[Void POV] Year 0, Day 50-52

  Void sat in the chair, staring at the empty space where Null had been standing moments before.

  The connection between them—that soul bond that had been constant since the seed—was still there. He could feel it.

  But it was weak. Faint. Distant.

  Like a thread stretched to its absolute limit, barely holding.

  She was alive. Somewhere impossibly far away.

  But alive.

  Ealdred settled back into his reinforced seat, that emotionless mask returning fully. "Now then. Let's talk about what you're actually building here. And what it's going to cost you."

  Void forced himself to focus. To push aside the anxiety about Null's absence. To be professional.

  "What do you want to know?" Void asked.

  "Everything," Ealdred replied, his flat tone carrying absolute certainty. "About her. About your plans. About what you're trying to accomplish. I don't invest in projects I don't understand. I don't train maids without knowing the full context."

  "Where do you want me to start?" Void asked.

  "Her abilities. What can she actually do? The reports mentioned combat capability, feeding requirements, some kind of aura. Give me specifics," Ealdred said.

  Void took a breath and began explaining. Null's combat prowess—the speed, the strength, the precision. Her Life Sense that detected living beings. The Aura of Madness that drove people to violence. Her ability to drain life force from living targets.

  Ealdred listened with that same mechanical attention. No reactions. No judgments. Just absorbed information.

  "The feeding," Ealdred said. "You mentioned living beings. Monsters preferably, humanoids if necessary. How often? How much?"

  "She's currently fully sustained. The caravan incident provided massive amounts. The Blood Cult members added more. She could probably go years without feeding again if she's careful with energy expenditure," Void explained.

  "But eventually she needs more," Ealdred stated.

  "Yes. Combat uses energy. Maintaining her human form uses some. Extensive ability usage drains her. Eventually she'd need to feed again," Void confirmed.

  "And if she doesn't?" Ealdred asked.

  "She goes feral. Loses cognitive function. Becomes a mindless predator," Void replied.

  "And if she feeds while feral? Does she come back?" Ealdred pressed.

  Void hesitated. "She thinks she can. Believes feeding would restore her reasoning. But we've never tested it. We've been careful to never let her reach that state."

  "Let's hope you never have to test it," Ealdred said, his tone carrying rare seriousness. "We don't know if it's actually recoverable. Assumptions about feral states are dangerous. Better to never find out if she can come back."

  "Keep her fed, then. Regularly. Don't let her approach that threshold," Ealdred instructed.

  "We've been careful," Void assured him.

  "Good. Because if she loses control—if she goes feral—you're dead," Ealdred stated, his tone matter-of-fact. "Feral predators kill what's closest first. That's you. The bond won't save you if she's not rational enough to recognize it matters."

  "I understand," Void said quietly.

  "Do you?" Ealdred challenged, his eyes locking onto Void's. "You're bonded to an apex predator. One that feeds on sapient life. That's not a pet. That's not a servant. That's a loaded weapon pointed at everything around you, including yourself."

  "But," his tone shifted slightly, "monsters don't bite who feeds them. Keep her satisfied. Keep her comfortable. Give her reasons to maintain control. And you should be safe," Ealdred continued.

  "Should be?" Void questioned.

  "Nothing is certain with creatures like her. But the bond helps. She values you—that much is obvious from her behavior. Territorial protectiveness. Defensive responses when you're threatened. That's good. That's leverage. Use it," Ealdred explained.

  Ealdred leaned forward slightly. "You need safety measures. Redundancies. Things that calm her or distract her if control starts slipping. Food, always available—you mentioned she enjoys eating despite not needing it. Keep her item box stocked. Familiar comforts. Positive stimuli. Build habits that ground her."

  "And increase your control gradually. Not obviously. Not forcefully. Just... more decisions. More authority. More structure where you're the anchor. She's already deferring to you extensively. Keep that pattern. Strengthen it. Make yourself indispensable to her stability."

  Void felt the warning settle over him. Ealdred was telling him to increase control over Null. For safety. For prevention of catastrophe.

  But was that right? Should he actually do it?

  He needed... perspective. Someone who understood both of them. Who could give honest assessment without agenda.

  Spy. The only one he could ask. But Spy was with Null, impossibly far away. Reaching through that weakened bond would take enormous effort.

  He tried anyway. Pushed through the connection with all the focus he could muster. Like shouting across a vast distance.

