After the big brusant made his exclamation and walked off, Brocia continued to stare at the patterns in the miasmatic fog. She’d finally figured out why the patterns were so enticing. Now she was kicking herself for not seeing it earlier.

  It was the feeling of infinite depth and repetition they had, like the same pattern curling in on itself forever, beckoning someone to get lost while looking in the exact manner that she had felt the only time she’d actually used her magic. What would it feel like to touch it? To make physical contact with the depth? To feel its the truth of its existence?

  She couldn’t help it. The idea of being able to interact with something like that without the risk of the Curse was too intriguing.

  Brocia reached out and poked the nearest eddy of black fog. She didn’t notice as the rest of it froze, didn’t pay any attention to the tingle the contact gave her, and even didn’t notice as her veins began to stain black as small wisps worked their way into her.

  The others in the hallway noticed the miasma’s freeze, saw her sitting there like a child touching their father’s weapon on the mantlepiece, and put two and two together. They began to back away slowly, trying to keep one eye on the other [Necromancer] and one on the nearest pool of unmoving fog. Some were expecting the miasma to reach out and ensnare them. Others were expecting Brocia to meet an explosive end.

  Regardless of expectations, only the two non-humanoids – the elder coronal centipede and Agensyx – were spared as the mist condensed into thin, razor-sharp spears that zipped toward various joints. Dodging was a mixed success given the surprise of the attack, though the efforts were helped along by the nonlethal nature of the spears.

  As Brocia’s eyes clouded over with a bottomless darkness and her mind slipped into something that could conceivably be called sleep, even those that escaped the stabs themselves became ensnared. There was nothing they could do but watch as her body strode off toward Jay and Khashin.

  Except for one.

  *

  Jay bent and moved out of the way of the legion of miasmatic spears that shot toward him. [Reflexive Movement] showed its benefit in a lot of ways on a day-to-day basis but he’d never appreciated it as much as he did then. All he had to do was glance at the path the attacks were taking and find a path through that wouldn’t break him to follow. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean it was enough to save him from every injury. The gaps were too small; paper-cut-thin cuts appeared across his arms.

  Agensyx’s mental voice intruded as he was midway through the movement, nearly throwing him off. The woman is possessed. Something in the mist. We are locked in place but whatever is in control is coming toward you now.

  Fog-spears out there too? Jay checked. How stuck?

  He didn’t have enough mental energy to make full sentences, not with the spears still emerging.

  Webbed, the familiar replied. Even those who were injured the worst are netted. The entire corridor became knives.

  Warning appreciated.

  “Khashin,” Jay called. “Something’s coming. Possession.” Hopefully the hulking brusant would have something he could do about the situation.

  “Bad timing. I’m immobile.”

  Jay’s dodging finally turned him around and gave him a look at what the other man meant by that. “Immobile” was putting it kindly; the big guy had one of the threads of fog through both of his knees.

  “You couldn’t get out of the way?” He forced the words out between movements.

  Khashin shook his head. “I’m not fast like that. I just kill things and think of new ways to kill things. There’s a reason I got you to wake up the rest of my team too.”

  God, he was like one of the people who got a series of increasingly specific degrees and lost track of what reality actually was. Overspecialization was a strange problem to carry over between worlds.

  “Maybe you need to work on that,” Jay suggested.

  “Can’t,” Khashin said. “This isn’t my first time being woken up. I can’t get stronger like this, not in the traditional way.”

  Wonderful time to tell him that. Jay didn’t have the time to think over the implications of that in any depth thanks to the continual assault but that didn’t mean they were done talking about it forever. He’d find out why eventually.

  The barrage of corruption stopped as a new voice spoke, sinister in its pitch and ominous in its words.

  “Sorry about that,” it said. “I hadn’t meant for it to attack you in here. It was just supposed to tie up the distractions outside so we could have a nice talk. Face-to-face for once, Jay Carter, not through those shackles.”

  The [Necromancer] in question straightened from the awkward position the abrupt lack of things to dodge had left him in.

  “Do I know you?”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “You should,” the thing in Brocia’s body said. “After all, I have a portion of your soul in my possession. A very thin sliver, to be sure, much less than what I normally receive, but quite enough under the circumstances.”

  That connected the dots more than well enough but still didn’t give Jay a name to pin to the voice. He tried again, doing his best to pull a little bravado into his tone.

  “So you were behind the trap in the vision. Sure, whatever. That doesn’t answer my question. Do I know you?”

  “I had forgotten how limiting conversation could be outside of a more direct connection. But I will humor you in this. No, you do not know me. He would.” Brocia’s body nodded toward Khashin. “They would.” It nodded back at the hallway. “But you? You do not.”

  Jay waited for the next part of that sentence but the thing didn’t seem inclined to finish the thought. Maybe a little more prodding.

  “That’s normally a cue to fix that,” he said.

  “Yes, yes,” the thing replied. “Have you no sense of the dramatic? I know the answer to that already, so don’t bother protesting. Those who know me would know me as Ullmin.”

  It said that name like it was supposed to mean something. If the brusant’s face was anything to go by, it did mean something to him. That made it a him issue.

  “Okay then. Never heard of you. But if you’re here to return that portion of my soul, I wouldn’t turn it down.”

