Do you have a suggestion? Suriel asked.

Her Presence had its personality tuned down—she liked conversation, and would have enjoyed a more expressive companion, but she found chatty Presences unprofessional. Still, that didn’t mean the construct had nothing to say.

[Beacon located,] the Presence said, transmitting the image of the sealed marble containing Suriel’s power. Lindon was currently rolling it in his hands, trying to make a decision. [Temporal synchronization possible. Communication possible. Expected delay to final destination: point-zero-four-three seconds.]

Suriel had given Lindon the marble so that she could find him again if and when he ascended. Or possibly when he faced the choice of whether or not to ascend. This was too early, and her Presence knew that.

Then again, that was only something she had decided herself. She hadn’t spoken any sort of oath.

And Lindon had manifested an Icon, even brushing against the Way at a rudimentary level. Technically, he could ascend now, far ahead of schedule.

That should be rewarded.

Begin transmission, Suriel commanded.

[Excellent decision,] her Presence said.

Suriel began to wonder if its personality might be set too high after all.

As Lindon stared into the blue flame of Suriel’s marble, Dross began to panic.

[What is this? What’s happening? Hey, get out of here! Shoo! No, you can’t kick me out! I live h—]

A cool, distant, female voice replaced his. One that Lindon recognized. [Prepare to receive transmission.]

Before Lindon could “prepare” anything, he found himself sitting in a simple, wooden room.

It was primitive, but comfortable. The ceiling, walls, and floor were all polished wood, and each seemed to be made of one piece rather than planks bound together. There were no windows, but a fire burned in a hearth, the smoke carried up the chimney. Even the hearth and the chimney looked like they had been grown out of the same wood that made up the rest of the room.

He sat in a smooth wooden chair, though it was darker than the walls, and faced a similar chair a few feet away from him. That one was empty.

Other than the fireplace, the only features of the room were trophies hanging on the wall. Bunches of herbs, with flowers that radiated life aura. A red potion spinning in a sealed bottle, sitting on a tiny shelf. A dagger with a long handle and tiny, razor-sharp blade was mounted on a ceramic plaque on the wall. That weapon felt heavy to his Sage senses, like the attacks he’d sensed from Malice.

A structure emerged from one wall like moss-colored antlers, though he was certain they had not been taken from any dead animal. They felt alive in their own right, even then. They hung next to a drifting oval of pure strands of light and a few tiny winged spirits in a glass cage.

Lindon took in all the objects with his eyes and perception in one brief moment, but none caught his attention fully.

He was focused on figuring out what this was.

He could still use his spiritual perception, which implied that his spirit was here, and his body felt physically present. He moved with no problems, and the room smelled of woodsmoke and flowers, so his senses were working.

But Dross was gone, and the voice had told him to prepare for transmission. Either he had been transmitted somewhere else, or someone was transmitting a message directly into his mind. Or some other, stranger method that he had no frame of reference to understand.

Still, he felt excitement rather than fear. His clothes had come with him, but not his void keys or his badge. The one object that had followed him was Suriel’s marble, still burning steadily in his hand.

And he was certain he recognized that ghostly voice.

A moment later, he was proven right.

Suriel materialized in the far corner of the room, smiling gently.

She looked different than he remembered her, and he didn’t know if his memory had faded with time or if she had dulled her appearance before. Rather than a deep, muddy green, her hair was now a bright and vivid emerald. Her eyes were purple, but brighter and less human than Mercy’s, and symbols swirled in the iris.

His immediate instinct was to lean closer and try to figure out those runes, but it was a fleeting thought.

She wore seamless white armor, as she had before, which flowed like a liquid rather than having any sort of visible joints. Lines of gray smoke snaked up from her fingertips on one arm, terminating at the back of her skull.

And Suriel herself was flawless, like she had been perfected. She stood out in this wooden room like a shining jewel sitting on a dirty kitchen counter.

He hurriedly stood and bowed, but she strolled around to the second chair, pulling it back and sliding in. She sat comfortably, one leg crossed over the other, and spoke softly.

“Wei Shi Lindon. It’s good to speak with you directly again.”

“The honor and pleasure are mine. I had never thought that I would have the great fortune to meet you again until I left my world behind.”

“I hadn’t expected that either. There are circumstances in the greater realms of existence that have changed much of what we thought would come to pass.” She waved a hand. “You can sit. This space is modeled on a house that I’ve always liked. My old home, back in my world.”

As Lindon sat, Suriel chuckled. “The reality is much cozier than this. I have so many treasures and trophies that it can be difficult for visitors to walk.”

Lindon glanced to the walls. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, are these illusions? Or are they copies? They feel so real.”

If they were copies, perhaps he could take one. Even the crude imitation of something that Suriel would collect might turn his situation entirely around.

“They are real, but they aren’t precisely here. These are just the projections of those treasures I’ve collected that are so significant they intrude even on depictions of the place.”

Lindon leaned forward, looking earnestly into her eyes.

If he paid close enough attention, he was certain he could draw some of those runes. They seemed to shift, as though multiple symbols occupied the same space at the same time.

“Gratitude. I need your help now more than ever. The Wandering Titan has come to Sacred Valley.”

He wasn’t sure if he would have to explain the situation further—honestly, he expected that she was more familiar with Cradle than he was—but she nodded along.

“I know. I’ve been keeping my eye on you.”

That was comforting, on one level. He had always somewhat hoped that Suriel was watching over him from above.

But to be told that in person was unexpectedly embarrassing.

He was suddenly flooded with all the memories she might have seen. Had she seen him fail over and over again, learning Soulsmithing? Several of those constructs had blown up. Had she heard the awkward words he’d stumbled over as he tried to express his feelings to Yerin?

Heavens above, had she been reading his thoughts?

He had to put a stop to that before the shame overcame him, so he bowed his head. “Gratitude. I am…relieved to have such a reliable ally.”

“I would have watched you die,” Suriel said, in the same gentle, kindly tone as before. “I expected I would, more than once. It would sadden me, and I hoped for your success, but I could not guarantee it. As I told you before, we have rules restricting the degree to which we can interfere.”