“Mama, have you ever fought a dragon?” Serel asked in a curious voice. She lay sprawled across the sofa, head tipped back and eyes fixed on the wall, where a painting of a massive dragon with ink-black scales coiled around a fractured mountain peak, its wings stretched wide against a storm-filled sky. “Did you fight Vorthalor before he became your friend?”

  Elaria watched the girl from the armchair opposite the sofa, briefly wondering whether that position could truly be good for the neck before her gaze followed Serel’s to the painting. “I have fought a dragon, yes. But I did not fight Vorthalor.”

  Serel rolled onto her stomach, feet kicking idly in the air as she looked at her. “Did you fight it with Mommy?”

  Elaria inclined her head. “I did.”

  Myrrkhal, the Chained Skydragon, had been a dangerous opponent—even for their group back then.

  Serel studied her for a few seconds. “…Did you kill it?”

  A faint frown touched Elaria’s brow. “Yes.”

  Serel’s gaze dropped, her feet slowing. “Poor dragon…”

  Elaria didn’t offer any further comment.

  Myrrkhal’s fall had been unfortunate and catastrophic. Its death had triggered a cascade of consequences that still plagued the Smokebound Tithes to this day, and if Elaria could return to that moment with the knowledge she now possessed, she would have acted differently. At the time, however, they had seen no alternative. They had not yet known of the Chainfather Cult’s interference behind the scenes, nor how deeply they had already ensnared Myrrkhal.

  She wondered whether any of that was appropriate to tell a child.

  Elaria had always believed in clarity—of providing all relevant information so that decisions could be made with full understanding, rather than shaped by fear or omission. She had little patience for half-truths or the careful evasions people used to spare themselves discomfort.

  But this was different.

  Serel was six.

  And Serel bore her blood.

  She had only known the girl for scarcely more than a day. Memories involving Serel stretched back further than that, but those were filtered through circumstances Elaria hadn’t truly lived. She didn’t trust them as a foundation for understanding who Serel was.

  She didn’t know how mature the girl might be. She suspected that the girl was more intelligent than one might expect, but beyond her unusual Resonance, Serel appeared—at least so far—to be an ordinary child. And Elaria had no great experience to draw upon for interacting with that.

  Her own childhood had been anything but ordinary. She wouldn’t impose those same burdens or expectations on Serel, nor expect the girl to navigate the world as she herself had been forced to do.

  In the end, caution seemed the wisest course. Mournvale had warned her that Serel was emotionally sensitive due to the Graven Daughter’s influence. Whatever else Elaria might believe, she would respect that. And Serel looked at her now with the open expectation of a child looking to a parent. Elaria had resolved to meet that expectation as best she could for the time being, even if she was uncertain how.

  Her gaze drifted briefly to the rigid lines of her armor.

  Perhaps she should remove it. Serel had a tendency to cling to her, and Elaria kept finding herself concerned that the girl might hurt herself against the sigilplate. In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure why she was still wearing it at all. She had contemplated it, and it might be that she kept it on as a sort of barrier. A means of maintaining distance.

  She was not accustomed to physical closeness. Though she did not mind it with Serel, she could not deny that she was unsure what to do with it.

  Suddenly, a familiar surge of Resonance rippled through the room, accompanied by the soft thud of footsteps on the floorboards behind her.

  Serel pushed herself upright at once. “Mommy!”

  Elaria turned her head as Mournvale stepped out of a Hollow Reach rift at the center of the room, Stillwake in hand and a broad smile on her face just as Serel ran to her.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Mournvale said, laughing as she caught the girl under the arms, lifting her up and spinning her in place.

  Serel’s laughter filled the room.

  Elaria watched from her chair, tapping one finger lightly against the armrest.

  …Was that how a mother and daughter were meant to interact?

  It unsettled her how much the sight irked her.

  Mournvale possessed no shortage of qualities Elaria found deeply irritating and less than enviable, but she could not deny that the woman was at ease with Serel in a way that felt instinctive. Natural. Caring in a way that Elaria could not manage.

  She wondered when she had last seen Mournvale wear such an expression of contentment. It must have been years ago. At some point, the woman had changed. But the Veralyth she had seen this last day looked more like the Veralyth Elaria had first met.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly as the woman set Serel down and the Hollow Reach closed behind her.

  …No. That wasn’t right. Something about her felt different now compared to earlier today. Beneath the smile, there was a trace of shadow.

  Mournvale glanced around the room before her eyes settled on Elaria. “Where’s Gard or Vanded? I thought they’d still be around.”

  “Whiteforest and Blazegrip received reports of a Veilshade manifestation in the outer Reaches,” Elaria said. “They left to deal with it.”

