It was well and truly dark by the time Riven made it back home. He’d made an ice pack for his throbbing head, and for his shoulder too, but Viriya had decided to stay with him for a while so his collarbone had to wait before it got some relief.

“You’re a much better shot than I thought you’d be,” Viriya said.

“I had some basic training.” Riven would shrug, but his shoulder was already crying for attention. “You’re a much stronger Essentier than I thought you’d be.”

“I had training too. Not basic, though. How’d you learn to shoot?”

The how sounded more like a why. “Our family had a security force, and I picked up a few tips and pointers.” He had nothing even close to a personal guard here in Severance Frontier, and that was fine. Back home, he’d always had the impression that the security was more for Mother than for him. He hadn’t needed guarding then, and he was certainly not going to look for help now. Riven was responsible for his own wellbeing.

“Thank you for your distraction,” Viriya said.

The words utterly needless was missing there. She’d have found a way to beat that Phantom with or without his help, and the only real thing Riven had left with from that encounter was that sole instance when the ground had twisted in to protect him from the Phantom’s projectiles.

But a warm flush crept up his neck all the same. It was nice to be recognized, even if was only out of a sense of kindness rather than actual gratitude.

Riven had denied he needed any comforting presence after the night’s events, but it was kind of her to keep him company regardless. He’d be lying if he said that he needed no explanation about everything that had gone on in the refinery. It was still hard to bring up though. The Phantom’s death left a bad taste in his mouth, and his skin crawled whenever he remembered how close he’d come to dying. Time. Time was what he needed. Time to make sense of what he felt and what he wanted.

Time to make that crystal stop haunting his thoughts.

“How did you learn you were an Essentier?” Riven asked.

“Are you concerned you might be one?”

“I mean, do you have an explanation for what happened? How else do you do your starry shit?”

“My… starry shit? This?” Viriya held out her right hand, and the green star bloomed there. This close, Riven had to screw his eyes as the brightness flooded his room. “This is my Essence—Locking. I can have things locked to one another, so they target each other and are bound together, within certain limits.”

“Yes, I get it. Now can you turn it off. I’m going blind here.”

The star disappeared and Viriya crossed her arms. “It could have been the other Phantom’s powers.”

“What sort of power is that? Can Phantoms control anything?”

Viriya took a deep breath. “All ghosts have telekinetic powers. Phantoms are especially good at interacting with the physical world using just their thoughts. The other Phantom is a powerful psychic protecting you.”

Riven swallowed. “Why would he do that?”

“Did you have something to do with his transformation into a Phantom?”

Damn. She was onto Riven, maybe. The Sept crystal in his pocket grew heavy. “I—I’m not sure. One moment he was looming over me, just as a Spectre. Next he was having a seizure? He was all frozen and everything, and then he just… became a Phantom. Really weird. Where in the Chasm were you while they were trying to kill me?”

Viriya frowned. Riven had lit only the one Sept lamp, and his sitting room was still quite dark, but she seemed to like it. Maybe she was embarrassed about her freckles, nearly invisible in normal light as they were. She had taken the armchair this time, reclining back and swathed in shadows like cosy blankets. “I imagine you were beside the main door to the refinement laboratory. I was on the other side, listening through an adjacent room, when I heard them shout about an intruder. Who could it be, I wondered. Who could have been foolish enough to alert the ghosts to his presence?”

Her eyes narrowed, and Riven smiled, a little apologetic. That ghost girl had taken him by surprise. “I have no training at stalking ghosts. And I was spooked by the Necromancer.”

Viriya sat straight all of a sudden, eyes glittering and sharp. “What Necromancer?”

“Mhell. She led me to where the ghosts were, then disappeared.”

“That explains nothing. Who was she, why was she helping you, and why in the Chasm did you listen to her?”

“That explains nothing because she refused to explain anything.”

Viriya cursed, too low for him to hear. Riven frowned. It was strange, yes, but she was getting a little worked up about it. And he hadn’t even told her about the Sept crystal and how it had turned the dissenting Spectre into a Phantom that was still on the loose.

