It was some time before the crowds finally began to dwindle. Bash shook more hands than he could count and signed more scraps of paper than he cared to remember. All the while, he was painfully aware of Enna's presence on the other end of their line of local heroes, but that didn't stop him from winking at some of the prettier girls. These actions were well received, and he was almost certain that at least twenty different girls would have happily taken him home with them.

Nevertheless, he was painfully aware of Enna's presence.

Curious, he thought. That's never stopped me before.

When Aribis mentioned drinks for the group, Bash was quick to join him on his escapade.

"I know a place," he assured.

"Unfortunately, I have a debt to be paid," said William. "I must attend to that first."

"Do you want me to come with you?" asked Enna.

"Sooka" "come with you?" added Sooka.

"Yes," nodded William, "since I don't know the way from here."

With that decided, the party split ways, and Bash showed Aribis to the local Limping Colt.

"Perfect for our… refined tastes," grinned Bash, mimicking the mannerisms of the wealthy folk of Agneward while jingling the sack containing his winnings.

They entered and took a seat at the bar. The low rumble of tavern talk filled the space around them, and just above the voices could be heard the lively notes of a flute. The joyous attendees of Colosso had undoubtedly spread to every corner of the city, and this place was no exception, although it did have the notable absence of more rowdy guests Bash would expect to see in the Dandelions.

"Tavern keep!" called Aribis. "A bottle of your finest whiskey, please!"

Over walked a goliath woman, earning a surprised brow raise from Bash, and she produced a bottle with a small glass that looked slightly too large for Aribis's hands.

"And you?" she said in her gravelly voice, nodding at Bash.

Bash grinned. "Ale for me, thanks," he said.

His drink was splashed down before him, coins were exchanged, and they began drinking heartily.

"So, Bash!" began Aribis. "How's it feel to have a nice big house to call your own after all this time? I'm willing to bet that you're not quite used to having so much attention 'round these parts, aye?"

Bash scoffed. "Definitely not. At least, not good attention." He took a drink. "It's weird, though… I've never lived in the Circle. I'm so used to it being off limits, and here we are invited in."

"Good feeling, or not so much?"

"I'll let you know when I find out," muttered Bash as he downed another swig.

"Fair enough," nodded Aribis before taking a sip of his own.

"Have you figured out what's wrong with you yet?" asked Bash. "Besides being annoying and all that."

Aribis chuckled. "You mean other than having died? Feels like when I came back, something stayed behind."

"What, like your soul? Is that possible?"

"Depends on how you view a soul, I suppose," shrugged Aribis. "If you think of a soul as a single mass of everything that makes you you all held together by a string… If one of those strings gets cut somehow, whether it be divine or something else, then whatever that string was holding could get lost."

Bash's eyes closed in on Aribis, now wholly intrigued. "And what does it feel like you lost?"

"Honestly? Compassion." Aribis emptied his glass and refilled it from the bottle sitting on the bar.

"I've seen you care since then," protested Bash. "The way you talk to Sooka. Or Enna. You even came running after me once. What is that if not compassion?"

"It's different with you lot. All of you, I have a loyalty and duty to. That duty includes making sure you all are safe and sound to the best of my ability, and that includes emotional and mental health along with the physical. But when I look at other people… I feel nothing. As if I'm looking at just another target."

"Man…" muttered Bash, eyes turning back to the liquid in his mug. Compassion for those less fortunate was something that had always driven him. He had amassed quite a collection of coins in his height as the Ghost, but he had always made sure to donate some of his earnings to those who needed it most. Without compassion, what would he have been? Nothing more than a precise mercenary. "That sucks," he mourned.

Aribis chuckled. "You're telling me. 'Tis a bit of a pickle."

He downed his glass once again before refilling it. Then he stood abruptly.

"Excuse me for a tic," said Aribis. "Nature calls."

Then he scampered off, leaving Bash to himself and his thoughts.

That was somewhere that Bash did not want to be.

In the absence of conversation, his mind could do nothing but focus on what Aribis had said.

If one of those strings gets cut somehow… then whatever that string was holding could get lost.

Is that what had happened to him? Had he lost a part of his soul? And who had been responsible for cutting the string? The Ghost? Enna? Himself?

He closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. Something in him had changed since his return to Agneward. The noises of the bustling tavern echoed around him, a sound that used to soothe him, bring him joy, calm his spirit after a day of planning or thieving or killing. Now, that sound grated on his nerves. He glanced about him and saw many women entertaining the masses, many to his liking. He knew exactly which ones were costly and which were free, and he identified which ones he would normally have been willing to bed. His mind's eye saw his past self cheering and whooping and gathering all the attention of the Sour Apple, or the Foxhole, or even the Wayfarer's Wake all the way in Marshfall.

