A cold draft sweeps through my bedroom as Aetheria and I appear. Aetheria strides forward, her long, flowing blue hair trailing behind her like some kind of regal cape.

  With a dramatic flourish, she faceplants into my bed, the soft fabric muffling her sigh of exhaustion. I weigh my options, but soon follow suit, collapsing into the mattress and burying my face in a pillow of my own.

  "Ugh," Aetheria groans, her voice muffled by her own pillow. "That was... exhausting to say the least."

  I turn to my side, getting a good look at her. "Yeah, it was. Also do you know what Death meant back there?"

  "Which part?" she asks, turning to face me too.

  "All of it, any of it."

  "I don’t know much, but there is one thing I can tell you… As you know, Death had prior allies before he aligned himself with the Crowsongs," Aetheria let out a short sigh, sitting up in bed to face me now. "The Denizens of Darkness, the Beasts of Midnight, and many other undead are sworn to loyalty under Death. Some willingly, and others not so willingly."

  I knew the Crowsongs were not Death's first choice, but these names were new to me.

  "Many of Death's older allies have passed on. As you are well aware, time can be a ruthless victor. But a handful still remain. The mark of Death..." She pauses, her eyes narrowing in disgust. "It's how Death deals with those that he wants gone."

  "What does that mean?" I ask, tracing the mark that stretches up the length of my wrist.

  "The mark of Death means that his followers will forever hunt you. They are drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. Be it his Denizens of Darkness, or the Beasts of Midnight. There’s no way to tell just how many of them still thrive in your world. It shouldn’t be more than a handful, but even that is too many."

  This life would already be hard enough for me as is, and now this…

  "Try not to worry too much, Clara. As long as I'm here, I will give my all to keep you safe."

  I want to ask Aetheria what would have happened if I was marked a third time by Death, but I feel that I already know the answer to that question.

  Death was something I had longed for, for so long now. But when faced with the aspect of actually dying, I find myself terrified. I still had so much left to do. I had to live this last life to its fullest.

  We lay there in silence for a while, and I try my best to gather my thoughts.

  "Throughout all my lives, I have met so many people. Monsters, divine beings, and even Gods, but… never you. You’re a goddess, aren’t you?"

  Aetheria shakes her head slowly, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. "I am not sure," she admits, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice. "I do not remember."

  "How convenient," I sigh, unable to keep the edge of bitterness from my words.

  "The pain of not remembering who you are, is great."

  "I know, I'm sorry. It's just… I don't know anything about you. I don’t know why you’re helping me, and that scares me. You’re an outlier in this life."

  Her smile fades away, but she quickly composes herself and offers me another one. "Must there always be an underlying reason for wanting to help someone? You said yourself that this life requires change, lest it will end like the rest.

  "No one helps someone just because they want to help," I growl out, my eyes narrowing as they land on that smile of hers.

  "You do," Aetheria says, that smile never leaving. Looking into those eyes of hers, once more I see no ill will.

  Her logic is sound, and I can’t argue against it.

  "There is one thing I am sure of though. I have decided that it is my fate to help you, Clara."

  My heart softens at her sincerity, and I manage a small smile. "Thank you, Aetheria."

  Aetheria sits up with wild, frizzled hair that resembles a storm cloud. The sight is an odd contrast to her normally regal appearance. As she settles at the edge of the bed, I hesitate for a moment before reaching for a brush at the bedside table.

  "May I?" I ask, my hand hovering just above her the tangled mess.

  "Go ahead." She seems content with the idea, and I begin to brush her hair, working carefully to smooth out the knots.

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  "Where are you from?" I ask, initiating some light conversation as I start braiding her hair. "You must remember something about your home, right?"

  "Somewhere, I’m sure," Aetheria replies, her voice thoughtful. "I do remember a tower, far above the world below. When the sun set, it was a breathtaking sight."

  "It sounds beautiful."

  "Perhaps we could go see it one day? When I remember where home is, that is," Aetheria suggests, her tone hopeful.

  "Yeah, maybe."

  As I finish braiding her hair, Aetheria stands, the air around her shimmering as her reflection appears.

  "There’s a mirror right above my dresser, you know…" I say, but she ignores me.

  "Clara, you've done such a wondrous job, I love it!" Aetheria says gleefully, her eyes alight with delight. With Aetheria's hair now neatly braided, the long blue ponytail hung low down her back. She spins in a circle, admiring herself from every angle in the many magical mirrors she had conjured. Finally, she lays her hair over her shoulder, and holds it gently as she smiles down at it.

