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It was too much to command such power directly. He had stretched himself.

But it worked.

Mercy sat up straight on the anvil at the heart of the Soulforge, gasping for air. Purple eyes shot here and there in obvious confusion, and her breaths were harsh.

Yerin stood over her in concern, hands on Mercy’s shoulders. “Mercy. Oi. Look me in the eyes. Can you see straight?”

Clarity returned to Mercy’s gaze. She looked from Yerin to Lindon, and Lindon saw the memory hit her. Then tears welled up and she threw her arms around Yerin and began to sob.

The only phrase Lindon caught was “my mother.” He wasn’t sure the rest were even words. Yerin softened and held Mercy as she cried.

Lindon wanted to speak his own assurances, but the world was unsteady around him. The scepter in his left hand cracked and a fragment of cloth drifted down from Northstrider’s robe. All the items felt strained, with the notable exception of Emriss Silentborn’s leaf. That was ripe with healing authority, so it had channeled his commands easily.

[I did warn you this was a possibility,] Dross pointed out. [We’re not working with living Monarchs, are we?]

Lindon responded silently. These aren’t simple constructs. They’re not supposed to be disposable.

[They’re not supposed to be used by anyone other than their creators. Borrowing their authority even once was an achievement. We should celebrate! Woohoo, you did it! You’re not celebrating.]

Lindon was focused on the scepter. He could fix the physical damage to the item easily enough, but it was the symptom of a deeper problem. In the worst case, we might need to use these four more times.

[How do you feel about once more?]

Lindon cast his mind through other options. Emriss Silentborn would cooperate with them, and if it came to restoring spirits, there was likely no Monarch better. But bracing a spirit to speed through several advancement levels was harder, and it was too much to ask for more than one Monarch to help.

In theory, he could get new objects of power. There was plenty of the labyrinth he hadn’t explored yet, and he could still use its transportation power to steal more from the Monarchs.

In practice, they didn’t have the time for that.

[We haven’t managed to open everything we stole yet,] Dross encouraged him. [I’m sure we’ll get everyone up to standard in time.]

Even inside a pocket world that ran a hundred times faster, time was their limiting factor. But there were other possible solutions.

We’ll continue as we are, Lindon thought. I’ll work on it.

[Oh, good. I was worried I was going to have to work on it.]

You already have a job. Lindon felt Dross’ mind flash with thoughts of twisting dreams and white halos before Dross sighed and agreed.

Mercy wiped the mess off her face with the backs of her black-gloved hands as she sniffled. She looked to Lindon. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d have…”

She trailed off. Lindon inclined his head to her. “We were never going to leave you behind,” he said. “But I do regret that we had to fight your mother.”

Mercy sagged back down against the altar. “You should ascend. She won’t let you go anymore.”

“She’d better ask us to let her go,” Yerin muttered.

Lindon scanned Mercy’s spirit, drawing her attention to her own condition. “You’ll be able to ascend yourself soon.”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah, I’m sure I will. I’ll be right behind…” Mercy froze with her mouth open as she checked her spirit.

An instant later, the Book of Eternal Night manifested over her head. It was larger and brighter than ever before. More distinct. Its connection to her spirit had improved, thanks to her forcing open the seventh page.

Normally, that would be more burden than she could handle. Instead of an advantage, it would be a crippling weight that settled on her spirit.

But now, the authority of Monarchs had reinforced her soul. She was restored, rebalanced, grounded in reality.

“What?” she asked.

Yerin shrugged. “Sage thing.”

“Nothing I could do on my own,” Lindon said humbly. “I’m afraid I had to borrow from my predecessors.” While they spoke, he packed away the Monarch artifacts into their sealed containers and floated them back into his void key.

“Am…am I a Herald now?” Mercy asked in wonder.

Green horns poked around the Soulforge portal and Ziel peeked in. “That would be unfair.”

To Lindon, Ziel felt almost as steady as Mercy did. Especially compared to the wounded, unbalanced soul he’d possessed for most of the time Lindon had known him.

Not only was his spirit more stable than Lindon had ever felt it, but there was a curious depth to it that Lindon knew to be the first few wisps of vague authority.

Ziel had begun to resonate with an Icon, as Lindon had sensed before, though it was hard to tell which one.

“Not a Herald,” Yerin assured Mercy. “But Lindon’s not explaining it, so I’ll take a swing at it: the Book tore you up on the inside. He borrowed some Monarch tools to fix you, which left you more stable than ever.” She turned to Lindon. “How’d I do?”

“Exactly right.”

Dross manifested over Lindon’s shoulder. [He’s being generous. You missed a lot of nuance and effort. Mostly on my part.]

“Glad you made it,” Ziel said. His voice was flat as ever.

Mercy teared up again. “Thank you, Ziel! I just…I need some time to…”

She started crying again. Ziel coughed and slid slowly back out of sight.

Yerin took Mercy underground to the few half-finished caves that were the only shelter currently on the island. Lindon stayed behind with Ziel, Orthos, and Little Blue. They stood on bare marble, looking up into the color-swirling sky as a dry wind swept dust past them.

Little Blue whistled a question.

[That’s the fun part!] Dross answered excitedly. [Now Lindon gets to create a world.]

Worry for Mercy had been eating at Lindon’s thoughts, not to mention that he had just fought a Monarch.

But he had been looking forward to this.

Ziel eyed him skeptically. “Shouldn’t you rest before you try something like this?”

Lindon adjusted his sleeves. “If I don’t feel like I can handle it, I’ll stop. Would you all open your void keys, please?”

Ziel shrugged and obeyed. A door opened in the air next to him. Orthos was next, and even Little Blue, though she only activated one that Orthos had carried for her.

Even through all the scripted containers and restrictions Lindon had placed, power radiated out of the keys. Space trembled gently, though Lindon was encouraged that the pocket world remained stable.

He didn’t have a single void key big or strong enough to contain everything he’d stolen from the Monarchs.

That thought cheered him greatly.

Orthos faced his own void key. “Tell me where to start.”

Lindon reached out with soulfire. In his Copper sight, wind aura was a strong, vivid green here.

With fingers of wind, Lindon seized a chest from Orthos’ void key and brought it out. At the same time, his soulfire resonated with the yellow veins of earth aura beneath his feet.

Guided by vital aura, the marble on the edge of the island flowed up into another cave entrance. The cave continued beneath the surface, though it wasn’t deep.

“I’ll make our cycling room first, Orthos,” Lindon said. “We don’t have as much space as I’d like, but it will be big enough for the two of us.”

Orthos watched Lindon use complex Ruler techniques effortlessly, even without a compatible Path, and snorted smoke. Lindon felt a spark of the turtle’s jealousy and smiled slightly.

Before long, Orthos would be able to do this himself.

Orthos scanned around the marble ground, looking for something, so Lindon diverted a little earth aura to create some pebbles for him to snack on.