Thirteenth Oath -- Hunt and Beast

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Nine: ‘Solicitous souls, take heart...’

Emiliana couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Had that really been Hector just now? Was she hallucinating again?

The whole room trembled briefly as the storm outside raged with the strength of an earthquake for a moment, but she was growing accustomed to that by now and so didn’t allow it to distract her.

‘...Emiliana?’

She nearly laughed. ‘Hector! It IS you!’ She wasn’t sure if she was happier knowing that it really was him or just knowing that she wasn’t going crazy.

‘How...? Uh...? What is happening, right now?’

‘I have no idea,’ she said, still smiling. She wasn’t wearing her mask, as Gohvis had taken it from her.

‘Where are you?’

‘Oh, I--’ And she hesitated. Impulsively, she wanted to say. Of course she did. But what logic would there be in that? So that Hector would come after her? Or, perhaps more likely, her father?

No.

She couldn’t allow that. There was virtually no doubt in her mind that Gohvis would kill anyone who tried to take her away from this place.

‘...I don’t know where I am,’ she said.

‘...Are you okay?’ said Hector. ‘Is Chergoa?’

‘Yes, we are both fine. Gohvis has not harmed us.’ Well, technically, he had broken every bone in her body on the way here, she supposed, but he hadn’t permanently harmed her, at least.

‘So Ibai couldn’t get away, then.’

‘No. Gohvis is... inescapable, it would seem.’

‘I see...’

There came a long pause, as apparently neither of them knew what to say next.

Hector was the one to pick it up again. ‘Oh! Your father wants to talk to you. Here, I’ll put him on.’

Emiliana held her breath as she waited to hear her father’s words.

But they never came.

At length, she heard Hector again. ‘...Emiliana?’

‘Yes?’ she said.

‘Could you not hear him?’

‘No, I did not hear anything.’

‘Huh. He was trying to talk to you just now, though.’

‘Ah, then... perhaps this only works for the two of us.’

‘You might be right,’ said Hector. ‘You’re holding one of the Shards, right now, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘That makes sense. I mean, sort of. We both met Rasalased.’

‘And my father didn’t.’

‘Yeah...’

Another long silence.

Then Emiliana realized there was still a question that she desperately wanted an answer to. ‘How are Marcos and Ramira? Are they safe?’

‘Yeah. They’re doing just fine. They’re right here with me, too.’

Relief ran through her. ‘What about my father? How is he doing?’

‘...Well, he’s been through a lot, but... I mean, he’s handling it better than I would, I think. A lot better.’ Hector paused. ‘At the moment, though, uh... he doesn’t seem too pleased with me...’

‘Why?’

‘I think he’s mad that only I can talk to you.’

‘Oh.’ She smiled faintly at that.

And yet another intervening silence arrived.

As she thought about it, there were about a million other questions she wanted to ask--how the hell they survived their encounter with the Salesman of Death, for instance--but she was having difficulty deciding which question was most important.

Unfortunately, before she could make up her mind, the tall, forest green door on the other side of the room began opening, and she hurriedly pocketed the Shard. ‘I have to go,’ she threw out to Hector, but she didn’t hear an answer, presumably because she had stopped touching the Shard directly.

Maybe it would’ve been better to keep touching it in her pocket, but she still wasn’t quite sure how this all worked, and she didn’t want the distraction right now.

The one who entered was not Gohvis. Instead, it was a mostly average-looking man, save for the large, arching horn in the middle of his forehead.

Upon seeing Emiliana sitting there on the edge of her bed, the stranger stopped. He said something in a language she didn’t understand. After a beat, he said something else in what sounded like another language she didn’t understand.

She merely tilted her head at him.

“Mohssian, perhaps?” he said.

She perked up. “Y-yes, hello.”

“Ah, there we are. My apologies, cedo. I could have sworn that this was my room.”

Emiliana wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Alas, I do not recognize you,” he went on. “Have you been here long?”

“Only a few days.” She shifted slightly as she wondered if she should even be talking to this person.

“I see. Well, it is lovely to meet you, cedo. My name is Germal. Would you grant me the honor of knowing yours?”

She hesitated but said, “Emiliana.”

“Ah. A name with its roots in the old Arman language, if I am not mistaken.”

Perhaps it was time to ask some questions of her own. “How many languages do you know?”

The horned man paused pensively. “Eight, if I am trying to impress. Three and five-quarters, if I am not.”

She merely tilted her head at him again.