  “Oh. You didn’t offer to help?”

  “Blazegrip is more than capable of handling a Veilshade. And it is not my place to interfere with Marrowfen’s Chapter duties.” Elaria considered the woman. “Would you have preferred I leave Serel unattended?”

  “Huh? No—no, that’s not what I meant,” Mournvale said quickly. “It’s just that Caldrin could’ve watched her, you know.”

  Elaria’s brow creased.

  “Mommy, Mama, don’t fight!” Serel declared, stepping between them.

  Both of them paused.

  They looked at the girl.

  After a moment, Mournvale laughed softly and rested a hand on Serel’s head. “Sorry, sorry. My bad. By the way, did you have fun while I was gone?”

  Serel appeared to consider this seriously. Her mouth tightened. “Mmm. Uncle Vanded read me stories, and I told Mama about what I saw today. I wanted to show her the Wick, but you had it, Mommy.”

  “Right. I forgot. Sorry again. You can show her later, though. I’m glad you had fun.”

  “Did you, Mommy?”

  Mournvale hesitated. “Did I what? Have fun?”

  “Mmm.” Serel nodded.

  The woman was silent at first. Then she smiled faintly. “Not the word I’d use. But I’m not hurt.” She flexed one arm, the sigil-scars along her skin catching the light. “I told you, I’m the strongest.”

  Serel copied the motion immediately. “I want to be the strongest too!”

  “Maybe someday,” Mournvale said, lowering her arm. She looked at Elaria.

  I’m guessing you heard some of what went on from Serel? And got questions?

  Elaria tensed as Hollow Resonance brushed against her own.

  We can talk about it later. I think it’s better to wait until we’re alone.

  Elaria’s gaze sharpened. Mournvale hadn’t spoken aloud, yet the meaning had carried clearly. She’d only experienced something like that a handful of times before.

  After a moment, she dipped her head in acknowledgment.

  Mournvale mouthed a quiet ‘thanks’ before turning back to Serel. “I’m thinking it’s about time we head home and get something to eat before bed. What do you think?”

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  “Pancakes?” Serel asked hopefully.

  The woman laughed. “Not tonight. I’m a bit bushed, so I’ll probably leave the cooking to Caldrin. Besides, too much of a good thing and all that.” She glanced at Elaria. “Is heading back alright with you, or…?”

  Elaria studied her for a few seconds. “Yes. That sounds fine.”

  “Great. I’ll go find Caldrin. You can… I don’t know, whistle, or whatever it is you do to call that dragon of yours.”

  Mournvale summoned Stillwake back into her grasp, invoking another Hollow Reach that she disappeared through. Serel watched the rift close, then turned back to Elaria, eyes bright with expectation.

  Elaria tried to smooth the faint frown on her face.

  Whistle?

  That woman truly had a talent for saying the most nonsensical things.

  Vera rubbed the bridge of her nose, a tired sigh slipping out of her as she leaned against the open iron gates of Sablewatch Hollow.

  She wanted a nap.

  Or three.

  Maybe a dozen.

  It felt like she hadn’t slept for days. She might not have. It was hard to tell after everything that had gone sideways with the Rite.

  All she knew was that a good night’s sleep probably wasn’t in her cards today.

  It was what it was.

  Her eyes drifted up toward the sky, tracking the small silhouette moving steadily closer, its shape picked out by the rising moon and the darkening clouds. From this distance, she could make out the wings easily enough, but seeing Serel or Elaria clearly was impossible.

  Still, they’d be here soon.

  She regretted not joining them on the flight back—just a little—but she doubted she would’ve enjoyed it in her current state. More importantly, she’d wanted some time alone. Just enough for her thoughts to stop tripping over each other.

  She kept her gaze on the night sky, arms folding loosely as she whistled an old RPG tune from her previous world. Eventually, Vorthalor’s massive frame drew close enough that she could pick out the crimson of his scales and hear the steady thunder of his wings. Moments later, he settled onto the patch of grass in front of the estate.

  Vera pushed off the gate and walked toward them as Elaria helped Serel climb down. The girl looked as excited as ever, which earned a small smile from Vera.

  She slowed when she saw Elaria—rather than setting Serel down right away—lift the girl under the arms and spin once in place without saying a word.

  The motion looked… awkward. With the upper half of her face covered by the helm, Elaria looked about as unemotional as they came.

  Even Serel seemed surprised, blinking at the woman mid-spin.

  Vorthalor craned his neck, staring as well.

  Elaria stilled for several seconds, still holding Serel aloft.

  Then Serel giggled.

  Elaria lowered her, and the girl immediately wrapped her arms around the woman’s waist.

