A tear between the planes opened before the Eternal Stockades, followed by Kravitz stepping through. He stared up at the fortress for some time, worrying his lip. Perhaps it would've been better to send another Reaper, like Riven or Theo. They were far better at interrogating the souls than he was; and to face his sister, of all people? What would she even be like, without her other brother at her side? And what would she think when she saw him, as real as the day he died?

Kravitz took a deep breath and squared his shoulders; now was not the time to get psyched out. He was in charge of finding out what had happened to the missing souls, and Lydia was the only lead he had so far. The kenku that took care of the grounds rushed to open the gates for him, bowing low as he passed. He nodded as he passed, swallowing the lump in his throat as he stepped through the threshold.

The eyes of forlorn spirits locked onto the reaper as he made his way through the fortress, many pushing against their prisons and wailing to be released. Others with more corporeal forms cursed him, bribed him, and claimed their innocence. He ignored them all; no one stayed within the fortress without reason.

Finally, Kravitz found the cell that held the soul of his sister, shared by those she had attempted the ritual with. She was curled in the corner, her form still bright and clear, unlike those of her companions, who'd already given up corporeal forms to the stockades, only ethereal figures that pressed against the bars and wailed as he approached. This was good— a bright, corporeal soul meant she had not yet given herself into the mental punishments of the stockades, and it would be far easier to wrangle information out of her.

The reaper let his physical form fade into that of his skeleton and rolled his shoulders. Showtime.

"Lydia Kravitz," he said in a deeply affected accent. "Approach the bars."

Lydia's form startled, staring at him with wide eyes before slowly standing up and stepping through the souls. "Y- yes?"

Kravitz waved his hand, and a large tome appeared before him, hovering in place as he searched her name. "Lydia Kravitz, you have been sentenced to… whew, ten centuries? A little harsh," he muttered to himself. "Ahem. You have been sentenced to ten centuries in the Eternal Stockades for the crimes of necromancy in the second degree. You stole two recently deceased souls before the Raven Queen's emissaries could collect them, then attempted to bind them to thralls. Are these crimes correct?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess, listen, where's my—?"

He held up a hand to silence her, ignoring the glare he received in return. "No questions unless they pertain to the case. Now, when you and your brother built the summoning circle, you changed it so that you may become liches, yes?"

Lydia crossed her arms and scowled. "Yes."

"And you planned on stealing a soul from the Astral Plane, creating a third lich?"

"Not… Not immediately."

He glanced up at her, motioning for her to continue.

"We only had two bodies available to bind to; the Grand Cleric didn't want to risk more than that. The plan was to… to bind our souls to a phylactery, then hide ourselves inside the bodies."

"These bodies being…"

"T190 Companion Bots; a gift from Miller Labs."

Kravitz wrote that down— Miller Labs was a hotspot of necromantic activity, but there was no solid evidence connecting to them to the recent flux of missing souls. Nothing that warranted a raid, certainly. "And why those specifically?"

"They are almost indistinguishable from a… a real body. A few mods here and there, and it's like you've never even died," Lydia admitted in a soft voice, looking away from him. "Once we were liches, Eddy and I… we were going to use the third droid to bring our brother back. We were triplets. We always called him the youngest— he was born an hour late, passing into the new year!" She laughed gently, as though any louder might break her.

"I am aware," Kravitz whispered, nearly breaking character. "Your brother is being tracked down as we are speaking. He was banished to another dimension to suffer for eternity, but we cannot allow his existence to continue regardless. Your cooperation is appreciated, Lydia. I will appeal to the Queen for a reduced sentence, but I cannot—"

"Mr. Kravitz?"

Fuck.

The reaper fumbled for his stone of farspeech in his robes, the fire in his eye sockets flaring. Damn him, he knew he was forgetting something important. The boy detective's voice called his name impatiently until he finally found the stone and hissed, "What is it?"

"I- I was simply calling about a lead I may have found, sir! Is this a bad time?"

He glanced back at Lydia, whose form was flickering as she whispered to herself. "Be quick about it. I'm working."

"Well, sir, you mentioned that you deal with necromancers, right? I was wondering if you could check something out for me."

"Kravitz?" Lydia whimpered. "Your name is Kravitz?"

"There's a man by the name of Harold Hallwinter. He works on bots for a living—"

"I've been told about him, from a friend," he admitted, stepping further away from the cells. "I've been planning on buying one from him, to assist me at work."

"Well, I'm afraid he's… he's dealing with something out of his league. Something of the dark arts, sort of. I was wondering if it wouldn't be too much for you to check on him, sir? It's not related to the case, but I'd rest easier knowing."

Lydia began to sob, repeating his name.

"Um, are you crying?"

"I'm with a client, detective. And I'll check him out as soon as possible. Thank you."

"Thank you so much, sir! And—" He hung up.

"Keats, please, don't leave!" Lydia wailed, trying to grab at his robes. "Not again! We- we did this for you! It was all for you!"

Kravitz turned back towards her, letting her see his real face one last time, fighting to hold back his own tears. "But you shouldn't have."

His sister's wails echoed in his empty apartment even after he closed the rift between the planes.