Enya dropped onto the bed, face-first. The pillow gave a soft poof under her weight—warm, weightless, perfect. She couldn't see it, but she imagined little clouds bursting from the impact, scattering feathers through the air. For a moment, nothing else mattered. Just the hush of comfort and the way the mattress seemed to breathe around her.

"It's so fluffy," she mumbled into the cotton. "So soooft."

The sound came out muffled, lazy with bliss. After weeks of dirt camps and months of that colorless prison, she'd forgotten what softness felt like. "I want a pillow skeleton," she added, words half-swallowed by the fabric. "One that follows me everywhereeee."

A click answered her—sharp, quick, twice in rhythm.

Elria vaulted from the floor to the nightstand, landing with the grace of something too light to belong in gravity. Her crystal legs tapped the polished wood, testing the grain, the finish. Another tap came. Then, satisfied, she raised her front limbs and started to sway.

"That's what spiders do, right?" she said, hips shifting in rhythm. "Dancing. Means they're happy."

Her reflection caught in the mirror across the room—tiny, luminous, ridiculous. "Glad to see craftsmanship hasn't died out," she said, twirling. "Ooh, look at me. You go, witch. Adorable."

Pell's sigh rasped through the quiet. He placed a small coin pouch onto the dresser. The jingle hit like a goldmine to any merchant's ear.

"Why's the old hag calling herself cute?" he said. "It's disturbing. Stop that."

Inside the brown sack were fifteen coins. They chimed nicely as he let go; the coins slid across one another. "That's your allowance for the next three days," he said.

Enya was still murmuring incoherency into the pillow, her arms and legs flailing against the duvet like it was a floating cloud.

Normally, giving her fifteen gold coins would have been ludicrous. That was a significant amount he could have used to pay off a portion of the orphanages' debt.

But it didn't matter now.

Not anymore.

Gold and money were nice, but now they only served another purpose. A resource used to get closer to the truth. There was no more debt—not of the financial kind.

Just a blood one.

Enya finally lifted her head and peered over at him. "How many?"

"Fifteen."

"Is that a lot?"

"Are skeletons dead?"

"No. They're undead."

Pell paused, sockets dimming. "Smartass."

"Ehe." She smothered her laugh into the pillow.

Pell moved back toward the room's entrance. "Alright. This is your room for the next three days. After that we'll start moving to Eiyuria. We're just stopping here for now since we got chased out of the last city." He folded his arms, jaw tired.

The bed shook as Enya sloppily rolled onto her back and looked back at him. "That was your fault," she said, hair splayed.

If Pell still had veins, one might have popped by now. He tried to calm his voice. "And that's why—" he tapped his neck, "—I have this. And so does the witch."

A collar sat at his throat, the kind used for tamed beasts. Enya had even inscribed his name on it.

Pell the Amazing.

It was humiliating.

The collars here marked tamed animals; in Talo they'd foregone collars for lock-based identification—an anti-mana-abuse measure that doubled as pet verification. In Shamwick, collars were the law. He hated wearing it, but hated getting kicked out of another city more.

Elria wore one too, a tiny band around her head she adored. "Fits me just nicely," she'd said in that smug little voice.

"Pell the Amazing. The world's finest circus act that'll leave the audience—wait for it—dead!" Elria joked, flopping on her back and kicking all eight legs in the air.

"I wish I could squash you," Pell ground out through his teeth, shoulders tensing.

He turned his sockets back to Enya. "This is your room for now. My room's down the hall—two doors to the left." He pointed with a closed fist and open thumb. "I'm doing errands. Selling some of what we took from Felicity, see if the merchant's guild'll give better prices. I'll be asking around about that bastard Amberdean discreetly, see if I can get any more information about what he's been up to."

Enya sat up, clutching the squishy pillow. "What about me?"

Pell shrugged. "You can do whatever. Follow me if you want, or go explore. There's an adventurer's guild and a crafter's guild here—both should have warp crystals if you want to link your sanctum. Or wander around and get yourself some food or go play somewhere. Your call." He paused, watching her.

"You're just letting the kid go off on her own? What a responsible daddy you are," Elria chimed.

Pell's sockets thinned. "I ain't her dad, and I swear I'll rip that voodoo doll's head off if you call me daddy one more time," he said, jaw grinding.

Elria mimed zipping her lips with one spider leg, grinning.

"And no," Pell said, straightening. "She's not going alone. You'll travel with her wherever she goes to keep her safe. Don't try anything funny. If she dies, the voodoo doll in my inventory gets obliterated—meaning you will too." He forced the bluff with a hard edge of certainty; he had no idea if his inventory would actually implode if Enya, his summoner, died. He simply had to act with confidence.

Pell continued, "Shamwick is mostly a merchant town. Mostly petty theft and people overpaying for items that turn out to be fakes. Be sensible and keep her out of trouble. She's got a few screws loose inside that mushy brain of hers, so keep her in line." He pointed a finger at Elria.

