Julia's consciousness raced along buried lines faster than she would ever be able to fly, as numerous crossroads, forks, and splits passed her by. She didn't know which way was the fastest, but she knew where she needed to go—she could feel it. As long as she headed in that general direction, the rest would work itself out.

The song constantly pulled at her mind, wearing away at her mental fortitude. Just as her pace would begin to slow, the song lulling her off into a daydream, Lumenfall's presence would sink over her like a heavy blanket. The jolt was just enough for her to patch up the walls in her mind, and so the cycle went for several minutes—or what was probably minutes.

She had no real sense of time, and even if she did, the song constantly scrambled her thoughts. It would be impossible to keep track of passing seconds with such distraction.

However long it was, her mind eventually became so thoroughly overwhelmed by the incessant melody that Lumenfall had to actively support her. It was like trying to keep someone awake—a poke here, a prod there—only with thoughts. However, Lumenfall was practically digging her fingers into Julia's flesh to keep her 'awake.'

She knew they must be close to the Etherium's source for the pull to be so strong. She was distinguishing distinct desire from the Etherium now, which was a strange concept. It somehow had will and intent. She'd encountered it before, but it was never so strong. It always felt like it had a purpose, and it was uninterested in anything besides.

When deprived of that purpose, it seemed to become much stronger—or more demanding, at least. Julia still couldn't make out distinguishable words, but the meaning was crystal clear. The Etherium requested—no, demanded—that she drop everything and assist it. It knew, somehow, that its mission was the most important thing in existence, so little else mattered in comparison.

What had Seyatha called Etherium? 'Literally the Crystalized Essence of the World's Will,' or some such? She'd said it was a remnant of creation or something, so the strong will made some amount of sense. If a world were being created, Julia could see how that would be the strongest imperative. However, the world was created—had been for a long time.

It was well past time this crystal settled down.

Lumenfall's presence rallied her mind once again, and this time she drew on every ounce of focus she could manage to separate from the flow of mana and reformed herself. The strength of the song was intense, and all the divergent mana paths had converged into one so she guessed they were very close to the Etherium's origin.

With a flash of light and scarcely any noise, she was standing before a large pane of glass, gazing into…something. She shook her head, attempting to clear the disorganized chaos within. The mind-scrambling effect of the crystal's song was still present, just subdued. It was making it hard to gather herself.

Lumenfall's little paw touched Julia's cheek, and she glanced over to see Lumenfall staring seriously to their front, toward the glass. Julia followed her gaze and sucked in a sharp breath. This wasn't a huge window. It was a crystal—the crystal.

She stood on a balcony with a sturdy handrail overlooking a monumental cavern which housed the Etherium. She'd been calling it a 'crystal' up to this point, but the word truly didn't do it justice.

The Etherium crystal was rectangular, though with sharp points at both the top and bottom. Actually, the Etherium matched The Stone's shape nearly one-to-one. The Stone, rather than being some fortress carved out of rock to house the crystal, was actually a shell of stone surrounding its enormous bulk.

The crystal floated freely within the cavern, though it was chained on the top and bottom by Orichalcum. These chains both connected it to the infrastructure around the city as well as kept it secured. Julia suspected it would rotate freely about itself were it not constrained.

The surface of the crystal was transparent, like high quality glass. Yet beneath the surface, colors, shapes, and impossible images whirled in and out of existence, entire worlds contained within each of its facets. She'd have to be careful looking at it; its appearance synchronized perfectly with the muted song that still clawed at the barriers of her mind.

"Beautiful, is it not?" a voice spoke from behind.

Julia whirled around, already kicking herself for allowing the crystal to draw her in so completely that she'd dropped her guard. Her self-admonishment quickly fled to the back of her mind as she gazed upon a scene of horror.

Before her was a large, ornate table filled with the remnants of what must have been a grand feast, yet the participants, rather than basking in the afterglow of a filling meal, lay in various positions of death.

Heads were lain on plates, greasy slobber trails running from their mouths to the plates they rested on. Chairs were tipped over, their occupants spilled from them and left where they fell. The various corpses wore fine clothes—fine even to Julia's undiscerning eye. They had rings and necklaces and framed gems about themselves, such opulent displays clearly meant to indicate their wealth and status.

Julia scanned the bodies and realized there were at least two she recognized. The first, one of the corpses on the floor—seemingly having fallen out of his chair, was a man that she had seen around the Guild, though they'd never spoken. The only reason Julia remembered him specifically was his manner of dress—just as loud then as it is now.

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The other she recognized well—Julia had just seen her a day ago. Margreth lay reclined back in her chair, though not in relaxation. She had a startled look frozen on her face, along with a tinge of fear. Julia hadn't seen fear in her eyes before—surprise, maybe, but not fear.

