What Fades Away

[Rayse Valentino]

Closed to Resolve.

The world came into focus, the silk sheets of his bed being tossed aside as he stepped out of bed. His room was adorned with color, from his dressers, tables, chairs, to his bed stand, gas lamp, and the many candles around his room. It wasn't the first time he had this dream, and every time he felt like he was waking into another dream. The man in his dreams had his face, his voice, but he was nothing like him. He was a man of deceit, of pain, of unimaginable cruelty. Trent Loryn, son of King Iorlan's General Loryn, was starting another day as a member of the Royal Guard. Due to his estate's proximity to the castle, it was unnecessary to live there, so he enjoyed his mornings with his family.

As he roused himself from his traumatic night, he put on the white tunic of the Royal Guard, with its customary red sash and crimson lines across his shoulders. At his side was his traditional sword, and when he was ready he groggily made his way out of his room and down the velvety steps into the dining quarters. His mother and brother were already seated, and their maid was bringing a fresh pot of tea.

"Good morning, dear," said his mother, Victoria Loryn. She was a woman of unsurpassed beauty, and not an ounce of it had faded as she aged. She had a dim glow of kindness in her eyes and her hands rested softly on her white dress.

The other one at the table looked similar to Trent, but their personalities could not be more different. Brash and impatient, Viktor Loryn wolfed down his breakfast with the class of a peasant, his waistcoat not as tightly wound as it could be.

"When are you planning to get a job?" Trent asked.

Viktor yawned, putting his hands behind his head, "Must you start this so early in the morning? I already told you I was looking."

"I could recommend you very easily, we don't even have to get father invol-"

"I already told you I didn't want to join the military!" Viktor interrupted. "I just haven't found what I want to do yet. What's the rush, anyway?"

"Dear..." his mother started, standing up to put her hand on Trent's shoulder. "Why don't you sit and have breakfast with us? You're up early enough today." She was trying to defuse the situation.

Trent glared at Viktor one last time, and despite his rage telling him to leave the two there and walk out the door to work, her soft words put him at ease. He took a deep breath and nodded, sitting down at an empty seat. The one person missing from the table was his father, who could hardly be described as a family man. Trent grew up promising himself to never become as cold as that man.

- - - -

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump. The goddess-damned pounding within his head continued as his eyes opened. The first thing he did was wipe the drool from his mouth, the second was to take another swig of his scotch. Fuck! That was the third time today that he blacked out, and this time he was just sitting on a stood at the bar, drinking his troubles away. His cigarette had fallen out of his mouth and was collecting embers on the floor. He couldn't have been out for more than a minute, not long enough for anyone to notice, but the staggering effect of losing control drove him insane. It started last week, where he periodically blacked out and then woke up with these weird dreams. It was becoming more frequent, and despite visiting a doctor, an herbalist, alchemist, and wizard, none of them offered him any solutions. They said that the cause was not physical. So what, he was going nuts?

The bartender didn't notice him slipping in and out of consciousness, because apparently there was some commotion in the pub. Rayse looked around, his eyes homing in on the source: A young woman.

[Resolve]

The weather was too perfect that evening to stay in. It was one of those nights with a cool, clean breeze that cleared your lungs and your mind, conducive to single-minded focus, making it an ideal night to seek work.

In an effort to find clientele for her budding business, Resolve made habitual circuits through the various neighborhoods of Radasanth. In the right state of mind she could feel for anomalies within the complex spiritual tapestry the residents wove simply by living, and which the dead and disturbed tugged like moths caught in a spider's web.

This particular evening, Rayse was the moth. Whatever corrupted his astral presence didn't simply whisper hints on the wind to the young exorcist –– it screamed for her attention, pulling her out of the woodwork of the city's endless brick-paved alleys to zone in on a young man as he stepped off the street and into the warm embrace of a dive. He swayed a bit as he entered, perhaps intoxicated already, but what shocked Resolve was the fact that he was alive. She had never felt such magnetism in anything but the most formidable poltergeists, but this one was flesh and blood, breathing and walking, just like her.

That was that. She had to meet him and see what was so intriguing about him. And, if things went in her favor, she would have found a new gig.

The girl stalled for a few moments, realizing just how much of a stalker she seemed, and briefly questioned her professional practices before shrugging off insecurities and strolling in after him. The cozy glow of the pub was welcome, and she relaxed her grip on the colorful shawl she had drawn around her shoulders as she took up a stool just a couple spots down from her target. Resolve noticed he was out of it, spying on him from the corner of her eye as she placed an order with the bartender; perhaps they were dealing with a possession?

No sooner than a drink was in hand did all the smooth sailing come to an end when a familiar face appeared in the space between her and Rayse, much to her chagrin.

"We got us a wench come down from Moody's to grace us with her presence tonight," he spoke with a drunken drawl, leaning in to pick at the fringe of Resolve's shawl with clammy fingers. "Expandin' some territory, Rez?"

It was George Clemency, a perpetually intoxicated fellow with several common friends to Resolve, though festive occasions tended to sour when he was on the list of invitees. She hadn't cause to ban many from her parties but he was one of the few who earned it, even if he'd earned some brownie points by turning Eugene's hedgehog prank into a meme back in Trayas (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?24409-Bells-in-Trayas&highlight=trayas). About her age and slightly taller, George was a waif of a man with cherubic golden curls and a similarly jaundiced skin tone that lay testament to his distressed liver. The last time Resolve saw him was just a couple weeks back at Moody's Ale Cellar, when she'd kicked him out for harassing the girl who worked upstairs. Charles lurked behind his louder friend, mousey as ever. Resolve liked him best out of the group of idiots; he always listened when she ordered him to do something.

"Not tonight, George," Resolve replied through her glass, elbows on the bar top.

He leaned on the counter and sipped some beer. "Tomorrow, then? What's the goin' rate?" He was insufferably smug.

Already her temples ached. "You couldn't pay me enough to want a piece of that," Resolve turned the insinuation back on him, blatantly insulting him with sly glance south.

A ruddy flush crept across George's cheeks and his brows furrowed. Mission accomplished. "As if I'd dirty m'self with one of you, especially that fat one. Rose, was it?" His words digressed into some throaty noise of disgust.

If he was trying to rouse Resolve out of evasion he'd done very well, as any unfavorable mention of her dear friend was the quickest way to her rather short temper. "If memory serves me right, George, you're just bitter because she turned you out when you inquired after her. She told me later it was because she doesn't service boys. That, and your rotten breath."

Swinging at a lady was against the moral code of most gentlemen, but in George's defense he wasn't one, nor was Resolve a lady. His drunkenness had him lagging in speed and grace, so she easily dodged his arm as he attempted to wrap it around her neck and drag her off her seat. As he stepped forward to recover balance she only had to kick in the back of a knee to send hims tumbling into poor Charles, who in short order was soaked from two spilled beers and partially trapped under his raging comrade. Before George could gather himself, Resolve stooped over and dragged him up by the scruff of his jacket just long enough for Charles to recoup.

"Charles Llewellyn Gracious Gonoud," she called upon her childhood friend, using the sacred vow of utilizing his multiple (terrible) middle names, "Take your friend home."

The walk of shame that followed was gratifying. A good samaritan or two cracked their knuckles at George's first sign of resistance, seeing as he'd committed the grave sin of throwing the first punch against a girl, and soon enough he disappeared out the door. As unnecessary as Resolve generally found chivalry, it was pretty convenient at times.

She turned back to the bar and downed the remainder of her drink just in time to notice Rayse had seen the spectacle. This might have been a bad first impression on a professional level, but at this point Resolve was just glad she wouldn't have to break the ice. She reached into her pocket and extracted a small piece of gray card stock.

