Souls...bring me...bring me souls...

"I'm trying..." Freke said, to the voice in his skull. "I'm trying I'm trying I'm trying. Shut up."

BRING ME SOULS. The desperate voice screamed, so shrill that he held his ears, but it didn't stop it. It wasn't outside of him, it came from deep within.

"Umbasa..." Freke said, and then chuckled when he realized what he'd said. "To think that there were so many who thought you were god. They worshipped you...and that's all you are, some soul-hungry animal. I'll bring you souls, yes, yes I'll bring you souls. All the souls..."

Not enough...need more. Need more.

Every time it spoke, Freke heard the deep, infinite emptiness inside of it. Like a vacuum, it sucked in desperately to fill a hole that needed to be filled. But no matter how much it took, it was never enough. The hunger would never be sated.

Yet still the Old One begged. It could do nothing else.

I need them...I am empty...I need...

"I will get you your damned souls..." Freke grumbled, and looked over at some of his experiments. There were some that weren't as essential, some he could give up. The scholar inside of him protested violently. Aren't you forgetting why you're here? You're supposed to be studying. You're supposed to be-

MORE SOULS.

And just like that, the voice was drowned out. And it, like all of Freke's other rational thoughts, was replaced by the desperate desires of the Old One.

Biorr and Ostrava arrived exactly at the place they'd left off.

"So here we are, lad. After all this time," Biorr said.

Ostrava looked up, just over the wall, past all the houses, beyond the fortifications and the smaller palaces and the rich estates he could see it, the tallest tower. There was a massive, gaping hole in the throne room.

"Everything alright, boy?" Biorr asked.

"Yes, everything's fine," Ostrava said. "For better or worse, I'm coming home."

Biorr laughed harshly, and clapped him on the back, but beneath his helmet, Ostrava wasn't smiling.

For better or worse...

They drew their swords, and ventured deeper into the hold.

The Maiden focused. Harder than she ever had. Harder than she had when first discovering she could endow others with the soul arts. Harder than she had had to focus when she'd poured wax over her own eyes to disempower the demon within her. She held both of her hands on the head of Her Champion, and breathed into his mouth. Deep within, and far away, she could see something in another world. She grabbed it, and held on to anchor herself.

He was far away, but she knew where, and she was coming closer.

But when she realized where he was, it occurred to her that he might not want to come back.

Light was throbbing from every crevasse of the room he woke to. His hand covered his eyes, and they focused enough to see a large window. Through it, there was the sun.

The sun. He hadn't even remembered it, but as he looked now, its light ran through the glass and into the room. Everything was more illuminated than he could ever remember.

"Sir Thomas, wake yourself at once. You're needed at breakfast."

He turned, and saw a door, and heard a knocking on it. As he scanned the room, he noticed details, a rich rug, a desk, a bed. Someone was lying there. He examined them...but when he saw who it was, he backed off toward the window.

Lying in bed, yawning himself awake, was him. His own body, younger and, he thought morbidly, in its original form.

And as he looked at himself, stretching, pulling himself to his feet, he remembered everything.

My name is Thomas Grey, I am the third son of Lord Caris Grey and Lady Aren Grey. I am a knight, and this is the day I first heard of the fog swallowing the kingdom of Boletaria.

"Just a moment," the knight who had once been him said, he clothed himself, and turned...then stopped for a minute. He was staring directly at Nameless. His eyes squinted, then he shook his head, and barged out the door. "Coming, coming."

My name was Thomas Grey, I wanted honor, I wanted glory.

He wandered downstairs, in a route that he remembered, and saw himself eating breakfast with his family. He remembered the taste. He remembered the way his father spoke of Boletaria when he first mentioned it. He remembered the way he felt his own eyes widen.

"Demons?" he asked. "I thought demons were just legends. Things meant to scare children so that they'd say their nightly prayers."

"That is a very ungodly thing to say," his mother warned.

"Right, right," he said, dismissively. "What's this about demons?"

"Vallerfax of the Twin Fangs escaped, and is spreading news across the other kingdoms." His father said. "Then he went back in, apparently because his brother was still there. Vinland is concerned because Saint Astraea was there when the fog fell, and sent Saint Urbain after her. Yormedaar has sent Sage Freke to investigate, and hopefully find a solution."

"Freke alone?" The younger version of himself asked.