Germal took a step farther into the room, but he left the door open. His attire looked like something a casual school teacher might wear, but the way he spoke seemed far from casual to her ears. Perhaps it was just his accent, though. She couldn’t place it.

“Forgive me if I am mistaken,” he said, “but you seem quite young, cedo, and those horns on your face--has anyone explained their significance to you?”

“What do you mean?”

He motioned to his own horn. “As a first experience with mutation, these are extremely common. Nearly universal, in fact. But few people know that the number of initial horns can be very enlightening.”

The man had certainly gotten her attention. “Enlightening in what way?” she asked.

“For example, two horns are indicative of a predisposition for mammalian traits. Three horns are indicative of reptilian traits. Seven are indicative of avian. Ten, amphibian. Thirteen, I believe, are arachnid. And so on.”

Emiliana noticed the most obvious omission. “What do four horns indicate?”

“I was rather hoping you would be able to tell me,” said Germal. “The reason I broached the subject at all is because I have never seen four horns before.”

That figured, she supposed, her expression growing briefly bitter. “What about one horn, then?”

Germal smiled. “Alas, I am also something of a curiosity.”

How odd. Emiliana decided to take this man’s words with a grain of salt. Primarily, she wondered what kind of mutations he had subjected himself to. Aside from that lone horn, she could see no other obvious modifications. And from what she knew of mutation, the ability would activate itself if he didn’t use it for too long.

She considered asking him about it, but she wasn’t sure how to phrase the question, and Germal asked something else before she could figure it out.

“Has anyone given you the grand tour, yet?” he said.

Gohvis had showed her around a little when she first arrived, but only enough to know where a few things were. She’d seen a kitchen, a handful of bathrooms, a whole lot of locked rooms, and one immense observation deck at the top of a flight of stairs.

That place had been particularly informative. The encircling view of the world’s most notorious storm was something to behold. Bright as any cloud-covered day in one moment, dark as night in the next, followed by a string of lightning strikes that lit up the rocky and barren landscape like a strobe light.

Extended tremors were frequent as well, usually following the abundant lightning but not always. Loud rain, louder hail, and ferocious blizzards were all equally common, from what she’d seen so far. It felt as if the weather in this place could change by the minute, and oftentimes, the entire building would shudder in its wake.

‘Why have you brought us to Exoltha?’ Chergoa had asked, much to Emiliana’s surprise.

The Monster had not answered her, however. “I advise you not to set foot outside the Library,” he said. “I may not stop you, but the Dáinnbolg certainly will.”

And through the observation glass, Emiliana had seen it. A creature of unbelievable proportions, rising out of the ground--melting out of it, like some kind of phantom.

Its hulking form drew nearer, and Emiliana got much too good of a look at its grotesque body of black-and-red fire. Its five arms were long, spindly things that each looked big enough to cradle an elephant like a baby, and its gaunt face seemed to be less of a face and more of a loose amalgamation of constantly moving and twisting ridges.

“What is that thing?!” said Emiliana.

“A feldeath,” said Gohvis. “One of the many inhabiting this place. They do not like it when you look at them.”

It was close enough now that it was practically breathing on the observation windows. Assuming it even did breathe, in the first place.

‘A-are we safe from it in here?’ asked Chergoa.

“Probably.”

It opened its mouth, and a blinding light poured forth. Even with the unwanted filter on her eyes, Emiliana had to squint nearly to the point of closing them. And when the light subsided, it did not altogether disappear. Rather, it was replaced by that of a roaring inferno, as the creature had engulfed the exterior of the observation chamber in fire.

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Gohvis didn’t seem too concerned about it, though. They retired downstairs soon afterward, and Gohvis took Chergoa with him, leaving Emiliana to her own devices. She hadn’t seen him since, but she could still feel his weighty presence in the air.

Chergoa occasionally chimed in to check on Emiliana, but the reaper was apparently being held somewhere, temporarily. According to Chergoa, Gohvis claimed that he would allow the reaper to roam freely soon, because the ground of Exoltha served as a kind of natural soul net and did not allow reapers to phase through it--or at least, not safely.

Emiliana had spent the intervening time in her room, mostly, while she mulled her situation over and played with the lone Shard in her possession. She was simply amazed that she hadn’t lost the thing on the way here.

She did wonder where Ibai Blackburn had gotten off to, though. She even ventured off in search of him a couple times, but the layout of this place was beyond confounding, and she hadn’t seen the man even once since they’d arrived here. She just hoped Gohvis hadn’t changed his mind about killing him.