"You don't look very well," Resolve ventured, as he certainly didn't, but maybe that was his usual thing, similar to how George sported hepatitis chic. Either way, he did rather look as if he'd just come from a funeral, black suited and somber-like. "If you need help, just drop a line." She slid her business card across the bar top and left it in front of him. Printed smartly in appropriately gothic lettering, above some contact information, read:


Resolve Curie
Professional Exorcist

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse looked at the card like someone just shoved a bill in front of him for something he never paid for. What the shit is this? Exorcism? He felt weak, like something was draining all his strength away. Black rings of exhaustion were under his eyes. With the headache still affecting him, his response to the card was to finish off the rest of his drink, chugging down the entire mug in one shot. He slammed the mug down onto the card and got up, exiting the bar and finding himself back on the dark streets of Radasanth. It was still early in the night, but this part of town wasn't the kind to walk around in by oneself, so few were on the street with him.

"Wait!" came a shout from behind. It was Resolve. "I don't think you understand. You're haunted."

"I don't feel very haunted," Rayse replied, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it up with a flame conjured on his thumb. Usually he was more discrete about using his power, but at the moment his back was toward the woman so he figured it was good enough.

"That can't be true. I've never heard about someone haunted who didn't feel strange." She was adamant. Due to the concern in her voice, it occurred to Rayse that it wasn't a question to her, but a matter of fact. Still, he was a fairly prolific skeptic, and she was kinda cute, so he decided to indulge her a bit.

He turned around, taking a drag off his cigarette, "Prove it. Show me how I'm haunted."

"For one thing, sensing for anomalies lead me to you, and your astral presence-"

"Bullshit," Rayse interrupted. "Show me."

"The spirit can be detected through the trans-locational method, and-"

"I've heard enough." Rayse began walking away, convinced that this was some scam.

"It's not so much what you see but what you don't see!" she yelled after him. "Don't you feel like something's recurring? Happening over and over again, and more frequently? Something out of your control?" Rayse paused momentarily. She was close, but it still sounded too generic, like something a hack fortune teller would say. He continued walking. "I don't get you! At this rate, you'll die! What do you have to lose? Am I going to have to wait until you kick the bucket and some other poor bastard gets haunted and will finally listen to me?

Give me a few minutes of your time, and I'll show you why everyone else can't see what's wrong!"

Rayse stopped. He took another drag on his cigarette and turned around.

"You're gonna make me look like a goddess-damned mugger if you keep yelling like that."

[Resolve]

Crossing her arms, Resolve replied matter-of-factly. "Then let's discuss this at my office, at your convenience." She extended her hand, the business card that Rayse had used as a coaster offered once more.

Reluctant at first, Rayse answered the gesture by extracting his own card, and passed it to her without taking hers back. "Fine. Lead the way."

"Just a few blocks this way," the young woman motioned with a nod of the head, and they started downhill toward the river and the docks. It was an unlikely location for any reputable establishment, no better than their current neck of the woods, but Rayse reasoned that at the very least this would prove to be an interesting evening, if anything.

The jewel tones of Resolve's clothing were starkly saturated against the dusky gray, a beacon in the foggy illumination of the scattered street lamps, whereas Rayse felt himself blend into the night as they passed through the shadows of awnings and edifices. They crept down the dark streets together, toward the strong scent of the riverbed at low tide and brisker waterside breezes, and the girl lifted the card to read it.

Rayse Valentino. She knew that name. Without warning she slowed, looking over to her new acquaintance with a much more assessing glance than she'd first paid, as if suddenly scrutinizing him for a crime he didn't know he committed. Understandably, he stared back, having been caught in the midst of lighting his next cigarette. He wondered if she'd seen him using his fingers as matches.

"I'm Resolve, by the way," the peculiar girl broke the silence, holding out her hand. "In case you didn't catch it."

The young man obliged with a business-like shake. "Alright."

"We're almost there."

He shrugged.

Within a few minutes they arrived at Moody's Ale Cellar, an establishment of some notoriety, and Rayse's alcohol-hindered thought processes registered some past mention of its sister business, a brothel. This set off a low level warning in the back of his mind, but before he could put this concern into words, they'd passed by the dull roar of the main entrance and entered the side door. The tavern was still bustling with late night business, but the walls dulled the noise satisfactorily.

The stairwell was dark. "I should apologize," Resolve said as she lead him to the second floor, her silhouette hovering above him as she raced to get the light at the landing. "I don't usually have visitors this late."

The main hall was tastefully decorated and orderly, surprising considering its downstairs neighbor. To the right were french doors, glass panes obscured by tightly drawn curtains in an insinuative scarlet hue, and to the left appeared to be a coat closet, painted an off-white that matched the pristine trim. Ahead was a second flight of stairs, which Resolve took.

The third floor was a loft, ceiling sharply angled and studded with gables, and Rayse looked out a window to catch a glimpse of the water just one block away. It glittered in the distance before Resolve lit more lamps and caused the glass to become mirror-like, and when he found himself staring at his reflection, he turned to survey the parlor.

The center of the room was occupied by a fainting couch and two old armchairs which encircled the unlit fireplace, the upholstery worn but draped with richly woven throws and embroidered pillows that undoubtedly came from Fallien. The rest of the apartment was closed off by heavy curtains in a doorway in the back, and Resolve busied herself at a cabinet off to the side where she appeared to be heating some water. She'd discarded her shawl on the arm of a chair and Rayse could see her bared skin was riddled with numerous scars and tattoo-like markings, all stark white against her dark complexion.

"Make yourself comfortable, it's important that you're relaxed," she instructed. "Can I get you something?"

[Rayse Valentino]

Eating or drinking anything that an alleged exorcist offers him was not on his agenda, "No thanks. Let's just get on with this." He sat down on the couch and took another drag off his increasingly-depleted cigarette. He recognized the Fallien style of the pillows, and coupled that fact with Resolve's skin color. "Are you from Fallien?"

"I was born here in Corone, why?"

"No reason."

"Have you been there?"

Rayse cracked his head, "Yeah." Memories flooded into him of the magical sickness, and of the fire rune on his shoulder. An improperly-attached rune almost cost him his life, and he had to search around Fallien for the cure. Being once again afflicted with an illness out of his control, he couldn't help but see the parallel.

Resolve took his lack of descriptiveness as a sign that he did not wish to elaborate and sat down in one of the armchairs. She clasped her hands together and leaned forward, "So, when did your symptoms begin? And what are they?"

"My symptoms... they're... like headaches. About a week ago, I started getting severe headaches that resulted in loss of memory. It doesn't feel like passing out- it's more like going into a trance."

"I see." Resolve scrunched her face in thought. "Do you see anything? Either while you are out or after it's over?"

"Dreams," he answered without elaborating.

"What do you see in these dreams?" asked Resolve, lacing her words with patience she didn't have.

"Myself. In them, nothing out of the ordinary happens, but it's not me. It's not anything I'd do. And then there's him and her..."

"Please describe one of them."

Rayse sighed, and took off his suit jacket. Underneath it was a vest and a long-sleeve shirt. "In one of them I'm walking down the street in Rathaxea Square, wearing some sort of get-up I can only assume are for the former king's guards. I'm talking to armored men about something... about the war."

"The Civil War? You're dreaming that you're working for the king?"

"I guess."

"That is interesting."

"I'm not here to interest you."

"Of course, I'm sorry. There's a few apparitions that do what you describe..."