He recalled his forward advances on Ruby, and a new cascade of reminders struck his heart. How many pieces of his soul had he lost? His father had taken one, Ruby another, and now… Now, he was sure of it. Part of him had died with Enna. But unlike the beautiful druid, that part of him had not been resurrected. Even the death of the Ghost was not enough.

Bash shook his head as if it would dispel his dark, spiraling thoughts, and then found himself guzzling the rest of his drink. As the warm liquid settled in his belly, he waited for it to push away his anxiety, but it wholly failed.

He looked around the tavern. People were starting to take notice of him. Hidden whispers, pointing fingers – the hero of Colosso was on the verge of identification. And where was Aribis?

Glancing around furtively, he could see no sign of feathers anywhere among the hubbub. Skin, scales, and fur, but no feathers. He swore and slammed a fist on the table. Aribis had left him.

It was all he could do to contain the oppressive loneliness that overtook his heart in one swift moment. In truth, he wanted to cry. But then someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around, hopeful to see that annoying beak in his face.

"Are you Bash? From the Natural Misfits?" asked a young half-elf, her cheeks flushed with intoxication. She had two friends, both human, each batting their eyelashes at him. He couldn't help but notice their forms – they were, after all, trying to accentuate them for his attention – and for a moment, he considered what it might be like. Would it really be so bad?

Maybe he wouldn't feel so lonely.

"Uh…" he stammered.

He knew better. Loneliness could not be cured so easily.

"Yeah," he finally said, though his eyes drifted toward the door.

One of the girls let out a horrifying shriek of excitement, and Bash flinched.

"Can I just… hug you?" pleaded the one on the left.

"You're so handsome…" said the one on the right.

As they inched closer to him, he quickly stood and backed away from the bar.

"Is that Bash?" said a male voice from somewhere else.

Suddenly, everyone seemed to be aware of him. Young men pleaded for autographs, young women for kisses, and at one point, he was pretty sure that a tabaxi tried to grope him with her tail. His heart began to race with a panic unfamiliar to him, and he noticed the almost full bottle of whiskey that Aribis had purchased, sitting alone on the bar.

"Look!" he exclaimed, pointing at it. "A free bottle of the finest whiskey in Agneward! The Natural Misfits bought it for you all!"

Bash didn't stay long enough to find out if his ruse worked. As soon as eyes had turned away from him, he had slipped out the door and hidden in the shadows. He stayed there, keeping to alleyways for several blocks until the excitement of the Limping Colt had dwindled beyond his earshot.

Safe at last, he paused in the darkness, doubling over as he struggled to breathe.

What is wrong with me? he wondered.

He had traversed far greater distances before without panting, and here he stood, less than a mile from the bar, unable to take in enough air. He felt as though his heart might explode within his chest, and he leaned against the wall for support. Fear began to take over him, and he fought to find his way to a safe place in his mind. The people in the tavern threatened to seep into him, and he slid down the wall and sat on the street, still fighting for breath.

Looking around, he tried to find something to grasp onto. Anything would suffice. He noticed a board on the building before him, and he began to focus on the grain of the wood, but a moment later, the faces came back. Among them, hidden in the back, he saw a pair of red eyes, glowing, the dark fur hidden beneath a cloak. Panic returned to him, and tears began to stream down his face.

Would this feeling ever end?

"Maow."

He looked over and saw a gray cat staring at him from the street. His breathing was too erratic to form words, and he gasped for breath as he watched the tiny beast take several cautious steps toward him. The eyes were a bright gold, not blood red. Not glowing.

"Maow."

It sniffed at his knee, eyes lingering on his, until it began to rub its cheek against his leg.

"Hi," he managed to say, extending his hand to it.

The cat stepped forward and pushed its head into the palm of his hand, closing its eyes and purring almost instantly as he began to scratch above its ears.

"Hi," he repeated, this time a little more easily.

Stepping onto his lap, the cat arched its back as he stroked along its spine, and to his surprise, he smiled. The cat reminded him of Enna and all their escapades together. He almost laughed when he recalled their first meeting in the Dandelions and how he had kicked her away, believing her to be a belligerent animal. He was glad she had forgiven him for that.

A dozen other jobs surfaced in Bash's mind when Enna had assumed the form of a black cat to seem less obvious.

"You're not a secret druid, are you?" he asked with a grin. "Blink twice if you're a druid."

