Maria gasped out of instinct, even though she had no need of oxygen. She leaned forward, supporting herself on her knees. Ash didn’t say anything. He simply watched as she fumbled with Ian’s void storage, sinking her arm into its mouth and rummaging around.

There. She peered inside to confirm that the dagger lay snug in her grasp. She pulled it out in front of her and stared at the intricately carved hilt. “I can empower this,” she said. She turned her gaze toward Ash. “But so can you, and your energy is more potent than mine.” She angled the tip of the tagger at his chest. “You do want to save him, don’t you?”

He flashed her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course.” He walked over and wrested the dagger from her grip, grasping the dagger by its blade. Blood dripped down the knife, but Ash used his practice to siphon all of it back into his skin and repair the damage. He tossed the dagger into the air and caught its hilt as it fell back down.

“You saw Karanos’s replay of the hunt,” Maria stated. “You saw Ian use the dagger. Do you understand the mechanism?”

He nodded absently as he used his fingers to comb back Ian’s bangs. “It’s a simple channeling artifact. I’ve used thousands of them.” To prove the point, the dagger's surface began to glow red, crackles of sanguine lightning dancing on its surface. Ash’s energy felt more wild than Ian’s or Karanos’s, though Maria knew that tight control existed underneath. Ash was multiple kinds of crazy, but sloppy he was not.

Maria had know idea what Ash had discerned from her actions alone. Was he going to act on blind faith that Maria had interpreted what she’d seen in the soul correctly?

“Do you understand why you’re doing this?” she asked, just as he pressed the dagger to the top of Ian’s crown, the sharp point threatening to draw blood. “You never asked for an explanation.”

He gave her a knowing look. “Do you have one?”

She paused. “There was a circlet upon his head. I removed it, and it became a shackle on my wrist. Then the shackle became a dagger like this one.”

“Not much of an explanation,” he said, smiling softly. Maria had to agree–what she’d seen in Ian’s soul was difficult to explain. The soul was a world of sentiment, of feelings rather than facts, of shifting concepts and figures. To necromancers, Interpreting the soul is probably considered an art form.

Before she could attempt another explanation, the blade roared with energy, its surface covered in red striations. As that energy flowed into Ian, his forehead began to shift. Ash cocked his head as he observed the onset of metamorphosis. The necromancer’s skin began to thicken and blacken radially out from the knife point, the plates of bone in his head growing more rugged, more distinct.

Then Ash drew the dagger downward, tracing an umbral line down Ian’s face and body, bisecting him laterally, the blade cutting cleanly through Ian’s self-healing clothes. As the knife proceeded, Ash modulated the flow of energy, causing the transformation to ripple across Ian’s skin like blooming flowers or drifting stains of ink. Maria knew that if Ash wanted, he could brute force Ian’s body to change in seconds. She didn’t understand why a slower transformation was better, but didn’t doubt Ash’s methods and instincts.

There was a deliberate artistry to the way the change bloomed across Ian’s skin; Maria struggled to nail down. It was almost like… She froze, her face contorted in disgust. Like maggots, wriggling to the surface. Or any kind of burrowing insect, really. Ash didn’t seem like the type to emulate maggots. Maybe they were modeled after the burrowing patterns of wasps, like the ones the Kyeilans has groomed for battle on the Ho’ostar Peninsula.

Before long, the transformation was complete, and still he did not wake.

“It’s possible I interpreted what I saw in his soul wrong,” she said.

Ash shook his head. “You’re a more competent person than most. You may not have Beginning affinity, but that doesn’t ultimately matter. Beginning brings our instincts to the forefront, often explaining to us directly what we already suspect. If your instincts have led you this far, you should listen to them.”

Maria wanted to laugh. What instincts? They’d served her wrong at nearly every turn. She only stood here now because of Ian.

The energy coursed strongly through Ian’s body; the transformation would remain in effect for at least a few minutes before subsiding. She decided it might be worth trying to help Ian herself.

She held out her hand. “Give me the dagger.”

Ash obliged, flinging it at her. Maria snatched it with two fingers, the recoil not bothering her unliving wrist. As Ash backed away–crab-walking, of all ways to move–Maria knelt down on her knees and placed a hand upon his chest.

His vessel is unable to handle three affinities. Ash changed the vessel, but still he slumbers. Maria frowned. She suddenly considered a new interpretation of what she’d seen in Ian’s soul. What if the answer wasn’t just the dagger? The red arrows started as a crown, melted into a shackle, and finally became a dagger. What if the answer was in three parts?

She contemplated the crown, the weight of responsibility upon Ian’s brow. It was his burden to bear. No one could relieve him of it–the responsibility was singularly tied to his power and his past. Next she considered the dagger. She felt good about what Ash had done–changing Ian’s body felt appropriate. And as for the final object, the shackle–Maria felt that it was tied to herself.

I am his lich, she thought. I am bound to him, and in turn, he to me. Perhaps there was a way for her to unburden him.

Maria held the dagger steady in her hand as she considered a path forward. “You said I should act on my instincts?”

Ash lolled his head to the side, the eyes on his armor blinking out of sync. “What do you have to lose?”

Maria grimaced and reached into Ian’s void storage again. This time she withdrew an old key. It called to her; she could feel the key as an extension of herself. In one hand rested the key, in the other, the knife. She channeled her energy into the weapon’s surface and scratched it across the key’s side.

She collapsed next to Ian, her back arching. She couldn’t see the key, but felt it changing. A compulsion came over her and her arm extended out, grasping the key and stabbing it into Ian’s neck.