And so, at the moment, the prospect of having an actual guide for this labyrinthine building was quite appealing, even if she didn’t know what to make of Germal yet.

She decided to accept his offer of a tour, and they left the room together.

As they walked down the first corridor, she thought of her first question. “Does this place have a proper name? I heard Gohvis call it ‘the Library,’ but I am not certain if that was a name or... um...”

“Perhaps you are confused by the noticeable lack of books around here, hmm?”

She bobbed her head. “That is one reason, yes.”

“Would you like me to show you where the books are? That is undoubtedly where we will find Gohvis.”

“Oh, um. Yes, please do.”

“Very well.”

“But... you never answered my question.”

“Hmm? Oh, the name of this place. Yes, of course. This is the Library of Erudia. Or the Library of Erudition, if you prefer.”

The name didn’t mean much to Emiliana, but maybe Chergoa would be able to tell her more about it. She’d have to ask her later.

As they continued on, they met several other mutation users. Emiliana had seen a few of them already but hadn’t gone so far as to speak with any of them. None of them looked particularly welcoming, but Germal seemed to have no reservations about initiating a conversation with each one.

The first was an apparent beetle-man with an enormous sword on his back. Germal asked him about Vantalay, to which the beetle-man grumbled about there being a spike in terrorist activity. Germal asked if he required help, but the beetle-man said that Gohvis had already promised him reinforcements.

After the beetle-man, they encountered a gorilla-man, a hawk-man, a falcon-woman, a crocodile-man who expressed interest in following Gohvis’ example, a kind of chimera-creature mixing several different animals together, and one very large dog with a cigar in its mouth.

Not a dog-man. Just a dog. Or perhaps wolf. Emiliana had never seen a wolf in real life before, but she had difficulty believing that they were supposed to be this size. On all fours, it was nearly as tall as she was and seemed closer to the weight-class of a tiger, if not beyond it.

Ironically enough, despite not being able to speak, the dog was the one they spent the most time talking to.

“This is my traveling companion,” said Germal. “His name is Koh. Perhaps you have heard of him?”

A bit hesitant, Emiliana just shook her head.

“The Silver Devil of Dante?” said Germal. “The Man-Eater of Melmoore?”

Emiliana blinked, because that last one did ring a bell.

Koh growled and bumped into Germal, knocking him on his ass.

Germal chortled as he stood back up and brushed himself off. “Forgive me. Koh does not like those names.”

Emiliana took a step back unconsciously as she recalled where she had learned of “the Man-Eater of Melmoore.” It was her mother’s doing. From time to time, the woman had forced her to study the names and accounts of notorious servants around the world.

As the name implied, the Man-Eater was supposed to have devoured upwards of four hundred people over the last sixty years or so. He’d become something of a Melmoorian bogeyman, and Emiliana even remembered reading one story about a village that formed a cult around his legend and conducted human sacrifices in order to appease him.

Looking at him now, Emiliana wasn’t sure what to believe.

Koh puffed on his cigar and then swished it over to the other side of his mouth. He leveled his orange-eyed gaze her way.

“I think he wants you to pet him,” said Germal.

Emiliana didn’t think he wanted that at all.

“Go on. He will not hurt you. I give you my word.”

She frowned and began moving her non-clawed hand slowly toward Koh’s huge head.

For a time, Koh merely watched her hand approach, but then, apparently, he grew tired of waiting and met her halfway.

The top of his head was surprisingly fluffy. She scratched behind one of his ears, and the giant dog went abruptly limp and shut his eyes. He nestled up closer to her, and she brought her clawed hand up to use on the other ear. He seemed to appreciate that quite a lot.

After observing for a short while, Germal decided to interject. “Strange to think he used to be a grown man, eh?”

Emiliana’s mouth flattened. Somehow, that idea began to spoil her enjoyment, and she pulled away.

Koh’s eyes popped open, and he growled at the horned man again.

“Oh, did I ruin it?” said Germal innocently.

In an instant, Koh torpedoed into Germal and ripped one of his arms off. Germal shrieked as blood splattered across the corridor.

“REALLY?!” the man screamed. “WAS THAT NECESSARY?!”

Koh seemed content now, however, and had lain back down to start gnawing on his prize.

Germal gave a throaty groan as he tried in vain to stifle the bleeding with one hand. “Unbelievable. You realize, now we must arrange a meeting with Nerovoy? Which will put us behind schedule.”

Koh didn’t appear to care very much.

