“How…?” Hollowstone Table’s Vice-Master began, as Vera’s gaze locked on him. His expression tightened into something grimmer as he seemed to weigh her question carefully.

  “Let me remind you—you gave your word not to speak of my involvement here,” she said.

  The man paused, considering her. “I’m afraid I don’t entirely understand that request, Miss…”

  He hesitated.

  “Morgans is just fine. For now.”

  “Miss Morgans,” he said, clearing his throat. “When you say you don’t want me to reveal your involvement… do you mean you want your role kept secret, or that you don’t want to be involved at all from here on?”

  Vera was silent for several seconds. “…I would prefer not to be involved at all.”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes.

  “But—” He stopped himself, frowning lightly, fingers rising to his chin. “If that is what you want, I’m not in a position to force you. Still… beyond speaking with the Chapter-Master when he returns, and trusting that at least the High Warden isn’t compromised, I have few concrete options at the moment. Considering your… past exploits, your help would be invaluable. If there is anything that could make you reconsider, say it.”

  “There’s plenty that could make me reconsider. But like I said—I’d prefer not to be involved.”

  Vera wasn’t sure she could fill the same type of role the intrepid hero characters of the game had, nor if she even wanted to. But she also probably couldn’t just turn her back when she stumbled into something like this. If there was a way to resolve it without her having to reveal herself or shoulder too much responsibility, she’d take it.

  Being the focus of people’s lives and struggles was all well and good in stories and movies, but in real life, that had to mean something different. Something more complicated. It was the sort of thing that should require serious thought and care, and a willingness to carry responsibilities that didn’t just disappear once the credits rolled or the final quest turned in. Decisions suddenly became the kind that could alter people’s lives in ways you might never consider or be able to undo. Even if you interfered only to save people, from then on, your actions would carry that much more weight and that much more consequence.

  Vera didn’t think she was anywhere close to having considered all the questions and possibilities that came with such a role. She’d barely come to terms with the responsibilities and risks tied up in her own existence as Veralyth in this world, much less what it might mean to take on the mantle of a would-be hero.

  In a way, she supposed that choosing to avoid the larger responsibilities was itself a heavy choice—and maybe a worse one. She would step in if needed. She at least had some morals. But she still wanted to get a better grasp of things before it got to that.

  The Vice-Master watched her closely, his expression thoughtful. She appreciated that. He struck her as the serious, pragmatic, and reasonable type. Far more than what she imagined the Chapter-Master would be like in this world.

  That made her feel a little bad about what she’d put him through earlier. She hadn’t even realized her Resonance could radiate pressure like that. It wasn’t something that ever happened around Serel. Somehow, though, it had just slipped loose.

  He had handled it pretty well, though. At least she thought so. And she was relieved by how quickly he’d seemed to grasp and accept the situation. Even with him clearly having figured out her identity, he wasn’t panicking, pressing her for answers, or whatever else.

  It made her almost regret not remembering him from the game. But she bet there were countless minor NPCs she’d glossed over back then, people who—here—were genuine individuals with their own thoughts and motives. She’d probably meet more like him.

  The notion, surprisingly, interested her.

  After a while, the Vice-Master looked to have come to a decision. He lowered his hand from his chin, walked over to his desk, and opened a drawer. Letters and documents shifted under his hand as he pulled out a pair of spectacles, slipping them on before thumbing carefully through the pile.

  “Miss Morgans,” he said. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’ve heard accounts that you’re a Channeler. Is that true?”

  Vera’s brows lifted slightly, but she nodded. “I am.”

  Ashen Channeler was the loose archetype players called her build. ‘Channeler’ referred to hybrid builds mixing Forms and Marks, while ‘Sigilists’ were the purer mage-types, leaning entirely on Marks. Formwrights were their opposite, devoting themselves only to Forms and more melee-heavy builds.

  The Vice-Master stopped on a sheet of dark vellum, silver glyphs scrawled across its face and bound beneath black wax.

  “Is that a veil letter?” Vera asked.

  She remembered them from the game. While you could always send messages directly to other players through the interface, you could also send letters in-world. Veil letters had been the formal, ‘physical’ method.

  “It is,” he said, setting the rest aside and carrying it over to her. He held it up. “Would it be possible for me to ask you to temper this for me?”

  Vera frowned faintly, eyeing it. “Why?”

