"Desir?!" Irwyn and Alice exclaimed simultaneously.

"In the flesh," he shot back his best roguish grin. "Truly, Fate can be rather fickle."

"You were dead," Irwyn got the next word in.

"He was what?" Alice immediately cut in. Had she not heard? Actually… it might not have ever been mentioned. There had been enough dead hanging around her head already to bring up any reminders of more.

"Before dear Elizabeth cuts me down as Rot," Desir interrupted the uproar. "The reporting of my untimely demise has been greatly exaggerated. No actual dying involved."

"Or so you say," the heiress nodded but did not lower her blade.

"Feel free to examine me as thoroughly as you please," he underlined with two winks of his brows. "Or not. Don't look at me like that Elizabeth. No innuendos with you, dully noted."

"Not to interrupt," Waylan said. "But who the fuck is this?"

That meant there needed to be a lengthier explanation. Alice, Irwyn, and Desir recollected their mutual acquaintance in Abonisle leading up to and including the Undead attack. And his presumed demise beneath the rubble – or at least an abridged version of all those events. Elizabeth was silent throughout, still keeping up her cautious death stare.

"How are you even alive then?" Irwyn questioned once that was through.

"I had an emergency teleportation spell ready, hidden in my tooth actually," Desir explained. "When I saw the ceiling coming down, well, it seemed like a good time to ditch."

"And you did not even leave behind a message," Irwyn looked at him, realizing the betrayal of that. "I thought you were really dead."

"Well, either I look like a complete asshole of a friend," Desir nodded. "Or you might have been visited by the very reason why I had to fake my death in the first place. Am I wrong?"

"The demons," Irwyn remembered. "Why were there two powerful demons looking for you in the first place?"

"And willing to meet with my father for that purpose," Elizabeth finally spoke. "There are no light matters they would brave such an encounter for."

"That might be an even longer story which I am physically incapable of telling," Desir sighed. "The short version is that their patron wants me seized over something I had no choice in and I really don't want them to succeed."

"What are you even doing in this place?" Alice asked, changing direction after a moment of silence.

"You might not see it, but this is an incredible spot for practicing Life magic," Desir smiled. "Yes, I can do that besides just Void, don't give me those looks. Literally two-thirds of you wield two elements. As I was saying, there is an unlimited fond of living flesh built into this place as well as the Time dilation."

"One second in sixty," Alice inclined her head, unconvinced.

"It gets much higher than that if the door is closed long enough," Desir assured. "So, I have been training. Johnson, I overheard? Crazy bastard, obviously, but equally great mage. I don't know why he just left an entire collection of educational textbooks here but you can give him my thanks if you meet him."

"How long have you been here?" Irwyn wondered. Last time he had seen Desir the man could perhaps manage four intentions at most if memory served. Yet suddenly he was on Alice's heels? Their Time mage was confident with seven after their Fae encounter and would be pushing for the eighth within a month or two thanks to her ring. That put her ahead of even most prodigies.

"Subjectively, probably a bit over a year?" Desir shrugged. It was still incredibly fast progress. Especially for someone who had not struck Irwyn as that talented in the past. "Say, is there any way for the looming threat of a severed head to look away. Pretty please? This is not good for my heart."

"Drink this then," Elizabeth thought for a few seconds, then reached into pouch, withdrawing something which she promptly threw straight at Desir.

"Necrotoxin, is it?" Desir nodded at the little vial he caught, then chugged it without hesitation. "You know, if that was just normal poison that would have been very rude."

"Give it a moment," Elizabeth nodded but seemed much more relaxed after that interaction.

"See? I am quite alive and hope to keep it that way," Desir gestured at his body. "Now, if I can ask a question back - which is only fair since you had about ten - what are you lot doing here. Isn't the Lich war still ongoing?"

"You probably shouldn't admit to desertion either," Elizabeth said with her perfect deadpan, though Irwyn noted a hint of humor in her tone.

"Hah, that is the trick," Desir smiled. "I was not born on the soil of your Federation, ergo, I am not a citizen and thus not a conscript."

"All who live and walk our lands are conscripted by default when a Lich War is declared," Elizabeth inclined her head.

"Ah, a loophole fouled by martial law again," Desir tsked. "Say… what would a humble soul need to do for a pardon?"

"As an official Requisitioner of the Duchy of Black I can bestow a stay of execution," Elizabeth offered.

"This beggar will humbly accept," he immediately nodded.