[Resolve]

"Listen," Resolve said, leaning in to bridge some of the short distance between them. "It would make things a hell of a lot easier if I could take a look myself, but that can only happen if you're a willing participant."

The cigarette in Rayse's mouth was nearly out, smoldering against the filter. He frowned, wondering just how invasive this procedure would be. "What do you mean, look?"

"I just want to feel things out, see if I can find the root of your problems. It's not mind reading or anything, I'm not going to learn any deep dark secrets of yours –– well, unless those are what's haunting you," she jested, but from the unimpressed look on Rayse's face, he didn't find it particularly funny. Resolve was used to how difficult it was to gain a skeptic's trust, but luckily she had a common thread with this man that would hopefully bring something personal enough to the table that he'd go out on a limb. "Fine. Listen. I know what you did for Luned back in Salvar."

This certainly surprised Rayse, enough that his posture immediately tensed, as if instinct demanded he go into the defense. "How do you know Luned? Were you following me or something?"

Resolve sighed and leaned back. "Don't flatter yourself. I didn't know you were that guy until you gave me your card and we were already on our way here."

That seemed to help and he relaxed again, just a little.

"Luned's my best friend, Rayse. I know she wouldn't have gotten home without you, and for that I'm eternally grateful. If anything, I owe you one. Will you let me help you, as thanks?" The exorcist leaned forward once more and held out her hand as if offering a handshake of agreement.

After a short moment of consideration and the efficient decision that he'd simply kill the young lady if anything bad happened, Rayse nodded and leaned forward to accept the gesture. As he did so, Resolve thought twice and her hand lifted to pluck the dead cigarette from his lips and place it on the end table next to them. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Just in case," she added, then took his hand.

[Resolve]

Something extraordinary happened when skin met skin and immediately Resolve knew this was unlike any other case she'd seen before, but it was too late to turn back. Simply by opening her mind to him, she became trapped in his.

She was still in her apartment, but everything was different. The room was run down, smelled of booze, smoke, and mold, and she was sitting on a crate, alone in the chilly silence. The only light was from the moon outside and she could just barely make out cobwebs lurking in the deep shadows, empty bottles and used pipes and garbage scattered on the floor around bare, stained mattresses.

No, she wasn't alone. Something stirred behind her and she looked over her shoulder to see a shadowy silhouette reclined on one of the pallets, grumbling as he woke and lifted himself on its elbow. Resolve couldn't make out his features, and was glad she couldn't when he spoke; she could tell he lacked most of this teeth and the hollowness of his slurred voice painted as vivid a picture of a nephina phantom as she needed in her mind. "Babe… that you?"

Without a word, Resolve stood and left. As she descended the stairs her mind reeled, peeling wallpaper brushing at her arms and spooking her. She'd experienced things similar to this before, though more deliberately and obviously –– places could leave ghost-like imprints on the world just as people could, though generally more controlled and she knew what she was doing when she got there. This, however, was something completely different.

Rayse had nothing to do with her apartment, her life. Localized hauntings were usually specific, limited, and had nothing to do with possessions, which was what his symptoms led her to believe. This made no sense.

Rosie no longer occupied the second floor of the building, the glass in her doors shattered, door handle hanging loose as if someone broke in months ago and no one bothered to fix it. The closet on the opposite side lacked Agnie's sign, as well, and Resolve tried not to worry about where they were as she ran down the last flight of steps and out onto the dark, misty street.

It was Radasanth, surely, but slightly different, enough to make it feel alien. It was dirtier, gloomier, and utterly void of life. The shopfronts around Moody's Ale Cellar lacked the personal touches of the owners Resolve knew and respected and, when she turned around, she saw it wasn't Moody's at all, but an abandoned pub with dark, boarded up windows that likely did more than conceal the squatters who lived inside. She reasoned that their neighborhood wasn't the best area in the city in the first place and it had its past as a ghetto, but this reasoning did nothing to calm her nerves. She felt self-conscious, vulnerable, confused, and as she did whenever she felt lost, she decided to visit Luned.

Now, there was no guarantee that her friend would even be at the library; Resolve still had no idea what this place was, other than a shadow of the city she knew and loved. She reasoned that, if this was a vision of the recent past, Bleddyn would certainly be there; he prided himself in the fact that he apprenticed at the archive when he was thirteen and hadn't left since, and by approximation, that insinuated his stint ran close to a century. He was an open-minded enough curmudgeon that he might be able to help, if not just enlighten her a bit.

If this was what she feared even more and this dismal place was a glimpse at a dark future, she'd be back at square one.

Bleddyn's library, to her great relief, was intact when she arrived. It was quite late and the large oak doors at the grand front entrance were bolted, as expected, but a lantern glowed dimly in one of the third floor windows that she recognized as Luned's bedroom, a glittering star against the stern gray stone facade. This struck her as peculiar, and Resolve slipped silently through the fog down and around the block to poke around the back where she knew there was a gate to the courtyard.

The wrought iron gate was ajar. It opened with a creak that was quickly stolen away by a cool gust of wind and Resolve entered with it, dry leaves crackling underfoot. The courtyard was an overgrown mess, yellowed grass as high as her knees tickling at her skin as she brushed past a knotted shrub, its flowers long gone with the death of the summer. It was troubling to imagine that, just a few years ago, Resolve tamed this hideaway for them and turned it into a functional garden; it was the project that sealed hers and Luned's friendship. All of it felt utterly undone, even unknowing of the context, and the girl couldn't help but feel a little sick.

The exorcist walked inside, her footsteps echoing in the empty hall, and she was pleased to find that the alienness of this strange world stopped at the threshold of this familiar place. Touches she never noticed before, from the old, tattered doormat to a hairline crack in the tiled floor, eased her tense posture and she let out a sigh of relief, warmth coming over her as she felt she'd finally made it home. Muscle memory drew her on a path around the corner, up two flights of winding stone steps, and to the third floor, where the lantern's glow reached the hallway and the gold light beckoned.

A face, just a silhouette at first, peaked around the corner upon her arrival. Resolve slowed, hesitant, unsure who she could possibly expect.

And then the voice she longed to hear called out in an expectant whisper. "Muir? Is that you?" The little scribe stepped partially out into the hallway, bare feet on cold tile, the outline of her scrawny form discernible under the ghostliness of the white linen nightgown that fell to her ankles.

Resolve advanced, throat caught in an uncharacteristic loss for words. As she stepped from the obscurity of the darkness and toward the light, Luned shrank back.

"Where's Muir?" There was panic laced in her words and she stepped fully out of the doorway, her previously hidden hand wielding a dagger that glinted menacingly in a threatening point toward the intruder. Her defensive stance contrasted with the frailty of her voice. "Who are you?"

Recognizing the name of her friend's younger brother, Resolve lifted her hands inoffensively and walked closer. "It's alright, Luned. It's me."

When the light hit Resolve's face she was finally close enough to make out some details in Luned's. She wasn't scared of a burglar at all; there was a hardness that shocked her in those precious features, and she knew for certain that this was not her Luned.

The scribe faltered upon seeing her, determination washed away by pure shock, and her already pale skin turned ashen under the mess of freckles. Trembling, she dropped the dagger and it hit the floor with a resounding clatter that spooked them both. "G-ghost," Luned gasped, utterly stilled in surprise.

The exorcist wasn't sure what to make of this and approached until she was just out of arm's reach, brow furrowed as she looked down at her friend. "Ghost? No, Lune… it's me, Resolve." She forced a lopsided smile and shrugged, holding her arms out. "You do know me… right?"

The horror left Luned's face as she seemed to piece things together. "This… this must be a thing you can do, and you just never told me. I know you have control over the spiritual planes, but… why are you here now? It's been years."