The cat fell on its side, eyes closed, and stretched out as he began to scratch its belly. Then he winced as it twisted and began to knead its paws against his thigh.

For a half hour, he stayed there, sitting in the alley, petting the cat. Eventually, it fell asleep in his lap, but a sudden crash half a block away startled it to alertness. He admired its ability to recover from sleep so quickly.

"Elf-like reflexes, you have," he muttered even as the cat scampered away.

With a heavy sigh, he slowly pushed himself off the ground and glanced up at the sky. A werelight was close by, and it was hard to see the stars, but he could make out a few twinkles. He recalled a time that Enna had begged him to go stargazing with her. It had been a boring experience for him, but right now, he thought that it would be more than soothing.

"Maybe one day," he whispered before rejoining the street and beginning a long, slow trek back to the Circle.

Despite the late hour, the Grand Bazaar was still brimming with people. Most of the well-to-do shops had closed, but plenty of stalls were still open, lights dotted about, bringing a dim glow and a suspicious feel to the evening atmosphere.

"Enna, how shall we find the hag?" asked William.

Enna raised a brow. Despite her multiple visits to the Bazaar, she couldn't recall the path they had taken to find the old woman. If only Bash were there…

"That's a good question," she responded. "I might have a spell for that, if she is close enough."

She paused and took a deep breath before swirling her hands just so and muttering under her breath. She formed an image of the old woman in her mind – the ragged features, the angular nose. Her magic flowed into her hands, and a soft green glow emanated from them for a moment. A second later, she felt a loose string tugging at her mind, pulling her forward.

"This way," she said, charging into the crowds.

For a half hour, she dodged this way and that, through throngs of shoppers and purveyors, around tents, past false magicians, drunkards, revelers, and adoring fans. Finally, she wound down a small alleyway and found her prize: a booth with long, colorful drapes hanging across the outline of a dark threshold leading into a small tent.

"How did we even find this before?" she muttered before gesturing William forward.

Without hesitation, the monk stepped up and rapped his knuckles on the wood frame. It was several long moments before a raspy voice finally addressed them.

"What business do you have at this hour?" came the aged voice.

"I have come to pay a debt that is owed," replied William.

Soon, a wrinkled hand reached through the drapes and pulled them aside, revealing a familiar old woman wearing a colorful shawl. Her skin was crinkled, and her eyes were swarthy and green, almost glowing under her graying black hair tied in a tight bun. She eyed the three Misfits before at last beckoning them inside.

Stalwart and unfazed, William entered. Enna exchanged nervous glances with Sooka, but the two followed him in.

The tiny tent was dark, filled with paraphernalia that did little to ease Enna's anxious heart. A compact stove in the center heated a teapot and cast a dull glow about them, revealing a cot, drying herbs, and a small table with two chairs and a crystal ball. The woman shuffled over to the table, sat, and offered the other seat, which William took.

"Apologies for the tight space," croaked the old hag. "I wasn't expecting visitors so late."

"I am sorry to intrude," replied William. "However, any debts I may accumulate, I pay back as soon as an opportunity arises. Besides, you went out of your way to heed my call for help, and I will repay that if I can."

The hag leaned back and eyed William carefully before reaching inside her shawl and producing a long-stemmed pipe. She snapped her fingers, and a flame appeared at the tip of her thumb to light the pipe. She took a deep waft of the pipe before puffing out blue smoke that swirled up to the height of the tent.

"And what do you think you owe me, boy?" she asked.

"Do you not remember our deal?"

"Oh, yes… I'm only wondering if you do?"

"But of course. Fifteen hundred gold pieces, plus interest. What interest do you require?"

Enna shifted uncomfortably as the hag watched William with unsettling intensity. She let out another puff of smoke that took the form of a bat and flitted out the entrance.

"I'll tell you what, Mr.… William? I'll take only the amount that was loaned, but you will owe me a favor. A simple one, mind you, seeing that you are so prompt to repay your debts."

Enna and Sooka tensed and glanced at each other. Sooka subtly readied her hand for spellcasting, and Enna did the same.

"What favor is it?" asked William, still unaffected by this nefarious situation. Enna worried that he would give even his soul to settle this "favor."

"I have heard that deals can go awry," continued William. "However, you did provide what I needed without compensation in the beginning. Explain the favor so that I may do it. I am fair and would treat you as I would my family."

The hag raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Your family, eh? You are awfully trusting toward one you hardly know. I wonder… is that your nature? Or do you possess a proclivity toward naivete?"

Enna frowned at the insult and crossed her arms. William was anything but naïve.