“I’m going to have to go.” Viriya stood up. “This is serious.”

Riven stood as well, a little too fast, and his head throbbed. He winced. No sudden movements, right? “Don’t run off without telling me what’s going on.”

“You know what’s going on—we need to stop the Deadmages before they enslave all the Spectres.”

“Why?”

“They’ll start a full-blown war against each other. We can’t let what happened in the refinery repeat in the rest of the city.”

“How?” Riven asked.

But Viriya had already pulled the door open and stepped outside, leaving only a tiny chink through which one deep green eye held Riven in place. “Stay put and try to get some sleep. I’ll drop by once I’ve met with your father.”

She closed the door behind her and her footsteps faded to nothing. Riven wasted no time pulling off his shirt and applying the ice pack to his sore shoulder. He sighed. The bliss of relief was incomparable. He dragged himself to his bed. Sleep would come, sooner or later, and there was no point worrying about any of that right now.

Riven plopped onto his bed, foregoing the bath he had promised himself. Warm water sounded deliciously soothing, but exhaustion made just getting to bed a chore.

“Are you going to bed like that?”

Riven shrieked, twisting in his bed and pulling the blankets close to himself. Mhell’s head was jutting out of his closet like she’d been hiding in there all along, her white hair haloing, her granite face stretched in a wide smile, her eyes like ice lit from within.

“The Chasm are you doing here?” Riven shouted. “Get out of my home!”

“Please. Don’t panic like a child.” She pulled herself out, her burgundy dress pooling around her. “You should be thanking I came here. My warning might just save your life.”

“Warning?”

“The Phantom you created is coming right here. He wants your crystal.”

“You saw all that?”

“Well… yes. How could I not spectate such a wonderful showing of power and skill?”

Riven sat up, letting the blanket fall. Propriety was the least of his concerns with this dead thing who would have been happy to see him die. “What’s your warning, witch?”

Mhell tutted. “Now, now, don’t be so irritated. I would certainly have saved you if your little darling hadn’t popped in and rescued you.”

“She’s far from little.”

“But she’s not far from your darling?”

Riven flushed, throwing off the blanket at the unbearable heat. “What in the Chasm does Nory want with the crystal?”

“To make more Phantoms, of course.”

“All right but… why?”

She tapped a finger against her lips, lead against lead. “Long story, actually.” Mhell grinned, the light of her eyes sharp as razors, her whispered voice prickling the back of his neck like icy needles. “You mustn’t lose your beauty sleep, my dear.”

Riven had to make an effort not to shiver. “Strange how you were so recluse back in the refinery, and yet here you are, ready to reveal everything.”

“You haven’t the slightest inkling of what I might have said.”

“Will you or won’t you answer me?”

Mhell nodded at him, jutting her chin out. “I will, but it will cost you.”

“What’s the price?”

She shrugged. “I may need to think on it.”

Riven got out of bed. Where had he thrown his shirt? There was something especially unnerving about the Necromancer. Her liveliness and expressiveness, her manner of speech, even that little chin jutting way of ending her nod, they were all faintly familiar. All faintly reminiscent of Mother. But that was what witches did, or so the stories went. They pulled out the hidden bits of the mind and cloaked themselves with it, all the better to enchant their victims. A false sense of comfort. A trap.

“Well,” he said. “I may need to think on if I can pay it when you do figure it out.”

Mhell laughed. “You’ll have to stop compromising one day. But as I am kind, I will give you a pass tonight.” Her smile disappeared, eyes growing hard. “All Deathless can ascend, did you know that? We aren’t bound to this mortal plane for all eternity. But to do so, we must transcend to our strongest form, where even the slightest gesture would sunder the world.”

Sunder. The word harkened back to the Sundering Pit, that enormous abyss supposedly leading all the way to the Chasm. The same giant hole right between the boundaries of Resplend and Vedel Arn, that the two nations had fought over for so long. No one used that word lightly.

“Ghosts are the most proliferate of all Deathless, and they have certain members—Revenants—who have ascended to the realm of the Scions. Demons have their Cataclysms who are also there. It is only the witches who have none. Not a single Wraithlock has arisen over the ages, and now the Deadmages are desperate to become the first one.”

