Few understood the intricacies of both magic and Gemchemy. For as prominent as magic was for the elves, only a handful of their population could practice the delicate art. The swoles weren’t so different, but the skill required a particular type of genius to perfect.

Cyril mastered both. It took his entire life, studying and practicing each art. Now, his greatest achievement was before his eyes. A large heptagon brushed with Soulgem paint crafted in Gemchemy, with a perfect triangle meeting three of the seven joints. Inside the shape was also a thin-lined circle concealed inside the heptagon but overlapped the triangle.

Aidan Payne observed closely from outside the diagram, arms crossed and eyes as stern as ever. He tried his best to understand, but no human could ever. However, to his credit, he was the only human who believed in Cyril.

No one trusted a scholar of the Dark Arts, as most would have Cyril hung. The taboo wasn’t even a Valorian issue but shared with Anfana and Brontos as well.

Aidan was the first of any of Gemkind to trust Cyril. He wasn’t a religious man, but he chose to put his faith in Cyril. He relied on him to cure his injuries and to operate his more… what Gemkind would say sinister plans.

“Next are the candles,” Cyril said, standing up from the art piece below, careful not to smear any of the paint on his way up. He retrieved glasses with melted, Soulgem wax, an exotic, hot pink that looked similar to a Gem base liquid, only solidified.

“Can I help?” Aidan asked. “I want to speed this up. I’ve been standing here for hours.”

Cyril nodded. “The three large candles go where the triangle meets the heptagon. The smaller ones go on the unoccupied angles on the perimeter, and the medium-sized candles go where the circle overlaps with the triangle, topping it off with a small candle dead center.”

Aidan looked curiously at the candles. He picked up a single large candle and gently placed it on the diagram's painted angle. The smeary paint would harden much like cement, creating a mold that held the candles in place for the main event.

They placed every candle precisely, and so they waited a minute for them to secure in place with the paint.

“How long must we wait?” Aidan asked, his impatience palpable with every word.

Cyril gently applied sideways pressure, noticing the candle staying put. “We should be about ready.”

“Not ready without me, right?” Kiba barged in.

“Where have you been!” Cyril snapped.

“What? I was running errands. What’s wrong?”

“I needed Soulgems! You nearly postponed us by hours!”

“It’s alright,” Aidan said. How he put up with Kiba’s antics was still beyond Cyril’s understanding. “But what errands were you running, anyway?”

“Milk,” Kiba said flatly.

“Milk?” Cyril seethed. “You disappeared for hours… to get milk?”

“Somebody has to do it,” Kiba shrugged. “I’m here now. Are we ready?”

“We are ready. You’re not coming with us.”

“Oh come on!” Kiba spread apart his arms. He had his globe compass in hand, meaning he likely just arrived back in Ryuso. The milk story was clearly a fabrication. No one in their right mind would believe him for a second. But arguing with a fool was below Cyril. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“No,” Cyril turned his head.

“What if I bring you… ten Soulgems.”

“No! Nothing you can say will change my—”

“Twenty,” Kiba said.

Cyril’s shoulders rolled with fury. He looked to Aidan, who seemed not to care about Kiba’s absence at all. “Fine, whatever. Let’s get in the center circle.”

They crossed carefully inside. Even Kiba seemed cautious with his step. His curiosity, for once, outweighed his desire to antagonize Cyril.

With a lighter, Cyril lit every candle on the inside first, except for the one in the very center. Then, he worked on the outer perimeter, finishing with the larger candles lining with the triangle.

“Okay,” Cyril said. The three men in the crowded diagram suddenly shook to the pink, electric currents that hovered over the painted lines. They were harmless, but Kiba and Aidan didn’t treat them as such, keeping away from the path. He held the small candle up. “I need you all to touch a part of the glass.”

Aidan and Kiba awkwardly touched the glass.

“Are we going to be holding this throughout the meeting?” Aidan asked bitterly. He didn’t like to be close physically to anybody.