Emiliana had a handful of fresh questions, but she decided to start with the most courteous one. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes,” said Germal, sounding more annoyed than pained now. He pulled off his half-shredded overshirt and began trying to tie it around the open wound. “Heightened pain tolerance was one of my earlier modifications. I would highly recommend it, as soon as you are capable.”

Emiliana helped him finish wrapping it, more or less. She did know how to dress a wound properly, and that was most definitely not proper, but she supposed it didn’t matter so much for a servant. The main concern was just to avoid getting blood everywhere.

They decided to leave Koh alone after that.

Emiliana posed her next question while they walked. “So this Nerovoy is your reaper, then?”

“Yes,” said Germal.

“Why is... he or she not with you now?”

“He and I are rarely together,” said Germal. “The nature of our job keeps us very far apart.”

“What job is that?”

“Oh, it is quite dull. I doubt you would be interested.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Heh. If you must know, I am but a glorified paper boy.”

“What do you mean, ‘paper boy’?” asked Emiliana.

“A deliverer of news,” said Germal. “It is as mundane as it sounds.”

A rather brief and dismissive answer, Emiliana noticed. She tried a different angle. “How old are you?”

Germal found the question amusing. “A word of advice, cedo. Inquiries such as those are invitations for lies. You will have to choose your words more skillfully than that if you wish to learn anything useful from strangers.”

They came to an intersection of seven different hallways, and Germal chose the far right one.

Emiliana followed. “...So you are not going to tell me how old you are?”

“Would you trust my word if I did?”

“You’ve yet to give me a reason not to.”

“Ah. In that case, I am three years old.”

“...No, you aren’t.”

“And now I have given you your reason.”

Emiliana smacked her lips. “Very well. If you will not tell me about yourself, then what can you tell me of Gohvis?”

“Ha! He is not prone to talking about himself.”

“Yeah, I guessed as much. But is he as bad as everyone says?”

Germal stopped walking to look at her. “Everyone? Who is everyone, cedo?”

She wasn’t quite sure what he was asking. “Um...”

“You have not heard what everyone says, I should think. If you believe that everyone thinks him evil, then you have heard but one side of the debate.”

“Tell me the other side, then.”

Germal continued walking. “The Black Scourge. The Monster of the East. In this place, and many others, those names are all but heresy. Speak them aloud and you are liable to receive a lashing that you will not soon recover from.”

Emiliana just listened.

“Gohvis is a hero to many--and I do not mean only our kind. There are some places where he is even revered as the greatest hope for all humanity.”

Emiliana found that rather difficult to believe but didn’t think being rude would prove useful, so as sincerely as she could manage, she simply asked, “Why?”

“Because, for one thing, as far as I have been able to tell, he always acts either defensively or with great precision,” said Germal. “Unlike many of his contemporaries, he rarely causes collateral damage. And for all their talk, many of the Vanguard’s strongest cannot truthfully make the same claim.”

That was hard to argue with, she supposed. All things considered, she didn’t really know as much about the Vanguard as perhaps she should have; but after hearing the Lady Stroud talk about what transpired at Rheinhal... Emiliana didn’t think she would be forgetting the names Sanko, Parson Miles, and Xavier Lawrence anytime soon.

“For another thing,” Germal went on, “Gohvis is not trying to annihilate humanity, as you have no doubt heard. On the contrary, he is trying to ensure its survival.”

Beyond all others thus far, Emiliana found that claim to be exceptionally dubious. She decided to keep her mouth shut, however, as she began to notice tall bookcases replacing the walls of the corridor. And indeed, they soon arrived at their destination. The hallway opened into an enormous chamber--much more enormous than she had been expecting, in fact.

It was a great stairwell, she saw, and each floor was filled with thousands of books. The wide pit in the middle of the room offered a view that went both above and below, and while she could see a distant ceiling, she couldn’t see a bottom floor.

Germal led her downward, and she tried to glimpse the titles of some of the nearest books, but they were in a language she didn’t recognize.

As they continued, it was hard to not feel a bit overwhelmed by this place. Suffice to say, in her entire life, she had never seen so many books at once. Or even cumulatively, for that matter. And this scent. She had never thought of “knowledge” as a smell before, but that was what came to mind. Musty, papery, inky, dusty.

Comforting, in an odd way. Welcoming, perhaps. Intoxicating, too, somehow. As if every word on every page was simply waiting to be read.