"… Years?"

Now the scribe simply looked confused, and beneath her forehead, crinkled in disbelief, Resolve saw deep mourning in those wide, blue eyes. "Since you died," Luned muttered, her tiny voice almost lost to the silence.

[Resolve]

Resolve balked at this reveal. "But… how?"

Her friend frowned as she crouched to pick up the knife she dropped. "You don't remember? How did you get here?"

The exorcist shook her head, realizing this would be a difficult conversation for both sides to understand one another. "I… I'm not sure. Is Rayse around?"

"Who's Rayse?"

At a loss, Resolve sighed and leaned against the wall, rubbing her temple. "How am I supposed to find him if he's not here?"

Somehow regaining her composure, Luned dared to let a hopeful little smile creep across her lips. "It's really you, isn't it? You've really come back. Maybe you can help us."

The girl glanced back to her friend, brow furrowed. "Help you with what?"

"Did you see Muir on your way in? He could explain better, but he was supposed to be back a while ago… I'm worried they caught him this time."

"What would he be doing to get himself caught?"

Luned fidgeted worriedly. "Are you sure you didn't see him? He'd be coming straight from the port."

The entire situation was baffling, and as Resolve always did when she was confused and frustrated, she felt the need to get out and do something, anything. She needed to move, and the fresh air would help her decide how to tackle this strange predicament. "I'll go find him," she announced, turning down the hall to leave.

This panicked Luned and she called after her to no avail. "What about curfew? Resolve, wait!"



Curfew explained the emptiness of the streets. The Radasanth that Resolve knew was constantly alive, someone always working or walking somewhere even in the quietest hours of morning. An obvious comparison would be to say that this Radasanth had met some sort of death, a bleak prospect really, and she pushed it from her mind as she wove the side streets toward the nearby port town. Her path wasn't even graced with the help of streetlights to lead her way, the pale glow of the half-moon her only guide through the very dark, eerily quiet city.

It was so peaceful that she heard the disturbance before she felt it: a gathering a few blocks away, their hostile voices raised in shouts that resounded clear over the rooftops. She approximated their location by feeling for their astral presences and beelined for them, slowing her jog into a cautious creep as she neared.

It was a small cluster of soldiers in white uniforms, one unmistakable figure in their center: Muir. The lean young man looked rather like a pirate as usual, clad in some cobbled fashion that harkened to the many faraway lands of his travels and gave him away as the person she knew, but his face was obscured under a dark hood that was buttoned high. The patrol didn't seem to recognize him as anyone in particular as they berated him with questions concerning what nocturnal (and undoubtedly questionable) business would require him to break their laws. They weren't particularly pleased that he refused to lower his staff and things escalated quickly. He didn't seem to have inherited the diplomacy of his elder sister, that was for sure.

There didn't seem to be an eloquent manner to solve this problem. In the peripherals of her extra senses, Resolve observed that at least two others had noticed the disturbance and were approaching; if she was going to help, she needed to do it quickly.

"What's the problem? You're waking the entire neighborhood," she spoke up, stepping into view from a side street. When Muir saw her, he appeared just as spooked as Luned first had, but he bore the shock better. Surprise swiftly gave way to grave acknowledgement, and the hint of a smirk in the corner of Resolve's mouth confirmed his hopes: that she was there for him. He would undoubtedly remain confused, but there would be time for clarification on all sides after the fact.

The closest and apparently most senior of the three soldiers lowered his sword, unsure how to handle the appearance of an unarmed girl. "It's best you get back inside, miss."

Resolve not only refused, but approached as well. Her posture was confident, making her seem taller than her mere slightly-above-average height, and the soldier straightened his back in response. "You really should promise to keep it down," she insisted, and it was becoming more apparent that she wasn't simply a resident roused from bed by the developing skirmish, but she was there to start something. As she displaced and absorbed their attention from the original subject in question, Muir saw his opening, and he bolted.

Before the guards could follow, Resolve reached out and grabbed their leader by the scruff of his uniform, using her inhuman strength and a smart sweep of a foot to shove him to his knee. This was the easy part, as he hadn't expected her to do much else other than lecture them, but he knew to underestimate young ladies no longer when a weapon was forced up under his neck and against the crease in his throat. It functioned as a knife and sure as hell felt like one, but instead of steel glinting captured shards of moonlight back at the spectators, the slender machete was crafted from Resolve's own energy. It was vaguely transparent, as if sculpted from a delicate white mist, and bore its own glow, crackling as she forced the raw power into the mold of a quite lethal weapon.

"Hold it," she commanded the other two soldiers. "Lay down your weapons. You, too." She kneed the man she held captive sharply in the back and he dropped his sword to the ground with a clatter against the stone pavement.

Her tactic was effective for a short moment, enough that Muir was out of sight, but after some silent deliberation, the tallest man barked an order at his colleague. "Go get'im, I'll deal with this." The shorter man nodded and took off at a frantic pace to tail Muir while the first did not disarm as instructed, but approached with his sword drawn at the offensive.

Actually hurting people wasn't initially on Resolve's agenda tonight, but at this point she hadn't much choice in the matter; she could have run, as well, but both she and Muir would have a better chance at getting away if they had fewer pursuers. She shoved her hostage down to the ground and thrust at the attacker with her own weapon, facing offense with more offense. He was much larger physically, something which should have intimidated her, but he was a shoddy swordsman and she had him disarmed in moments. Once she succeeded in that she reabsorbed her weapon and made quick work of him with her hands alone, her gender earning hesitance that saw her fist deep into his stomach without further ado. He fell to his knees, gasping for air, and she knocked him out with a clean hit.

She earned no such hesitance from the other man, who reclaimed his sword and came at her with clear intent to incapacitate. Resolve drew a new energy-crafted blade to match his and they clashed, his form much better than his underling's, but after a few minor scrapes, he submitted to her. Soon she was standing over him with her weapon at his neck yet again, but before she could remove herself from the situation, it was too late. The others had arrived, and she found herself in a bit of a predicament.

Resolve sighed, brushing some dark hair from her face. A shallow cut on her upper left arm was bleeding and she felt it trickle down her arm, but she paid it no mind as she looked down the street, then turned to inspect the other end to find both occupied. "Well, shit."

[Paragon]

As Resolve found herself cornered but ready to burst through the ranks of the white-clad men, a bestial shriek erupted throughout the sky. High up above, two wings flapped violently in the air, a long reptilian head looking down on the confrontation below. The men immediately recognized the form of the black dragon Fallow. Resolve's eyes were shining with fascination. The one riding the dragon jumped from his mount, falling down to the ground below at a great speed. Right before his feet touched the ground, he almost slowed to a halt, making his landing seem like a hop rather than a fall from terminal velocity. He was wearing a full set of black adamantine armor with a black horned helmet obscuring his face. The people knew of this man patrolling the skies, keeping the city of Radasanth safe from above. One of the soldiers walked up to him and bowed.

The armored man looked at him and said, "What is the situation?"

The soldier replied, "We were apprehending a suspicious hooded man who was out past curfew and resisting arrest, but then this woman showed up and let him escape. We're attempting to take her into custody."

The armored man looked around at the soldiers writhing in pain on the ground, "Let me take care of this."

"Y-Yes sir!"

The other soldiers backed off, continuing to block off Resolve's escape route while the black-clad man waded into the encirclement and said, "The one you let escape, where did he go?"

Resolve looked at him, then looked up, then looked at him again, "Was that an actual dragon?"