"I have been lied to," replied William. "And maybe I am being lied to now. But in the end, all we have in this world is our word. Now, please, explain the favor before we continue."

She rapped her long fingers on the table in a drumming beat, her bright eyes never leaving William.

"I like you, boy," she said. "You have an air of honesty about you, though I can't decide if it's genuine or just a defensive gesture…"

"Honesty is the only way to help others in our dishonest world. Strength is what defends."

She narrowed her eyes. "Indeed." She paused. "My favor is this: I wish to read your fortune."

"You would like to know what is to come in my life?" pressed William. "I assume you would use this in some way." He gestured to the crystal ball.

"Let's just say, I sense something about you that intrigues me. There's nothing I can use from your fortune. Call it simple curiosity. You've paid your debt, and promptly, too. I've no need nor desire to string you or your fine companions along." She nodded toward Enna and Sooka.

She must be lying about something, thought Enna, eyes narrowed at the hag. Something felt off about this situation, and yet William wandered willingly into whatever trap might have been laid.

"I will allow you to read my fortune," agreed William. "Will Sooka and Enna be able to see it? If so, I would like them to prepare themselves. I know not what you will see, but what intrigues you may be disturbing to them."

The hag nodded, clearly satisfied, even as Enna watched William carefully. What could be so disturbing that he would want her to prepare herself? Snippets of a letter she had left with him came to her mind, and she pursed her lips. Whatever it was, she was sure that the incident at the Sour Apple had something to do with it. With all of this. Though William's shoulders were strong and straight, she sensed that he carried a sadness within him, and part of her longed to draw that out and discuss it with him.

"I need your name, boy," rasped the hag as she puffed on her pipe and released a cloud of green smoke that billowed about the tent.

"You do not have to share anything with me that you do not wish to," said Enna softly.

"Yes," agreed Sooka.

"It is alright," assured William. "I only worry about your sanity." He turned to face the hag and said, "My name is William Epshire."

Enna's brow shot up at this reveal. She looked at Sooka, who seemed equally surprised that he had been willing to say it out loud, but there was no time to ponder it as the hag began her ritual, her eyes half-lidded.

The crystal ball began to glow with a soft green light, creating a sinister feeling tinted with macabre. She began to chant in some language that Enna did not recognize, but it made her uncomfortable as the smoke within the tent began to swirl around, its own eddies mirrored within the ball. Then she began to mutter, her voice low and oddly quiet.

"I see a child of two worlds, sickly and on the edge of death's door. A mother, spurned by her lover, desperate to save her child. The father's shame. A rebuttal and denial. Cloaked strangers offer to help when the mother has nowhere to turn…"

The old woman scowled.

"A ritual, to save one soul and devour the other. The child lives, the mother rejoices, but the strangers are displeased and spurn her. She wanders until she is taken in by those who wander. The boy grows… angry… A wellspring of malice, contained within a bright light. A black flame lit upon a white candle. Rage and bloodlust, contained by shackles of light, or darkness…"

Bewildered, Enna watched William carefully. His jaw and fists were clenched tightly, and he stared at the table with a furrowed brow.

"A breaking of shackles, a terrible death. The boy is deserted, left to wander without those who wander, always seeking, never finding. A mentor comes, who binds the shackles once again, but others seek him as well. A destiny tied to one within this very room."

William closed his eyes, and it was hard to tell in the dim light, but Enna thought she saw the glistening of a tear on his cheek.

The hag's voice dropped to a whisper as she continued.

"The ties that bind you are very great, and perhaps not the ones you think you know. William Epshire, always have they sought you, since the shackles were broken at the first. But you carry other shackles… or perhaps they are not shackles. Your hope is outside who you think you are and what you think you deserve. There is a way down the path you are headed, but you cannot walk it alone."

As the woman stopped speaking, she slumped forward, her breaths coming in heavy gasps. The eerie green glow faded, and the smoke dissipated.

William appeared as if he had been petrified. Compassion at his plight filled Enna's heart, and she placed a gentle hand on William's shoulder. Sooka took his hand.

The hag turned her gaze to William, and Enna was surprised to find echoes of sadness in her features.

"So…" she began. "My curiosity has been sated, William Epshire. At least… for now."

"I see sadness reaches you as well," replied William, even as a tear fell down his cheek.

She smiled grimly. "Perhaps sadness, perhaps pity… You have an interesting fate woven about you, boy, and I suspect it will close in on you sooner than you realize."

Enna squeezed William's shoulder. He would not be alone in this, she swore to herself.

"I can assume you will be intrigued to know what happens next?" asked William with a small smile.