"Do not doubt the prowess of mages. The Lady of Latria rules her kingdom through them."

"Yes, but Latria is a region of Boletaria, so I'd imagine she's having problems. If her mages could have done anything, they'd have done it by now. I don't understand why sending another in is expected to alleviate the problem."

How arrogant I was.

"And what would you recommend?" his father asked, a glint in his eye.

"Leave the fighting to the fighters. Mages are meant for sitting in labs and reading. I'll go, father. I'll go, I'll kill a thousand demons, and I'll come back having wiped out the entire scourge of them."

How incredibly arrogant.

"No you will not," his mother said with a tone of finality. "Fighting human beings is one thing, but demons are another, and my son will not be killed by some ghoul in a place where I don't even hear of it."

He stood up. "Mother, I find that at least slightly insulting. You know I'm the strongest knight here, by far. You have seen me win countless tourneys."

"Tourneys are one thing," she said, calmly. "Demons are another. Demons are not something I would wish on a stranger. But my own son?"

"Mother I will not die!"

You will. You will again, and again, and again. You will lose everything that made you you, and then you will keep dying. You will try to kill yourself. Only to realize the Nexus still binds you. Then, you will begin to kill yourself repeatedly hoping that you will deteriorate. Because at least completely discorporating means no more pain.

He stared at his own cocky, lively face. A slight smile pulled his lips up. As if he was drawing pleasure just from arguing with his mother.

"I think that it's a fine opportunity," his father said. "Rarely does an enemy come along that is truly evil, and that must be slain without hesitation. We trained our son as a knight. Do we expect him to sit here and use his sword as a toothpick?"

"Thank you," he said.

Lady Aren's calm demeanor fell as she realized she was losing. "Now, wait, don't we care about the safety of our son?"

"He'll be safe, because I trained him," his father said. "In fact, he will be safer inside that fog that most knights will be outside of it. Have faith in our son, he is a great fighter."

"I'll leave at once," the younger version of him said.

"What about Marienne?" his mother asked, as he left the table.

"Marienne chose to wed a knight, she should have been prepared," his father said.

"I'll say goodbye to her before I leave," he said.

"Her father gave her the choice of any suitor, and she picked you!" His mother argued. "That girl loves you. Don't do this to her."

I was engaged. There was a girl who loved me. I treated her like a sow. Not just in this instance, but frequently.

He remembered suddenly, and it felt bitter.

I wasn't a good person. I wasn't evil. But I was stupid, arrogant, and selfish. I remember everything.

And just like with the story of the Old One's destruction, he saw everything. He saw himself leaving, despite his mother begging him to stay, clawing at his horse as he road off. He saw his father clapping him on the back and offering him the family's best sword, and best armor. He saw his brothers look at him, worriedly, and his oldest brother, destined to rule the lordship, telling him, "You won't win this one."

He remembered the way he had snapped at him. The way he had yelled that any cowardly leader was destined to be a bad leader.

He remembered his hand across Marienne's face when she had told him not to go. The look he had given her, feigning sympathy.

And he saw himself grinning as he road at a gallop, into the fog. But the memories were not memories of his own experiences, or his feelings. In them, he saw himself removed. He identified with himself as much as the other people in the memories, no more and no less.

This wasn't him, anymore. He saw the folley now in Mephistopheles offer of giving his memories back. The memories didn't matter. He could remember everything, but, in the end, it simply was not him. He saw himself in third person, not just physically but mentally. All those ties that had given him that identity, that had made him Thomas Grey, were gone.

"I have found thee," she said.

He turned, and he saw her, standing there. A wide, relieved smile on her face.

"Thou seemst not surprised," she said.

You're one of the most powerful beings to ever exist. You were going to find me, eventually.

"But thou hast bitterness."

Yes...because I just realized; no matter what happens, I'll never be myself again. I didn't just lose my memories, I lost my identity. And there's no way to ever get it back.

"Thy being beith not a singular entity," she said, and came closer to him. "You are only what you define yourself as."

He looked up. What did you just say? The way you just spoke...?

"Do you think I could spend so long amongst you, the monumental, your friends, without learning the speech you were accustomed to as opposed to my own?" She asked. "Did you think I could not change the way I talked at any point?"

Then why didn't you?