  The sentences came out blasé to the extreme for the very simple reason that he hadn’t meant to say them. Sure, the ideas had flashed across his mind, but he hadn’t wanted them to make the transition into actual words.

  To his surprise, the thing laughed. It was hollow and echoing and very clearly wasn’t how Brocia would have laughed, but it did it all the same.

  “That is truly what I expected out of you. I still very firmly believe you will come to accept your place with me. Even if it takes until this particularly inferior replacement decays. But that’s not really important, is it?”

  “Then what is?”

  Khashin grunted loudly. “You shouldn’t pay him any mind, Jay. That’s how he gets in your head.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t need words for that,” the possessor said. “Or did you miss the part where I had a portion of his soul? Tut tut, even after all those centuries of rest, you’re still bleary.”

  The brusant ignored the words, opting instead for another set of warnings. “He’s not called the Archdevil of Despair for nothing. He’s insidious.”

  That was one hell of a title. Jay almost appreciated the flair of it; if it was in any way representative of the mindset the thing had, it would explain a lot about the way this conversation had gone so far.

  “Alright then, Archdevil of Despair. What is important?”

  “A lot of things,” the devil said. “For now, one peeks out ahead of everything else: whether or not you’re going to stop me from going in that room.” He pointed Brocia’s finger at the door that the thickest of the miasma had been pouring out of.

  Now that tide of fog was as still as the rest. Clearly Ullmin was exerting direct control over it to keep it that way.

  Jay could see Khashin shaking his head frantically and had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He may not have been native to this world – a fact that he was pretty sure Khashin didn’t know – but anyone described as a devil in any capacity was not someone you generally wanted to accomplish any goals. Not that he even knew what the goal was, which was its own issue.

  Easily remedied, though.

  “What’s in there that you want so badly?”

  “A piece of myself,” Ullmin said. “A piece that I very badly want back.”

  Jay laughed involuntarily as the irony of the situation overtook him. “You want a piece of yourself back while still holding onto a chunk of my soul? Not to mention who-knows-how-many other fragments? Get real.”

  “So you intend to stand in my way, then?” the thing asked. “I feel the need to warn you of just how bad of an idea that would be.”

  Jay shifted the Crystalband to its ajenoui form. “I think I’m aware. But I also think I’ll do it anyway.”

  Brocia’s body just looked at him. “A sword won’t do you any good,” the devil said. “Especially not since you can’t hurt me without hurting this imperfect host of mine.”

  “I only just met her,” Jay replied. “That’s not going to change much.”

  “Tut tut, Jay. I’ve talked to your soul, you can’t lie to me.” Ullmin made a complicated gesture. “But I suppose I will humor you.”

  [Esoteric Comprehension] triggered of its own accord and a flood of thoughts washed into Jay’s mind.

  – COME TO ME GUARD ME HERE NOW OR YOU WILL LOSE HER THEM YOURSELF –

  That didn’t feel like ambient thoughts of any sort. That felt like directed communication, like the thing inside Brocia’s body was talking to something the same way he talked to Agensyx or Alister. How much of her abilities did he hijack? Was the connection to the centipede intact?

  That question was answered immediately as the centipede in question shot through the door and coiled around the hijacked body.

  “There will not be much to humor,” the archdevil said, “but I will do so anyway.”

  Jay immediately threw a spray of [Venom Shot] toward the thing that had taken Brocia’s body. He knew it wouldn’t do much but at least had expected it to land. Instead he was treated to the sight of it falling away through the body of the coronal centipede like its skin had been a portal directly to the space it seemed to be made of.

  So that was what they’d meant about it not being a surprise that they couldn’t hurt it while fighting outside of the Gray Palace. Did it even have a body?

  Ullmin took one step and was standing in the doorway already. He didn’t seem to bother with the space in between the two points; he didn’t even seem to notice that it existed. The centipede crossed the distance as rapidly as it could, weaving to intercept the other attacks Jay sent toward either of the enemies. They all met the same fate of falling through open space.

  Before Jay could change strategy enough to find something that worked, the Archdevil of Despair was through the door and the centipede formed a living door in front of it. Whatever he wanted in there, clearly he was going to get it.

  *

  “You expect me to believe that the weedy guy I thought was a capable mage was actually one of…those?” Cinri asked.

  “That’s the gist of it, yes,” Kallin said.

  “And you did what with him after finding that out?”

  The metal elemental waved the question away like it was an obvious answer. “Exected, naturally. Threw his body into the sea; who knows where it is by now?”

  The glacial mage snorted. “And you didn’t keep a way to verify that, did you?”

  “What would be the point?” Kallin took a sip of the drink he was holding. “Any anchor is too much anchor.”

  Blue light sparkled around the woman’s hands. “Then I guess I’ll have to go find that proof myself.”

  “If you wish. You actually might run into someone else that asked about that subject recently. Big guy with a sword. Didn’t bother introducing himself, so I’d advise staying away.”

  Cinri sneered and left the tent. Even if it turned out he actually had been a [Necromancer] – which she didn’t believe; there was no aura of that kind of evil around him – there was no way she would pass up a chance to take her thoughts out of a pound of his flesh.