“Not a single Wraithlock… ever?”

She shook her head, white hair swinging like dancing curtains. “Not a one. Madness right? But now there has apparently been some divine portent or other, maybe a prophecy or some such inane thing. Whatever the case, the witches are all in a frenzy, believing the Scions are ready to descend to the world.”

“Descend?” Riven’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of a Scion coming down into Providence Demesne. Viriya had said just a Cataclysm could destroy the whole Demesne. A Scion would eradicate the whole Demesne as well, along with most of the rest of the world alongside. “What do the Scions want here?”

“Who knows.”

Riven’s eyes jumped everywhere, but in the darkness, there wasn’t anything to focus on. Nothing, but Mhell herself. She had said a lot, and he needed time to unpack it all. “The ghosts were talking of a specific Deadmage, it sounded like. Do you know who it is, or where I can find them?”

“Well, of course. But it’ll cost you. Or rather, increase the price of what I might have demanded.”

“Are you keeping a tally?”

“It’s written all over your face.”

Riven’s hand clasped his cheeks. “All over my face?”

Mhell laughed, the light in her eyes dancing. “I will lead you to the Deadmage when the time comes. For now, I will take your leave, my dear. You will have a guest soon.”

“What guest?”

She glanced behind Riven, and he turned. The Sept crystal was visible on his desk even in the gloom. His face went cold. The Phantom. He whirled back around but Mhell had disappeared.

“Hey! Come back!” Riven rushed to where the witch had been a moment ago. The spot felt a tad chillier than the rest, the air a little turgid as though resentful it had been pushed away to make space for a Deathless. “It’s Nory isn’t it? Hey!”

Despite his shouts, Mhell was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. For all her assurances, she wouldn’t be raising a finger to help him against the Phantom. He was all alone.

No. No, he still had Viriya, and Father too. He just had to get to her, which necessitated leaving home and roaming the deserted city streets where he might potentially be taken out by Nory in some hidden alley. No, he’d only be exposing himself outside. Home was the best option. The better option, rather. But all alone?

Riven pulled open the closet, then took out his Sept gun from the drawer. He might not have Viriya’s powers, but this was better than nothing.

Now to find a defensible spot. The sitting room was too open, and the bedroom restricted mobility too much. Maybe the kitchen with all the things he could defend himself with there. The balcony might be good too, with its easy escape—

Hands shot out from the floor and grabbed his ankles. Riven shrieked hard enough to make his throat go sore, and he jumped too. With his feet locked in place, he only fell forwards and smacked his face onto the floor, the gun flying out of his hand.

Once the stinging on his face had abated a heartbeat later, his legs were freezing at the grip. He tried to pull his feet free, but the grip was stronger than iron. The room and everything in it was shaking like an earthquake. His bed was dancing on its four legs, the blankets roiling like ocean waves, pens, notebooks, and papers were falling off his desk and trembling on the floor, and the closest was opening its doors and pulling them close with a bang, over and over. His ankles were being crushed. It was all Riven could do to not scream out at the pain continuously.

The gun. Where was the cursed gun? He stared back. There, just a bit away. He leaned along the floor, right hand reaching out as far as it could go towards the fallen pistol. Riven stretched, joints popping. Just a little further… and yes! He had it!

Riven aimed at the hands, his own shaking. One shot. He couldn’t miss. Worse, he couldn’t blow his foot off. Taking a deep breath, stilling his trembling, and stifling the scream bubbling around his ankles, he fired. The shot was true. It burst into the ghostly hand locked around his ankle, Sept bursting out and fading to nothing form the hole just beneath the thumb.

There was an unearthly scream and both hands retreated under the floor.

Breathing hard, Riven forced himself to his feet. Then he ran. If the Phantom could pop out from under the floor, there was no place safe for him. Riven couldn’t shoot something that was hidden under the ground. His best bet was to get the Chasm away from his apartment, which was harder said than done. The whole building was shaking, and combined with the pain shooting up his calf at his every step, Riven ended up colliding with his bedroom door and his couch before finally halting in front of his front door.

