Selen's arms reached out towards the rough edges of the crack in the cave ceiling, her eyes fixed on the face of her childhood likeness peering down at her. The young girl's eyes were wide with curiosity, mirroring Selen's own.

As Selen reached further, a desperate need to connect with this anomaly appeared in her heart. Small hands, fitting a child's proportion reached back towards her.

Strangely, it seemed as if the harder they both reached, the distance between them shrunk, as the ceiling of the cave lowered itself towards Selen. The moment their fingers touched, ripples spread from the point of contact, distorting everything around her. The cave walls wavered like reflections in disturbed water, and the ground beneath her feet seemed to dissolve. Panic surged through her as she began to fall, her hand still outstretched towards the moonlight and the child above.

The descent was swift and disorienting. The moonlight grew distant, a mere sliver in the ever-darkening void. Selen's heart pounded in her chest as she plummeted, reaching futilely for the fading light.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. The skeleton that had been resting amidst the rocky formation now appeared directly behind her, its bony arms wrapping around her torso. Despite their appearance, the bones were surprisingly warm against her skin. The skull leaned close to her ear, its jaw clinking together in a macabre mimicry of speech.

Terror gripped Selen as she struggled against the skeletal embrace. Her mind raced with thoughts of the dead coming back to life, whispering secrets they no longer had flesh to utter. She twisted and turned, trying to free herself from the skeletal hold.

From the shadows that encroached around them once again, an almost wailing grief-filled word echoed through the darkness: "Blasphemy."

The sound reverberated through Selen's very being, chilling her to the core. The word carried a weight of sorrow and condemnation that seemed to pierce through her soul. She gasped for breath, feeling as though she were drowning in an ocean of despair.

The skeleton's grip tightened momentarily before it began to dissolve into dust, leaving Selen suspended in mid-air. She glanced around frantically, searching for any sign of solid ground or a way out of this nightmarish descent.

But there was nothing—only darkness and echoes of that haunting word: "Blasphemy!"

Selen's mind reeled as she tried to make sense of what was happening. The dreamscape twisted and shifted around her, offering no respite or clarity. She felt herself being pulled deeper into the void, further away from any semblance of reality or safety.

Her thoughts turned inward as she grappled with the meaning behind the word that had been spoken. Blasphemy—an accusation that carried with it a profound sense of guilt and transgression. What had she done to warrant such condemnation?

With a final surge of willpower, Selen reached out once more towards the distant moonlight above...

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Poliana entered her office, the complications of the day's events pressing heavily onto her shoulders.

Rianus, the captain of the town guard, followed closely behind, his expression a mix of concern and readiness. She motioned for one of her trusted clerks, Thomas, to join them. As soon as the door closed, she addressed them both.

"We have a few problems to deal with," Poliana began, her voice steady despite everything that had happened.

Thomas, who was already habitually nervous, rubbed his hands together—a tick that had become more pronounced over the years.

"The events at the Laughing Jester Inn were beyond strange and inconvenient," Poliana continued. "The moment the Special Inspector arrived, the Inquisitor turned rogue and attacked him. Then, we discovered he was an imposter himself, and the original imposter had been tortured half to death."

Thomas nodded, taking in the information.

Poliana's eyes narrowed as she asked, "Thomas, what are the fastest ways one can reach Sichal from Rhysling?"

Without missing a beat, Thomas replied in order, "Teleportation, flight, riding atop fierce beasts, and walking."

Captain Rianus chimed in, "Every method has its risks. Teleportation could be unreliable if the Wizards aren’t competent or are lacking in numbers for a safe transfer. Flying depends on the type of Airship—some are fast, others slow. Some cultivators can fly too, but long distances can horribly exhaust even the best of them. Beasts require rest and can be difficult to control. Walking varies greatly—a mortal could take days, while a skilled Warrior or Air Elementalist could do it within a fraction of the time."

Poliana nodded, absorbing their input. "Where was the Inquisitor in the days between the Artificer's imposter appearing and the attack inside Rhysling?"

The clerk and guard captain exchanged glances before answering in unison. "We have no idea."

Poliana's teeth ground together in frustration. "I did… instruct you to keep him on the outskirts… and avoid interacting with him for too long."

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

She couldn't deny it—the Inquisitor had been invited into Sichal only after the attack and barely a day before Ji arrived with the real Selen. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on.

"The Special Inspector Ji is neither hotheaded nor completely rational," she continued.

"He is the very definition of a lone cultivator—easy to get along with but also easy to fall out with. Some of my probing was obviously ignored. I can't quite understand what gets Ji going... aside from a comedy play apparently."

She sighed deeply before giving further instructions. "Thomas, contact the troupe leader of Traveling Orchid to put on a showing of 'The Rotten' within the next few days—they will be well rewarded."

Thomas nodded and made a note.

"Rianus," Poliana turned to him next, "tip off the city's 'entrepreneurs' that business needs to be shiny for a while."

Rianus gave a curt nod.

"And our 'friends' should behave accordingly," she added.

Both men nodded again.

"Finally," Poliana said with finality in her tone, "all 'specialty' establishments are to discontinue their services until I say so."

The two men acknowledged her orders and left to carry them out.