Then she ceased to exist. Her body was gone, as though she’d just been killed and was in the momentary in-between time before resurrecting. Then, without warning, she was again, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t see or hear or feel. She had changed form, but into what, and where? Had she been sucked into the phylactery?

At least the dagger’s metamorphosing effect is temporary, she reminded herself. She hadn’t put much energy into it this time, so it should wear off in seconds.

Suddenly the world filled with color and light, blinding. Maria had almost forgotten what it was like to truly see–not with the gray-toned vital vision she’d grown accustomed to in undeath, but with all the colors of the living. She breathed and felt the succor of air through her lungs. She felt...alive.

Then her new body screamed of its own accord. The sensation of pins and needles gave way to fiery agony after a few seconds, but unlike the body, Maria had no voice, no outlet. She suffered in cold silence.

Suddenly, she found herself wrenched away and returned to her normal form next to Ian. She grasped at her face, relieved to find that she could once more move and speak.

“What happened?” she croaked. Ash was on his hands and knees, legs splayed out to either side of her, his head–less than a foot away from hers–severely encroaching on her personal space. She realized that she still had the key and dagger in her two hands and dropped them, her fingers uncurling stiffly. They fell soundlessly to the grass.

“I think that worked,” he said.

“What worked?”

“Your body merged with Ian’s and helped to offset the burden of his new affinity. He woke up and screamed until you returned to your present self. Now he slumbers once more.”

Maria gaped. “I merged with Ian?” What the fuck!

Ash tapped his lip and smiled. “Why so concerned?”

Maria swept her legs to her chest, then kicked them out toward Ash’s chest. Rather than take the blow, Ash spun adroitly away on his feet, then cartwheeled into a seat, plopping down on his armored ass ten feet away.

While it would’ve felt better to kick the smug ascendant, she settled for reclaiming her personal space. Composing herself, she asked Ash for more clarification. “Can you please explain what you saw in detail?”

He picked a wildflower up and began to pluck its petals. “You changed form.” Fire flickered above his head. “I’m no Light practitioner, but I can try to show you in the flames.”

She frowned. “Wouldn’t it be easier with your earth elementalism?” He could sculpt the earth directly.

“And ruin the grass? No, fire is sufficient.” The ball of flame morphed into a humanoid shape. “This is Ian.” Then the figure changed shape. What looked like a cloak hung stiffly from his back and thick vambraces enveloped his wrists. Finally, six plumes of fire jutted up from his head, all equally spaced. “I believe that you merged with him by becoming these additions.”

Maria wanted to say that it was impossible, but this was Eternity. “Do you have a mirror?” she asked.

One appeared next to Ash almost as soon as the request left her lips. It was propped up on a small shrub so it wouldn’t fall over. The mirror lacked cracks, though was not without imperfections; it was slightly foggy with age around the edges, where mirror met gilded bronze frame.

Maria tugged Ian in front of it, then went back for the dagger and phylactery. She straddled Ian’s torso, her mouth pressed into a thin line as she stared into the mirror. Whatever happened before had been unsettling, and she dreaded the possibility that she’d need to merge with Ian for an extended period of time while he acclimated to his power. She liked Ian. She didn’t want to be his cape or bracers or whatever it was Ash had tried to show her.

But in the end, as she always had, she did what needed to be done. Her hand tightened on the blade and she slashed the key.

When her eyes opened again, she beheld herself in the mirror.

She really was Ian–or at least she saw through his eyes. Unlike before, the body remained still; there was no screaming, no intense pain. Just the reflection of Ian gazing intensely at the mirror, his brow furrowed.

His dusky skin contrasted sharply with the mantle of fire on his back, curling and smoldering heatlessly. Six small teardrops of flame circled slowly around his head, the pointed ends facing down, like ghostly fangs. Looking at them, Maria’s eyes began to draw lines between the nodes, sketching arrays and hexagrams. And finally, covering Ian’s arms were vambraces wrought of bronze, like the key, old and tarnished. If someone breaks those bracers, will that spell my end? she wondered, oddly calm.

Ash walked into the mirror and bent his knees, offering a hand. Ian took it and rose unsteadily to his feet.

Can you hear me? Maria asked. She felt trapped within his skin.

I can, he replied. I feel you through our bond, stronger than ever. I sense your fear.

I can no longer perceive vitality when I’m like this, she confessed. She could, however, see fate arrows. Can you see as I see, with End?

He shook his head. I cannot, but I think… I’m seeing with Beginning, as before, though it’s slight. Without the ethereal energy of Beginning filling the air, the affinity is barely able to manifest.

So they were restricted to their individual affinities, then. But they had their bond, and Ian even had Remorse. If they found a way to synchronize their thoughts and senses, Maria reckoned that they could control five affinities–Beginning, End, Remorse, Sun, and Death. It would be difficult to reach that point, and it would require Maria to sacrifice her own autonomy since–as Ian’s lich–she empowered him.

But the implications were staggering.

Try wielding your ascendant energy, she implored, her discomfort forgotten.

Ian humored her. Deep, cobalt energy swirled around his fingers, noticeably different from before. It reminded Maria of the energy that the powerful proteges like Ketu controlled. It wasn’t red ascendant energy, but it was a clear upgrade.

“Pretty,” Ash cooed, grinning savagely. He’d been silently watching while Ian peered at the mirror and mentally conversed with Maria. “This artifact–I want it.”