  Vera wasn’t entirely sure what she’d just witnessed, but after a beat, she chuckled quietly.

  The pair said their goodbyes to Vorthalor—it was mostly Serel wishing the dragon a good night’s sleep—and Elaria turned toward Vera, removing her dark helm and letting her crimson hair fall free down her back. Her eyes caught the light, bright even in the growing dark, as they settled on Vera.

  “Nice flight?” Vera asked as they walked over. She scooped Serel up in much the same way Elaria had, spinning the girl once before settling her on her shoulders.

  Serel laughed, grabbing onto Vera’s ears for balance.

  “Hey—careful,” Vera said lightly as they passed through the estate gates. “I’m not exactly built like a saddle, and those aren’t handles.”

  Elaria watched them as she followed.

  They passed through the Ember Gallery, cut through the Oathbound Garden, and made their way into the Dreadwake Alcove, where Caldrin was waiting with dinner. The meal was relatively simple, but filling—exactly what Vera needed right now. Afterward, Serel brought out the Wick and eagerly showed Elaria some of the memories stored inside.

  Including the ones where Vera sang.

  That part was embarrassing.

  Elaria’s surprised looks aimed at her didn’t help, but Vera pushed through the embarrassment and focused on how happy Serel was to share it.

  Eventually, though, Serel began to tire. They’d returned later than planned—Vera didn’t think she’d be gone as long as she was—and she was trying, really trying, to keep the kid on a decent sleep schedule.

  Back in her old life, Vera had flipped her own sleep cycle every other week thanks to raids, events, and just generally bad life decisions mixed with unpredictable episodes of searing pain. This time, she was aiming to raise a functional member of society, and not another exhaustion-addled game junkie.

  If there was one thing she’d learned from how her parents raised her, it was that consistency counted, even when it didn’t feel like it. Considering how feral she’d been as a kid with rules, she didn’t want to imagine how bad it could’ve gotten without them.

  Vera stayed with Serel after she was tucked in, holding her hand and humming softly. She tried to be there for the kid as often as possible, and it was clear Serel didn’t want to let go tonight, even though she hadn’t shown it outwardly. What had happened down in the vault probably weighed on her.

  Vera remained there well after Serel’s breathing evened out, watching the small shape beneath the blankets, thumb rubbing slow circles over the girl’s hand. Eventually, she rose, brushing her fingers gently over Serel’s cheek before turning toward the door.

  Elaria stood there, waiting.

  They left together, neither speaking as they moved down the hall.

  Dining chamber? Vera asked, letting the thought carry through Resonance with the technique she’d learned from the Whisper-Matron.

  Elaria glanced at her, expression unreadable, then inclined her head.

  They descended the stairs and entered the dining chamber, candlelight casting pale reflections along the walls. Caldrin was gone for the night—docking in to recharge in some corner or whatever it was he did when left alone—leaving just the two of them.

  They sat beside each other at the table.

  Vera pushed her chair back slightly and slumped forward, dragging a hand through her hair. “You do not want to hear about my day, I’ll tell you that.”

  Elaria frowned faintly.

  Vera turned her head, meeting her eyes. “‘Course, you were gonna ask anyway, right?”

  “You performed the Rite of Stillness?”

  Straight to the point.

  Vera exhaled. “I did, yeah.”

  “How?”

  “If I’m being honest?” Vera rubbed her face. “I’m not entirely sure. There’s apparently a Hollow god sleeping under Marrowfen that nobody talks about. Used him as the medium.”

  Elaria’s eyebrows lifted. “There is a god under Marrowfen?”

  “That’s what I said, yeah.”

  “Who?”

  “Ever heard of He Who Sleeps Without Name?”

  Elaria went quiet, thinking. “I recognize the title,” she said slowly. “But I know nothing of that god.”

  Vera shrugged. “Neither did I. And I’m supposed to be Hollow’s Chosen.”

  “How is he able to manifest here physically?”

  “Wish I knew. All I can tell you is that there’s something seriously wrong with him, and it’s probably best if you think about him as little as possible. He’s meant to stay forgotten—for good reason, from what I could tell. Everything about him was a bit… off-the-rocker dangerous.”

  Elaria’s gaze sharpened on her. “And you thought it wise to bring Serel with you into a place housing such a being?”

  Vera stiffened. “…I was there to keep her safe, you know.”

  “Against a god?”

  “I didn’t know there was a god there at first.”

  “That is not an excuse to bring a child along on an excursion you knew could turn dangerous.”