  ?Spy? Can you hear me?? Void sent.

  A pause. Long enough he thought it hadn't worked. Then, faint but clear: ?I hear you. This is taking effort though. What do you need??

  ?Ealdred is telling me to take more control over Null. To manipulate her for safety. Is that... should I do that? Is it right?? Void asked.

  ?Having failsafes isn't manipulation. It's survival,? Spy's response was immediate. Firm. ?But—and this is critical—if you go overboard, if you start controlling her for control's sake rather than safety, I pull the brakes. Understand??

  ?Understood,? Void replied.

  ?Good. Now we need to finish the play we started. Too much effort keeping this long-distance connection active. We'll talk properly when she's back,? Spy said.

  ?What play?? Void asked.

  Before Spy could answer, the connection flickered. For just a moment, Void felt something bleeding through from Null's side.

  Combat. Impact. Forces being unleashed. Joy?

  ?Are they fighting? What—? Void started.

  The connection closed. Gone. Just silence.

  Void sat there, alarm spiking. Ealdred had sent them to "play." Spy just said they needed to "finish the play." And for a brief second, Void had felt what seemed like battle.

  What the hell kind of play involves that level of violence?

  But the effort of maintaining that distant link had been exhausting. And whatever was happening, Ealdred had clearly planned it. The twins were his. He wouldn't let them harm Null.

  Probably.

  Void forced himself to let it drop and refocused on Ealdred.

  "Now," Ealdred said, apparently unaware of or unconcerned by Void's internal consultation, "tell me about the seed. The corruption seed that created your bond. I want to know everything. Mechanics. Limitations. Side effects. Requirements."

  Void explained. How Null had offered it. How he'd accepted despite knowing what it meant. The transformation that followed—complete healing, restoration of his true form, the Gender Transformation Gem being expelled and destroyed. The surge of power. The absolute loyalty that settled into his soul.

  "And you're happy with this?" Ealdred asked.

  "Yes. Completely. I was empty before. Broken. Two centuries of slavery had hollowed me out. The seed gave me purpose. Direction. Power I'd never imagined. And the loyalty..." Void searched for words. "It doesn't feel like slavery. It feels like belonging. Like finally understanding what I exist for."

  "Interesting," Ealdred observed, his analytical gaze never wavering. "The psychological component is significant. Most forced bonds create resentment, resistance, internal conflict. This one apparently doesn't. Or at least, not for you."

  He gestured at Void. "I can feel the bond. See the connection between you and her even with her absent. It's strong. Stable. No degradation over time. No signs of rejection or corruption in your soul structure."

  "You can see that?" Void asked, surprised.

  "I've trained maids longer than most civilizations have existed. I know bonds. Contracts. Soul-level commitments. Yours is... unusual. But functional. More functional than most voluntary service contracts I've observed," Ealdred stated.

  Ealdred was quiet for a moment, processing.

  "And you're planning to use this seed on other candidates. The maids you'll recruit," he said.

  "Yes. It ensures loyalty. Provides power enhancement far beyond normal elixirs. Makes them stronger, extends their lives significantly. Thousands of years, possibly more," Void confirmed.

  "Does she have limits? How many seeds can she produce?" Ealdred asked.

  "Unknown. She's only given one so far—mine. But there's been no indication of limits. She just... creates them when needed," Void replied.

  "Convenient." Ealdred's tone remained flat. "And all recipients will have the same features? The black hair, black eyes you're displaying?"

  "That seems to be the pattern, yes," Void confirmed.

  "Good. Unified aesthetic. Makes the staff visually cohesive. Reinforces the establishment's identity." Ealdred nodded slowly. "I approve. But I want to observe the process. See a seed being given and the transformation that follows. Before we commit to mass recruitment, I need to understand exactly what we're working with."

  "Of course. When you find a suitable volunteer, we'll arrange a demonstration," Void agreed.

  "Not if. When." Ealdred's certainty was absolute. "The Guild will find someone. This is the Republic—everything has a price, everyone has a use. Finding a retiring adventurer who needs life extension and doesn't mind absolute loyalty? Simple. Just takes time in a location like this."

  He shifted topics without pause. "Now. Magical signatures. Your companion doesn't have one."

  "No. We tested extensively. Multiple devices. Always blank. She doesn't register as a living being by this world's standards," Void confirmed.