The hag leaned back and folded her hands on the table. "Intrigued? Maybe. But I think my part to play in your story is over. Thank you for the interesting story, William, and I hope that if our paths cross once more, that yours will be a merrier one." She stood and gestured toward the exit.

William stood and retrieved his coin pouch that he had received from Drasloc less than two hours ago and laid it on the table. All two thousand coins.

"As do I," he said. "But no greater joy comes to me than to honor those who deserves it."

He bowed low to the hag, and Enna moved toward the tent entrance and held the flap open as they filed out. Immediately, Sooka took William's hand.

"I love you, Sooka," she said in the voice of a little girl. "No matter what she says."

Enna placed a hand on his shoulder again. "We're a family," she assured with a smile.

"And I you, Sooka, my sister," replied William. "And you, Enna," he added, nodding to her.

"You are not alone, William," she said. "You have us. And we will help you no matter what."

Sooka nodded.

"I hope that you do not have to overcome what I must," he replied, his eyes gazing off at something unseen. "But I will lean on you as much as you can carry me. Which, I hope, is substantial." He offered a grin.

Sooka returned the grin and puffed out her wings. "Yes," she said. "Is substantial."

Enna laughed as William cried, "Wow, you are mighty! I pale in comparison. Maybe I am the little one." He winked.

"As for me," added Enna, "if I can't carry the weight myself, I can turn into something that can!"

William chuckled.

A few minutes later, at Enna's behest, the trio made for the finest park in Agneward, Vesper Gardens. As they entered under the soft glow of the phosphorescent plants, Enna grinned and took a deep breath of the uncharacteristically warm air. Despite the looming onset of winter, this place always remained warm and tranquil, a thriving paradise for the diverse flora that lived here. As such, it had long been one of Enna's favorite places.

She guided them past the boisterous revelers, avoiding recognition whenever possible, until at last they came to a place that had been her sanctuary in many years past. They came to a huge, well-tended, fruitful bush that encircled a massive tree, and Enna approached it confidently. Then ducking down, she pushed aside several branches, careful not to break any twigs, and opened a pathway. She charged ahead, and William and Sooka followed.

A moment later, they entered a world that seemed to Enna a place of sublime perfection. At least… within the bounds of a city like Agneward. Many times in the past, she had visited this place and the massive tree growing in the center. Just next to it was a natural fountain bubbling up onto a mound of rocks and flowing off into the ground. Flower petals drifted down from the tree, and Enna grinned as one touched her nose before vanishing into a puff of magic.

A sense of peace that she hadn't experienced in several days settled over Enna's heart, and she sat next to the tree, leaning on its strength and sighing with it in kind familiarity.

It was several moments before she remembered that William and Sooka were with her, and she looked up in surprise to see them gazing about at the glowing berries in the bush, the magical leaves overhead, and the bubbling fountain that made no mud with its flow.

William moved toward the fountain and sat next to it, breathing deeply and focusing on something within. Sooka sighed in contentment and sat near Enna, leaning her head back on the bark and gazing up at the rosy canopy.

For some time, the three breathed. They rested.

After a while, Sooka stood and announced her departure before pushing through the bushes and heading back to the manor.

When their time in the gardens neared an hour, Enna turned an eye to her companion. Despite his meditations, some mixture of rage and sadness were less than hidden behind his features, and Enna's heart went out to him. She might have imagined it thanks to the water splashing near him, but she thought she saw a tear on his cheek.

With a light sigh, she placed a hand on the trunk of the massive tree. The bark was rough, yet kind, and she sensed the tree's joy in having them there. Glancing up, she noticed a heart carved into the bark, with E & T nestled within it. Then as she continued watching, she noticed several other similar carvings adorning this great plant, and she got the feeling that the tree wore the badges proudly. Grinning, Enna touched a root and wished that one day she might be able to add her own initial to the collection.

As her soul slowly refilled with the nature around her, she remembered that she had left Luna with her mother. She stood, announcing this to William, and they agreed that it was time to return home. However, Enna didn't feel like walking. She stepped away from the tree and took a deep breath.

She felt like she could do it now. She had been able to transform into living water earlier, and surely air wouldn't be too different. Closing her eyes, she focused, and she felt her form begin to twist. Before she knew it, she was spinning, and then the world fell away beneath her. A rush of wind pushed aside the branches above her, and she charged into the sky, full of a power she had never known. A mere moment later, she hovered high above Agneward, her entire form composed entirely of writhing air.

With satisfaction, she flew over the city, pleased that she could outrun even Aribis in this form.