  Vera opened her mouth to argue—then stopped. She drew a slow breath. “Fine. You’re right. I was overconfident heading there. I don’t like letting Serel out of my sight if I can help it.” She hesitated. “But I sent her back up the moment I realized I wouldn’t be able to focus on keeping her safe. I’m not completely reckless and irresponsible.”

  “I am not sure I agree,” Elaria said.

  Vera grimaced, but she didn’t say anything. She’d been expecting the woman to tear into her. In fact, she was surprised Elaria hadn’t already pressed her harder.

  Elaria studied her for a moment, then spoke again. “Why did you need to perform the Rite, Vera?”

  Vera looked at her. “…Sorry, but that’s a bit private.”

  Elaria’s voice remained steady. “You do not trust me?”

  “It’s not that. It’s just—”

  “Serel said you needed to remember something. What was it?”

  Vera went quiet.

  She’d kind of figured Serel would spill some things. She supposed she could’ve told her not to, but she hadn’t wanted to force the kid to keep that sort of secret for her.

  Her gaze stayed on Elaria, studying her face for a long while—the composure always visible there, the almost bronze skin, the way she carried weight without really showing it.

  “What’s it like for you,” Vera finally asked, “being House Emberward’s Chosen?”

  The corners of Elaria’s eyes creased slightly. “It is a burden I have accepted for as long as I live.”

  Vera nodded. “Mm. Yeah. I figured. Not exactly a casual stroll through the park—but not that complicated either, is it?”

  Unlike the title of Hollow’s Chosen, which hadn’t had any real defined role in Ashen Legacy, Elaria’s role as Chosen of House Emberward had always been pretty established. House Emberward stood for sacrifice, willpower, conquest, and divine fire. In the eyes of its aspects and gods, and in the face of the tribulations, that translated into something simple: someone who stood at the front and burned brightly enough that humanity could keep moving forward.

  As long as Elaria lived and continued to fight, the flame endured. The aspects of Emberward would answer and help push humanity onward.

  It was a heavy burden, no question. But it was also straightforward. Elaria didn’t really need to reshape herself to meet it. She just had to be herself, and the conditions were practically met.

  Vera wondered if she hadn’t drawn the short straw in that regard.

  Elaria’s frown returned as she regarded her. “Did your performance of the Rite relate to your role as Chosen?”

  “Depends,” Vera said. “Do you know what my role as Chosen actually is?”

  “I do not.”

  “Then let’s say no.”

  Elaria’s expression tightened, edging toward a scowl. “Mournvale.”

  Vera lifted her hands in surrender. “It’s complicated, okay? You know how House Hollow can be.”

  “I know how you can be.”

  “Then… you’re fine with not asking more questions?”

  “No.”

  “Shame. If you were, I might’ve called you the perfect woman.”

  Elaria’s eyes hardened.

  Vera somewhat regretted the comment.

  Elaria studied her in silence for several long seconds. Finally, she spoke. “You are trying to change the focus.”

  Vera blinked.

  “Is there an actual reason you cannot share why you performed the Rite?” Elaria asked.

  “…Most things have a reason,” Vera said carefully.

  “Mournvale.”

  Vera sighed. “Sure. Yes. Of course there’s a reason. But it’s not one I’d like to share, and there are reasons for that, too.”

  “Then share what you are willing,” Elaria said. “I will not press further unless I decide it is necessary.”

  Vera squinted at her. “…Really?”

  Elaria inclined her head. “Yes.”

  Vera considered her for a moment. “Alright,” she eventually replied. “I performed the Rite because I’d forgotten some of the duties I was supposed to know as a Chosen.”

  The seriousness in Elaria’s expression deepened. “You had forgotten. How?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t remember.” Vera gave a small, humorless wave. “But it was apparently a pretty big problem. Big enough that the House got… vocal about me fixing it.”

  “And now you remember?”

  Vera was quiet for a few seconds. Then she nodded. “Yeah.”

  “And what are those duties?”

  “That,” Vera said lightly, “I’m not telling. Turns out there’s a decent reason you didn’t know in the first place.” She flashed a quick grin. “Bet you’re regretting asking now.”

  Elaria shook her head. “No.”

  “Oh. Well. That’s boring.”

  Elaria watched her, something thoughtful settling into her gaze.

  Vera wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but for some reason, she didn’t particularly like it. She straightened in her chair, stretching her arms overhead before letting them fall. “Anyway. Setting that aside—we had other things to talk about, didn’t we? Serel, for one. We still need to figure out a permanent arrangement, yeah?”

  Elaria’s gaze remained on her. After some time, she spoke, as though accepting the shift in topic, but the seriousness in her expression didn’t fade.

  “Yes. I was considering whether I should bring Serel with me to Caer Virell.”

  Vera froze.

  She stared at Elaria. “…What?”