She couldn’t claim to have ever been an avid reader, really, but this place was making her wish she was otherwise. Surely, there must’ve been all sorts of juicy secrets hidden around here. Why else would Gohvis be interested in a library?

She stopped following Germal and, almost unconsciously, found herself drawing closer to the nearest bookcase. A quick peek wouldn’t hurt. Her hand searched for a book.

Abruptly, Germal was right there next to her, holding her wrist. “I would not do that if I were you.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“The Library of Erudition has three very important rules, so listen well,” said Germal. “First, you can never take a book without the Keeper of the Library’s permission. Second, any book you do take will return to the Library within twenty days. And finally, if you attempt to break either of the first two rules, the Library will devour your soul and every bit of knowledge that you carry.”

Emiliana just stared at him.

He moved her hand back down to her side for her. “Perhaps I should have mentioned that before we came here,” he said.

“Yes, perhaps.”

“The Library is a great honey trap, of sorts. I have heard that it has a will of its own and that it can be rather malicious.”

Another tremor arrived, but it was more noticeable this time, because a crashing sound followed it, as well as a whole lot of rustling paper.

Emiliana and Germal both looked out over the anciently baroque handrail, searching for the source of the commotion amongst the layered sea of bookcases. They couldn’t find it, but the noise never quite died down, only lessened to a background murmur.

“What do you think that was?” Emiliana asked as they continued on.

“At a guess, I would say the Library ate someone just now,” said Germal, “but... then again, perhaps not. It is not usually so aggressive.”

She squinted. “Are you saying that it normally eats people in an unaggressive manner?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. The Library usually consumes you via a kind of hypnosis. You begin reading, and then... you simply never stop. The desire to continue reading overpowers all others in your mind, even thirst and hunger and rest. And with every bit of knowledge you discover, with every new secret you unlock, a small part of your soul is overtaken by the Library. In the end, I suppose, you do learn all of the Library’s secrets. The only problem is that, by that point, you’ve become part of the Library.”

That sounded awfully familiar, Emiliana felt. “How do you know so much about it?” she asked.

“The acquisition of delicate information is my trade,” said Germal.

“...That is not an answer.”

“Alright, fine, Gohvis told me.”

The noise from before resurged and stole their attention again. This time, it sounded closer.

“You have heard the Library make these sounds before?” Emiliana asked.

“Yes, but only once. Gohvis had just discovered this place, and the Library was upset that it could not eat him. But that was years ago, and--”

A brown shade appeared, and then Ibai Blackburn was standing there next to her. “Hello, Em!” he said, all smiles. “Isn’t this place great?!” He had a whole stack of books under one arm.

“Ibai, what are you--?” But Emiliana didn’t get to finish her thought.

The bookcase next to them exploded into a flurry of pages that went straight for the middle-aged Rainlord.

But he wasn’t there anymore. “Hey, this one looks interesting,” came his voice from behind Emiliana and Germal, making them both turn. He pulled a book off the shelf there, and it exploded, too. But still not in time to catch him, apparently. “A History of Worms and Greatworms, by Leonardo Erickson.” He was standing next to her again. “I think I’ve heard of him. He was a famous Vanguardian scholar, wasn’t he?”

Another explosion of books arrived. It missed Ibai again, but Emiliana caught some of it instead and earned herself several enormous paper cuts extending all the way up her right arm.

“Oh!” Ibai bit his lip as he observed her from yet another new angle. “I’m terribly sorry about that. Maybe we should talk somewhere else.”

“Yes, maybe we should,” she said, wincing and nursing her arm. She would’ve liked to have that heightened pain tolerance that Germal was talking about earlier.

He avoided another flurry of books and paper. “Okay!” he said. “We’ll catch up later! I’ll show you all the cool books I found!”

“Do try to be careful, please.”

“Aha! Sure thing!” He paused. “Oh, but wait, here! You might like this one!” He offered her a book titled The Many Mysteries of Mutation, by Agam Elroy.

And she very nearly took it from him before catching herself. “If I take that from you, the Library will come after me, too!”

“Really?”

“Yes! Didn’t you know that was why it was trying to kill you?!”

“Huh. I thought it just didn’t like me.”

“No! You need to put those books back or get permission from the Keeper of the Library!”

“Aw, do I have to?”

“Yes!” “Fine,” Ibai pouted. “Where do I find this Keeper of the Library, then?”

“Bottom floor, most likely,” said Germal. After a beat, he seemed to remember something and added, “Oh, and the current Keeper is Gohvis, by the way. Perhaps I should have mentioned that earlier.”