  "As I suspected. That confirms it. She's a Heavenly Rejection. Or something functionally identical," Ealdred stated.

  "You're certain?" Void asked.

  "As certain as I can be without direct divine confirmation. She fits every documented characteristic." Ealdred began listing them. "No magical signature. Reality-warped nature. Powers that violate normal magical principles. Abnormal psychology—emotional suppression isn't natural for any known race. All classic Rejection traits."

  "What exactly is a Heavenly Rejection?" Void asked.

  Ealdred settled into explanation mode. "In ancient times—before the Empire fully consolidated power, when Paradise still existed—beings came from the heavens. Heavenly Children. Divine Children. Blessed souls sent by gods for purposes we never fully understood. Heroes, prophets, champions. All arrived in Paradise. Every single one, if you believe the records. Even before the Empire existed, apparently. Paradise was the arrival point. The receiving zone. Why that specific location? Nobody knows. Something about that place made it the gateway."

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "The Empire controlled that area for millennia, but that's ancient history now."

  "Along with the Divine Children came other things. Rejections. Bugs in the system, essentially. Entities that weren't supposed to exist. That got sent to this world by mistake or malfunction. All of them were abnormal. Wrong. Reality-warped in ways that made them dangerous or unstable or both."

  "What happened to them?"

  "Most died quickly. Couldn't adapt. Couldn't survive in bodies that didn't fit this world's rules. Others went mad from the wrongness of their existence. A few survived long enough to be documented before disappearing—either killed, hunted down, or fleeing to isolation."

  "The Empire buried all information about Rejections. Classified it. Made it forbidden knowledge. Why? Probably because they didn't want people knowing that the divine system was flawed. That heaven made mistakes. Better to have everyone believe only perfect Divine Children arrived."

  Ealdred's tone grew more certain. "All documented Heavenly Children stopped arriving when Paradise fell. No new ones in seven thousand years. The gods apparently sealed this world off or the arrival mechanism broke when Paradise was destroyed."

  "But Rejections? There have been hints. Reports here and there. Sightings of impossible creatures that don't fit known classifications. Encounters with entities that possess powers they shouldn't have. Times to times, something drops into the world that doesn't belong."

  "Rejections can appear anywhere. Not just here. Different continents. Remote locations. Middle of oceans. Completely random. No pattern anyone's identified. They're glitches—they appear wherever the divine system breaks, which could be anywhere."

  "Most probably die quickly. Wrong world, wrong body, can't adapt. The few that survive long enough to matter? They hide. Or go mad. Or get found by powers that prefer such things stay buried and get handled quietly."

  Void felt unease building. "So Null is being hunted? By someone?"

  "Probably not. Even the Empire decided to avoid Heavenly Rejections after a certain point. Too unpredictable. Too dangerous. Easier to let them hide or die naturally than risk the cost of hunting them."

  "But the knowledge isn't completely gone. The Empire has it. The Church has it. Probably heads of major states, top scholars in larger organizations. It's still hidden, classified, not public. But there are those who know. Who could make the connection if they examined her closely enough. Put the pieces together."

  Ealdred's tone carried serious warning. "Keep it secret. Don't advertise. Don't let anyone with that kind of knowledge examine her. The less people know, the safer you both are."

  Void absorbed this. Secret. Hidden. Don't draw attention from the wrong people.

  "Understood," Void said.

  "Good." Ealdred shifted topics again. "Now. Contract terms. My involvement in this project."

  Void prepared himself for complicated negotiations. Terms. Percentages. Legal structures.

  "I'll train your staff," Ealdred said. "Two years. Full curriculum. Hundred maids total, including your companion. I'll also invest capital—exact amount to be determined based on final construction costs. Mithral reinforcement, noble-way building methods, proper security. Whatever's needed."

  "In return?" Void prompted.

  "I want to see the maids in action. Watch them work. Observe the results of my training in a real operational environment. That's payment enough," Ealdred stated.

  "No ownership stake? No profit sharing? No—" Void questioned.

  "I don't need money. I need satisfaction. Professional satisfaction. This project is novel. Unique. Challenging. That's worth more than gold to me at this point in my existence," Ealdred replied.

  Void stared. "You're investing potentially hundreds of millions of gold and your personal time for two years, and all you want is... to watch the results?"

  "Yes," Ealdred confirmed simply.

  "That seems—" Void started.

