As I grappled the pylon with my teeth, everything around me melted into darkness. For a moment, there was nothing—just the taste of the construct and my own erratic breathing.

Then, without warning, I was consumed by a tidal wave of sensations.

It wasn’t just a visual overload; it was a multisensory assault. Colors, sounds, emotions, memories, they all came at once. I saw faces I didn’t recognize, heard screams and laughter, and experienced the warmth of sunlight and the cold bite of winter. I felt the heartbreak of loss, the joy of reunions, the thrill of discovery, and the numbness of despair.

I was simultaneously everywhere and nowhere, drowning in a sea of chaotic images and feelings. Pain seared through my brain, white-hot and blinding. It felt like every nerve was being electrocuted, the sheer intensity threatening to fragment my consciousness. The sheer weight of it all threatened to break me, as if I was being crushed by the collective mass of countless lives and memories.

There was a series of images: a child being born, a sun setting over a desolate landscape, a star exploding in a supernova, civilizations rising and falling. These weren’t just random images; they felt intimate, personal. Memories. Yet they weren’t mine.

In the whirlwind of sensations, the word Rexen echoed in my mind, becoming a beacon in the tumultuous sea of chaos. I clung to that thought, desperate to find some sense of clarity, some anchor in the storm.

And then the maelstrom shifted.

Images of Rexen emerged, sharp and clear. The two of us, moving through the camp the night I led him to Tartarus. Both of us laughing at Edwig as he realized his sweater vest was inside out. Other experiences that never happened—from some other timeline, maybe. Or what could have been. Rexen and I facing down a swarm of golden-bodied warriors. Rexen, floating above me while I fought off some sort of wild boar. My body being impaled on a spear of vines by some gothic witch lookin’ lady as Rexen tried to protect me.

Then I saw him, not as the spectral presence I knew but as a man—vibrant, alive, and teeming with power. Human. Mousy brown hair. Shorter-statured, scrawny, with a round, childlike face. There were flashes of battles fought on mountaintops, where the air was thin and every breath was a fight. Rexen, wielding unimaginable power, battled a colossal beast, their energies clashing in a blinding display of Arcana. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp around them, the raw power causing the very mountain to shatter and reform.

Then the scene shifted, plunging into the deep abyss of the ocean. There, surrounded by darkness and pressure, Rexen engaged another foe. They danced through the water, their combat a mesmerizing ballet of power and grace. Arcana surged between them, turning the water around them into steam, creating whirlpools and currents that threatened to pull everything into the void.

It was overwhelming, watching Rexen in his prime, witnessing his dominion over Arcana. The realization struck me hard: Rexen wasn’t just some powerful spirit. He had once been a force to be reckoned with, a titan among mortals.

The torrent of images began to recede, pulling back like a tide. The pain started to ebb, leaving me drained and disoriented. But just as I thought it was over, one last vision came into focus.

It was a simple scene, a quiet moment. Rexen, an old man, looking wearier than I’d seen him in the other recollections, sat alone, looking out over a vast, desolate landscape. His eyes held a depth of sadness, a profound loneliness that felt hauntingly familiar. He turned, looking directly at me—or through me—and whispered a single phrase.

“Do you trust me?”

And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. I was back in the chamber, gasping for breath, the visions pressing down on me. The battle was still raging around me, but for a moment, everything felt distant, as if I’d returned from a long journey.

My eyes found the curly-haired woman, who was watching with an inscrutable expression. But she wasn’t watching me. No, her eyes were watching a god.

Rexen was there, in the room, and the moment I noticed was the moment everything stopped. Curly stopped fighting off my three companions. Solely focused on the spectral form of the Dreadnaught Lord. The Drifter.

“Hello, Kitty,” he said. His voice was softer than usual. It didn’t have the airy, dreamy quality it always did. Typically high-pitched, this voice was noticeably lower, nearly . . . normal.