The bodies showed no signs of struggle or any visible wounds. This led Julia to believe that her initial guess—poisoning—was incorrect. As far as she knew, there was no poison in existence that could kill so quickly that the victims didn't even have time to struggle. It was as if life left them in seconds—so little time that they couldn't even thrash in their death throes.

"Yes, it was quite the tragedy, but we must—all of us—play with the hand we've been dealt," the voice called again.

Just past the table and corpses was a balcony overlooking the city, where a tall man stood with his back to Julia. He had his hands clasped behind his back, and he wore a neat tunic and pants that were elegant but not ostentatious. He had black hair that was slicked back and was remarkably composed for the scene of carnage he stood only a few strides from.

"You killed them, I assume?" Julia called, approaching slowly and cautiously.

"I took their lives, yes. Am I solely responsible for their deaths, though? I suppose that's subjective," he replied, not turning.

"In what way?" Julia asked, more than content to talk and prepare herself.

Her armor crawled across her skin like a liquid, forming silently into place.

"Well, originally they were here to celebrate. You see, it was to be a momentous day. The military would invade the South Quarter, the draft would pass, and we'd be well on our way to a strong invasion force.

"However, you decided to crash our little soiree, and plans had to change. Instead, you, the Adamantine adventurer—and elven sympathizer—invaded The Stone and killed every member of the Council of Lords.

"Such a tragedy. Fortunately, I alone survived, and I will use the momentum your assassination creates to sweep retribution across the marsh," he declared, holding his hands to the side as if delivering a grand proclamation.

He turned to face Julia, and the first thing she noticed was his eyes. They were a deep, dark purple that practically glowed, though somehow in the inverse. Rather than emitting light, it was as if the ambient light in the room was being drawn into them, their glow being due to the emission of the light being devoured rather than from the eyes themselves.

He had a handsome face with that unmistakable thirty-something look that spoke to a high Level and a long life. He had neatly trimmed facial hair that was as black as his hair, and he moved with a grace that felt alien—unnatural. Even the simple act of turning around was performed so gracefully that he practically floated.

"The implication being, that had I not invited myself in, you wouldn't have had to kill the Council? Those are some serious mental gymnastics. If you're attempting to unbalance me, I'll have to warn you that I'm not quite nimble enough to follow such twisted logic," Julia replied, her sword forming in her hand, helmet crawling across her head.

The man ignored Julia's act of arming herself and sighed, as though exasperated.

"It's such a shame. We could be great allies, you and I. Is there really any reason to fight?" he asked, as if even the notion was ridiculous.

"I can think of over a million reasons why, yes," Julia spat, faces of dead elves atop Veshari's walls passing quickly through her mind.

"We didn't even need to fight then, you know? I just want to move the tree here. That's all. If the elves are so attached to it, they could come live here, too. I'd even be more than happy to give them some kind of official position: 'Keepers of the Tree,' maybe?" he suggested, as if thinking aloud.

Julia stopped pacing abruptly.

"You want the Mother? Why?" she asked.

She couldn't help herself. She'd been fighting the Nashiin for so long without ever knowing why.

"Is that what they call it? Fitting, I suppose. It's a spirit tree, you know, born in a time before time. It's literally older than this world," he explained with an arched brow.

Julia merely nodded. She wanted him to spill everything, but she also didn't want to give him any new information.

"Well, what you might not know is that spirits are incredible at manipulating mana—the best, as far as I know. Unfortunately, they don't exist in this iteration—this world. That's what makes this 'Mother' so valuable," he explained wistfully, his eyes growing distant, as though picturing the Mother.

"How, exactly? What could a spirit's mana manipulation possibly do for someone who has an Etherium crystal larger than most buildings?" Julia asked.

"Ah, but that's exactly it!" he exclaimed, and with a snap of his fingers, he was suddenly leaning against the balcony on the opposite side of the room, staring out at the huge crystal.

"This crystal—it's unbridled potential, yet it's also my prison," he said with obviously mixed emotions.

Julia remained where she was, silent, watching. Her sword was still in her hand, ready for use, and Lumenfall was already whisping into mana, ready to merge at a moment's notice.

"This isn't my actual body, you know," the man said, suddenly turning around to face her.

She was once again caught off guard—what did that even mean?

"The previous owner of this body—the dullard—summoned me from out of time. I have some familiarity with summoning, and the pact is always made between summoner and summoned. This moron, however," he said, motioning to his body, "bound me to the crystal rather than himself. Why should he sacrifice any of his mana to violate the natural flow of the World when he had access to such vast amounts of Etherium, after all?"

"When I first arrived in this world, alone and confused, I couldn't even manifest physically. I was simply a soul bound to the crystal. After much time and effort, I managed to take control of the dimwit's body. This, however, did not grant me freedom—merely a larger cell."

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