship with the truth.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I was not about to phrase it that way, but you've gone and done it yourself.”

Malwine returned to the ever-reliable huff. “I find that if things are outrageous enough, they circle back into believability soon enough. Refuge in audacity, and all.”

“Another thing you ‘read’?”

Malwine narrowed her eyes at his tone. “I've read about it, yes. A long time ago.”

“What do you define as long ago, I wonder?” the forester asked, curling a strand of hair around a finger while putting on the world's least believable expression of absentmindedness. “If you were in stasis since too early into your life for you to know since when?”

“I've told you before, I don’t know—we can say, the timeline's a mess. So I guess ‘long ago’ would be anything I can't recall the date of,” she said. This was one topic that made even her uncomfortable, so she pushed for a change. “Much like however long ago it was that you were born, probably, since you’d rather say you could be from any point in a millennium than give an answer for the census.”

“I already told you that was a joke.”

Malwine thought back to his reaction when his first attempt at tracking the double had led him to her. “Or maybe, maybe, you really are old as fuck.”

“You should stop listening to the words your grandfather uses,” Veit advised with a wince. “It would likely get you in trouble.”

“How'd you learn that one, by the way?” Malwine raised an eyebrow in turn. “You're lucky Adelheid thinks you like foxes, or else we'd both have some explaining to do.”

“My sister idolized Champions from a young age—don't ask me why, I hadn't been born yet. By the time I came around, my father had bribed so many of them into loitering in his estate that listening to them was inevitable.”

“Your father sounds fun.”

“He is. Or was. I don't know whether he's still alive—the man could either be dead for a century or just playing whichever role tickled his fancy and we'd never know the difference.”

“I repeat myself—he sounds fun.”

Veit let out a clearly begrudged snort. “I confess you tempt me to start treating you as if you were an angry teenager in the shape of a toddler.”

“Whatever gave you the impression that I was angry?” Malwine frowned. “I won’t deny the rest of it, though. If you get back to treating me like a toddler, I may resort to violence.”

“Sure, sure,” he waved her off, shaking his head. “You wish to know about hiding yourself.”

“And anything else you can tell me, honestly,” Malwine nodded. She wanted to get herself as much free info as possible. No way she would allow herself to miss the chance! “No one tells me these things. I’ve learned more about core stages listening to your candle-induced tirades than reading through half the family library.”

“We may revisit the matter after the search for the other sibyl is either done or suspended by The Snow’s arrival—I beg of you, do not get involved again. Stay inside doing whatever it is you do. But, I must ask, have you considered your family might tell you more if they knew about your circumstances? About your Affinity?”

“Have you considered I might not want them to know?”

“Why?”

Malwine sighed—she hardly had to fake it. “Something about my mother. I don’t know why—I don’t remember her telling me anything. But I feel like people knowing about me could be bad. I’ll be honest and say I resent that you’ve made me tell you.”

“I have accepted your claims, but I will not apologize for my actions,” Veit told her. “What is your Affinity?”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I have a {Bone} Affinity,” Veit supplied.

“What does this look like to you, a trade?” Malwine asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And {Mosaic}.”

“Wait, it seriously is that?”

“It’s not exactly a secret,” Veit laughed. “Where I lived with my wife— my late wife,” he took a swift deep breath, then. “I wasn’t exactly unknown. I’ve enjoyed the isolation of this place, but if you knew my name, you could probably find countless others who already know all of that.”

“Alright, buddy,” Malwine sighed. “Sorry about your wife, by the way.”

“Fret not. It was years ago.”

“And I’ve been out of stasis for years and I’m still pissed. So you still get my condolences.”

“…Thank you.”

“But the answer is still no,” Malwine shook her head. “I appreciate your help here, and would enjoy learning a thing or two if you intend to follow up on the offer, but I’m not comfortable sharing that information with you.”

“You have right to keep your secrets, but be aware my ability to aid you could be hampered by the lack of details,” Veit said. “We may resume this conversation at a later time. I would prefer not to need to come up with excuses at a time like this, as much as it pains me. Will you be busy in the coming days?”

“What, with all the responsibilities I have as a four-year-old?”

“Three days from now,” the forester suggested. “You may project in the manner you do, into the same spot you did earlier.”

“Do I look like I own a calendar?”

“How did you learn to be this difficult?” Veit gave her an exasperated look. “The Snow will be upon us in five days. Do it on the day your age increases to the next month, at the start of the month. I do not patrol between The Snow and The Rain. We would have time to speak without rush, then.”

“I will hold you to that, you ancient logger.”

Veit’s eyes narrowed. “I was genuinely joking. Do you simply enjoy getting a rise out of people?”

“No, absolutely not,” Malwine laughed a bit too loudly, crushing the already-slim chances of that sounding credible. “But I don’t often get to know people who are old enough that I can feel no qualms about reminding them of that!”

“I must have been wrong then, to think you were far from acting your age,” the forester shook his head, once again summoning his kite. “Perhaps I should reconsider whether to treat you that way as well. I shall see you soon, you literal toddler.”

“Listen here, you—”

He was gone.