"I want to thank you again for reconsidering Pheralynn," Zane said while overlooking the city of Dulcrois from the Head Crafter's quarters.

"As long as you find and bring him back, you're welcome here. Your people, on the other hand, are a very different story." She replied, holding ice wrapped in cloth to her swollen eye.

"Shouldn't be too difficult," Zane paused. "We found him here, didn't we?."

"Don't drop your guard. His growth was exponential here, and he's not alone."

"The warning is much appreciated, Head Crafter, but I'm slightly more equipped to handle it. After all, we're brothers of a sort."

"Brothers?" Pheralynn asked.

"Not by blood. Rather, we're both souls sought after by Aramaz. And we're from the same place."

"You were both born in the same country?"

"No, well, maybe. Not quite sure where Mersault is from, but definitely the same place."

"What do you mean?"

Zane grabbed a book off one of the many shelves lining the room. He was met with a scowl from Pheralynn, with which he immediately put the book back.

"Tell me, Head Crafter, what do you know of other worlds?"

Pheralynn rose quickly, closing the door to her office and approaching Zane.

"There are other worlds that the Gods made, but they hold nothing of worth. Simply byproducts of the creation of all things."

"You're close but not quite right. Your worlds, these worlds, were created by our Numen and everything on them. But some worlds exist outside of the influence of the Numen."

"What kind of fool do you take me for?" Pheralynn asked. "Where's your proof?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"You want proof? Here it is," Zane said, gesturing to himself.

"You?"

"That's right. Before I came to your world, I had a great life."

Zane picked an apple from Pheralynn's desk, sinking his teeth in with a loud, satisfying crunch.

"My job was offering loans to small businesses with no one else to turn to. They were desperate, so I could really jack up their interest rates. I was making some serious money back then, but like all good things, it had to end."

"How did you get here?" Pheralynn asked.

"I had a coworker who was a real dope. Managed to trick him into marking all his contracts under my name instead. For three months, every penny this guy made went to me. I insisted it was a payroll issue, and by the time he realized what had happened, it was too late to revert any changes. Finally, the company took my side, and he wasn't too happy about it, so one day he came in and just..."

Zane held his hand in the shape of a gun and pointed it at his head, then gestured with an opening fist on the other side of his head. Pheralynn, with no point of reference, looked on in confusion.

"Anyway, then I woke up here. Fortunately, talents from my past life managed to pull through to this one. But I'm rambling," Zane laughed. "Mersault Hood comes from the same world as me. He doesn't know much about our society, and the things he does know seem unfamiliar to the everyman."

"Why tell me this?" Pherallyn asked.

"Why? We're partners now, Head Crafter. Partners need to trust each other, or else what's the point. So how about you do me a favor and let my fellow followers in from outside? Some have been waiting years to explore your beautiful city."

"Partners?" Pheralynn chuckled. "You belong to the Crafter's now, remember. You're people will never enter this city. Even with your power Fang, you're still simply a tool."

"I agree with that. But a tool of Aramaz, not the crafters."

"Oh, bother. A demonstration may be necessary." Pheralynn stood, locking eyes with Zane. "Zane cut off your pinky finger."

Zane pulled a blade from his side, slowly placing it against his finger, clearly attempting to resist the order. He began screaming as a smile crept across Pheralynn's face. His screams shifted into laughter before he locked eyes with Pheralynn. The short-lived smile was wiped from Pheralynn's face.

"Just teasing, sorry," Zane said, slipping his knife back into its sheath. "Nerve revision and pain induction, right? Well, don't worry, someone out there felt that, just not me."

"First Hood, and now you..." Pheralynn sat down, defeated.

"Mersault could do it too, huh? Impressive stuff, although I'm sure he did it differently." Zane replied, setting the half-eaten apple back onto Pheralynn's desk.

The Fang of Aramaz reached into his jacket, pulling out a neatly folded stack of papers while grabbing a pen from the Head Crafters desk. He sprawled the documents out before her, sitting by her side.

"So," Zane started. "Where did we land on letting my people in again?"