  Aetheria clears her throat and turns back to face me, her face taking on a more serious expression now. "It's about time for you to be heading back. Come, you have something for me."

  I nod, knowing full well that I couldn’t stay here forever. Aetheria snaps, and the soulgem of the Zombie Master appears before us. I watch in silence as she crushes it into smithereens in her palm, replacing it with a handful of cards.

  "Go on, pick one," she urges, her voice gentle. The air around each card seems to decay, representing the very essence of the Zombie Master. I hesitated, my mind drifting back to Elias's lifeless body.

  "Can't you just choose for me? You can read minds, right?"

  Aetheria shakes her head, her expression is one of sympathy. "You want a specific one, don't you? Unfortunately, it's up to luck."

  "But you said luck can be made, right?" I reach out, my hand hovering above the cards. Just as I’m about to grab one, Aetheria interrupts.

  "I did say that, didn’t I? Luck can be made," she whispers, her eyes locking onto mine. A weight lifts from my heart, but before I can thank her, she continues. "The price will be heavy, though. When the time comes, you must fulfill any single wish of mine." She holds up a sole finger as she says this.

  "Of course, anything!"

  A single card rises higher than the rest, and I take hold of it, drawing it towards me. Imagery of sorcerers from ages long past flash through my mind. They isolated themselves at the peak of the world, under the elements. When they came back down from the peak, they wielded the lightning itself.

  [You have come to a great understanding of Chain Lightning!]

  At least that’s what I was told before another prompt counters it.

  [Your body isn't fit to wield Chain Lightning!]

  [Chain Lightning has been downgraded to Zap!]

  I shake away the electrical tingling that courses through my body, a mix of disappointment and relief washing over me. I had never been skilled with lightning magic in any of my lives. I simply wasn’t compatible with it, so this outcome didn’t surprise me. I was a geomancer, and a necromancer. This meant that opposing magics were no good for me to learn. Even so, I needed this spell.

  "Thank you, Aetheria, for granting me just a bit of luck."

  "Of course, anything for you."

  Feeling a desperate need for answers, I blurt out, "Really, why do you help me so much? You've really gone above and beyond. I just don't..."

  Before I can finish my question, the room begins to shake violently. The walls creak and groan, and then a crack appears, spreading like a spider's web across the wall. A crack that seemingly leads to oblivion. I swear I see something move from beyond the confines of the room.

  I look out into that darkness, and I see it. An eye, animalistic and primal. And just for a brief moment, it sees me too.

  Within the space surrounding this dream, something unknown is watching, and waiting. Something larger than life itself. An icy chill cascades down my spine, and my legs feel weak just from the glimpse I caught.

  With an urgency I had never seen from her before, Aetheria grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me towards the door.

  "We're kindred souls, you and I," she explains hastily. "We have to look out for each other. You must go now, but please, please bring me more spells soon. It is imperative that you bring me as many as you can!"

  Her words are barely audible over the cacophony of the room's destruction, but their sincerity is unmistakable. As we reach the doorway, I glance back one last time at the encroaching darkness that is quickly consuming the room. It’s that same eye. It causes my stomach to curl in on itself, and I feel myself freeze. This isn’t the fear of an angry God, or the fear of death. This is a primal fear. A tear in reality. What I am looking at is something that should not exist. I have no name for it, I can’t place its existence by any known parameters.

  [Eyes of Clarity cannot identify the target]

  "Wait, Aetheria!" I try to shout, but my voice seems lost amid the chaos. Aetheria gives me a final, reassuring smile just before she shoves me through the doorway. As the darkness reaches her, I see every one of her tassels rise in defiance.

  I find myself plummeting into a vast emptiness, my body suspended in midair, weightless and disoriented. The tendrils of darkness reach for me, clawing at the edges of my consciousness. As they grab hold of me, a bright light lashes out at them. Each time they reach me, another spell knocks them away.

  And then I awake with a start. My heart hammers in my chest, and I gasp for air.

  "Kindred souls," I murmur to myself, and run my hands through my hair. It’s still damp with sweat from the nightmare. My mind reels as I try to process Aetheria's words, but I’m interrupted by a quiet sobbing. I look up to see Clarence’s head on the bedside, his hand still enveloping Elias’s.

  "Clarence, it’s okay now."

  Clarence doesn’t so much as look up as he lets out a pained groan. "How is it okay?..."

  "We can bring him back."