  “Without showing anyone the chamber you brought me to, it will be difficult to convince them of what I saw. And without proof, I can’t extend the investigation beyond the Chapter. But a veil letter tempered by a powerful Channeler would at least serve as corroboration—that the information came from a third party capable of reasonably detecting what we found.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t that essentially be the same as me announcing that I’m involved?”

  He gave her a strange look. “You don’t have to sign it with your personal seal. Simply temper it with enough Resonance that there’s no doubt the signatory is at least a Channeler of the Tenth Binding. You would still remain anonymous, and I’ll pen the letter itself. Of course, if you’re uncomfortable or unwilling, I’ll consider other methods.”

  Vera considered him. She hadn’t known veil letters could work like that. She’d assumed they were always signed by the person penning the letter, but apparently, there were more options available. And people could somehow tell the difference between a Formwright and a Channeler’s tempering?

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  She thought about it. She supposed they might. Sometimes, she felt she could catch faint impressions of someone’s focus by being near them. From the patterns in their ambient Resonance, how it carried. The Vice-Master, for example, simply struck her as someone focusing more on Forms leaning between House Emberward and Veilborn.

  After a moment, she accepted the letter. The silver glyphs drew her eye, and she set her thumb against the wax seal. Exhaling, she pushed her Resonance outward. Rather than trying to infuse it—which she assumed would be equivalent to signing—she let it lick against the glyphs, branding them just at the edge before pulling her Resonance back.

  It proved surprisingly intuitive.

  The glyphs flared incredibly bright, then dimmed. She handed it back to the Vice-Master.

  He studied the letter, brows pinching faintly. “…I hope you don’t take offense, but perhaps you could try again?”

  Her lips parted. “It didn’t work?”

  He shook his head. “No, no. It did. But this…” He turned the letter in his hand. “This doesn’t feel tempered at the Tenth Binding. I… suspect you may have overburdened the glyphs. It’s the first time I have seen anything like it, to be entirely honest.”

  Vera blinked. “…I see.”

  She thought she’d held back. A lot. Apparently, she still had a pretty poor measure of where the Tenth Binding actually stood in this world, Resonance-wise.

  The Vice-Master returned to his desk, rummaging through the parchments until he found another veil letter. Returning to her, he held it out carefully. “Please, do exercise more restraint this time. That’s the last one I have here.”

  “…I’ll try.” Vera accepted it, setting her thumb to the seal once more. She concentrated hard on throttling her Resonance, feeding only a careful trickle that she could more easily clamp off when the glyphs seemed to reach their limit. This time, the glyphs started with a weaker glow, gradually brightening until she caught a slight frown on the Vice-Master’s brow, which was where she stopped. The light faded, and she offered it back with just a hint of tension inside.

  He examined it, then, to Vera’s relief, nodded. “This will do. It should be enough to draw the High Warden’s attention, provided he proves trustworthy. I’ll show it to the Chapter-Master first.” His gaze lifted to her. “I won’t speak your name, naturally. Not without your leave.”

  “Thank you.” Vera watched him for a moment longer before letting a quiet sigh slip. “I’ll keep in touch. If things spiral beyond what you think you can manage… I might step in.”

  A faint smile touched his mouth, and he inclined his head. “That would be greatly appreciated.” He hesitated, then added carefully, “…Though, if it comes to that, could you restrain yourself from leveling any excessive portions of the city?”

  Vera stared at him. “…Why would I level any portions of the city?”

  “No reason. My apologies. It’s simply a habit after working with the Chapter-Master for several years. It makes one… cautious.”

  “…Alright.” Vera decided to leave it at that, though his words did linger. It made her wonder what sort of image people might have of her in this world. Surely he wasn’t saying that just because she’d accidentally torn up part of their dueling hall? She’d already offered to pay for that.

  Now that she thought about it, Caldrin had made similar comments when they first met. He’d made it sound like she was some kind of walking disaster for both enemies and allies alike.

  That had to be an exaggeration. She might not know exactly who she was in this world yet, but surely she had at least enough self-control to avoid that.

  She studied the Vice-Master for a few seconds longer, then turned her attention to Serel on the couch. The bright little girl had gone quiet for the latter half of their conversation, as if she’d recognized the more serious tone. But now she met Vera’s eyes with a slightly expectant look.

  “We’ll be taking our leave now,” Vera said. “You will be seeing us again, Vice-Master.”

  She dismissed Stillwake, and in its place, the palm-sized disc of blackened alloy that was the Hearthbind Token appeared in her hand.

  “Come here, Serel.”