He wrenched it open and threw himself outside only to stop at the very first step downstairs. Nory stood on the landing halfway between his floor and the next one below, outlined in that shimmering glow. His hand was still oozing Sept particles, and his scowl promised he’d turn Riven inside out soon.

“Where’s the crystal?” he growled.

Damn it. He’d left it back in his room. Cursing, Riven rushed back to his bedroom. Most of everything else had toppled off his desk, but the crystal was still where he’d left it, it’s dark depths swirling in an inky tornado. He nabbed it, pocketed it, and charged back the way he had come, only to stop in his sitting room.

Nory was blocking the doorway. “Give it to me, and I will spare your life.”

Riven had to fight himself not to freeze. Oh, he was going to die. “Go screw yourself.”

The Phantom growled, then gestured. Riven’s armchair floated up as though it had been picked up by an invisible ghost. He levelled his gun, then fired into Nory’s chest. The Phantom staggered back, another hole opening up in his chest and bleeding more Sept.

Just the opportunity Riven needed. As the armchair dropped, he turned right and rushed between his furniture and straight at the balcony. He slid aside the glass door and paused at the railing. The jump was three storeys high. He’d have to cushion the fall somehow, but there was nothing but street below. A tree. A tree stood just farther off. That would have to do.

Riven put one foot on the railing, but then an immense tug on his neck threw him backwards. He landed on his carpet in the sitting room, its soft fluff thankfully not aggravating his aching head or shoulder.

“You can’t run that easily.” Nory was floating closer to him. The armchair was held invisibly above his head, a hammer ready to deliver its blow of final judgment.

Riven pointed his gun at the Phantom’s face, the barrel catching the Sept light. He gave no sign of surrender.

“Fine then. Die.”

As the armchair fell, Riven got off another shot, the glowing bullet lodging right in the bridge of Nory’s spectral nose. Riven rolled to the side, but too late. The armchair hit his shoulders, sending a bolt of agony lancing through him. He screamed, then choked it off. Scions, he was going to die here, no doubt about it. Even as he crawled out, Nory recovered, one hand pressed over his face, but one eye still glowing through the grill of his ghostly fingers, his outline sawtooth spiky.

The couch rose this time. Riven gasped. Why was he forcing himself to fight? What did it matter if he died? That crystal didn’t hold the secret to freeing Mother from her death call, didn’t hold a single thing he could really use.

“All right. All right!” Riven put one hand in his pocket and drew out the dark Sept crystal. “You can have it. Please, just stop. Don’t kill me.”

Nory looked for a moment like he was going to hammer down the couch anyway, but Riven waved the crystal. It caught the Phantom’s eye, and the couch floated back down to the floor. “Drop the crystal.”

“Fine.” Riven, of course, drew back his arm and threw the crystal into his kitchen.

Likely against his better judgement, Nory’s eyes followed the crystal sailing into the kitchen. He made to dive after it but then petrified. He whirled, eyes wide at Riven, who had aimed his gun at the Phantom again. Perfect distraction. He fired.

By some twist of luck—because damn everything, Riven definitely didn’t have that kind of skill—the shot took Nory straight in his uncovered eye. The Phantom screamed. Riven squeezed out from under the armchair, and did his best to stand up, lightning and fire shooting through him at every tiny motion. Scions how many things were broken inside.

“Now you die—”

Nory gestured blindly and Riven was flung backwards by the same invisible force. He crashed into the balcony doors, the glass shattering on impact, his back lighting up with cords of blazing fire. The next moment, Riven forced himself flat on the ground as the armchair came hurtling at him, bursting the balcony door off its hinges as it sailed into the night. Hopefully, no one was out on the streets to smashed by an armchair out of nowhere.

The Phantom wasn’t done. His wild gestures were tearing apart Riven’s apartment, the walls cracking under some impossible strain, the couch turning on its side, the doors trying to twist themselves off. And Riven was hurting too much to do anything.

A familiar green glow bathed the area, and Riven looked up. Viriya was there. Viriya was back, standing at the front door with her brilliant Essence, and then she charged.