A spear materialized in the armored man's hand, "Answer me: What are you doing out here past curfew? Do you know what you've done, attacking these men?"

"What do you mean 'curfew'? I don't remember any of that. And I'm pretty sure they attacked me first."

The armored man sighed, gripping the spear with both hands and pointing the tip at Resolve, "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to take you in for questioning."

"Like hell you are!" Resolve yelled before breaking into a sprint toward the wall of soldiers. She was prepared to flip over them but before she even got close, the armored man kicked the ground and appeared in front of her in a flash, pushing her back into the middle of the circle with the breadth of his spear. Resolve fell back but caught herself before falling, instead putting her hands to the ground and spinning her legs around. The dragon-riding man was unprepared for this reflex, so the kick knocked off his helmet entirely, revealing his face. A large, old scar was spread across his slightly-darkened face, revealing his dark hair and blue eyes. He was known as Dorian Sesthal, one of the nine Ixian Generals. He took the attack seriously, thinking this could be a spy from Salvar, and a cool mist immediately filled the area.

Resolve got back on her feet but was blind as a bat as her vision was completely obscured by the fog. She thought of making a break for it in some direction but couldn't move her feet. Looking down, she saw that a patch of frost had somehow grown from the ground and encased her legs in ice. The ice quickly grew and smothered the rest of her body, and before she knew it she had lost consciousness.

[Paragon]

Ugh... what... what's going on...?

"We couldn't make headway into the coast. For every fire we put out, they just started two more."

Who's talking...? My head hurts...

"Any updates from Jensen? It's been a while since his expedition into the wasteland."

That voice...

Resolve opened her eyes and found herself engulfed in darkness. Bits of frost were still stuck to her clothes, and as she got up, she couldn't stop shivering. She felt around the walls until she determined that she was in a square-shaped room, and finally found what felt like a reinforced wooden door. Shouldn't be too hard to-

"Ah, you're awake," said Dorian as he swung the door open. Resolve squinted from the light, backing away from the door and shielding her eyes. He wasn't wearing any armor, just his usual Salvaran outfit with a scarf wrapped around his waist.

Resolve pointed at him, "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Dorian, and I'm hoping this is just a misunderstanding. You don't strike me as a spy for The Forgotten Ones."

Resolve tilted her head, "What? This place sure has gone to shit if you thought I was a spy."

Dorian smiled and closed his eyes for a moment, "Perhaps it has." He opened his eyes with a more serious expression. "Now please, tell me what all that was about. My men are looking for some closure and I don't want to lie to them."

"I could ask the same to you, what the hell was that about a curfew? I can't believe The Empire has become so tyrannical!"

Dorian blinked, "The... Empire? Are you talking about The Corone Empire?"

"What else would I be talking about?"

"Have you been away or something? Corone is ruled by The Ixian Confederacy."

"WHAT?"

"You're... serious, aren't you? A couple years ago The Ixian Knights launched an attack on The Empire and The Rangers, taking both Underwood and Radasanth in one fell swoop."

Resolve shook her head, "You're not pulling my leg, are you? ...Are you?"

"It was a necessary action, as we needed a united Corone to wage war against The Forgotten Ones. As just the Knights, we couldn't prevent the destruction of Raiaera..." Dorian put his hand on his face, pressing his fingers against the scar as if it was causing him pain. "You've really been out of the loop... although I still don't understand why you were helping-"

"Sir!" came a voice from outside. The door opened and the soldier saluted. "Miss Luned is here."

"Ah, maybe she could explain this. Let her in."

[Luned]

The scribe appeared to be in disbelief all over again as she stepped into the doorway, hugging a short wool cape around her shoulders. She'd changed into her gray-blue uniform in a hurry, her long hair uncharacteristically loose and voluminous, and Resolve wondered why this version of her friend had chosen to remain an apprentice when the other was independently pursuing her own career at this point.

"Sorry for the trouble," she said, breathless from hunting them down. "Resolve has been in Fallien for several years and just returned, it's my fault for not informing her of the curfew."

Dorian stepped aside to allow the friends to reunite, and Resolve visibly decompressed from her agitated state when the scribe entered. He looked between them, serious but respectful. "Actually, the issue is less that and more the fact that this friend of yours," he nodded to the criminal in question, "Started a bit of a skirmish with some of our evening patrol which resulted in a suspect's escape."

Luned looked to Resolve without having to fake a questioning expression, but though her thoughts were preoccupied with this strange event and the current whereabouts of her brother, she kept up the act. After all, it would have opened a whole new can of worms to reveal the truth of the situation to Dorian. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Only their pride," Dorian answered, a slight grin showing that he found that token somewhat amusing. "It's not often one of our senior guards has his ass handed to him by a young lady."

The girls exchanged a glance that confirmed their shared train of thought in that Dorian really had no idea what Resolve was capable of, but when he spoke up again, they were forced to amend that conclusion. "You may go home, but Luned, please brief Resolve on the rest of the changes here in Radasanth to avoid future issues. And as for you," he redirected his gaze to the exorcist once more, "You might do well to consider a career with us. Perhaps you can stop by another time, on better terms, and we can discuss."

"Thank you," the scribe concluded their conversation. Resolve eyed him strangely as Luned took her hand and pulled her from the cell, down the hall, and back out onto the dark street. "You're freezing," she said, halting to remove her cape and drape it over her friend's shoulders. "Come on, let's get you back and we'll figure this all out."

Resolve followed cooperatively, clutching the warm fabric close to ease the shivering. "I'm afraid I think I have," she said, the words coming slow and thoughtful. "Luned, the Ixian Confederacy doesn't exist where I'm from. I'm alive where I'm from. This is starting to sound astoundingly like that thing Bleddyn mentioned that time, alternate histories…"

The other girl stopped in her tracks again, looking to Resolve with wide eyes. "He was right," she said, mind reeling. "Your ability to visit other planes extends to alternate universes. He wondered how long it would take for you to find a way. Do you know what this means, what you can do?"

"It's not a good thing," Resolve frowned. "I certainly didn't come here on purpose… I thought I was handling a run-of-the-mill exorcism." The scribe's expression of shocked delight fell as she let her down. "I'm not supposed to be here, Lune. I need to find Rayse and figure out how to get back. I'm sorry things aren't good here, I really am, but I can't stay."

With a melancholy nod of understanding, Luned began walking again. Together they navigated the gloomy streets of this bleak version of Radasanth and back to the stone sanctuary of the library.

[Resolve]

Muir was there waiting, holed up in Luned's room where he thumbed anxiously through a book chosen arbitrarily off her desk. He set it aside as they returned, rising from the armchair in a flourish of patterned fabric to pull Resolve into a boisterous hug. "I don't know what the hell is going on," he grinned, teeth white against darkly tanned, freckled skin, "But it sure is great to see you again."

He earned a halfhearted smile and Resolve smoothed a flyaway of his auburn hair, vibrant even in the dim light, as she let out a sigh of relief. At least one person was the same as she remembered in this strange place. Muir and Luned were the closest she had to siblings, and she couldn't imagine what kind of nightmare this ordeal would be without them.

Luned explained the situation to Muir, who accepted their hypothesis without question and, in turn, he described the reality of this alternate world to Resolve. Life was considerably tougher than where she was from, the control of the Confederacy evident in oppressive day-to-day restrictions that only just began at the curfew.

"The ration system is heavily flawed," he explained, leaning forward in the chair with his elbows on his knees. The girls had settled in on the bed, wrapped jointly in the quilt; it was late, and they were all quite weary. "The allowances for families with growing children often aren't enough. I've been working with various merchants, such as your mother, to bring extra supplies into port on the down-low. Luned's access to the customs offices keeps things running fairly smoothly."