“Sort of, but you will be independent when we change realms,” Cyril said. Choosing not to sit idle while his candles were dwindling, he lit the candle they held, tossing the lighter out of the diagram.

The current jumped from every angle and conjunction from the diagram up to the tip of the flame. The ground started to shake, and the fire spiked an inch higher on every candle.

Cyril’s vision blurred as his hair and cloak shook to a violent draft that swirled to the center. His ears flooded with noise, the feeling similar to standing next to a waterfall.

And suddenly, a pop. The noise vanished, and Cyril’s sight darkened to a point he couldn’t see. He no longer felt the candle in his hand or even the touch of Aidan or Kiba. His eyes readjusted, and Aidan’s skin revealed first, followed by Kiba’s white mask.

The chains over Kiba’s torso glossed in light. The source came from ahead.

“Who calls me,” a dark voice said, even deeper than Aidan’s voice. Then Cyril saw the red eyes documented in near-ancient texts. The Grim Reaper sat annoyed behind a table, and in his cloak, he stared daggers at his visitors.

The lighting in this void realm came dim lanterns on the counter, with a slight glow on the floor behind where they arrived on the diagram. But the heaviest light came from the reaper’s red eyes above his pitch-black, shadowed face.

“Whoa,” Kiba said. “It’s actually him…”

“You’ve done it, Cyril,” Aidan said, walking up to approach the Grim Reaper. He stood over the small counter that divided him. The Dormoor lord tried his luck intimidating the force of death before him.

The Grim Reaper, however, challenged his gaze. “You can stand and stare all you want, but your time here is limited. Do you really want to waste your time here trying to play your social politics rather than conducting the business you came here for? If not, I suggest you sit down, for that’s the closest you can get to my level.”

Whether it was his point about their limited time or the Grim Reaper genuinely intimidated Aidan, Aidan sat down without a word.

Cyril approached the counter, sitting down beside Aidan. He turned around, and Kiba stayed on his feet a couple of feet behind. “Come, sit down with us.”

“I’ll stand and let you guys handle it,” Kiba said. He didn’t seem interested in confrontation and simply spectated from behind. Something seemed odd about him, offering a heavy Soulgem haul to come but refusing to annoy Cyril while he was here.

“You don’t seem surprised by our arrival,” Aidan noted, speaking directly to the reaper.

“Yeah? Well, you hardly seem surprised to be speaking to Lord of Death himself,” the Grim Reaper sighed. “You humans live such short lives, honestly. My last visit was three hundred years ago. You know how long that is in my lifespan? Hours.”

“Excuse me,” Cyril interjected, “but I’ve read you are in only a few hundred years older than that. Didn’t the Gem God create you?”

“A common mistake, but gravely wrong. I am Death incarnate. A force that existed—or as you would say, birthed—the exact moment life began. The Gem God simply materialized me. In exchange for independence, I gave up my omniscience and now overlook the world from above instead of below.

“I was once of nature’s law, but now am the law of death. Before me, your little experiments would go unpunished, as it was out of my hands.”

“Excuse me,” Cyril took a breath. “Our experiments? You mean, Soulsmithing humans?”

“Indeed, it’s illegal under my law. I only allowed it under some circumstances, which didn’t play out as I expected. I thought that a successful operation under a female’s body would deter you from what you sought,” he looked to Aidan. “But I underestimated your determination. You’ve brought me many unfortunate souls. You’re cruel, even for me.”

“I want something else,” Aidan said, unempathetic to the reaper’s anger.

“I know you do,” Death said. “I know what you came here for. My wares are available if you have the appropriate Souls to exchange.”

“I need whatever that can swap souls from one body to the other,” Aidan clarified. But the Grim Reaper seemed already aware. “How much will that cost me.”

Death pulled from under the counter and put two thin pieces of laminated paper with the same diagram Cyril created to enter Death’s Realm. It had a more flowery design that Cyril couldn’t possibly replicate himself.