As Aribis stepped out of the Limping Colt, he peered around him and shut the door quietly. Bash hadn't seemed to notice his movement toward the door, and that was to his liking. The old rogue wasn't the only stealthy one of the bunch.

In one quick motion, he pushed himself off the ground and soared high into the air, again grateful for the lifting of his flight ban as a couple members of Skywatch came to investigate. Once they could see him clearly enough, they ushered him on his way, and he charged up into the night sky. Once sufficiently high, he glanced around him, trying to determine his location within the massive city.

Where was it? he thought to himself.

His eyes scanned around him, focusing in on the smallest detail even a half mile away, until at last he made out his quarry. Without a word, he shot off toward the northwest. Mere minutes later, he alighted before the Raven Hall.

The empty graveyard was a tad more eerie after nightfall, and the mausoleum of a building towered over him, but no matter. In the red glow of the outer sconces, Aribis shuffled up to the massive door and rang the knocker three times, the powerful echo reverberating through some empty hall beyond. For a few moments, he waited, but then the heavy oak door creaked open and invited him inside.

Or perhaps invited was a strong word, he considered. The hall awaiting him was dark and deserted, though to his keen eyes, he could see the extent of it. He stepped inside, taking in the circular room even as soft blue lights began to flicker to life around the edges. Four sets of doors, each with a different symbol, lay before him, and he paused for a moment as the entrance closed behind him.

"Is anyone home?" he called out, his voice echoing about him.

The third door creaked open.

Aribis stepped up to it and pushed it fully open, exposing a long hallway being lit by blue lights, and at the end was a well-lit open space. Whipping out a bolt, he thrust it underneath the door and pinned it open before beginning his trek down the hallway. He watched with a satisfied smirk as the door wiggled in an attempt to close but was inhibited by his bolt.

At the end of the hallway was a large, open sanctuary with stone pews, each of them turned to face a tall statue of a woman with hands held to pray, a black cloak of raven feathers billowing out behind her. Kneeling at the foot of the statue was Aeris, the priestess who had interred the knights and delivered death wards in Colosso.

As Aribis entered, Aeris stood and turned to him, her raven mantle mirroring the great statue behind her.

"Welcome, my child," she said. "How may I help you?"

"I'm looking for some answers," replied Aribis.

"Answers? Aren't we all?" The corner of her mouth turned up. "Come." She reached out a hand, inviting him forward.

Aribis approached and sat in a pew and was soon joined by the priestess.

She sighed and said, "If I remember, your name is Aribis?"

"Aye," he nodded. "That'll be me."

"I'm sorry. I heard that you succeeded in winning the Colosso Exhibition, but my duties here kept me from seeing it. One of the disadvantages of being the Dustkeeper." She chuckled lightly, though her eyes had not yet met his.

"But I'm sure you have such an important and fulfilling job," replied Aribis, a slight derision in his voice.

"Fulfilling? Yes. I wouldn't say important. But I think we first met at the dedication of the souls who fell in battle during your great and mighty deed. Is that correct?"

"Aye," nodded Aribis again.

"I don't remember us introducing ourselves."

"We didn't."

"Well then, my name is Aeris Shoed. I am the Dustkeeper here at the Raven Hall, and… Aribis, right?"

"Aye." He was getting tired of these pleasantries.

"Why come to the Raven Hall for answers to your questions?" Aeris finally said.

He took in a breath and said, "It seems that perhaps the Raven Queen, perhaps not her specifically, has formed a sort of attachment to my person. And I'd like to know why."

"When you say attachment…" She still had not met his gaze. "Do you meant something other than the general sense that the fates of time pull us all toward her?"

"Aye, I mean a literal, physical attachment."

"Curious… Would you consider yourself one of faith? I see that you do not wear her symbol."

"Uh, no, not of her faith."

"Do you have a faith?"

"I do."

"Why not ask your patron?"

"He tends not to give me answers when I need them."

Aeris sighed. "Well, the gods are fickle. I'm assuming it's a god. You never know around here." She laughed awkwardly. "I'm not quite sure how I can help you. Tell me more about this… attachment and—"

"How about I just show you?"

Aribis removed his glove and showed his right hand. She peered at it for a moment before taking his hand in her own and moving closer. As her eyes beheld the stone embedded in his skin, her eyes grew wide.

"Where did you get this?" she breathed, eyes flashing with a guarded curiosity.

Then Aribis gladly told the tale of the graveyard in Marshfall where they had interrupted a sealing ritual. He described finding the ring on one of the priests and then placing it on his finger.

She released his hand, stood, and moved toward the altar spread at the feet of the Raven Queen.