"If someone tries to snatch Enya up, Elria—you give them a warning, yeah? Loud and clear. And if they ignore you and keep trying, break their bones till they can't scream." He tapped the dresser for emphasis.

Elria's many eyes glittered. "Oooh. Sounds fun." She gave a delighted little tick, as though someone had just described an ideal Saturday. "Breaking things for sport." She tapped her mandible in thought.

"Only if they try to abduct her," he continued. "Don't go around causing wanton trouble. If they try to hurt her, you can fight back—maybe tear a limb or two off. Maybe even kill them—I don't really care. I'm honestly sick of cretins that'll try to pick on her. But if you do decide to take things a bit far, make it discreet. I'd rather not get a wanted poster of us plastered everywhere." He folded his arms, watching her.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"I thought you don't like killing?" Enya asked, voice muffled by the pillow. She peeked up.

"What makes you say that?" Pell asked, sockets creasing.

"Well… you say you don't like fighting. And when I almost killed Elria, you stopped me." Enya's eyes widened, earnest.

The room fell quiet for a beat.

"Yeesh. Kid can't take a hint, can she?" Elria said, scything her crystal legs together like she was sharpening a knife.

"Huh?" Enya blinked between them. "Did I say something wrong?"

Pell broke the silence with a sigh. "I don't dislike killing folk." He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a knuckled hand. "I ain't some arbiter that makes the laws and says who should or shouldn't be killed. At this point you're so engrossed in death that things might as well be better for you if they are dead. And that's mostly my fault—since you became a necromancer under my ruse." He crossed his arms. "I don't like killing people myself, personally. I'd rather see them rot in jail or get beat black and blue till they can't walk. Maybe a few shattered bones so they can't walk for a year or two. But killing just ain't my thing. I don't exactly care if you do it. Just don't make it cause trouble for us."

Enya nodded.

Outside the city, power decided fate. Beyond towns and fortresses, the world was a kind of no-man's-land. Die on a path and few would raise a row. Some might grumble that travel routes weren't safe. But that wasn't the point.

If you died, you died. People died every day. Adventuring was popular with youngfolk—and deadly: nearly thirty percent mortality for teens before twenty-one. Life was hard. Reality wasn't a gilded tale. Even young kids held classes strong enough to injure or kill dozens of adults. Unless you were in the fourth layer, death was expected if you slipped up.

Pell wasn't the type to tough it out. He'd rather watch from the sidelines—at the very least shoot a bow with his eyes closed.

"All right, that's enough. I'm getting situated in my room and registering the remaining items. I'll make my rounds in town. You can do whatever you want. Just make sure you're back here by 9:00 p.m. and no later. Got it?" Pell said, one hand on his hip, the other holding up a finger.

"Yes, Pell!" Enya replied, saluting behind her pillow.

Pell nodded and started toward the door. Enya's voice stopped him.

"Wait—one more thing. If you have the money, can you see if you can buy something for me?" she asked, eyes hopeful.

Pell turned, one soul-flame burning in his sockets.

"Okay, here you go, Miss Enya."

Enya reached forward and took the small card. It bore an impeccably cute photo of a smiling girl, along with her name, height, and a small emblem of a skull.

"With that—and your ID code… 'cheesecake'—you can now enter most establishments that require identification," the clerk said.

"Thank you, Mr. Hommer," Enya replied, slipping the card into the inner pocket of her robe. Although she had her identity as Lia the noble, she was able to actually get another one quite easily. People would now see her as Enya, but only those who could verify knew the truth that she was a high-noble. People became really nervous upon seeing that title. Perks of being a noble, she guessed.

The man coughed. "It's Mr. Hemmere, but that's fine, too." Straightening his tie, he called toward the next room. "Javey, please take Miss Enya over to the warp crystal so she can access her sanctum."

Moments later, a skittish young man appeared. "Yes, sir." He glanced at Enya. "If you'll follow me, I'll lead you right there."

Enya nodded and followed him. Elria, perched atop her head, turned and waved one spider leg in farewell. Hemmere managed a thin smile and waved back, still a little pale.

Once they were gone, he slumped into his chair.

"Holy hell… since when did we have a high-noble registered in the crafter's association down here in the first layer?" he muttered. "If I treat her right… maybe I'll get a promotion. Maybe even a chance to ascend…"

He adjusted his tie again and left the room, pulling a small note from his pocket. A list of ingredients, written in Enya's neat but peculiar handwriting. Strange materials, but that wasn't his problem. His job was to acquire them. His livelihood rested on it.

"Huh? So this is your sanctum? Feels a bit empty," Elria said.

Enya stepped inside. The sanctum was anchored at coordinates B8N3S—a small, gray stonebrick chamber centered around a raised altar. Above it hovered a faintly glowing orb: her dungeon core.

"The hell is that creepy thing?" Elria asked, pointing a crystalline leg toward it.

Behind the core sat another object—a heart, dark and pulsing faintly within a glass cube bound by chains.

