Maybe this was a mistake. Dallion leaned against the wall of the small room.

Going to the Order, especially in this city, wasn’t his first choice. And yet it was a lot better than most alternatives. The attempt to enter as an ordinary awakened had completely failed. The curates at the entrance had instantly recognized Dallion and ushered him in as his level demanded. He was then taken to the personal quarters of the local cleric, where he was offered refreshments and asked to wait.

So far there didn’t seem to be any inherently bad in their attitude. Dallion had even had a few conversations with the local guardians—from furniture item guardians, to those of quills and pieces of parchment. None of them had anything alarming to say in his regard. An old inkwell had even reckoned that he’d be treated with the utmost respect, being a Moon’s chosen and all. Unfortunately, Dallion found that difficult to believe.

The cleric is approaching, the door guardian said. Almost at the same time, Dallion heard the faint sound of steps outside. Moments later, the door opened and a tall, stoic-looking woman in red cleric garbs entered.

It was the first time Dallion had seen her. If he had to guess, she was new to Nerosal, probably new to the province. For one thing, although her attire shared a design with that of the provincial clerics, its colors were undoubtedly unique.

“Moons be with you, Initiate,” the woman said with a low bow. Her long brown hair fell all over her face as she did so.

“Moons be with you.” Dallion moved away from the wall.

“Apologies for the delay. I was engaged in an Order matter and couldn’t come immediately.”

“Understandable.” Dallion nodded. “I just came to check the status of my permanent effects. And to have a talk with my Moon.”

“It would be my honor to assist you.” She raised her head, then took a few steps towards him. Her actions were sharp and precise, a lot different from the common temple clerics.

“Battle cleric?” Dallion asked. There was no reason for battle clerics to be sent to the city. Then again, given the uncertainty that was expected, maybe the Order wanted to cover their bases.

“Good eyes, initiate.” She extended her hand, palm pointing upwards. “May I enter your realm?”

Be ready, Dallion said to the echoes and guardians in his domain, then took hold of her hand.

No red invasion rectangles appeared in front of him. In fact, there were no rectangles at all. Dallion remained standing, very much in the real world. A second later, the cleric relaxed her hand, indicating for him to let go.

“Quite lucky, considering your way of life,” the cleric said. “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to do anything for you.”

Did she enter my realm? Dallion asked.

Briefly, Gen—one of his echoes—replied. She just stayed in the awakening area for a few minutes, then left.

Nil, anything I should be worried about?

It was drilled into the head of any awakened that allowing anyone in one’s awakening realm posed a huge risk. After becoming an initiate, Dallion had found out that there was an exception to the rule. The Order of the Seven Moons had people dedicated to guiding and helping awakened. Some of them could do so by entering the domain of the person and “removing” the flaws. Each of them had taken a Moon Vow not to harm anyone while in their realm. Even thinking about it would be met with instant punishment from the Moons themselves.

“Why not?”

“The effects are strong, just not harmful. I don’t have the level to remove them. You’ll need a bishop to do that, and at present, all bishops in the province are in the capital.”

In a subtle way, she had shown to be aware of the ongoing conflict between the countess and the archduke, as well as Dallion’s relation to the whole mess.

“I guess there’s nothing that can be done.” Dallion did his best to appear calm. “Where can I rest?”

“You wish to talk to your Moon, initiate?”

“Yes.”

“I would suggest using this room. I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.”

Not the best welcome, but beggars weren’t choosers. After a nod from Dallion, the cleric left the room, leaving him alone. Dallion then found a relatively comfortable spot on the floor and lay down.

Sleep came fast, if not particularly easily. Dallion was helping to see the Green Moon in his dream, or Jiroh at the very least. No such thing happened. Dallion was forced to go through a series of disconnected nightmare scenes, all having to do with the Star. In some he fought, in others he was chased, in third ones still, Dallion was a helpless observer in the crowd watching a horror upfolding. In each case, however, the end result was the same: the Star, or some minion, would kill him, bringing an end to one scene and the start of the next.

Several times Dallion watched his home village destroyed. His mother was also there—one of the people trying to protect him, only to get killed along with everyone else. Once the battle was back on Earth. Both Dallion and the Star were equipped with magic and heavy automatic weapons. The encounter lasted for hours, buildings crumbling around them, but even there he ended up swallowed by the stream of darkness that poured down from the sky that seemed to cover the entire world.

When Dallion woke up, the Room was as empty as before. Both Ruby and Lux assured him that no one had entered the room. Unfortunately, they also said that he’d been asleep for merely three hours. Given the number of nightmares he’d managed to experience, Dallion had hoped it would be at least twice as much.

What now? Dallion asked himself.

He could stay here until evening, then pass by the general. That option didn’t feel particularly appealing.

You can always have the general send you the item, Nil suggested. He’s scum, but he has his ways. All you need to do is leave him an echo item.

