Ophelia had dropped me off at my farm at 5:00 AM. We had explored plenty of the Lyrelle Forest, which was the forest that surrounded my farm to the east and led up to Flowers-by-the-River. I wasn’t allowed to close my eyes or nap, since I had to actively explore to fill out my knowledge of the area. Normally, we could camp at night. However, until I blighted the forest, my traveling companion would burn up in the sun, which would be less than optimal.

  And, yes, I liked Ophelia.

  I yawned, my mind feeling loopy, and I swear I could see Mirchie staring at me with judgment. Her pink eyes twitched, looking over me as if to ask, “Where were you?” Then the rabbit’s head went down to examine the package Ophelia had left me.

  The four bandit bodies that I had repaired were mixed in salt and charcoal, a primitive way of preserving corpses by drawing out moisture and bad humors. They were brought inside my house and left on the floor. I needed a better place to store them.

  Before Ophelia left, I had to ask her if she knew any builders. My small farmhouse, while cozy, was just too small. I needed a basement and maybe a crypt. Of course, I also needed a place to hold Rhyvesta’s Altar if I ever wanted to advance, at least to [Vampyre].

  She informed me that her workers were contracted, and thus incredibly legal. I’d be better off asking Madeleine, who knew people who wouldn’t question anything and wouldn’t talk or gossip. She had to leave to make it home to be on blighted land. She bowed to me before she left, and I repeated the gesture.

  That irked her, making her mutter she’d teach me proper courtly graces another night. She rode off in her carriage, leaving me with the corpses.

  And one judgmental rabbit.

  “I didn’t kill them, Mirchie,” I explained. She looked at me, then at the axe-wielding bandit.

  “Okay, I killed that one,” I admitted. Mirchie looked up at me and squeaked. Her head tilted to the side, and she looked at the bones in the corner.

  “No, I wanted to try making zombies,” I told my rabbit. Mirchie stared at me still, and then motioned to her empty food bowl.

  “No more trying to convince me out of it?” I teased, moving to the side to get some vegetables for her breakfast. Mirchie looked at my eyes again, and then turned to the bowl.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I am fundamentally talking to myself, and… yeah.” I rubbed Mirchie’s soft pelt. Mirchie chewed her breakfast and stopped regarding me.

  I wanted to sleep, but there were three things I wanted to solve. I wanted more workers, I wanted my altar, and I needed the blight.

  Two of those I could do immediately, but the altar required… I actually had no idea. I just didn’t bother to look at it yet, since I knew I had no place to put it.

  I closed my eyes and sat down on the floor. I then concentrated.

  I heard the storm of winter pick up around me, and the chill of the arctic. My breath fogged up once more, and I stepped out of my own body.

  The colors of the natural world faded away and became a deep blue. Mirchie continued eating, and when I stared at myself, I could see myself breathing. It didn’t seem to freeze time—just let me exit my body.

  This time, I already knew what I wanted to do. I flew up until I was in the clouds. The world below me was different—before it was the sound of cicadas coming together to make the map. Now, it was the sensation of winter.

  That difference meant that the realm looked snow-covered to me, with no trees except for evergreens. I could see farther out, but I could see the entirety of Lyrelle Forest, even parts I hadn’t fully explored. What was more impressive to me was that I could see lines that carved the entire forest into sections. Those lines looked like snowbanks, neatly separating the zones.

  My eyes looked over the threshold between the farmlands and the forest. The top of my vision saw the area.

  My hand hovered over the entrance, but I quickly realized my mistake. The first place I’d have to choose was my own farm.

  I looked at the farm.

  I then looked at Oakheart.

  When my hand hovered over Oakheart, a different message came up.

  Well… at least I had a reason to refuse Lord Elias now. But that immediately brought my attention to a bigger problem. I had promised Ophelia that I’d do Flowers-by-the-River, and that was a city, not a town.

  I let out a deep breath, but then realized I wasn’t breathing here. I looked at Flowers-by-the-River and selected it.

  Who the hell was that? I looked at the information available to me, but I couldn’t see if it was the blight source or target. I didn’t know the percentage. All I had was a name.

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  I would have to report that to Ophelia, but I could find out that percentage when I got there. Maybe she could already walk around? She probably never tried since, if she was wrong, she’d have burned to a crisp in the sun.

  I turned my focus back to Lyrelle Forest and selected all twenty zones. At 10%, that meant I had 100% Anima to the fields and 100% remaining for myself and my workers. It also meant the soil quality was at 200%.

  I accepted this and came back down to my body. It was wet and odd, slipping between water, slime, gel, and then water again. I was staring at my hands, and not at myself staring at my hands.

  I rubbed my head, expecting the hollow sensation after spellcasting. It never came, and even the small scratches I had upon my skin were fading away.

  Rattle, rattle.

  My attention immediately shifted to the sound. Rattlejack, decompressed into a pile of bones, began to shake and rattle. The bony hand animated first, pressing against the wooden floor. The ulna and radius attached to it, and then the humerus. The skeletal body reassembled itself, and the green witchfire in its eyes sparked up again. Rattlejack stared at me, and I looked at my fields.