Resolve glanced over to the sleepy scribe. "Is that why you're still an apprentice?"

The scribe nodded, muffling a yawn. "Keeping close to Bleddyn has a lot of benefits, no one questions anything with his name attached. What about your mother? Should we go see her tomorrow?"

"No. Don't tell her anything," the exorcist said as she shook her head.

Luned opened her mouth, then hesitated as she chose her words carefully. "Did… do you want to know what happened to you?"

The dead girl wasn't sure, so she changed the subject. "Let's get some sleep."



Rest didn't come easily to Resolve's troubled mind; she slept for a few hours, but woke when the morning was still fresh with dew and singing birds and the scribe slumbered deeply beside her. Part of her wanted to stay for a while, to help their efforts and see her friends' lives take a better direction, but she knew it wasn't her place. The quicker she passed through, the less painful it would be when Luned lost her for the second time, and the sooner she could return to her own life. She wondered how time was passing in the old world. Was this all occurring in the blink of an instant and soon she would open her eyes to everything just as she left it? Did she lose consciousness like she does when she uses her astral projection, leaving a befuddled Rayse to handle that awkward situation on his own? Or did she simply disappear into thin air?

Her own Luned hadn't told her all of her adventures abroad that led to her fateful meeting with Rayse but she did tell Resolve that particular story in full detail, as if its happy ending made up for the unspoken bad ones. For the first time she was glad of it as, much to the man's likely chagrin, she already knew quite a few things about him. He was a chain smoker with a somewhat grim disposition and pyrokinetic abilities, originally from Knife's Edge, but now he worked for The Company and traveled between Salvar and Corone.

That's it, Resolve realized. If she couldn't find him here in Radasanth, a likely prospect considering she'd personally keep away from the hellhole if she could, he'd be in Salvar. Even if he wasn't currently in Knife's Edge, she could likely trace him from there. Except… how would she get there? As much as she hated to admit it, the most efficient option was probably to pay a visit to that Dorian fellow. She wasn't sure how she felt about that; she knew the Ixian Knights back home had a way of getting things done, but here, they were pretty stark villains.

She weighed her options but ultimately decided that, either way, it would be best for everyone if she left before the others awoke. Resolve crept from the bed without disturbing her friend, tiptoed across the floor to collect her things, and slipped into the hallway to finish getting dressed.

On her way out, Muir caught her from the doorway of the guest room. He appeared almost the same as he had last night, but the circles under his eyes were darker; apparently he didn't sleep much, either. The young man kept his voice low, aware that she was doing her best to sneak out unnoticed, and apparently unwilling to wake his sister to the tearful goodbyes that would likely ensue. "Are you coming back?"

Resolve paused, thought, and shook her head. "I don't know."

He smiled softly. "Good luck."

[Paragon]

Dorian was sitting on a bench, sipping a hot cup of green tea. He looked into the liquid and watched the leaves swirl around, every now and then catching his own reflection. He wasn't always so formal, so chained down by duty. When the Salvaran Civil War degenerated and The League was wiped out, it was the Ixians who saved him. He hadn't seen the place he called home for years, but he hoped that one day he would walk those chilly trails in the northern forests or see the night sky over the Ahyark mountains.

"Sir, there's someone here to see you," said a guard who was passing by. With him walked Resolve, who looked much more focused than their last meeting.

"So, have you taken me up on my offer, then?" asked Dorian with a friendly smile. He put the cup down and stood up.

Resolve nodded, "I need to get somewhere, and if joining you will get me there, so be it."

Dorian looked around. They were in the middle of a crowded hallway in one of Radasanth's guard barracks, so he took her to an unoccupied office and sat down on one of the chairs.

He scratched his head, "I'll be glad to help you out, any friend of Luned is a friend of mine. Where do you wish to go?"

"Knife's Edge."

Dorian nearly tipped out of his seat, "You... why?"

"I'm looking for someone and I think he's in Knife's Edge."

"Do you... know what happened to that place?" Resolve shook her head. "Right now it's completely uninhabited, save for Saint Denebriel and her servants. I don't think you'll find whoever you're looking for there, at least not anymore."

Resolve was silent, clenching her fists as they rested on her lap. She could feel something faint, not strong enough to pinpoint but it was definitely the same feeling she felt from Rayse. If she could follow that presence, it may lead her back to her own world.

"Will you help me?" she asked again.

Dorian sighed, but he had an idea. He agreed to show her something, and lead her out of the guard post and deeper into Radasanth. The central district that housed the government was remodeled into a new, grander Ixian castle. The guards at the front saluted him and they entered the castle, which was populated entirely by Ixian soldiers. They walked through a large hall with a high ceiling, and turned into a hallway that lead to a staircase leading down. As they descended into the depths of the castle, the bright lights of the upper floors were replaced by dim torches.

They arrived at a huge antechamber, and rather than soldiers it mostly contained arcanists and herbalists. The chamber was covered in green plant life that ran up the walls, with several plants producing white lights that made the room as bright as day. In the center of the area stood a strange creature covered in bark. It had shallow roots growing from its legs that spread around it, and on its hide grew many mushrooms and tree moss. It had black beady eyes and a mouth like a horizontal venus fly trap that had been sewn up. It was as tall as they were, but only because it was lunched over.

"We call him Misery," said Dorian. "Although he doesn't seem very miserable to me." Resolve raised an eyebrow but otherwise seemed unfazed by her surroundings. She had more important things to be concerned about. "Anyway, Misery can take you wherever you want to go in the blink of an eye. The only limit is your imagination, so don't imagine going to the center of the planet or into space please."

"You'll let me go to Knife's Edge?"

"First I want you to close your eyes and imagine going there. You will feel as though you're there, in the place you want to be. If your frie- I mean the person you're looking for is there, you may be able to see them." He instructed Resolve to walk up to Misery and think about Knife's Edge.

"Alright." She closed her eyes and thought about the city, but then she realized she had never actually gone there. Regardless, Misery gave her a look into the city, and she found herself seeing a blurry image of the rubble that used to constitute the tenements of the city. She could almost smell sulfur in the air, and her vision let her see her immediate surroundings. Where would he be... wait! That dream he told me about- Rathaxea Square. She thought about the name, and now she was looking at the destroyed mansions of the square, with the ruined palace in the distance. This area was even worse than the last, it was as if a nearby mountain had flipped upside down and crashed into everything. The amount of debris elevated the ground several meters, and only the tops of the mansions could be discerned from the rest of the destruction.

Then, she felt it. The same feeling she got from Rayse. Somehow, he was here. While she was glad that she could finally go home, curiosity got the best of her: Just by thinking about it, she could get a glimpse of virtually anywhere. Keeping her eyes closed, she thought about the place she's never been to before, Fallien, and had a bird's eye view of the desert, her vision soaring through the skies over Suravani's Oasis, Irrakam, and the holy ground where her tribe lived, Astaka. She thought about imagining her father, maybe finally catching a glimpse of him after all this time, but decided against it. This world was so different from hers, maybe her father would be different as well. She would see him in person someday after she got home.

Her next vision took her to a land that Dorian mentioned before: Raiaera. Her body started shaking as the vision came into focus, and she scrunched her face up. She couldn't understand what she was seeing, and just being there, even as a corporeal visitor,, gave her chills all over. She couldn't tell the difference between the ground and the sky, because huge chunks of land were floating in the air above and below her. Lightning coursed through the darkened purple sky, striking the ground in violent bursts. Unbound magical energies flew around in loops, warping and distorting anything they touched. The vision was terrifying, and it took all her willpower to break it and open her eyes. Her heart rate soared and her breathing was erratic.