Enya frowned. "It's the heart of a demon. Inside a phylactery. I just don't know how to use it yet."

"A phylactery, huh? Intriguing." Elria tilted her head, clicking softly. "And here I thought you were just playing with bones. Demons, too? You're full of surprises."

"You can come in, Jakey," Enya called over her shoulder toward the swirling portal.

A moment later, Javey entered, posture polite, hands balled in front of him. He didn't bother to correct her. He was told specifically to assist her however he could, with full authority of the guild.

"I want to add a forge here, I think. And a…"

"Workbench," Elria finished for her.

"And a bench to work on!" Enya spun, arms out, eyes bright. "This place is going to be my workshop!"

She gestured like a queen unveiling her grand domain—except it was still an empty, gray room of cold stone and half-dead light.

Javey gave a polite nod. "I can certainly provide a starter's forge and a workbench. However, we don't usually give such equipment outright. They're normally shared among members in communal spaces. If you'd like them installed here personally, then… well, there would need to be some payment involved."

He hesitated, trying to read the situation. No one had told him whether this mysterious young crafter was exempt from fees, and guessing wrong could get him demoted—or worse.

"How much?" Enya asked, pulling out the coin pouch Pell had given her. "I have fifteen gold coins."

That made Javey perk up a little. So she was willing to pay. Thank the gods.

"I can bring in an iron forge and a workbench for about four gold," he said carefully. "Three and a half for the forge, fifty silver for the bench. If you need an anvil or basic smelting casts, those would cost another gold and fifty silver."

Enya tilted her head and raised her fingers, trying to count. "Uh… four… three… fifty… and then one… fifty…" She frowned, extending and retracting fingers at random.

"Five… hundred gold?"

A bead of sweat trickled down Javey's temple. "N-no, no, just five and a half gold total. Five gold and fifty silver pieces."

Elria clicked her mandibles in amusement. "Remind me never to let you handle the finances."

"I can do math!" Enya huffed, cheeks puffing. "I'm just… warming up!"

Javey smiled nervously, unsure if it was safe to laugh. "I'll submit the requisition right away. It should all arrive through the warp gate within an hour."

"Perfect!" Enya said, planting her hands on her hips. "This place will finally feel alive."

Elria glanced around the gray void of stone. "Alive might be a stretch. How about less dead?"

"Less dead is still improvement," Enya said with mock solemnity. "Or maybe it should feel more dead… How about bone walls?"

The warp crystal pulsed faintly above the altar, scattering dim light across the bare walls. Javey lingered, half-curious, half-afraid to ask.

"Miss Enya," he began softly, "if I may… what kind of craft will you be performing here?"

Enya's gaze drifted to the chained phylactery behind the core—the faint, rhythmic pulse of the demon's heart casting a low red glow over the room.

"Hmm," she hummed. "Maybe a way to revive a demon? Or maybe a giant monster!"

A sweat trickled down Javey's face. "I—I see. Uh, er—I'll go ahead and fetch your items now." He bowed and quickly left through the portal.

When the air stilled, Enya turned a slow circle, taking in the empty sanctum.

"I think I should start by making the basic stuff from Grimmy," she said. "Since Pell can buy me materials now, I might as well earn as much experience as I can."

Elria clicked her mandibles. "Basics? And who's Grimmy?"

"This." Enya waved her hand. Her soul-bound book materialized with a soft pulse, pages fanning open in a white blur before closing with a thwap. "It's a book that comes with my class. Has recipes and stuff from other Necrosmiths."

"You actually named your book?" Elria asked, her tone halfway between disbelief and amusement.

"Yep!" Enya grinned. The book's pages fluttered again, then stopped midway through, letters bleeding into existence.

<Grimmy> Hello. My name is Grimmy. I am a crafting assistant.

Elria exhaled sharply. "Your system really is cheating."

Enya only smiled. "I got a lot of experience before from making the phylactery that Zerus is in—but that was mostly an accident. She already had that glass box inside her body, and something happened that gave me credit for finishing it. I think it was because I put soul-energy into it."

"You got stronger just by imbuing something with Soul-Energy?" Elria's voice twitched in disbelief. "If that worked for witches, we'd be gods by now."

Hearing the word gods, Enya quieted. Elria obviously knew about them more than she let on. She even knew about Enya's acolyte form. However; she was just too afraid to ask. It related to her origins afterall. The whole problem with Lia's soul sleeping dormant within her was another issue entirely.

She still wasn't sure what to do about it. Maybe when the time was right and they could find Elara, she'd ask about the gods—and whether her revival skill was as it seemed.

The white painting she was in was still confusing to her. Elria made it seem like it should have been a hours or a day or two at most, yet that wasn't what she experienced. Was Elria just deceiving her, or did an accident happen? Did Nekron do it? Maybe Lia's soul did something?

She shook those thoughts out. "Alright. Let's rearrange the room a bit better!" she declared outwardly to distract herself.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.