The dagger impacted Irwyn's invisible barrier and left the slightest crack. That immediately made him quintuple the defenses he had. It did not pierce through, but that it could damage a nine-intention construct at all put him instantly on guard. The next five thrown blades were already in flight right behind it, the first two impacting on the new invisible walls before Irwyn managed to properly react. The last three were utterly shattered by a beam of Concept empowered light.

Their assailants were a man and a woman, seemingly 30 at the eldest and vaguely similar to one another, perhaps related. While Irwyn was startled by the assault - which was already the second time in just as many hours, and that should be a wake-up call if anything - the attackers seemed no less surprised by their failure. They stared for a split second before reaching for more weapons.

"Alive," Elizabeth snarled to his side, a distinct edge to the voice. Irwyn did not hesitate any further nor looked her way, Light surging onward in a tide. It was so fast it even surprised him, almost instant when he used it with single-minded focus. In between moments, the duo was bound, struggling against panels of light overlaid across their bodies. Like an immovable, unyielding layer over the skin.

They trashed against it, or at least tried. Whether that strength was human or beyond, it was still only the fraction of the force needed to break the nine-intention spell. The daggers had not been thrown with such strength nor any magic, so it was likely the material that had given them that power, not the wielders. Irwyn still kept part of his thoughts on them, just in case of something unexpected happened again. Then he turned to his companions and found a frightening surprise.

Elizabeth was fine. That had never been in doubt. She had dodged an explosion as it was happening right next to her just minutes prior. Of the daggers that must have flown her way, there was no sign - likely erased. Except for one, which she held in an outstretched hand. Said blade was clutched in her fist, palm harder than any steel.

The reason Irwyn's heart was accelerating was, that the caught dagger was held literally right in front of Alice's face. The Time mage was likewise staring at it with the widest eyes he had ever seen on her.

"I-I couldn't teleport it away," she stammered, eyes not leaving the blade. How accurate had that throw been? They had potions… but could those treat truly mortal wounds? A blade through the eye socket was as fast an ending as it was brutal. Irwyn knew that, remembered, yet it suddenly felt like as if he had forgotten.

"Then teleport yourself," Elizabeth's eye fell on the dagger itself before she crushed it in her palm. There was a crunch rather than a scream that would be expected based on the metallic look. She seemed outwardly calm. Irwyn knew she was anything but. "Careless. Even if it was unexpected, so incredibly careless. From both of us."

"I felt no magic - again," Irwyn muttered, also furious at himself for getting repeatedly ambushed. Yes, careless. Arrogant. Even if he feared nothing that was likely to exist in the region, only Elizabeth shared that resilience with him. What of the others in their group?

"Anti-magical," Elizabeth nodded. "They are made from the bones of monsters with natural resilience, then further refined. Bane weapons for mages early and midway through imbuement. You."

She turned towards their two assailants. They were dressed richly, Irwyn noted. And trying to speak but could not. The film of light clung to them tightly, refusing to allow the slightest give to their jaws… actually, the same went for the chest. They could not properly contract and extend, basically slowly suffocating the duo which could only take the shallowest of breaths. Irwyn was not feeling merciful enough to dismiss that while they were still visibly conscious, instead starting to keep time. If they remained aware without air inflow long enough, it would be a strong sign of Honing if nothing else.

"You have tried to steal something precious from me, and came infuriatingly close to success," Elizabeth spoke again, voice so deceptively calm. "Death would be too fast a redemption."

Then she moved, Irwyn barely keeping up with the motion. The first two cuts were aimed beneath the elbow, severing the presumably dominant hands from each of them. Before the two appendages even fell down, Irwyn's light closed up around the wound, stopping any bleeding. At least temporarily, if that wound even could heal.

There was Void in those swings, a blade born from the Concept the briefest instant before impact, then returning to naught. And Irwyn doubted Elizabeth would have inflicted something as treatable as an amputation. Even middling potions could reconnect a hairline cut. A really good grafting draught could regrow a missing limb from scratch… somehow. Neither would likely work in this case.

Irwyn did not understand the exact mechanics of that. He knew some identified wounds through Time, then returned matter to how it once was; others analyzed, then copied pure biology through Life; and yet some leaned on the merciful aspects of Light, turning foreign flesh into something belonging to the whole. Elizabeth undoubtedly understood those principles better than him. So Irwyn highly suspected that what her Concept of Void severed could not be reconnected.

Those thoughts distracted him from the mounting realization of what was happening and that Elizabeth was not stopping. Next she moved to their faces. The two were exceptionally beautiful people, Irwyn recognized that aesthetic, almost unnatural symmetry. Elizabeth did not hesitate to ruin both, drawing jagged black scars across their visages, cutting away a piece of the nose, then more across the lips in random cuts and scratches.

Then Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, before she forcefully opened the woman's mouth. The jaw shattered as it was pushed against the film of Light before Irwyn realized what was happening to allow it some give. Instantly the woman began screaming, a pained echoing screech of mindless agony. Elizabeth cut out her tongue in one motion again, then slamed the mouth shut, breaking even more of what bone might have still been intact.