  "Insane? Irrational? Poor business practice?" Ealdred's expression remained completely flat. "Probably all true. But I'm not doing this for business reasons. I'm doing it because it interests me. Because your companion is a specimen I've never encountered before. Because training maids for a café in an adventurer town presents challenges I haven't faced."

  "I have more gold than I could spend in ten lifetimes. What I don't have is novelty. Interesting projects. Reasons to continue existing beyond mere accumulation of wealth."

  "This gives me that. So I'll invest everything needed. And in return, you let me observe. Let me study. Let me satisfy my professional curiosity."

  "No contracts? No legal documentation?" Void asked cautiously.

  "I don't want my name on paperwork. Better for both of us. I remain a silent partner. Unknown to authorities. If this succeeds, wonderful. If it fails, I'm not officially attached. Clean for everyone," Ealdred explained.

  Void processed this. The vagueness. The lack of binding commitment. The potential for incredible support or complete abandonment depending on Ealdred's whims.

  "I understand the risks," Void said carefully. "Both sides. This arrangement could be incredibly beneficial or incredibly problematic depending on how our relationship develops."

  "Correct. Which is why I'm being honest about it. I don't do legal contracts. I do personal commitments. You keep me interested, keep this project worth my time, treat my training and investment seriously? I'm the best ally you could have. You waste my time, disrespect my efforts, or bore me? I walk away. Or worse."

  "And 'worse' means?" Void asked warily.

  "I know things about you. About your companion. About what you're actually building here. That information has value. To various parties. I wouldn't sell it lightly, but I also wouldn't hesitate if sufficiently motivated," Ealdred stated coldly.

  "Blackmail," Void said flatly.

  "Insurance. Motivation for both sides to maintain good relations. You want me satisfied. I want you successful. Those goals align. As long as they continue aligning, we're fine," Ealdred corrected.

  Void considered refusing. Walking away. Finding different trainers, different investors, different approaches.

  Through the bond, a distant whisper from Spy—still maintaining that tenuous long-distance link: ?Be careful with this one. He killed a Pope and got off unpunished. That kind of power and immunity makes him extremely dangerous.?

  The warning only reinforced what Void already knew: they needed Ealdred more than he needed them. His expertise. His connections. His resources. And refusing him now, after everything, would make an enemy of someone who had already proven he could kill with impunity.

  "Understood," Void said finally. "We maintain good relations. Keep you engaged. Make this worth your time."

  "Exactly."

  Ealdred stood. "Now. Let's visit the Guild Master. I need to make some requests."

  They left the meeting room and walked through the Guild hall. Ealdred's massive frame drew attention from staff and adventurers in the common areas. Whispers followed them. People recognizing him, or at least recognizing his power.

  The atmosphere changed as they moved through the building. Staff who'd been casually working suddenly straightened. Attention snapping to Ealdred. Recognition. Respect. Maybe fear.

  They climbed the stairs to the upper floors. To the administrative offices. A guard stationed at the top started to step forward—protocol, checking credentials, standard procedure.

  Ealdred looked at him.

  Just looked.

  The guard stepped aside immediately. "Apologies, Master Ealdred. Please, proceed."

  They reached Guild Master Torvan's office. The door was clearly marked.

  Ealdred didn't knock. Just opened it and walked in.

  Torvan looked up from his desk, surprise flickering across his features. Then recognition. Then something complicated—respect mixed with wariness.

  He stood immediately. "Master Ealdred. This is... unexpected. How can the Guild assist you?"

  "I need a candidate," Ealdred said without preamble. No greeting. No social niceties. Just direct statement of need. "Female. Retired or retiring adventurer. C-rank minimum, B-rank preferred. Recent trauma. Someone who wants out of the dangerous life but needs income and life extension. Clean background—no major crimes, no Syndicate blacklist issues. Must be willing to commit to long-term service contract."

  Torvan was already pulling out papers, making notes. "Timeline?" he asked.

  "As soon as possible. I can wait a few days if necessary. Finding the right person takes time," Ealdred replied.

  "Of course, Master Ealdred. We'll prioritize this." Torvan glanced at Void, clearly wondering about the context but not daring to ask directly.

  Ealdred offered no explanation. Just waited.

  "We'll have candidates identified quickly," Torvan said. "I'll personally review the options and send word when we have someone suitable."