She shrugged, "I would guess that it makes me myself. And selfhood is a difficult thing when you have a girl and a demon swirling around inside of you."

But you have it, at least. You have someone who you are.

"Yes, but not because of the way I speak. Or because of the Nexus, or the candles, or anything else. Those things removed me. They pulled me away from everyone else and kept me as something inhuman. There's a reason why I have an identity, a reason why I can stay me, even when all that I do is wander around in the darkness lighting candles that don't help me see anything."

And what reason is that?

Her fingers wrapped around his, the etherealness stuck in her grasp, and held firm, but she kept coming closer, breaching even the smallest distances between them. "You."

And the memories swirled around them again. They were coming back. They were close to present day. And he saw himself, sitting on the stairs, not fighting demons, or strengthening himself with their souls, but talking to her.

Just talking.

"I have been alone for far longer than you have even been alive," she said. "I have swallowed my loneliness like poison, but I have lived on, and it's destroyed me. But then you were there. You."

But...you were going to let me go. He said.

"I would not hold thee against thy will," she said. "No matter what the cost was to me. I assure thee, I've suffered worse than losing you. Then again, perhaps I have not. I am not sure."

Why are you telling me this now? He asked her.

"Because thou canst still life, and thou canst make something of thyself. You are only what you decide you are. Regardless of the past and of who you are. And who are you?"

He looked into the Nexus of the past, surrounding them, all the times they had talked were replaying, the different positions on the stairs, the different conversations, up and down the Nexus. He looked back to her.

I'm not sure. Who are you? The girl? The demon?

She closed the entire distance between them, and for one moment, he saw something under the wax. A brief glint, something pulsed through him, even though his body wasn't there. It surged through his disembodied soul.

"I am the one who loves you," she said, and her face closed the distance.

When her mouth touched his, it felt the same as her hands, intangible at first, but then solid. He let go of her hand. He wrapped his arms around her, and the past flew by. Everything became solid, real, and then he was standing there, in front of the pillar he had collapsed against. Her body was warm and solid against his. Her mouth was warmer.

When he pulled away, he said, "I'm the one who loves you back."

She grinned.

After holding her for another moment, he looked around. "Where are Ostrava and Biorr?"

"They left," she said. "They gave up on thee, and resolved to save the kingdom themselves."

"Shit. How long ago did they leave?" he asked.

"Long," she said.

"I have to catch up," he said, and started scrambling to put his armor on. "Can you help me with this?"

She walked over, and started assisting him with his armor, finally he skipped down the stairs with one hand putting his boot on, the other holding his helmet. Then, the moment he put them both on, he froze.

Something familiar was pulsing against his ankle.

He pulled his boot back off.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He looked down at the Nexial binding, for a second, then started removing it.

"What-"

"Last time I died consecutively, I forgot someone who loved me," he said. "I lost her. As if she'd never been there."

She frowned.

"That can't happen again," he said. "I can't...I can't lose this. I'll die instead."

"I can capture thy soul, and bind thee to the Nexus even against thy will," she said. "That is...what I did, the first time, and the other times thee...slew thyself."

"I know," he said, and looked at her. "Please don't."

"Thou shalt die," she said.

"No, I won't," he said. "I crossed the entire Valley of Defilement without dying once."

"This is harder," she said.

"I know. Don't think I don't know that, but I can't do this, anymore. I can't die, I can't lose myself, I can't forget you...so this is my condition: I'll stay, I'll fight, but if I die, that's it."

"That is not fair, though," she said. "If you were to die, I'd lose you."

"What did you say when Yuria died?" he asked.

She was still.

"I understand now, I really do. No one should suffer that. And I won't suffer it again. I'm sorry."

The Maiden took a deep breath.

"Very well. I will let you go."

He nodded and focused on putting his boot back on.

"But if you die, a part of me will die with you."

He froze for a second. He breathed deeply, and he put the boot on.

"I'll be back," he said, just before he touched the stone face and vanished yet again.

She only heard him discorporating, and breathed deeply. For the first time she could remember, she was afraid.

The nexial binding lay on the stairs, discarded. A faint glow emanated from it, and then, nothing.

I'd estimate that there are anywhere from 5-7 chapters left, depending on how I chop them up and if there end up being any other detours. Everything from here on out has been planned for over a year. I hope I don't start rushing, but it's hard not to be excited.

Here we go.