“Okay.” There was nothing for him to do in the city, anyway.

There is one more place I think you should visit, though...

The place turned out to be the last that Dallion expected—the Icepicker’s guild hall.

Stepping into the building was strange on several levels. Centuries in true time had passed since the last time Dallion had visited it. In the past, there had always been people there, even at the times of the festival. A sense of nostalgia came over Dallion as he remembered back to the time he’d train with Vend, or sneak into the sword room in his attempts to reach the end of the world item. For a time, this was the place he had called home, a place filled with quirky characters, oddballs, and—as it had turned out—fallen nobility. If Dallion hadn’t left, there was every chance he’d still be with them now. Even after the artifact craze had come to its end, there was still the odd item that the guild was given to clear. Also, there were the sanitation missions and house repair missions. Though simple, such work could have been fun. Also, it would have kept him from getting entangled in the complicated game of politics and power. It would be a calm, simple life, each day being pretty much like the last... then again, Dallion would never have seen the world or learned the things he had. More than likely, he wouldn’t have acquired half the skills he currently owned.

Hello, Dallion, the guardian of the building greeted him. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. How have you been?

Dallion almost felt sad. He knew that the guardian could feel the negative emotions spreading from him like a cloud, and yet it was still making an effort. As the saying went, area guardians tended to mimic the nature of their occupants, both the good and the bad.

“Where is everyone?” Dallion asked as he walked through the hall, fingers sliding along the wooden paneling of the wall.

The guild master closed me up. Most of them left along with him for Linatol. They’ve probably gone to another guardian. I can only wait and hope for them to return one day.

That was highly unlikely to happen. Dallion had seen how merciless nobles were towards people and guardians alike. It would be typical for the countess to tear the building down and have a new one built in its place. She had already done the same to the palace, ensuring that not even a brick remained loyal to the previous lord mayor.

Why did you want me to come here, Nil? Dallion asked.

I’d have hoped that after all your training and experience, you’d have become a bit more attentive. The guild hall told you that most of the people left for Linatol. He didn’t say all.

Barely had the old echo said that, when Dallion heard the faintest of creaks from the floor above.

Instincts took over, making him burst into fifty instances, spreading through halls and stairways. The effort didn’t last long. Standing on the second flight of stairs were two people, both of which Dallion knew well.

“Nice to see you’re still practicing your splitting,” Vend said. He appeared a lot more tired than before, the dark rings under his eyes indicating that he hadn’t slept for a long time. “Passed the two hundred mark?”

All of Dallion’s instances faded away, leaving only one to remain in reality.

“No, not yet.”

“Managed to keep them up for over five seconds?”

It was typical for Vend to ask about such things, even after all this time. He was never one for small talk and had to be forced to take on apprentices. As far as Dallion knew, the guild elite had quite the practice after becoming a lieutenant.

While seeing Vend was surprising, it was the person next to him that Dallion didn’t expect in the least.

March, he thought. There had been many rumors regarding her after the Linatol mission. It was said that she had been kicked out of the guild, banished, or kept for a millennium within a prison item. All of this speculation sounded plausible.

“Why are you here?” Dallion asked.

Vend chuckled at the question, looking away.

“Looking a gift horse in the mouth,” March stated calmly. “You really have changed. Hannah asked us to help you. Considering what you’ve gotten yourself messed up with, it’s the least we can do.”

Hannah? No doubt Captain Adzorg was also involved. That’s why Nil had been so insistent that Dallion pass through the guild hall.

“For old times’ sake?” Dallion asked. “You won’t be able to help me this time.”

“You’ve really grown too big for your britches,” Vend scoffed.

“None of you can take on the countess. If you join me, that’s what you’ll be doing.”

“That’s for us to worry about.” March frowned. “I promised that we’ll help and—”

A loud crack echoed throughout the building. Black tears appeared along the walls and floor, spreading as if the structure were made of paper.

All three awakened split, instances scattering in all directions. Screams filled the air—the last cry of a dying guardian. Anger filled Dallion. It was one thing for a guardian to be killed through the destruction of its item. This wasn’t the case—the guardian was being killed from the inside out, destroyed by Star-spawn.

“To the fourth floor!” March shouted just as the floor collapsed, hollowing out of the building.

Faster than the eye could follow, the captain drew her sword, deflecting any falling debris before he could hit her. Vend, on his part, went through a chain of combat splitting, avoiding them. In contrast, Dallion did nothing. Remaining perfectly still, he watched everything around him crumble, leaving only the outer walls. Only when the dust started to settle did he draw his harpsisword, tapping it on the side of his leg.

“I’m sorry, Dal.” A black figure surrounded by void matter emerged in the middle of the formed rubble. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I’m sorry as well,” he raised his weapon, “Overseer.”