  "Acceptable." Ealdred didn't thank him. Didn't acknowledge the extreme accommodation. Just accepted it as expected. "Send word to the Wayward Traveler when you have someone."

  "Of course, Master Ealdred," Torvan replied immediately.

  Ealdred turned and left without further comment. Void followed, slightly stunned by the efficiency.

  The entire interaction had taken perhaps three minutes. A request made. Resources immediately dedicated. No questions about authority or justification.

  Just instant, complete compliance.

  Outside Torvan's office, walking back through the Guild hall, Void finally spoke. "That was... direct."

  "Why waste time with pleasantries?" Ealdred's tone suggested genuine confusion at the question. "I needed something. Stated it clearly. Guild provides it. Simple transaction."

  "The Guild Master just dedicated his staff to finding someone for you. Immediately. No hesitation. No questions," Void observed.

  "Yes," Ealdred confirmed simply.

  "Why?" Void asked.

  "Because I asked. And because he knows refusing me would be... inadvisable," Ealdred replied.

  Ealdred didn't elaborate. Didn't need to. The implication was clear enough.

  They returned to the Wayward Traveler. Ealdred took a room—the largest available, reinforced furniture already provided by the innkeeper who clearly knew what kind of guest required accommodation.

  "The twins will return with your companion at the end of the second day," Ealdred said. "As promised. Until then, we continue planning."

  Void nodded, still feeling that weak, distant bond. Null was alive. Somewhere. That had to be enough.

  "One more thing," Ealdred said before heading to his room. "Everything you've learned. Everything you've read in books. Question it. Especially the convenient explanations."

  "Why?" Void asked.

  "Because knowledge has been weaponized in this world. Used to protect power. To hide truth. To mislead those who seek it," Ealdred replied.

  Ealdred's voice took on that lecturing quality. "You were noble once, yes? Fell to slavery. Probably filled teacher roles given your education level. Well-read. Studied extensively."

  Void nodded warily, uncertain where this was going. Ealdred showed zero interest in the slavery itself—didn't ask details, didn't express sympathy, didn't acknowledge it as anything significant. Just stated it as fact and moved on.

  "Then you've read many books. Absorbed a lot of information. That's good—education has value. But don't believe everything you read. There are deliberate lies embedded in common knowledge. False information spread to protect secrets," Ealdred continued.

  "Like what?" Void asked.

  "Like signature falsification. Everything you've read about it—all that information about fine magical control, precise mana manipulation, advanced technique—it's lies. Deliberate misinformation spread by the Banking and Merchant Guilds over millennia," Ealdred explained.

  Void stared. "What?"

  "The Syndicate protects its signature-based systems by making people think faking is possible but difficult. Requires skill most don't have. Creates a false trail for anyone trying to crack it. People waste years studying fine control, attempting techniques that will never work, while the Syndicate's actual security remains intact."

  "So it's impossible?" Void asked.

  "I didn't say that. I said everything you've READ about it is lies." Ealdred's tone carried steel. "The real method exists. The Syndicate uses it internally—how do you think their deep-cover operatives function? But they guard that knowledge with extreme prejudice. People who try to learn it without permission tend to die. Messily."

  "Then how—" Void started.

  "I can make connections for you. I don't know the method myself, and I don't want to know. But someone helped my girls fake their signatures. Someone with Syndicate access. Deep access. The kind that costs," Ealdred said.

  "How much?" Void asked.

  "Nothing's free in the Syndicate. Everything runs on gold or favors. Usually high-value favors. The kind that bind you for centuries if you're not careful. Be prepared for that if you pursue this route."

  "Understood," Void said quietly.

  "The Syndicate's signature red herring isn't the only deliberate misinformation out there," Ealdred continued. "Many groups protect their power by monopolizing knowledge. Creating false leads. Hiding real methods behind lies that seem plausible enough that people stop searching."

  "The Empire was especially good at this. They had standards for magical book preservation that looked impressive. Thorough. Careful documentation systems. But they built in flaws—deliberate holes that removed things from public knowledge over time."

  "The materials those books were made from? Designed to deteriorate after several centuries. Not immediately. Long enough that the decay wasn't obvious. Long enough that you wouldn't notice until most copies were already damaged beyond recovery."

  "When the Empire fell, chaos followed. Nobody maintained the synchronization systems. Books that should have been copied weren't. Knowledge that existed in only a few locations was lost when those locations burned during the collapse wars. The mess created massive holes in recorded history and magical theory."