  “Mirchie?”

  The rabbit ignored me, happily chewing on her meal. I slapped her fluffy butt, which she also ignored.

  “Fine, go eat your meal, then get Rattlejack back to work,” I tried to bargain. Mirchie gave no sign of attention, but I figured she knew my command.

  I looked at Rattlejack, and then the scythe he was using. It had begun to crack—a good sign that its durability was reaching its breaking point. My hand waved over it and the bones mended together. I examined Rattlejack next, and its body was still functional.

  I took out the four ghastly vials from my backpack that held the bandit spirits. I put them in front of the four corpses and stood up.

  I wanted zombies this time. There was a third type called a dredge, but I didn’t have the resources to experiment.

  I looked at the dead bodies in front of me. Resources.

  I smiled to myself, but my eyes remained calm and focused. This was science, after all.

  My hand rose to the sky, and the air chilled once more. Mirchie squeaked in annoyance, but continued to chomp on breakfast. Snow fell into the cabin room, and frost coated the windowpane. The candlelight flickered out, and I could hear the crescendo of a blizzard.

  “Iz’ik a-thro, Maz’lik kas…”

  (By the will of the Dead Mother…)

  “Omash avas, Kiya La-kin…”

  (You will rise again…)

  “Unoth, asiv Rhyvest!”

  (And obey!)

  The four souls broke from their containers and flew into the sky. Each one pushed into a body, and the unholy green light spread against the corpses. Their fingers twitched, bending at unnatural angles. Their feet twisted and rotated, and their mouths went slack-jawed. Their cloudy eyes moved around, but never “came back to life.”

  Frost still permeated from their bodies, even while their arms stretched out in sickening cracks. Their movement looked unnatural. Rather than organic motions that combined push and pull, it looked solely like a singular joint had control for a moment. The wrist made the hand go up, which was then followed by the elbow rotating, and then the shoulder cuff pressing the entire arm onto the floor.

  Each one rose up to look at me. Their hands were bent awkwardly, their fingers still twitching. Their mouths were open, and the pallid skin seemed still too unnatural.

  These would never pass as humanoid.

  I used [Inspect] on the axeman.

  Health: 100%

  Anima: 100%

  The other three seemed to be much the same, and a quick inspection revealed that to be the case. The ground was blighted, though, but I couldn’t see it on their information. [Mortis Visio] could see the link below, and even the sapping of the ground into the skeleton, the zombies, and me.

  I grinned.

  “Mirchie, put them to work. We can finally clear out the entire field.”

  Her fluffy tail beckoned to the tool chest. Where only one of each tool was. She looked at me.

  I was an idiot.

  I groaned. “Okay, get each of them to do one thing, and I’ll make more, happy?”

  The rabbit nodded, returning to its meal. I, however, turned my attention to something more important.

  It made sense—I just needed blight. But the Altar of Rhyvesta was the interesting part. I finally opened up the crafting menu, but something immediately caught my eye.

  I could make stairs down. And… an entire basement. That wasn’t something I could do before, but the things in the basement were… not typical of a [Farm Girl].

  I could make a Crypt room. I could make a storage room—though the explanation clearly said it did not store food, just Anima and Animus.

  But the one that caught my attention was the most expensive: an Altar room. Whereas the other rooms had their resource costs in wood and stone—something I could make my workers mine and chop for when I needed it…

  …the Altar room needed two things I didn’t have in high supply.

  The first was something I always needed. Each tile was 2 gold. The minimum the room had to be was 10 squares by 10 squares. My farmhouse was on one acre, and was, at best, 3 squares by 2.

  Ten by ten meant 100, which meant I needed 200 gold. Always more money.

  But the other part, the one that mattered more?

  I needed Animus [Uncommon]. I was only collecting Common by killing bandits, Night-Things, and wolves. It didn’t say it had to be a specific type, but it had to be Uncommon.

  Where would I even find that—what made something Uncommon?

  I tapped my legs, thinking it through, but it wasn’t a problem I could solve right now. It had to be discovered by experimentation. I then turned my attention to the others.

  The crypt had a minimum of 5 by 10, the storage room recommended 10 by 10, and the final one—an Arcanum—had a minimum of 5 by 5. But an Arcanum was a fancy word for “magical library,” so I was going to make that 10 by 10 too.

  I looked under my feet. An underground lair.

  I laughed at that thought, but it felt fitting.

  “Mirchie.”

  The rabbit glared at me.

  “After you get the fields repaired, I need… lots of wood and stone.”

  She squeaked angrily at me in response.

  “Fine, I’ll make you a pen and your own little house outside too.”

  She nodded, returning to her meal.

  I then turned to my bed and stared at it. “I’m going to go to sleep. Wake me up if anyone shows up, Mirchie.”

  She ignored me, and I collapsed on the lumpy mattress. I kind of wished I’d taken Ophelia’s offer and stayed the night at her place instead. My eyes closed.

  200 gold, and I could advance.

  Oh, and a soul.