"You bear a dark mark, my child," she said.

"You bear dark feathers," he replied.

Ignoring his comment, she continued.

"That is no small trinket you carry." She hesitated. "Several millennia ago, beyond time measured, before our patron was who she was, there was one before her who held the responsibility of death. His name was Nerull. Nerull was cruel and liked to exploit the souls who passed through his domain. He tortured them. He used their essence, the most potent of magic, and funneled it into his own wealth of power. But his apprentice, one of the greatest sorceresses of all time, saw through his villainy and took it upon herself to challenge his rule. Allow me to spare you the fine details, but this mortal sorceress eventually became our Raven Queen.

"During the fight, what we call the Mantle of the Raven Queen was torn asunder." She gestured to the feathery cape on the statue. "It was made of two hundred twenty-two raven feathers. All have been collected over time by the gods. All save one. It is said that whoever possesses one of these feathers possesses the ability to change the direction of one's soul when it moves on to the next life."

Suddenly she turned, and for the first time, her eyes met his in a piercing gaze.

"I believe that this is what is in your hand. I don't know how you managed to find this artifact, and I don't know why it is attached to you in this way. And… I honestly don't know what to do about this situation. You hold a very powerful and sacrilegious artifact on your person."

"Sacrilegious, you say?" said Aribis.

"When you die—"

"Which I've already done."

"Then you already know. You cannot be embraced by the Raven Queen. Your soul goes somewhere else. And I don't know where that is."

Aribis paused, contemplating as he watched her. If what she said was true, where had he sent his soul that day? Or did the ring really belong to someone else? And did the true "owner" direct his soul?

Did he own something just because he had possession of it?

"So, question," he said, shifting on his feet. "Let's say that I die. Let's say I just drop dead right now. My soul goes… somewhere else. Not to your Raven Queen. But with this ring that I have, I control where it goes? Or does someone else?"

"That is the question," nodded Aeris grimly. "I don't know. These are things of myth and legend, from thousands of years ago."

"Right… What if I just cut off my hand?"

"I have no idea what would happen."

She paused, eyeing him closely, before taking a step toward him.

"You say that you serve a patron," she said. "Have you talked to your deity about this?"

"I feel like that's a particular problem. No. I knew that it had something to do with the Raven Queen, and that's why I came here."

"I wish that I could be of more help—"

"I wish you could, too."

Her face turned grave. "I would be careful about this. There are many who would seek to obtain what you have. Most fear death, but the Raven Queen offers solace in the knowledge that when your soul moves on, it goes somewhere else. It does not cease to exist. That transition between death and the afterlife… I don't know what will happen to you when you die. I would suggest that you guard yourself."

"That's another question that I have. You might even have an answer to this one." Aribis reached into his bag and pulled out the dastardly rapier of the Ghost. "This is the weapon that actually killed me," he explained.

"Curious…" she muttered, leaning forward to observe the hilt and its red stones. "This sword has a dark destiny."

"Out of curiosity…" continued Aribis. "Could something like this absorb your soul?"

"Hmm." The priestess took the sword and studied it, running her finger along the blade, over the pommel, across the handle. "What does this do?" she asked.

"From my own experiences, it tends to stab people," answered Aribis. "And it kills you instantly."

She pursed her lips. "I don't understand the specific enchantments on this sword. But if it is uses a source of necrotic energy, objects of this power tend to sever the link between soul and body, rather than absorbing the soul. Death separates soul from the body anyway, but this sword forces them apart rather than just destroying the body itself. It attacks the tether to the soul, not the physical body."

"And in such an event, could part of your soul go somewhere else?"

"There are very few powers that exist that can damage the soul. Many of the great gods don't even have that ability, as the soul is something gifted to mortals at the dawn of creation. However, that doesn't mean that your soul cannot be damaged in any case. But it does seem unlikely to me that your soul would be damaged by such an object as this. But of course, I am no expert in this type of weaponry."

"But it's not housing any souls right now, right?"

"I don't think so. I don't get that feeling from it."

He nodded, resigned, and replaced the rapier.

"And there's nothing you can do about this, right?" He held up his hand once again.

She sighed. "I can ask some of my order to do some research into the Feathers of the Black Mantle. Perhaps there is a story regarding this type of thing."

Aribis offered his thanks, and pleasantries were exchanged. When the priestess left the room, Aribis stood, pausing for a moment to take in the statue of the Raven Queen that now towered over him.

Very few powers can damage the soul. And yet, it was not impossible.

Something was different about him. Of that, he was sure.