Next she moved to the man, placing her palm against his eyes. There was no scream as they turned black, decayed down to hollow orbs which would leak corrosive ichor like tears as soon as the film of light vanished and allowed it to. Irwyn stared, shocked and pale, reaching for words to say. The instinct to stop the sheer cruelty in front of him, battling with what they had almost inflicted and something else he could not quite name.

"Let's go find our rooms," Elizabeth ceased before he could muster a retort, turning away in a stride and forcing the other two to follow. Irwyn only remembered to release the binding spell when they were far enough away that it began to unravel on its own.

Irwyn never had stomach for torture. He had seen the aftermath once, in the first year of working as an adult with the Tears and that had been enough. Even without the screams, even without all the motions and sickening noises, it had been too much. Too pointlessly cruel. A step too far. He had not thought about that for a long time. Of that face he could no longer even recognize among the black dried blood and stinking bile. Suddenly he was so brutally aware of the memory he could almost smell the room again.

But he hadn't moved to stop Elizabeth, still half shocked from the prior events as something hard to define had stayed his words. He should have. Assassins they may have been, as uncomfortably close as they might have come to killing Alice… He had to draw a line somewhere. That had always seemed like it. Would he just move it? What about next time?

Irwyn had known Elizabeth felt no pity nor compassion for those she deemed 'other' and had long accepted that, for better or worse. But he could not allow everything. Sometimes even his learned indifference fell short. He glanced up, thinking of what exactly to say.

"We agreed to not kill assassins," Elizabeth spoke first, noticing the visible discomfort as they walked through the hallways.

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"That was not better," Alice weakly argued, still visibly shaken. For some reason, the ring was not visible on her finger - perhaps her inner turmoil had not reached such intensity.

"Too far. It was too far. Promise me not to do that again," Irwyn joined her, stomach suddenly roiling. "Certainly not when I am looking."

Elizabeth paused, reassessing their intense stares. It took her a moment longer, but then she straitened and swore. "Of course. You have my word."

Irwyn felt some of the tension he had not even noticed leave his shoulders, nodding back. There would be more to be said, but not right that moment. Alice didn't seem any better than moments prior. They walked in silence, back towards the large hallway at the front of the palace. No one tried to stop them. Once they got there, the heavy feeling had departed for the moment.

"Do we actually know where our rooms are supposed to be?" Irwyn questioned, eager to move the conversation elsewhere.

"No…" Elizabeth admitted. Alice remained quiet.

With Desir nor Waylan anywhere to be found, it actually led to notable trouble. Being unannounced had been the plan, but it resulted in no one having made preparations for their stay. The trio tried to ask and were met with confusion, then desperate appeasement as someone ran off to figure out an arrangement with the speed of terror. It still took some five minutes of Elizabeth staring down the poor nervous staff that had found no excuse to flee.

Eventually they were led to an expansive lounge with half a dozen adjacent bedrooms and plentiful luxury. Sofas and tables were in abundance in the communal area as well as what seemed to be something close enough to a bar to one end of the room - except instead of bottles of liquor, there were only labelled jars on the shelves.

"We will move the beds to the central area. I am not trusting the bedrooms to be safe," Elizabeth decided. "Are there any traps or secret passages?"

They both turned to their Time mage, who did not respond to her cue. She was just staring into the floor. "Alice?" Irwyn spoke to get her attention.

"Ah, sorry, what?" she looked at them, visibly startled.

"Are you alright?" Irwyn frowned. She was not looking good, now that he was paying attention. Still pale, with the occasional gentle tremble of her hands as well as the absentmindedness. But her finger remained unadorned.

"The ring is… refusing to swallow this," Alice said slowly.

"Refusing?" Irwyn repeated with a frown.

"It's saying… t-that I should not forget this. The encroach of death. So that I do not hesitate again when I cannot afford to. It is unpleasant."

"There is wisdom to that," Elizabeth agreed instead. "Flinching before death is a counterproductive instinct that needs to be rooted out. Irwyn and I were trained in an environment that allowed for real enough wounds, which helped, but I seem to have forgotten about you. That blade should have never been able to get so close to striking true, no matter what. Failing to teleport away an attack has no right to paralyze you."

"S-sorry," Alice stammered.

"Do not apologize," Elizabeth declared, voice firm. "The fault lies solely with me. I failed to prepare you properly. I chose to come here, knowing there would be ambushes, yet never thought to assure all of us could handle them. We will leave tomorrow, this place fills me with disgust anyhow. For now, go rest - a nap will do you well. Clear your head and we can talk when you feel better"

"I… will, thank you," Alice nodded. At least she was no longer trembling for the moment.

"Bring the bed in here fisrt. I am not hazarding more assassins sneaking up on you."

Alice nodded and did as much without another word. It was easy for her to just teleport one of the ornate beds - gilded drapes and all - from one of the bedrooms. Not a moment later, Irwyn felt her teleporting herself into the concealed bed and casting a few more spell around it.

"Sound isolation, I assume?" Elizabeth said loudly. There was no answer, so that could be taken as a yes. Then she turned to Irwyn. "I really apologize for earlier. Getting so carried away is not becoming of me. Neither is forgetting to consider your thoughts on the matter."