Emiliana just kind of stared at him.

“Ah, Gohvis, huh? I suppose--” Ibai was interrupted by the Library again, but this time, it wasn’t an explosion.

Instead, it was only a simple rumbling. Which grew more intense. And kept growing more intense. Until Emiliana was sufficiently unsettled and began to prefer explosions.

Every single bookcase in her line of sight was shaking, even the ones on the other side of the room’s center pit.

Ibai smacked his lips. “Well, I’m going to go now.” He teleported away just as the room erupted into a storm of paper.

Thousands of books and pages flew together in the center of the room, coalescing into a single, connected form, and a kind of hulking serpent was born. It spiraled in place for a moment, hovering, and then snaked up and over to the floor directly above them. A cluster of familiar crashing noises soon followed. Then there was a pause. Then more crashes.

The pattern repeated from there, and Emiliana got the feeling that it wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon.

At length, Germal began leading her downward again. “...Is your friend going to be okay?” he asked.

“...I have no idea.”

When they finally did reach the bottom floor, the first thing Emiliana noticed was a gargantuan pile of bones just sitting there by the stairwell.

“Are these dinosaur bones? Shouldn’t they have a proper display exhibit or something?”

“Those are not dinosaur bones,” said Germal. “Those are the Library’s previous Keeper.”

Emiliana had to stop walking and eye the bones anew. The previous Keeper? The skull did look vaguely humanoid, but it was far too large, and the cuspids were much too long and sharp. Not to mention, the cranium was wildly misshapen.

Or, wait. No.

It wasn’t so much misshapen as it was smashed in, she realized. There were cracks all along the sunken cleft where the forehead should’ve been, and most of the occipital bone was simply missing.

She was almost afraid to inquire any further. “...Did Gohvis do this?”

Germal gave an affirming nod. “The Keeper would not allow him to take more than one book at a time.”

“So he killed it?”

“The creature had been in thrall to the Library since eons past. Letting it live would not have been a mercy.”

Emiliana wondered about that. She crouched down and ran her fingers along the front, side, and upper sections of the old Keeper’s skull. It was as she thought. “...And punching it so hard that its brain flew out the back of its head? You call that a mercy?”

Germal seemed confused. “How--?” He blinked a couple times. “You figured that out from touching it just now?”

She pointed to the fractured indention above the eye sockets. “The brow bone is incredibly thick--noticeably more so than the rest of the skull. If not for that, I imagine the impact would have caused the entire head to explode.”

“Impressive. I am student of anatomy, too. But then, I suppose we all are, hmm?”

“I didn’t do it to impress you.”

“Hmph.” Germal started walking again. “The creature died so quickly that I doubt it felt any pain. So yes, I would still call it a mercy.”

Emiliana gave the bones one last look and then followed.

It didn’t take much longer to find Gohvis.

The Monster stood before an immense desk loaded with stacks of books that were as tall as he was. Beyond the desk, Emiliana spotted an enormous globe. It didn’t seem to be what Gohvis was interested in, but it caught her attention nonetheless, what with the way its polished metal shimmered against the countless amber lanterns spread throughout the Library.

As they drew nearer, Emiliana heard Chergoa’s soundless voice speaking continuously.

‘--thus, the Primordials grew to know shame for all they had wrought, and only then did the Void deign to claim them. The land, the sea, and the sky lamented their loss, and the Heart of the World raged in molten fury. But the Void refused to return them until they learned the meaning of--’ The reaper stopped reading when she noticed Emiliana.

“What are you doing?” Emiliana asked.

‘Gohvis asked me to translate these ancient tablets for him,’ said Chergoa.

Emiliana wasn’t sure what to say to that. She wanted to ask why the reaper was helping someone like him, but she supposed refusing wouldn’t have been very smart, either.

“Your timing is unfortunate,” the Monster said with his two voices. “We will speak later. Leave now.”

“Is something the matter?” said Germal.

Gohvis opened his lipless mouth to speak, but paused and seemed to change his mind. “Nevermind.” He grabbed the black mask that he’d confiscated from Emiliana before and offered it to her. “Put it on. And remain quiet.”

And Emiliana was confused but not for long, because after a few moments, she felt it. Another enormous soul had arrived. One to rival Gohvis’ own, perhaps.

She did as he’d asked of her. Not that he’d needed to. If anything, she was more comfortable in the mask.

At the far end of the room, a pair of doors opened, inviting some of Exoltha’s furious wind and sleet inside, along with a man in a raincoat.