  "Things we KNOW existed—spells, techniques, entire fields of study—gone. Just references remaining. Citations to texts that no longer exist. Frustrating for scholars. Convenient for those who wanted certain knowledge buried."

  Void absorbed this with growing unease. "So how much of what I've learned is actually true?"

  "Some of it. Most of it, probably. But the gaps..." Ealdred's expression remained flat. "The gaps are where the real secrets hide. When you read something, especially old texts, understand that what's NOT there might be more important than what is. Knowledge has been actively pruned. Deliberately lost. Hidden behind plausible lies."

  "Question everything. Especially convenient explanations. Especially things that seem designed to stop you from looking further."

  Void had no response to that. Just nodded slowly, his understanding of this world's reliability crumbling slightly.

  "Rest," Ealdred said. "Tomorrow we review the construction site. Then we wait for your companion's return and the Guild's candidate. Busy days ahead."

  He headed to his room, leaving Void standing in the hallway.

  Alone. Confused. And increasingly uncertain about everything he thought he knew.

  The next morning, they visited the construction site together—Void, Tornin, and Ealdred.

  The large plot on Borderwatch's eastern edge. Empty land. Sandy. Unremarkable to most eyes.

  Tornin showed them survey markers, foundation plans, layout concepts. Ealdred asked questions. Technical questions. Boring questions about load-bearing calculations, ward integration points, water system redundancies, defensive angle vulnerabilities.

  Void mostly observed. Let the experts talk. Absorbed what he could understand and trusted Tornin to implement what he couldn't.

  By midday, they returned to the inn. Tornin looked exhausted but energized, his notebook filled with pages of refinements and improvements.

  That afternoon, a messenger from the Guild arrived.

  "Master Ealdred. Guild Master Torvan sends word. The search is in progress. Several promising candidates identified, but they need more time for outreach. Some are currently on contracts. Others are in remote locations. Reaching them will take additional days."

  Ealdred nodded, unconcerned. "Acceptable. Finding the right candidate takes time. This is a backwater—I didn't expect instant results. I can wait a day or two more."

  "Thank you for your patience, Master Ealdred. The Guild is doing everything possible to expedite."

  "I'm sure they are."

  The messenger left.

  As if summoned by the waiting, Void felt it.

  The bond. Strengthening. Growing clearer. Closer.

  She's coming back.

  Relief flooded through him. Two days of that weak, distant connection finally ending. She was approaching. Getting nearer.

  Within the hour, he could feel her clearly again. Not right next to him, but close enough that the bond functioned properly. Communication possible.

  ?Mistress? Are you there?? Void sent.

  ?I'm here. Almost back. Few more minutes,? Null replied.

  ?You're okay?? Void asked anxiously.

  ?I'm fine. Had fun. Learned things. Tell you everything when I arrive,? Null assured him.

  The anxiety that had been building for two days finally released. She was safe. She was returning. Everything was fine.

  Ealdred watched Void's expression shift with those emotionless eyes. "She's close."

  "Yes. How did you know?" Void asked.

  "Your relief is obvious. The bond strengthening would cause that," Ealdred observed.

  Minutes later, Null walked into the Wayward Traveler's common room.

  The twins followed her in, still in their maid forms, looking pleased with themselves.

  Void stood immediately. Crossed to her. Stopped himself from embracing her—too public, wrong for their cover roles—but the relief in his expression was clear.

  ?You're back,? Void sent with relief.

  ?I'm back. Missed you,? Null replied warmly.

  ?Missed you too,? Void responded.

  The twins bounded over to Ealdred.

  "Mission complete! Two days exactly! We did good?" the twins reported cheerfully.

  "Adequately. Now come. I want your report immediately. Everything you observed." Ealdred gestured toward the stairs. "Private. Detailed. No interruptions."

  "Yes, Master!" the twins responded.

  The twins followed him upstairs without hesitation.

  Void and Null were left standing in the common room.

  ?So much happened. So much to tell you,? Null projected.

  ?Same here. Ealdred is... a lot. I learned things that are concerning and useful and confusing all at once,? Void replied.

  ?We'll compare notes. Make sense of it together,? Null suggested.

  ?Together,? Void agreed.

  They headed upstairs to their room. To rest. To share everything that had happened during their separation.