Poliana leaned back in her chair as they exited, feeling another wave of exhaustion wash over her. The complexities of dealing with rogue inquisitors and imposters were bad enough without adding Ji's unpredictable nature into the mix. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to stave off an impending headache as she prepared for whatever came next.

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Zinnia poked at the unconscious Selen's meaty calf, kneading the muscle around with her thumbs. "Wow," she exclaimed, confirming what Silas had told her about Selen's muscles and bones having strange properties. She pressed her thumbs into the calf, creating a valley that molded itself into shape without springing back. "Weird," she muttered, slapping the valley with a satisfying thwack. Only then, did the calf ripple and bounce back into its normal shape.

Across from her, Silas stood at a tall desk, grinding something into a paste with a mortar and pestle. The scent of old leather emanated through the room from whatever he was creating.

He had mentioned the strange physical properties to Zinnia, hoping she might be able to shed some light about Selen that could explain it, but she knew nothing.

Nyx was still seated comfortably on top of Zinnia's head, seemingly forgotten by her.

The crow thought to himself that the strange constitution of this human and the odd situation in Sichal were building up to be quite a fun little mystery. He hopped off Zinnia and took flight onto Silas's shoulder.

Nyx began squawking information into Silas's ear. Silas nodded along to Nyx's rambling, listening to him far more intently than he had Zinnia when she answered his questions upon entering the room.

There was a fair amount of strangeness within Sichal.

The Rats increasing the price for banal information usually meant one of two things: either the information was only valuable to those willing to pay for it first or they were involved more actively within the situation themselves.

"All largely irrelevant to our purpose here in any case," Silas spoke aloud.

She sat cross-legged on the velvety carpet behind Silas and in front of Selen. As Nyx continued to squawk at Silas, she asked, "Will you tell me anything relevant to what we will be doing here then?"

Silas continued pounding and grinding the mixture inside the mortar. "Kill the heat from Rhysling, acquire a pair of items I require, get information about the 'hidden realm' where the Thorn was found, and gain an unsuspecting way to get near two of our targets in Lythoria."

Zinnia tilted her head. "Just two?~"

"One will be ready once we arrive," Silas replied.

"Any more details?" she pressed.

"No," Silas said stoically, making her roll her eyes.

"Are you interested in whatever the hell Selen is?" Zinnia asked.

"I am," Silas admitted, "but it is not a priority."

Zinnia saw an opportunity to get more words out of him and doubled down on her questioning. "Why the hurry?~"

Silas didn't respond to that question. Instead, he asked her, "Why are the slum dwellers living a more lavish lifestyle here than the rich?"

The question threw her for a loop. She blinked and said, "Huh?"

Nyx landed in front of her and pulled off another feather. Remembering their previous encounter, Zinnia jumped away before he could use her blood as ink again.

Nyx squawked innocently, waving his wing with a flourish as paper and ink from Silas's desk floated in front of him. Zinnia narrowed her eyes at Nyx, who looked at her with rather adorable upturned eyes.

The room fell silent except for Silas’s rhythmic grinding at his desk.

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…but to no avail, as the shadows consumed her and the bony skeleton hugged her tighter. What was most disturbing to Selen was the fact this hug was full of warmth, carrying a kind of love even beyond what one might feel when their mother hugs them.

She felt as if she were drowning, there was no water in her nightmare anymore, yet as she was sinking deeper and deeper she only felt as if she were getting dragged down into a deep ocean. The moonlight was now nothing more then a tiny sliver, she could no longer see. Ever deeper she sank, and after what felt like an eternity pass Selen turned numb all over.

Just as quickly and even more suddenly as she was trapped in the cave, the whole scene of darkness in front of her exploded into a blinding light.

The feeling of being hugged vanished as the scene shifted back into the snowy landscape from the start.

She was in front of the lake again, only this time there was no blood red moon above her. Instead, it was daytime with a rather dull sun shining a faint light across everything she could see. The snow began to melt and the evergreens she used to play with transformed into impossibly tall tree trunks with no branches, almost as if they were pillars.

From the top of the trunks towards the bottom and further into the ground, strange shifting lettering appeared all around, their meaning was utterly unknown to Selen.

Then the incredibly still lake rippled violently by itself, as from its depths Selen saw something vaguely human shaped begin to walk out.

Try as she might, she could not look at its face. Its contour definitely looked human yet she was unable to look up beyond the feet of whatever it was.

She could only see sandaled feet, covered in hundreds of tiny scars walking towards her lifting up a long ceremonial skirt with each step. Whatever this thing was had incredibly long pure white hair. As it stepped towards her, that magnificent hair was still trailing up from the water not leaving it even as it's owner arrived within touching distance of her.

Selen was unable to move, her head forced by some unknown force to only look down, yet for the first time she felt no fear as a soft hand, carrying a pleasant heat rested atop her head and caressed it gently.

She heard a voice so melodic and full of joy that Selen for a moment thought she was going to melt into a puddle out of delight.

The word that was whispered ever so softly and so so comfortingly, however was anything but kind as it declared harshly, "Die."

The magnificently soft hand, that felt as if it lacked bones… clenched.