In a corner of the archive sat an old writing desk with scattered papers and mysterious trinkets strewn across it. Beneath a bell jar at one edge, a spider red as a jewel frantically clawed the glass, trying to escape. It was bathed in flashing light with eight eyes focused on the apparition of a man long forgotten.

Across the room that man scolded his daughter from beyond the grave, “Do you see that skull over there? Go on, get a good look at it. Quite interesting, yes? I’ll wait.”

Cira had noticed it earlier—it was turned facing the wall. The skull was unfamiliar to her, but aside from that she didn’t notice anything else off about it. Since Dad had been so kind as to wait, she got up to go look at its face.

“Whoa there!” Cira froze, “Sit yourself back down, Miss. Do you not think it is facing that way for a reason?”

She begrudgingly sat back down. Her father was guessing her moves nine times out of ten, and it was infuriating. She leaned back and rolled her eyes, “Well, go on then!”

“Of course, this is a teaching moment.” His ghostly robes flowed on the ground as he walked over to the skull and picked up a projection of it, leaving the real one where it sat. Then Gazen turned it to face her. Its eyes were black voids and as soon as hers met them she began to shiver. They went on forever. As she looked, each second felt like a thousand, her chest grew heavier. It was like the ancient ghost, but infinitely worse. A sharp pain began to pierce her head and muffled screams grated her ears restlessly from all sides.

They started getting louder, as Cira sat there completely helpless and unable to move. Her face twitched, desperate to conjure a spell—anything. Thoughts became difficult to form, and darkness crept in from her peripherals. She felt warm tears falling down her face when suddenly, Gazen turned the skull back around.

Cira gasped for air, only just realizing she hadn’t breathed once. She slumped over in the chair, heart beating through her chest. What the… what the hell was that… After letting out a long breath, she sat back, failing to calm down. I can… I can think again… Just what… What in the hell is that thing?

Looking down on her with tight lips, her father’s eyebrows were raised judgingly.

Cira’s heart still raced. As she caught her breath, he just kept giving her that look. “Yeah, yeah… I get it. You told me so.” She threw up her arms.

One minute passed, then two. He had been judging her the whole time, not moving or saying anything. After ten minutes passed, she thought that was the end of the message and she stood back up to go take a break, “Is that really it…?”

“I certainly did.” Gazen’s voice boomed. Grumbling, Cira sat back down, “Terrible, isn’t it? Do you know how many such items are on display in my archive. This skull here is nothing, but I doubt you cast the proper protections, nor even know what they are. You’ve always been too reckless, and I know not even this is enough to dissuade you, so I have left similar treasures around this room for you to discover.”

“Of course, you have…” She knew there would be traps but Cira didn’t expect the entire room to be an elaborate ruse and a series of tests. “So, this was a waste of time—”

“Fear not, daughter of mine.” Her father flashed a cheeky grin, “First of all, are you truly so foolish to think you could break into the great Gazen’s forbidden archive as you are now? Surely not.”

Cira groaned, “Get on with it!”

“How old are you now? Fifteen? Twenty? Any sorcerer of moderate caliber should have their own by now anyway. That’s right,” he waved his arm around, showcasing their surroundings, “Welcome to your very own forbidden archive! Of course, it is yours and you can do what you want with it.”

After biting her lip in frustration for a moment, she sighed. Thinking about it, a smile grew on her face. Her father had put together this whole room as a gift for her to discover when she grew into a stronger sorcerer. She almost felt like her method of entry was cheating but had to assume at this point he expected something similar.

“Now, on to the reason you’ve come,” Gazen cleared his throat and relaxed his shoulders, “I know you wouldn’t have come here unless you had a good reason. First of all, since I’ve already wasted so much of your time, scrolls and tomes on curses are over there.” He pointed to a bookcase next to the hallway door.

“If you are not dealing with a curse, then you can find whatever you need on alchemy or spellcraft along this wall,” He pointed out the obvious wall of bookcases. “I’m sure whatever you face is quite serious but let this be a lesson to you. You must be cautious—think things through before you act. It’s okay to refuse or even fail a job because it’s outside your capabilities. This is natural, and it’s how you grow. Don’t overdo it like you always do, Cira. The one who pays the price is none other than yourself.”

“I don’t always—”

“Yes, you do. Now don’t interrupt me again, we’re almost out of time,” Cira noticed his figure had faded throughout the message, “Your first test, obviously, is to put a real seal on the door, but it can wait if you are in a hurry. Surely you are on some journey or other at this point, but now that I have passed there is somewhere I think you should go. Once you’ve done what you have set out to do, go into my bedroom and look under my pillow. You will find a compass to lead you there.”

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“Seriously…?” There’s no way something like that has just been right there… After all this?

“One last thing, as I suspect my time is up. I made you a present for all the birthdays I’ve missed so far… but I bet you broke it on your way in, didn’t you?” Cira’s eyes grew wide. That was a setup!

He continued, “Fix it when you want, but happy birthday, my dear.” He was beaming through his coarse beard, the crow’s feet around his eyes wrinkled, “Just make sure to stay safe from now on. And remember, I’ll always be watching over you.” Her father now wore a smile that was sad to see her go, “Until next time, my precious daughter.”