"Good, then you may consider yourself re-conscripted to help deal with the undead horde rampaging here."

"An undead attack?!" Desir asked with sudden visible alarm, clearly caught off-guard. "What? When?"

"Less than an hour ago, those 'blue', which they are not really, flames started sprouting all around the city," Irwyn said. "We came here to rest after Elizabeth felled a Draugr and injured another. Hopefully, things should be more manageable for the Republic now."

"Seriously?" Desir's eyes switched to Elizabeth. "Have you actually carved a Concept at your age? Ludicrous!"

"Flattery is not very effective on me," she inclined her head.

"Then take it as an insult I am currently directing at Ignis," Desir looked into the ceiling. "Allfather, what the fuck?"

"To your earlier question, we were officially given sanction to travel North past the mountains," Irwyn re-railed the conversation. "I suppose we are looking for growth and where Fate might lead us – which has been working rather well thus far."

"And running into undead plagues that just had to happen while I was here, not paying attention," Desir nodded. "Would have been a hell of a surprise to walk out into a necropolis. So, I owe you for that."

"We will have to get back to it soon," Elizabeth nodded. "I was just not eager to risk another Draugr with my Vessel more than half depleted."

"Then you will be happy to hear this place helps with recovery," Desir nodded. "If you haven't noticed yet."

"And with Time dilation we can recover here for longer," Alice nodded. "I wonder how he achieved it in the first place."

"I am pretty sure the creature we are in is a chronovore," Desir offered. "We are in the stomach and it actively digests Time as it flows in. Somehow. That way it achieves the dilation and also food supply in one trick. From that, it actually produces everything you need to live through the devices scattered around here. A proper bunker - which is how I have been here for these long stretches… Not that it doesn't get dull in time. Say, you wouldn't happen to have space for a fifth? I can cook."

"Are you actually interested?" Irwyn asked.

"Well, what can I say?" Desir smiled again. "I feel like I am seeing the coattails of Fate flapping in your wake. Am I supposed to not try and grab on?"

They did not stay within that fleshy chamber for much longer after that. Desir, finally aware of the ongoing crisis, also felt the obligation to help. Though first he used that strange magic to shapeshift shift into the visage of 'Calamita' again.

"I am curious, why, well, that," Irwyn gestured towards the appearance.

"I am pretty sure I have convinced the local government that I am a genuine forest nymph," Desir declared proudly. Even his voice was radically different.

"And why would you need to do that?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Because it's fucking hilarious."

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Heh," Waylan laughed and Alice also visibly suppressed a chuckle.

"You have to take your relaxation wherever you can get it," Desir shrugged with a smile. "A bit of harmless gaslighting is a fun pastime. You would like it."

Irwyn had doubts but did not comment as they parted way for the moment, Desir insisting he had to make an impression by himself. Instead, he summoned another platform of Flame and they got back to clearing out the thinning undead. There were far fewer of them left and people had mostly gotten to safety by then. A lot of makeshift barricades had risen up across the street which were rather effective against the undead with no real supernatural strength.

The biggest group they managed to find counted a dozen. They had trapped twice as many civilians in an empty room and were repeatedly entering to turn them one by one, as if to stretch out their short undeath-times. Then it was mostly down to clean up – destroying individual enemies as fast as they could while the Rot hid and fled. At some point, Irwyn saw a large illusionary tree seemingly blooming above buildings in the distance, no doubt Desir showing off, but by then the work was almost done.

It was perhaps two hours later that Irwyn concluded with some confidence there should be no undead left in the city. They had only caught four in the hour prior and none in the last 30 minutes. By then they had also been sneakily looking for someone to get in touch with. The choice became obvious when Alice spotted an acquintaince of theirs. To his credit, Zema was among the barricades alongside the soldiers, seemingly coordinating from the front lines. That also made him possible to reach.

When they approached without a veil, Irwyn could almost feel the tension of the soldiers. Word had definitely spread, resulting in a strange mix in-between fear and respect on their faces. Some dreaded their power more, other held greater gratitude for their help but all of them were shaken to some degree. The day would go down in history as a tremendous tragedy, Irwyn had no doubt, even if it could have been far, far worse. Not that he cared overmuch. He doubted their group would be welcome for long after the crisis was over.

The major himself looked notably downtrodden; eyes bloodshot. The man had been actually so consumed in giving orders, receiving report and coordinating subordinates that he had not noticed their group until they got off the platforms and walked halfway through the improvised camp in the middle of a large street. Nor did he stop his work, not until they were quite literally in front of him. What appear to be his assigned guards were giving them very nervous stares and eventually decided to not get in the way.

