This place had been at least as much of a blessing for Orthos as it had been for Lindon. Not only had it helped heal some of the damage that Blackflame had done to his spirit, but it had sharpened his mind and now restored his body.

“Dross,” Lindon asked, “If this place existed while the Blackflame family was in charge of the Empire, why didn't they use it?”

“Oh, they did. They used to buy as much Well water as Northstrider would allow them. It was one of the ways this facility maintained itself.” Dross squirmed inside Lindon's core, absorbing some more green water. He was becoming opaque, as though he were growing skin.

“It was more an issue of quantity. A single cup from the Spirit Well cost a fortune, and it was the cheapest of the three. You’ve been drinking a fifty-year stockpile. And you really dove into it headfirst, too. You should bow down in gratitude for every mouthful.”

Absently, Lindon took another sip of the green water. “It will all go to waste when the world collapses.”

“Yeah, that's...yes. It will.” Dross' words were distant. “You know, I spent a long time in the Dream Well. And now I won't get to go back ever again.” He was quiet for a moment. “What do you call this feeling?”

“Sadness,” Lindon said, sitting against the Life Well.

“It feels a lot like grief,” Dross observed. “I don't like it.”

“It's not my favorite either.” He spun quietly for a while, processing the water. “Here’s some better news: I only needed a taste of this well. I’m coming alive by the second! How does that make me feel? Excited!”

A sudden sound, like a distant clink of metal on metal, drew Lindon's attention to a rounded hatch in the floor opposite him. The clink came again, and again, louder as it continued.

Lindon pointed to it. “What's that?”

“The way down. We shouldn't go yet. There are some spirit-fruits in here that I think you'd really enjoy.”

Lindon rose to his feet, cycling Blackflame. The ringing sounded like a bell-tower now. “I'm not worried about going down. I'm worried about what's coming up.”

“There's nothing down there,” Dross said confidently. “It's been sealed for decades. You'd need an Eye of the Deep.”

“An Eye of the Deep?” Lindon asked.

“You didn't think there was only one key to this place, did you?”

With a sound like a ringing gong, the hatch crashed open. Darkness spilled out, shadows oozing from the entrance.

Lindon pushed Dross out. “Go get Orthos.”

Dross spun as he emerged from Lindon's palm, blinking in the light. Blinking. “I have an eye!” he exclaimed.

This time, Dross' evolution was even more pronounced. He was covered in what looked like purple skin, with one huge eye in the center of his body. He was speaking with an actual mouth now, which Lindon could see was lined with tiny teeth. He looked like a very advanced Remnant, or a cross between a spirit and a sacred beast.

Blunt tendrils extended from his sides. “And I have arms! Well, I have little pseudopod tentacle things, but I'll take them!”

Under any other circumstances, Lindon would have been delighted with the possibilities of a construct coming to life. He would have started speculating about what could be accomplished with other constructs, about whether long-term exposure to dream madra was the way to turn a construct into a living spirit, or whether there was something special with Dross' circumstances. If it was so easily replicable, the expert Soulsmiths would have tried it before.

However, Lindon's spirit warned him clearly about that darkness. He turned red-hot eyes on the construct. “Dross. Now.”

“Oh, right.” He spun away, flailing his stubby little arms as he flew. None too soon.

A moment later, Akura Harmony rose from the dark.

He looked as well-fed and comfortable as a man who had spent the night in the palace, his skin clear and smooth, his purple eyes bright. Hair flowed straight down his back, and the black disc of his Goldsign hovered behind his head. His black-and-white sacred artist's robes were spotless and pressed.

He drifted up until Lindon could see the dark purple Thousand-Mile Cloud on which he was standing. Casually, the Akura hopped off and strolled closer.

Lindon cycled madra, preparing to ignite the Burning Cloak.

Harmony didn't even look at him. Every step brought him closer, but he had eyes only for the Life Well. The Akura produced a shallow bowl, and brushed past Lindon to dip it into the pool of shining green water.

Lindon supposed he should be grateful the man wasn't hostile, but his spirit was still warning him. He pressed his fists together and gave a shallow bow. “Greetings, Akura representative. I am—”

Harmony cut him off with a sigh. “Quiet.”

Like a painter raising a brush, he raised two fingers.

Madra gathered within his hand, dark and sharp, and Lindon recognized the technique.

The Burning Cloak sprang into the air around him, and he struck at the Akura's wrist with the explosive speed of Blackflame.

Harmony's left hand intercepted his, pushing his punch aside with apparent ease. Lindon opened his Remnant hand, trying to grab hold of the Akura's body.

Harmony stepped back, still graceful, and lowered his fingers.

A black blade flickered down, slicing a line in the stone floor.

Lindon managed to throw himself to one side, the blade cutting only into his outer robe. He rose to his feet, conjuring dragon's breath, but Harmony was once again looking at something else.

This time, he was looking at the corner of Lindon's robe, which had fallen to the ground. It had included his pocket.

Harmony first drew out a blue-glowing glass ball, which he tossed aside. Lindon almost wished he'd taken it; Suriel's marble would return to him without fail.

Then he withdrew the other blue orb that had been inside Lindon's pocket before it was severed by the shadow-blade. This time, it was the cracked, damaged sapphire that had once housed the Eye of the Deep construct.

Harmony examined it for a moment, then reached into his own pocket and pulled out a sapphire that shimmered with a gradient of other colors.

Another Eye of the Deep.

Lindon launched a bolt of dragon's fire at Harmony, but a black wedge appeared in the air in front of him. The Blackflame madra split along the wedge, one half drilling into the wall on the left and the other half cutting a glass cylinder in two.

Unconcerned, Harmony raised the dead sapphire. “The construct. You removed it.”

“It cracked,” Lindon said, gathering madra again. “The construct dissolved.”

Harmony nodded to the door. “You opened the door not six hours ago.”

Lindon leaped at him, powered by the Burning Cloak. He grabbed for the gem with his Remnant arm.

Harmony stepped away, but that step carried him halfway across the room. “Let's see, then.”

He held up the unlit gem, sending his spirit into it. A blue light flickered deep within, and Lindon's heart fell.

There was a script inside the sapphire, which Harmony had just activated. And Lindon suspected he knew what it did.

Soon enough, he heard Dross' shouts growing closer.

“What's happening? What is this? Something's got me! Help!” As though drawn back by an invisible fishing line, Dross was hauled into the room and straight into his sapphire.