Too fast. Nory had no time to react. What should have taken her a dozen steps at the minimum, took only two. She clocked him right in the jaw, the star shimmering as it hit the Phantom full in the face, and Nory followed the armchair out the balcony, his scream lost to the night.

“You alive?” Viriya asked, her star flickering off, the green glow dissipating to faint hint that only appeared when Riven closed his eyes.

He groaned in answer, clutching his back. His back had to have been shattered.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, then turned back towards the front door.

“Was I good bait?” Riven managed to ask.

She paused at the doorway, turning her head just enough for him to make out one dark eye. “I didn’t know you’d be attacked.”

Riven bit back his next words. It wasn’t like he had expected to be attacked either, so he had to bridle his sudden resentment at being left alone before it lashed out like fanged vipers. But he couldn’t disregard it either. He had nothing but a stupid gun. No Essence, no training, nothing to defend himself with.

“Get over yourself, Riven” With those bracing words, Viriya headed downstairs before Riven could reply, probably to check if she’d sent Nory to the street, or flying all the way to the Sundering Pit.

Despite the protests from his back, Riven picked himself up and dragged himself towards the stairway. He would have checked on the balcony, but the way his legs were still aching after Nory had death-gripped it, slicing himself on the shards of broken glass wasn’t a good idea. It took a while, and Riven tried to move faster but he had to be careful he didn’t fall down the stairs as every step made his back try to separate itself from the rest of him. He slowed when he finally made it to the front gate of his tenement and saw Viriya standing over the Phantom’s body glowing green as her star. Good, they were still here.

“You should be resting up,” Viriya said as Riven approached.

“What are you going to do with him?” Riven asked.

“Good question.” Viriya leaned so that her face was awash with the green glow as well. “Where is the Deadmage gathering?”

“I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew.” Nory would have spat at her if he could, but then, ghosts didn’t spill blood so how could they spit? Maybe it’d be some icky glob of Sept or something.

“Don’t you care about stopping that Deadmage?”

“It’s stolen most of the Spectres already. Even you mooks wouldn’t be able to stop them.”

Viriya looked like she was contemplating handing Nory over to the Deadmage. Riven stared around. His armchair was standing a little ways off, half of it shattered to splinters, the other half somehow still intact.

“I might be able to get us to the Deadmage,” Riven said.

Viriya turned to him. “How?”

“Mhell offered.”

“That Necromancer? We can’t trust anything a Deathless says.”

“That Deathless is the reason I’m still alive. I’m inclined to trust her.”

They glared at each other. Maybe it was her boots, but Riven hadn’t paid attention to how tall Viriya actually was. Her eyes caught the green glow coming off the Phantom, and they bored into him, as though to light up his very insides with her star.

But Riven didn’t back down. “I’m going to check it out. You can come with or not, up to you.”

“Well, it’s not now, right?” Her mouth twisted, but she smoothed her face. So diplomatic of her. “You need to go up and get some rest.”

Riven stifled the urge to argue. “What about him?”

In answer, Viriya pulled out her gun, her star growing bright in the same hand that held it. On the ground, the glow on Nory spread all over his body. The first glimmers of fright had crept into his glowing eyes, and he stared between her and Riven, begging for release without saying anything. Riven switched his focus to the gun. It didn’t make his heart wrench the way Nory did.

Curse the Chasm, was he actually feeling for the Phantom? For the ghost that had just tried to murder him?

Viriya fired. The Phantom screamed. As the bullet shot up towards the lightless sky, a golden-green comet aiming to dazzle the very heavens, the glow on the ground blanketed Nory completely. Then he exploded, Sept particles shooting out in every direction and fading to nothing before they made could hit anything. His scream faded to shrieks that echoed between the buildings.

Riven turned around and headed up back to his apartment. His back was screaming for attention, and so were his legs, but how in the Chasm was he to reach the former?

“You were bait, Riven,” Viriya called, though he didn’t pay it any mind. Sleep beckoned, after some pain relief. “A trap. It just took a while for me to realize it.”