Dorian put his hand on her shoulder, "You looked at Raiaera, didn't you?" Resolve lowered her head, a bead of sweat running down the side of her face. "As the high elves were losing the Corpse War, they attempted to pool their arcane powers into a force that could stop Xem'zund, but he expected their attack and turned the energy chaotic, ravaging the land. The entire continent is a wasteland now."

"What happened?" Resolve asked herself out loud. "When did it become so different?"

"When?"

"Nothing. I think I found him, he's in Rathaxea Square."

"I see," said Dorian. Resolve was a bit surprised that he was believing her. "Are you still intent on going?" Resolve nodded, and while Dorian didn't want her to go, it was her choice. "I wish you luck. Close your eyes and think about that place again, and I'll tell Misery to take you there."

Resolve closed her eyes and concentrated, but as Dorian walked away she said, "Thanks, Dorian."

Dorian smiled one last time and then Resolve was gone.

"Why did you let her go?" a voice beamed into the Ixian General's head. "She can't possible come back from there. Misery is a one-way trip to Salvar..." Floating next to Dorian was a little telepathic black dragonling only visible to him in this small form. His length couldn't have been more than fifty centimeters. "Wait, don't tell me you looked at her thread of fate!"

"Only a peek, Fallow," confessed Dorian. "I believe she'll find what she's looking for. Maybe for all of our sakes."

[Resolve]

This was not the Knife's Edge of Rayse's strange dreams.

To call what was left "ruins" would have been woefully inadequate. There was no hope of saving this place, not like the ghost city of Eluriand which teemed with new life as nature reclaimed it; there, even the darkest corners saw the bloom of curious little weed-like flowers, pleasant surprises to coax its displaced inhabitants home.

No, this land was truly dead.

Not even the warmth of the sun touched the melancholy landscape, its rays dirtied and paled as they filtered through heavy, dark clouds. The air felt thin and the bone-chilling breeze carried dust which pricked against her skin. Resolve turned away from the wind to wrap the loose end of her sari around her shoulders for warmth, and as she did so, she saw it.

Suspended above the city floated a fortress, its facade as gray and bleak as the cloudy canvas behind it. It almost seemed part of the sky itself, but the ground beneath it reached down toward her like stalactites of dark stone, threatening to fall and skewer her into the cold, dead earth. A series of great chains, larger than any human could forge, anchored the airy island in place. They creaked as the wind pushed and pulled at the massive structure above, precarious and ominous.

"Well, shit," Resolve gasped, barely in a whisper. To speak out loud seemed dangerous, even if she appeared to be so utterly alone. "What now?"

That was a rhetorical question; she knew what she could do. But asking herself gave her another long moment to stare up in awe, to absorb this bizarre environment, to etch everything into her memory. She felt so small and alien, a glimmer of color in an endless expanse of gray. As dreadful as it was, she couldn't help but feel some morbid fascination; she might only know this sensation but once in her lifetime.

But to dally too long would invite trouble, and seeing as she had enough of that already, it was time to move on. Resolve took a slow, deep breath, huddling into the meager warmth of her sari, and closed her eyes. Her means of arrival into this alternate world suggested this experience was something she experienced on an astral level, something which offered her greater control. She'd never been to Salvar, she couldn't have hoped to find it on her own without Dorian, but one thing she could do was take a glimpse at the past. If she was right, if she could pinpoint the right moment, she could go back to when Rathaxea Square thrived and find this world's version of Rayse. It could be the same as plane-hopping to investigate a spiritual presence in the real world, only since she was already non-physical, it would, in essence, be like jumping through time itself.

What she needed to do from there, she truly had no idea, but finding Rayse was a start.

Through concentration, Resolve sifted through the catalogue of spiritual signatures on the land, each left by events long past. First was the destruction which rendered Knife's Edge desolate and she pushed through it, closing her senses to the embedded memory and trauma; she didn't want to know. As she looked further back, chaos gave way once again to peace, and after a long struggle to find an anchor in the jumbled tapestry of lives now absent, she grasped one: the sun.

The girl felt familiar warmth wash over her skin and noticed a new brightness through the lids of her eyes, which she opened. The city seemed to have sprouted from the ground like a forest around her, an urban maze brimming with people and sound and activity and life. She'd found life and, most importantly, a link to Rayse. He was there, undoubtedly. She'd know that signature anywhere.

As Resolve absorbed the new atmosphere she felt herself relax, unconscious tension disappearing from her posture. She hadn't realized, but her fingernails had dug painful red crescents into her palms. She'd been scared.

It worked, she thought to herself. I can do this.

[Resolve]

The positive energy of the bustling square replenished Resolve after that dreary detour. For a long, indulgent moment she simply stood still, taking in the color of this foreign place. It might have seemed stranger, but anything felt like home after the darkness she'd seen. Vibrant banners of crimson and snow conjured enough cheer to put her nerves at ease, the gray stone and dark lumber of the architecture glowing with the life they hosted. Voices and traffic replaced the eerie quiet of her last stop and her ears welcomed its comparative chaos. Thanks to the sun overhead, warmth finally reached her again.

But she couldn't get distracted –– she was here for a reason.

Just as she'd done before, the exorcist extended her supernatural sense out into the environment around her. The tapestry hummed, an inaudible harmony struck by the swirl of life around her. She ignored the shadowy places and explored the light. She looked for that one familiar note, and she found it.

Resolve's feet moved before she considered what she needed to do next. She didn't actually know. She just recognized that she had a part to play, a mission yet revealed.

The young man was difficult to recognize just by sight in this alternate world. Not for the first time, Resolve thanked fate for her gift as she honed in on his location before the decorated palace at the edge of the square. The polished brightness of his white and red uniform nearly camouflaged his figure against the banners and guard. It was quite a change from the brooding, black suited man she'd met in that dive the night before.

"Excuse me," she said, approaching him tentatively. He wouldn't look to her as a ghost, like Luned had; if he lived here in Knife's Edge, it was unlikely they'd ever met. The exorcist hadn't a clue how she'd introduce herself or pursue a solution to this odd situation, but saying hello would be a first step. She held out her hand in greeting. "Rayse?"

[Rayse Valentino]

To oft see the ledger as a medium of penance, bureaucracy held a puissant grip on the knight's duties. Spending no time on the battlefield, he left only orders and papers in his wake. The grand castle that marked the innermost capital of Salvar was before him, and at his sides the largest mansions among the nobles. Between rounds of assignments, walking with what might as well be his entourage, he was interrupted by a foreign-looking girl. With his body covered in full plate besides the head, and a white tunic with red stripes across it, his form proved quite menacing. She said something strange and outstretched her hand.

Looking at her with tired eyes, he said, "I'm sorry miss, I'm on important business and... what did you call me?" Uncertainty rose to the forefront of his mind, and behind it suspicion.

"Rayse?" she repeated innocently. Her outfit was patently ridiculous for this winter weather, and she deigned to speak in the common tongue, not Salvaran.

The knight had an epiphany, "Arrest her at once!" The armored men at his sides immediately grabbed each of Resolve's arms. She began to question this action, but the knight would not let her words poison his mind further. "Take her to a holding cell, I will deal with her later." Resolve decided to have none of this, but as she was about to make her move, she found the knight's sword at her throat, unsheathed at a blazing speed. "Resist further and I'll execute you here and now." Resolve decided to play along, and soon found herself under lock and key. A particularly rank and uniquely human odor invaded her senses.