"I would be a lot angrier if they hadn't almost hurt Alice," Irwyn hesitantly shrugged, not eager to delve into the topic again. "For now, I just hope not to have to see any more direct torture. Apparently that hadn't been clear enough."

"It is now," she lower her head, then sat down into one of the sofas, exhaling. "This is actually quite comfortable," she beckoned next to her.

Irwyn followed, plopping down to Elizabeth's left, and had to admit she was right with a nod. "Pleasant."

"I don't know what I was thinking, coming here in the first place," she started, staring at the out-of-place draped bed. "A pointless detour for what? Petty satisfaction? All this risk, taken for almost nothing, and the snippets we learned were already a stroke of unexpected luck."

"It's fine to sight-see along our way."

"It's just… this House seems to be exactly what I should have expected. Down to the marrow, it is exactly the kind of place I would assume could create a snake like my mother. And now that I am thinking about it, every single thing I look at reminds of that. Of her. Breathing down my neck, that I should be thankful to her for everything she had done without asking. My wealth and position, the upbringing and education. Even my talent, apparently. Things she never had, I see now, so she shoved them down my throat."

In all honesty, Irwyn thought she was giving the Duchess less credit than she deserved, stained by years of bias. But that was definitely not what she wanted to hear, thus he did not say it. Instead, as he often did, he redirected from the topic. "Then we best hurry and become powerful enough that it no longer matters. That has always been the plan."

"And it cannot come soon enough," she grinned. Then there was a short lull.

"We are alone now," Irwyn broke it. Dreading his words, but still speaking them. "Perhaps it is finally time to speak of our secrets."

"We are in the middle of a hostile…"

"We cannot delay it forever," Irwyn interrupted. "Until a Concept, then until five, until nine, until a Domain? This must happen eventually… I think now is the time."

"You… You are right," she sighed, worry creeping into the tone. Then formed a bubble of Void magic around them. A transparent one from their side, in case another ambush came, but Irwyn had no doubt there would be no seeing in from the outside. Or perceiving anything at all.

"We have met a fae along the way and called her Rustling," Irwyn spoke, then nodded at the lack of interruption to his thoughts. The Republic had taught them that lesson. "Just one more measure."

"Go on ahead," Elizabeth nodded but seemed unsure as to what it was.

"Waylan, if you are here with us, be so kind and announce yourself! I mean that, this is supposed to be actually private!" he waited for a few seconds, but no spontaneous thief manifestation happened. Only a chuckle from Elizabeth. Good enough.

"So, is it me or you going first?"

"Mine is probably bigger and there is context for it already," Irwyn thought out. "As for you… I have little inkling of what you are even hiding. Just that it has had you acting strange since we have left the Federation. I should start."

"Then do," she leaned forward, eyes locking. Black and beautifully intense.

"The truth is, I believe that I know from whose perspective my visions happen," Irwyn finally confessed. The first sentence was hard to force out but then the words came easily. "Or rather, I am sure, just as I am aware they came from me - like reclaimed memories of a previous life, rather than visions. But this identity is something so impossibly ridiculous that every time I feel that unerring certainty, I have to doubt my own sanity. Impossible, but I cannot deny it."

"I take it then that there were more clues than what you have shared?" she slowly nodded, then waited for Irwyn to gather his thoughts.

"A lot, much more in the recent dreams than the old ones," he nodded. "I mostly knew these sights came from the same person around the third vision… though who exactly it was became apparent even during the second - at least in hindsight. But the certainty that they were my own came just as I waited for my trial in City Black. The same vision that told me of the binding oath that prevents me from creating. Because I tried something afterwards I have never muttered a word about again and still feel the consequences."

"Whatever it is, I do not fear it," she reached for his hand and grasped it tight, making Irwyn realize it had been shaking. And that he had been breathing far too hard. "The gravest secret could not break me, I promise."

"Then let me show you," his hands steadied. "The one word I can write, for it belongs to me - if I am somehow not insane."

He looked around them for a board, finding only a small table in front of them. That would do. Irwyn knocked down the incense set present on it and cut a piece of wood out into a board. Then he closed his eyes and let his mind focus on that presence that had been both haunting and blessing him for many months. That he had learned to ignore, but never quite could. The Name.

The lines he cut were as unintelligible as ever, turning into a chaotic nonsense which should not have even been possible by following his strokes. That mattered very little, for Irwyn was not really writing. It was just the medium, a middleman. There would be no difference if the board was broken in the process, as long as it allowed him to usher the conclusion. Perhaps one day even that would not be needed at all, but Irwyn had not researched any other way, so he acted the same as the first time.

Piece by piece, meaning was cut into petty mortal wood. The shape beneath was just a random jumble of lines, but no one would see that. No one with the eyes for magic, anyway. Irwyn felt it touch him down to the core as he finally looked down, exponentially more intense than when he had done it what felt like an eternity ago. Because the words raged and wept, screaming the orchestra of an orphan who had once decreed the very Stars into being, and Irwyn's Concepts already sang along with it.

IGNIS LUMEN

"Can you see now? Why I feel mad?"

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