"The main perpetrator has not perished," Elizabeth loudly proclaimed before Zema could ask any questions of his own. "I know a way to hunt them down. But first you need to confirm which way they have left the city."

"And why would that matter?" Zema immediately questioned.

"Because the method I have in mind has a… tendency for collateral damage," she said.

"How bad is a 'tendency'," the major asked with a sigh.

"That is unpredictable," Elizabeth admitted. "It could be between negligible to everything between us and the fleeing necromancer being destroyed in the worst case. It is thus best there be no city in the way."

"I don't like uncertainties," the major stared, clearly on edge from the barely contained disaster.

"Which is why I offer you the only surety you can ask for:" she nodded. "A dead Lich."

"Hmm…" Zema paused, seemingly thinking it over but in his eyes, Irwyn could see the decision had already been made. "My higher-ups will likely want to see whatever you wish to do first hand if I can even convince them. Is that a problem?"

"No, though they will stay out of the way," she nodded. "And with the city behind their backs. Assuming you want all of them safe."

"And our dear principal?" Zema added. "Is this mysterious method secret? He is likely to insist on dissecting it."

"If he can replicate what I intend to do from just watching, major, then he has earned every right to use the method."

Irwyn thought that there was more than just a bit of mockery in her tone.

Elizabeth stared at the diagram etched into a plate of stone. She had engraved little symbols into the side, mostly to annoy the arrogant geezer than for any actual purpose. The ritual did not require a circle. Nor any real preparation. All she actually needed was the pile of ash from well over a hundred undead that had been piled just a few steps away from her. The rest of it was all for show. Even in the Federation people would expect at least that much spectacle from what she intended.

She glanced up and shot Irwyn a reassuring grin, which he returned. There were more people in attendance besides her retinue. There was the principal of course, who had barely arrived back in the city - the man had been back in his beloved Academy when the attacks began. He was taking pointless notes, no doubt furious that she had kept the nature of her magic a secret despite all protests. Elizabeth only wondered whether to warn him that miraculously replicating what she intended would most likely just kill him or if it should be left to natural selection.

Of course, Zema made an appearance as well as half a dozen important-looking but unfamiliar men in decorated military uniforms. They had some sense of authority to be sure, most even bore visible scars. It struck her that she had never inquired how active their conflict with the Western kingdom was – there was perhaps no coincidence in the determination that the necromancer had fled towards the border. Either way, those people she had expected.

The next group she had not. A small gathering of firefighters had also made an appearance. While some were clearly in the leadership of the whole organization, captain Tobba stood confidently among them – a broken hand in cast. Of course, there was distance now in the kind firefighter's gaze that had not been there before. For he suddenly understood that she was no hapless child in need of codling. She was not worried – he would find others to stand up for, those in actual need.

Last were the politicians. The rowdiest of the groups, lacking the military discipline of the other two. And uniforms. She wondered if some of them would try to disturb her as a stunt of some kind, a few looked on like they might. Not that they would make it through Irwyn's invisible barrier. Curiously, Desir – in his feminine disguise – had somehow snuck into that group, standing hand in hand with a rather flush middle-aged man. Elizabeth chose not to roll her eyes at that.

"I shall begin," she announced, voice carrying over the conversations. Just a bit of magic in the sound to lend gravitas. Taught to her by tutors - though never by her father who had truly mastered it. She vanquished that thought, lest it distracted her, a smile dancing on the lips. She had still been educated well, even though most of it had been delegated. The attention of the crowd locked onto her.

The first step was to bludgeon an opening into the Void. Wielding her Concept much like a hammer it was no elegant transition - like if she had meant to travel herself. No, what she created was a gaping wound in the fabric of reality, which quickly tried to bleed into the infinite nothingness it connected to. She held it back, lest something ravenous immediately smelled as much and came in pursuit of the meal.

Then she paused and listened. It was astronomically unlikely that there would be anything living in proximity to her chosen spot. The hole had also been opened in the shallows which made it almost impossible to encounter something genuinely dangerous even if that had been the case. That did not mean she would not be careful. Even she should not tread too lightly. Elizabeth listened to the calming flows of the Voidmother's domain, like a bottomless and empty ocean. Carefully observed the elusive boundaries of 'deeper' where laws of reality slipped further and further into obscurity. Felt almost instinctively the calling of Elven cities, so many layers away the very notion of 'far' would cease to exist halfway there.