“My Lord . . .” she said, and she cast her eyes down. Frida, Jes, and Virgil had stopped, heaving huge breaths as they watched what was transpiring.

“I am not your lord, Kitty,” Rexen Gravetongue said. “I rejected you. You were a bad disciple.”

Power flashed as an undercurrent beneath Rexen, though it was met by another power in Curly—or . . . Kitty, I suppose.

“Lord,” Kitty pleaded, her tone dripping with desperation, “you must see. See what I’ve become. All for you. I have transformed. Everything I’ve done, every decision I’ve made, has been for you, for us!”

Rexen’s eyes, though still ethereal, held a gravity that rooted everyone in place.

“You’ve strayed, Kitty,” he began, his tone unwavering. “Your actions are yours and yours alone.”

“Remember the peaks of Jorland,” she pleaded. “Where you taught me to harness the impiris? The cliffs of Elphorisha, where we watched the sun rise? Ajutar, where you said I was . . . special?”

She took a step closer, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Choose me again. Choose our path.”

Rexen remained immobile, a sentinel of memories and time gone by. His stern demeanor was wildly juxtaposed to the seemingly playful and unpredictable spirit I’d come to know. It was as if seeing Kitty had stripped him of all pretense, revealing the core of the man that once was.

“Kitty,” he said slowly, measuring his words, “our paths diverged a long time ago.”

She seemed desperate, nearly hysterical.

“But don’t you remember the warmth of the campfires, the melodies of our songs? The promise we made to stand side by side against the forces of the Abyss? How can you forget?”

“I haven’t forgotten. I just chose to move forward,” he replied, his voice steady.

“But I am your vessel! I am the embodiment of your teachings, your legacy. I have sacrificed everything for you, O Gravetongue!”

He floated toward her, and the room seemed to grow colder.

Kitty, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and anguish, pressed on.

“Do you not see me? Can you not sense my value? Do you not feel our connection?”

Then, in a sudden, unexpected outburst, Rexen shouted, his voice echoing.

“I have already chosen a new vessel!”

The words hit the room like a shockwave, and the silence that followed was deafening. Something inside me flared.

New vessel?

Kitty looked as if she’d been physically struck, her face pale, her expression shattered.

Rexen continued, softer now: “Kitty, your value was never in being my vessel. It was in being you. But you’ve lost yourself, seeking validation through power and control.”

She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “I just wanted to be worthy.”

“You always were,” Rexen whispered. “But you sought worth in the wrong places.”

As Rexen uttered his last words, Kitty’s face contorted with a blend of desperation and rage. Her breathing became ragged, every muscle in her body taut and ready.

Before anyone could fully comprehend what was happening, Kitty’s eyes darted to the side, locking on to me.

Without warning, she lunged. A cry of fury ripped from her throat as she hurled herself my way with an alarming speed. Arcane energy flared around her, signaling her intent to cause real harm.

I barely had time to react, and if it weren’t for the quick reflexes of my friends, I would have been mowed down by Kitty’s reckless charge. Frida was the first to intervene, stepping in front of me with her ax raised high, her eyes filled with a protective ferocity.

Kitty crashed against Frida’s weapon, creating an explosion of arcane energy that lit the room in a dazzling display. But she didn’t stop. She snapped the ax in half, and Frida slammed backward. Kitty roared, a sound filled with fury and despair, before launching herself at me once again.

This time, it was Jes who stepped in, bringing up a wall of flame that forced her to take a step back. I wasn’t sure how or why my friends were able to assist like this—she’d shown she was far stronger than any one of us—but, they could. Yet Kitty was unrelenting. She was like a wild animal, lashing out at everything and everyone that stood between her and her target.

But it was then that Rexen’s voice echoed through the room.

“Pupil, I need you to trust me!”

It was a plea, and it seemed eerily similar to the last vision I had witnessed. Like when he’d spoken to me in the tavern. I hesitated for a moment, but the escalating chaos quickly put an end to my indecision.

“I trust you!”