He was practically transparent at this point, fading out, “Dad, wait!” Cira reached out her arm. She knew he wasn’t real, but just wanted a little more time, “Please don’t leave… I’m sorry…”

And the room was dark again. Cira sat there trying not to cry again but eventually let it out. An old wound had reopened, for better and for worse. Frustratingly so. After a bit, she collected herself and cast Lamplight to see again.

She stood up and let the chair disappear, making Aquon clean her face up. Cira had been a mess. After a moment she locked eyes with Nanri, “You saw all that? Sheesh.” She shook her head and went back to the hall.

Nanri looked troubled, “Are you alright…? I’m sorry I intruded.”

“I’m alright, that just caught me off guard… And you didn’t intrude, I brought you here. This is on me for not expecting as much.” She shrugged, “It looks like this isn't a dead end though. The bookcases should be safe, but if you’d rather not enter, I understand.”

The witch thought about it for a moment and then steeled her resolve, “I’ll help. If we find what you’re looking for, we can help a lot of people, right?”

Cira nodded, “That’s the goal.”

Inside Cira’s forbidden archive, the girls went to the wall of tomes. Cira picked a book off the wall, “My father was surprisingly well organized, so if he had the sense to leave me something about corporeal degradation, it shouldn’t be hard to find. Looks like alchemy is over here, and I believe we’re searching for a potion of some manner. You look for books about souls, and if it’s in a language you don’t understand, ignore it for now.”

“Got it,” Nanri said, “So is it some kind of soul disease?”

“Not exactly… I believe in most cases it’s inflicted by another.”

Nanri’s eyes went wide, “Are you saying—”

Cira shook her head, “No, I don’t think that’s happening here. None of the signs are present and it’s not the same as I’ve seen before.” The witch let out a breath of relief.

They spent a while rummaging through the shelves, making a few piles of books to look through. There were basic study papers about the body or potential medicines that affect the ‘corporea’. It was beginning to look like a long day of reading when Nanri pulled out a stack of papers bound together with string, “Hey, check this out, it’s called, ‘Twisted and Skewed: A Study of Broken Souls’.”

“That… sounds promising. Let’s look at it right now.” A table appeared with two chairs, “It’s safer if we don’t bring anything upstairs.” With it in her hands, she could tell it was written as one of his usual research papers, and flipped to the back where there would be an index. “No way, it’s right here!”

Soul assimilation, soul cairn, soul dampening, soul degradation. Pages 42, 78, and 129. Cira flipped through the pages to the first entry, “Methods of inflicting soul degradation…” Her brow furled as she looked a Nanri.

“That doesn’t sound like something we want.”

“Indeed, it does not,” Cira agreed, flipping to the next one, “Identifying soul degradation using lethal corporea-affecting medicines. Did that.” Flip flip flip, “Aha! Alchemical soul remediation for use in treating corporeal degradation! This is it!”

She stood up holding the book aloft. Nanri joined her, trying to read the page, “You really found it?!”

“I think, let me see… It says deliberately induced degradation has more subtle outward effects that seem almost natural, but having the corporea naturally degrade over time from exposure to an external influence takes the form of rashes, strange wounds, or lesions. In more advanced cases, impaired senses and organ failure—even mutations. This has to be it.”

“That sound like what we’ve seen, but what’s causing it?” Nanri asked.

Cira held up a finger, “We’re closer to the truth than you think. Once we finish up here, we’ll go back to the workshop.”

She continued to pore over the text. The soul constantly changes throughout one’s life, but like rings of a tree, its former growth is never forgotten or overwritten, just hidden ever deeper. Soul remediation is the process of reverting one’s soul to its former state, using this ‘soul memory’. It can have adverse effects like reverting your personality or convictions to those you had in the past, but Cira thought that was a fair trade.

“Alright, it says just as the growth of one’s soul may never be overwritten, neither can the degradation. So, there will be minor long-term effects varying from case to case, but it claims this treatment to be ninety-five percent effective. That… that’s really good.”

Nanri’s lips turned up in a hopeful smile, “That’s great! What do we need to do?”

“That’s the thing… Remediation tonic must be taken once a year for three doses. It was two ingredients. One, luckily, is very easy to acquire. We need a high quality mana-stimulant to agitate the corporea.”

A lamplight appeared above Nanri’s head, “The prima salt!”

“That’s right. Earth Vein is going to have to pitch in whether they like it or not. It’s a lengthy treatment and the other ingredient is tricky to harvest. Are you familiar with Aetherium?” Nanri shook her head, “It’s the will of a soul in tangible form. When a soul… remains after death, it’s essentially all aura, the aethereal form as you know. It only comes to be when a soul has a strong will, and it’s ordinarily intangible.”

Nanri squinted her eyes, “I’m not sure I like where you’re going with this…”

“One can force a spirit to manifest. On the positive side, this allows their soul to move on.” Cira shrugged.

“And the not so positive side…?”

“It’s described here as being torturous agony—the peak of which a spirit can experience. It’s like having your body dissolve in acid while your soul gets ripped out, someone named Yl’Gad apparently claims. Their aethereal form itself is what we’re converting into our materials…” Cira closed the book.

With a frown on her face, the witch was deep in thought. “Where can we even find spirits?”

Cira pointed straight down, “But if we’re making another trip to the depths, I need to figure out this plague first. I have bad feeling that’s where it will lead me.”