It had been her first time truly peering into the Void since claiming her Concept and she marveled at the sheer difference in her acuity. There was no more strained focus needed to witness the Void's secrets - it now required more willpower to not be swept into seeking too much. That was not what she had set out to do. Instead, now certain the beachhead was clear, she raised her hand, a slice of ebony cutting into a finger. A single drop of blood entered the black fracture just as she spoke:

" By the blood of Wrath and the eternal foe I carve for ye a path in a then of woe. Among jagged jaws of Rot to the only War against the scourge ever fought, Hound of Exe-wor "

And they echoed into the dark infinity before her. There was a murmur in the crowd on their side of reality but she ignored it, fully focused onto the Void. The reverberation surged through those depths, shuddering with echoes of pacts as ancient as her line. The layman may assume she was too far away to be heard but they would be incorrect. Distance did not matter in the Void, not once sufficient 'depth' was reached, anyway.

She felt the moment it was received as the attention of something greater shifted, resulting in a tangible shiver traversing the vast nothingness. Unlike the principal, she was not stumbling her way across matters of immortals. Rather, she knew for a fact she was quite safe as every step of the ritual had created a degree of detachment between her person and the direct attention of Name. Mostly, the being was not observing her, instead, it was focused on the drop of blood. The physical form of it had been fully eroded, true, but that did not hide the origin. The line of Wrath could not be denied in its essence. Not in the Void from which it originated.

And so, Exe-wor fulfilled the conditions of its pact. Without context the nature of their assistance might be ambiguous but that disappeared with a simple translation of the ancient being's name. 'Exe' was the hunting of the dead, much like in 'Exenn' or many other words in Umbra's tongue. Wor was more complicated, lacking a direct translation. Some called it 'lesser Wrath' but that was not quite accurate either. Its meaning was wrathful but also fearing. It was fury tempered by dread. Rage against a superior foe with the full knowledge they could never be surpassed. And that a Name admitted such inferiority only spoke of how dreadful the Rot was.

Still, the pact had a clear purpose, and for that the Named sent one of its hounds. Elizabeth had barely noticed something moving before the demon dragged itself out through the hole, claws first. Three pairs of bent legs across its long torso which was hunched all the way to the ground as it rapidly made its way out of the portal. It almost looked like a spider, except for the thick hide and the pincherless face. Not that there was much to its visage. No mouth nor eyes, merely an elongated snout. A Bearer of Wrath, as they were called.

DESCENDANT OF WRATH it still greeted, a voice so guttural it was clearly inhuman. A shiver went through the audience but Elizabeth did not flinch. The demon was powerful, at least a few Concepts, but she did not fear it - for it was at her beck and call that the creature had come. Hers to command.

"I have prey for you," Elizabeth simply said.

FRIGHTENING, FRIGHTENING, HATCHLING YET SMELLS LIKE DREAD.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" she inclined her head, unperturbed and unimpressed.

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII it let out a low-pitched laugh. ACT AS ONE, SMELL A ONE, YET IS NOT ONE. IT OBEYS. GIVE IT PREY.

"You pursue Rot, the source of these ashes," Elizabeth pointed to the large pile, ignoring the words. Most of Void's denizens did not think like a human would, they often spoke pointless nonsense. "It of plans ruined by my deed. It that I have wounded through my power," she summoned a strand of her magic, allowing it to drift close to the small hill and mix with it. "Hunt. The first War yet rages!"

The demon slowly shuffled forward, no longer speaking. Its lengthy snout began with an experimental sniff, then turned to quick and loud intakes of breath. Elizabeth felt the magic shifting, Concepts at work, weaving into a spell wholly unlike mortal magic. Based on rules scarce few on their side of reality could hope to ever comprehend. For several minutes it continued like that while everyone looked on in awed silence, then there was a shift.

Its back unwound. No longer could the creature be called decrepit or hunched, the demon suddenly rose to twice its former height, its torso towering well above Elizabeth's head. The crooked limbs straightened, every fiber of black muscle trembling in anticipation and enlarging. Of course, those were only the outward changes. The real alteration was happening within.

The mighty snout snapped in a direction, the eyeless face as if staring at something in the far distance. It still sniffed at the air yet it suddenly did so hungrily, like a choking man gasping for breaths. For another moment the demon stood still.

Then it went mad with Wrath.

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