“These will do what you seek,” Death explained. “You stick this on your body, and the second on the other. You use the same diagram with the same candles, and the swap will occur.”

“How much are you asking for?” Aidan asked.

“One large Soulgem,” Death said.

“A hefty price, but I’ll take it,” Aidan said. “We will come back and finish this deal.”

Aidan leaned forward to help himself up to his feet, ending the bartering.

“Would you like to know more detail about the procedure? There’s something you might not like,” Death said.

Aidan settled back down, nodding for him to continue.

“The transition is of soul, not mind. What makes you, you, will make them, you. But your conscience will remain in your body. What you need to figure out first is if your beliefs you hold deep to your core are potent enough to change their mind.”

No! Cyril thought. This isn’t good; I didn’t consider this possibility. I always lumped the soul and mind together as one! Cyril turned to Aidan, seeing his reaction. Is he going to kill me for this oversight?

“It is,” Aidan said flatly. “We’ll come back with the Soulgem you seek.” Aidan stood up and turned his back to Death. He arrived at the diagram before turning to look at Cyril. “Are you coming?”

“Sorry, my lord, but I have more questions. It’s an expensive trip. We should make as much use of it as we can.”

Aidan nodded absently.

“I want to know about your other wares,” Cyril said, facing Death.

“My other wares? Hmm, very well. I have two to show you,” Death pulled another piece of paper from under the counter and handed it to Cyril directly. Cyril noticed it had a different design altogether, with the circle the most prominent part of the diagram, having the heptagon in the center.

“And what does this do?” Cyril asked.

“It resurrects life back into a body,” Death explained to Cyril’s shock. “Despite the design of the glyph, it works in the same diagram you used to get here. But be warned, this will not repair the body. If the corpse is inhabitable, the body will die again.”

Cyril grabbed his chin and widened his eyes. “This is… good to know. And I suppose it’s best to resurrect them fast before the body decomposes?”

“Indeed.”

Cyril, keeping this in the back of his mind, returned the glyph to the reaper. This wasn’t their priority, but it was good to know the option was there. “What’s your last item?”

The Grim Reaper inhaled and pulled out a five-inch blade from below. He set the antique, black knife on the counter, and the first thing that blew Cyril away was the Soulgem sticking out of the pommel. It was matte black, leaking a trail of dark smoke.

“The same price,” he said, “for a weapon that pulls the soul out of the opponent on contact, filling the emptied Soulgem in the process. It’s beyond deadly, able to kill on contact.”

“So,” Cyril said. “It’s another way to harvest Soulgems, skipping the decomposing entirely? Again, that sounds interesting, but I’m afraid we have little use for that as of now.”

The Grim Reaper nodded, understanding. “Those were the three expensive items I sell. I do have one, cheaper item that I believe you will find to be… desirable.”

Cyril looked Death in the eyes and waited for him to continue.

But he didn’t expect Death to pull out a measly pen. He followed up with a sheet of paper. “This is a pen that binds your soul to contract. It guarantees the parties abide with what they sign.”

Steps came from behind Cyril, and Aidan returned to sit down. “And how is that?”

“If the name attached breaks the conditions, they will die,” the Grim Reaper said flatly. He turned the paper around and started writing. He stopped after only a single paragraph, turning the contract over to Aidan, dropping the pen. “It’s a very powerful tool, with endless ink. You need only one of these.”

Aidan pulled the contract to his chest and looked Death in the eyes after reading it. “You want me to sign this?”

“This is the only item I don’t sell for Soulgems. If you want it, you must agree to my contract.”

Aidan looked at the contract again, considering. He put the contract down and picked up the pen. He signed his name in perfect print, pushing the piece of paper toward the Grim Reaper.

Aidan stood up and looked at Cyril. “We’re done here.”

Cyril stood up after Aidan, and they returned to the diagram. “My lord, what did you agree to?”

Aidan sighed. “Something that doesn’t concern us anymore.”