After being thrown in, she frowned, "What's the big idea here? What have I done?"

The guard who was watching her replied, "I don't know, but if Commander Loryn ordered it, then you must be guilty of something."

"Loryn?" Resolve raised a brow. "Rayse Loryn?"

"No, Trent Loryn."

Resolve put her back to a wall and slid down to the floor. This was certainly not the Rayse she knew, although what did she really know of him? The spiritual signature matched at least, but all she really had to go off of was the brief exchange they had before this whole thing started. The way he described the king's guards, their outfit as 'some sort of get-up', implied that the original was not used to wearing those colors. She sighed and stared at the guard's uniform. She had to get ahold of this alternative Rayse to get back home.

[Resolve]

The girl waited a long time, crouched in that putrid, dingy cell. Guards came in and out in regular intervals, checking on her and the other quiet, unseen occupants as if they might have gone somewhere. She glared at the white and red blurs in the corner of her eye each time, too preoccupied with her thoughts to acknowledge their presence.

When Resolve first arrived, she'd been too confused to figure out how she'd gotten there. She'd allowed herself to get caught up in the mission, but now that she understood some of the logistics, she wondered if she could go home as simply as attempting to return to her physical body after using her astral form.

But this was a unique challenge, and she couldn't help but let her competitive nature take over. Rayse had opened himself to her for help, and perhaps she could do that.

After all, it was her job.

Resolve rubbed at her temples, still crouched against the cold wall of the jail. She didn't yet know the risks of pushing an experience like this; could things she does here affect her in the reality she knew? When the next guard swept by on his round, she finally spoke up. "Excuse me," she said, attempting some semblance of politeness.

He stopped in front of the bars, staring down at her with a questioning glance.

"Trent Loryn," she ventured. "Is he coming? Can I talk to him?"

The guard thought, shrugged, and walked out of sight once more. Resolve wasn't sure if he'd even understood her use of Tradespeak, but either way, she didn't know any Salvic to solve that problem. No matter whether that was the reality or he simply wasn't interested in humoring her inquiries, things weren't looking good.

"Fine," she said to herself, mumbling against one of the knees she'd drawn to her chest. "I'll find him myself." And with that, she closed her eyes, searched through Rathaxea's memories once more…

And upon opening, she stood in the square once again. The same pattern of traffic swirled around her once more, and as she walked, she found Rayse just as she had the first time. It had worked perfectly and she felt encouraged for the first time since coming to this strange Althanas. But at this point, she also knew that a direct approach wouldn't work; she needed to get him alone, and she needed to convince him to listen. Resolve found herself truly at a loss in that respect, her clothing and heritage causing her to stick out like a sore thumb in the monotonous Salvic landscape. A chill winter breeze seized her in a shiver and impatience settled in.

She watched as Alternate-Rayse spoke with some men, appeared to give them directions, and then took off down the street with a small entourage in his wake.

Without thinking, she followed.

[Rayse Valentino]

For such an apparently important figure, Rayse's day was pretty boring. He went around inspecting munitions, talking to soldiers, all while his face was buried in reports that arrived faster than he could read. Resolve continued tailing him, keeping a healthy distance to dissuade any suspicion, but even if she found him in a free moment, there was no way to approach him. What would she say? Hello, you don't know me but in another world you asked me to help you and well... here I am! She already figured out that Rayse was likely an alias, but why wasn't he using it now? It was impossible to trust her if this world was so different, unless maybe it wasn't as different as she thought. Luned was more or less the same person, and the other Resolve was friends with her. While the world was different, maybe the people were the same?

As she followed him, there were several times where he entered a guarded area and she had to wait for him to leave. It ranged anywhere from a few minutes to an hour, the whole time Resolve impatiently hiding in an alley or behind a tree.

During one of these breaks a noblewoman spotted her, "Oh my!" Resolve tensed up and looked at her. "What an interesting outfit, you're not from around here, are you?"

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"No, I'm... a spice trader! I came from Fallien with spices but when war broke out, the ports were locked down..."

"How terrible!" The woman's elegant green dress and bodice marked her as an especially affluent person. "I'm afraid if you dress like that, you may arouse suspicion young lady."

"Really?" Resolve did notice she was rather out of place here.

"Hmm, come with me. We'll find something befitting a young lady such as yourself."

[Resolve]

Resolve explained that she had nothing to repay the woman for her efforts, but it turned out the offer of help wasn't entirely out of the goodness of the woman's heart. Fallieni textiles had grown scarce in Knife's Edge to the point of extinction, and for a rather smart trade, the girl received a dreadfully practical Salvaran-style dress and cloak. In return, she gave up her trademark sari, and the woman seemed pleased indeed to possess something so rare. From their interaction, Resolve gleaned sparse, generally unhelpful information about the city's current predicament; she didn't need to hear it from a housewife desperate for fashion that she'd haphazardly stumbled upon a dystopia.

Though not much could be done to hide the unusual color of her skin or the curious markings that laced it, the drab burgundy dress did earn Resolve noticeably fewer stares than her previous garb, and for that she was thankful. This time, she tailed Alternate-Rayse more easily, blending into the crowd at least moderately successfully. It wasn't until the end of the day, as the sun began to disappear below the rooftops, that she finally found him alone. She caught up to him on his walk home, still unsure how to best handle introductions without risking a poor reaction.

"E-excuse me," Resolve called after him, holding her cloak tight around her. "Commander Loryn?"

As expected, use of his proper title and name earned a less negative reaction, though she wouldn't have called it positive by any means. "Yes?" His tone was almost as cool as the breeze that bit at her nose.

The girl didn't have an ounce of natural meekness in her, but she figured it wouldn't hurt to adopt some in her efforts. The Rayse she'd met didn't seem the type to sympathize with damsels in distress, but perhaps she could appeal to his position. "I'm really sorry to bother you, but I need your help. Would it be possible to speak with you? … Privately?"

The young man considered her plea for a long moment, his pensive gaze setting her on edge. It seemed unlikely that he'd call for her arrest again, but what if he said no? How was she supposed to convince a person of something which she knew would sound utterly nonsensical?

[Rayse Valentino]

Commander Loryn sighed, tired after a long day. The young woman before him had a familiar air about her, like he had seen her out of the corner of his eye throughout the day, but he did not know her. He stopped and turned to her, not shirking his duties to the kingdom.

"May I help you, miss?"

Resolve sighed internally, grateful that she wasn't spending more time in a jail cell.

She looked at him and said, "Actually, I want to help you, but I'm not sure how."

Rayse raised a brow, "Pardon?"

"To put it simply, what would it take for you to trust me?"

"I'm sorry miss, but I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about. If that's all, I'll be on my way." He turned back towards his mansion and started walking away.

Resolve bit her lip, trying to think of something she knew about him that wouldn't get her locked up for witchcraft. What do they have in common? I can't go for the name again- something more... innocuous. Visible. Something I could've noticed on my own.

"Your necklace!" She yelled. "May I see it? I've seen it before, but never up close."

Rayse turned around again, surprised. "My necklace... ?" He reached into his armor and pulled out the string, and at the end of it was a pendant. "How do you... ?"

"I didn't want to say it, but I'm an admirer of you, sir. I just wanted to see it once, that's all." In truth, she saw something hanging from Rayse's neck when he drank her whiskey back in Corone. She didn't know what it was since it was tucked into his shirt, but this Rayse also had the same arrangement.

"If I do, will you leave me in peace?" She nodded, and he presented it to her. She looked at it with faux awe for a moment, and then with a smirk grabbed it and ripped it from his neck.

"Got it! Now, to go back again!"