  The girl hopped down from the couch with a tiny sound, scurrying across the office to stand by her side. Vera rested a hand on her head. Serel glanced back once, almost wistfully, at the painting of the black dragon looming over the wall.

  Vera paused, then turned back toward Gard. “…Vice-Master, you seemed particularly familiar with dragons and their literature. Do you know where I can find something suited for a child?”

  His brows rose in surprise. He glanced from her to Serel—whose eyes had widened and turned to him with hopeful excitement—before answering after a few moments’ silence.

  “…If you’d like, I have a few volumes at home that might be of interest to her. I could lend them to you.”

  “I think we would appreciate that.”

  “Then I’ll prepare them for the next time we meet.” His gaze stayed on Serel. “…Forgive me for prying, but your daughter…is she—?”

  “Not your concern,” Vera cut in, voice sharpening as his gaze was pulled up to meet hers.

  “…Of course. Forget I asked.” He dipped his head slightly.

  Vera held his eyes for a beat longer, then turned away. The token in her hand began to glow with a soft pulse. “I hope it won’t inconvenience you too much if we return here in the morning.”

  She’d already decided they would return to Sablewatch Hollow for tonight. She could have taken them to an inn, but after so much time spent underground, she didn’t feel like walking across the whole city for just that.

  There was a subtle sound as Gard shifted slightly. “No, I don’t mind. But when you say return… in what capacity do you mean?”

  The Hearthbind Token flared brighter, its engravings alive. “Like this. We’ll see you tomorrow. And we’ll take those volumes then, if possible.”

  Ash shimmered through the room, emberlight twisting inward to swallow her and Serel whole.

  The Ember Gallery in Sablewatch Hollow was empty when they arrived, but that was to be expected. Not even Caldrin could perfectly anticipate the exact moments they’d return.

  Vera took half a minute to linger in the ‘foyer’ of her manor, gaze wandering over the familiar displays of weapons, armor, and cosmetics she had once collected in the game. She hadn’t even been gone all that long, and this place hadn’t truly been her home for more than a handful of days—but somehow it still felt good to be back. Warm, even.

  Strange how quickly one could adapt at times.

  Maybe it had to do with how it looked almost exactly the way she’d designed it back then. A reflection of her preferences and tastes, carried over into this new world.

  Eventually, she activated a quick Mark of the Stillbound Veil to locate Caldrin, then tore open a Hollow Reach to move to him immediately. She shaped it a little higher off the ground than necessary, catching Serel under the arms as the girl gave a startled yelp before Vera’s feet landed with a solid thud. Despite the effort to startle him at least a little, Caldrin only turned calmly toward them, bowing with his usual composure. “My lady. Young miss. Welcome back. I see that you have both decided on a change of wardrobe.”

  Vera clicked her tongue and looked away, ignoring what she swore was a faintly smug smile tugging at his mouth as she set Serel down and pulsed Resonance to change her hair from ‘raven-gloss black’ to its usual silver-gray. The girl gave her a tiny pout before turning to Caldrin, who bent slightly at the waist to meet her eye.

  “Did you have fun today, young miss?”

  Serel’s face lit up instantly. “Mmm!” she chirped, nodding hard. “I saw so many things! All the buildings are made of bone, and there were so many people, and there was a huuuge tower, and mommy fought, and I saw a dead dragon, and sat on a throne, and—”

  Vera let the girl serenade Caldrin with their day’s adventures as she walked past them both, moving to a cupboard by the wall. They were in one of the smaller chambers behind the dining chamber in Dreadwake Alcove, and from the looks of it, Caldrin had been in the middle of preparing a meal for them. A pot simmered low on the hearth, filling the room with a faintly spiced scent, while a platter of sliced fruit and dark bread rested on the counter beside a carving knife.

  That might have technically counted as him anticipating their return, but it didn’t really count. He clearly wasn’t finished.

  She picked up a ceramic jug, took a long swig, and leaned against a counter, eyeing the half-prepared food before letting her gaze drift back to Serel and Caldrin. She watched them quietly for a moment.

  A smile crept onto her lips.

  The day hadn’t turned out so bad after all, especially considering how it had started.

  The Pale Reconciliation being active again was far from a comforting discovery, but she’d gotten a good feeling from the Chapter’s Vice-Master. Hopefully it was something they could handle. Even if they couldn’t, she found that in this particular moment, with this particular sight, she wasn’t too worried about anything at all.

  It’d undoubtedly pass soon enough, but she enjoyed it while it lasted.