Holding out his hand, he produced a bright flame, and the dark purple fire danced in his eyes. What had used to be bright white, friendly, and familiar was now something else entirely.

Turning back to the statue, he muttered, "You had something to do with this, didn't ye?"

The Raven Queen stood, unstirring, unbothered, unmoved. Indifferent.

"I'm not one of your followers," he growled. "I know I'm of no importance to you, and I'm at peace with that. But why are you holding on? Why have you leashed me? Tethered me like this? This is one of your feathers. Not some random feather of mine."

He closed his hand, and the flame disappeared. Bowing his head slightly, he closed his eyes before exhaling deeply, and then he turned and walked toward the door.

William watched as Enna took off into the night sky, almost instantly invisible to his eye. For a moment, he glanced around the empty glade. His meditations had done little to ease his heart.

Slowly, he stood before making his way to leave the gardens. Again, he considered what the fortune teller had told him. A deep sadness had come over him as he had been reminded once again of his difficulties. What place did he have in this party? He perceived an innocence within his companions that he feared he would never be able to grasp again.

Enna and Sooka had pledged their help to him. Was this something that would last? Or would they take one true look at the monster residing within him and just… leave?

As he meandered down the raucous streets of Agneward, William couldn't help but recall Sooka's face when he had burned her. He couldn't help but remember her strewn feathers after he had come to himself again in the Sour Apple. What had he done to her? Did she hold that against him? He had offered her everything that she considered most detestable, and he feared that she may never fully trust him again, despite her words.

He recalled his helplessness in the arena. While Bash had come to his rescue, William hated that it had been necessary. Why hadn't he just bowed out? He shook his head. He could never have left his friends, and yet he felt only a liability to their causes rather than an asset. How many times must he fall before they let him lie there abandoned, dying?

Did he want to die? Would death ease his soul? Would his death keep his companions safe?

At that moment, a memory surfaced in his mind. He almost felt as though he was cast back in time, back to the time that he trained under Dekkar. His master paced before him, hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"Again!" he barked. "Show me again!"

William felt the sweat on his brow even as he punched forward.

"Your form is all sloppy!" shouted Dekkar.

"I'm sorry, Master," panted William.

"William!" corrected Dekkar. "Your anger! Control it! You control your anger! It does not control you!"

William struck, then struck again, and struck again. He could feel the heat in his hands, his fingers almost alight with fire. The black flames started to poke out from his knuckles.

"Enough!" called Dekkar, and William came to a rest, though he continued panting. Dekkar approached him and said more quietly. "William, rage is a good thing. But don't let it become you."

Then he came back to himself, and William was walking toward the Circle. He shook his head. He didn't want to feel this right now. He couldn't feel this right now. Not in such a place. Not at such a time.

He focused. He could not be himself. Not right now. Right now, he must be as calm as the gentle flow of a forest stream. With a deep breath, he settled his heart, lifted his chin, buried his thoughts, and made his way toward the Misfit Manor.

As Bash approached home, he nodded to Sooka as she met him near the door. He felt a little odd, not knowing what to say, and was grateful for what appeared to be a letter pinned to the front door. Quickly taking the opportunity to avoid an awkward conversation, he stepped up and snatched it off, unfurling it and then reading aloud:

From Lady Ilya Zen, to the Natural Misfits:

Congratulations on your stellar victory at the Exhibition. Needless to say, your performance was exemplary, and I am deeply gratified knowing that my investment in you was rightly placed.

With that victory, I am pleased to inform you of the returns made on my endorsement, the funds of which have more than adequately repaid my initial investment. As is only fair, I have allocated your percentage of the return into a discretionary fund that is appointed to your estate. With your permission, I would also like to personally oversee an allotment of your shares into other investments. This will allow your estate to propagate over time, if you wish. I will be sending my personal estate manager, Oswald, over in the morning to go over the details and discuss the finer points of your estate. He has been my estate manager for many years, and I trust his judgment.

I apologize for not being able to discuss these matters in person, but my new role as Guildmaster of Commerce and the acquisition of Delthorn Holdings will be taking the majority of my attention for some time. Hopefully, by the end of Snowset, I shall have everything sorted and working smoothly. Afterward, if you are still agreeable to working with me, I have a business opportunity that I would like to discuss with you.

In the interim, I hope you enjoy settling into the Misfit Manor. Take some time to recover from your heroic deeds. On a more personal note, I and many other grateful citizens of Agneward have you to thank for thwarting great peril and saving us all from its poison and infection across the city.

Yours sincerely,

Lady Ilya Zen

Bash sighed lightly.

Thwarting great peril and saving us all.

One day, he would get himself to believe that.