She didn’t need any more instruction. She could feel it.

Her spiritual sense spread out as easily as spilled water, and her connection to the world solidified.

“I train in the sacred arts,” she whispered, “because…”

She hesitated, the reality of the situation slapping her in the face. Why had she said this out loud? You were supposed to, but there wasn’t supposed to be anyone around to hear. But now stopping would be more embarrassing.

And besides, she was dying.

She blurted the rest out in a jumbled rush. “…because I don’t like people around me dying, and it hurts, and I’m afraid I’ll have to feel that again, so I try to get stronger so I won’t have to. And that’s all.”

Yerin squeezed her eyes shut harder, hoping that it would work and she wouldn’t have to repeat herself.

The aura froze, as though unsure, and after a long second, her soulfire responded.

With a surge of relief, she felt the advancement take over.

~~~

Yerin rose to her feet, washed in soulfire, and Lindon stared at her. Just stared.

She had been remade.

Her Goldsigns now looked absolutely real, as though actual steel blades grew on metal arms from her shoulders. Her green armor was pitted and cracked, but her scars had been wiped away, leaving her skin clean.

It was in the little touches that she had really changed. That, or the loss of her scars had changed her appearance more than he'd thought. Her eyes seemed deeper, looking from within the veil of her hair, and she looked more mature. She hadn't grown any—her head still only reached up to about his shoulders—but that made him feel too tall.

More than anything, she was alive. Her lifeline, which only a moment ago had been a breath away from fading out, now shone as healthy as a young sapling.

The relief was so strong it shook him physically. His fingers trembled, and he leaned back against the wall. How many seconds had he been from losing her?

Mercy danced up to Yerin, glancing her up and down. Then Mercy threw her arms around Yerin’s neck and wept into her shoulder.

“I’m glad…” Mercy sobbed. “I’m really glad…”

The stress and exhaustion must have gotten to Lindon, because the world started looking misty all of a sudden. Even Yerin’s eyes watered, and she wrapped her own arms around Mercy in return.

A moment later, Yerin had evidently had enough, dabbing at her eyes as she pushed Mercy away. She had to brush strands of her hair aside. Yerin’s hair had grown some, as his and Mercy's had. Now it hung down into her eyes, extending past her shoulders.

She saw him looking and blew the hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, it's longer than I like to work with.” A brief whisper of power, and the hair in her face was sliced away. Her attention moved to the back.

“I think it looks nice,” Mercy said cheerily.

“So do I,” Lindon added.

The movement of Yerin's spirit stopped. “Nothing like trying out a change,” she said. “Might like it how it is.”

Dross spun out onto Lindon's shoulder, squinting his eye at Mercy. [Who are you? I’m warning you: I have a large sacred artist attached to me. He fights.]

Mercy looked startled. “Are you okay, Dross? It’s me.”

Lindon had assumed all along that Mercy's advancement had been temporary. She could make herself a Truegold for a while, why not an Underlady? But as he scanned her spirit, he found that the transformation was stable.

“You really advanced,” he said, astonished. “How?”

She shifted in place, rolling Suu between her hands, looking at the tips of her shoes. “I was, uh...always a Truegold. I left home because I didn't want to be a Lady.”

Yerin's eyes narrowed. “If that was a veil, I'm a leaping fish. You took an Underlady's fire to the face.”

Mercy's hand shot to her cheek before she pushed it down. It looked like an involuntary reaction. “Not my veil. My mother's.”

Together, Lindon and Yerin nodded as though that explained everything.

It almost did. She had left home, but her mother had sealed her power in exchange.

“I would like to hear the full story later, if you're willing,” Lindon said. “But first...”

He looked down to the regenerating Underlady at his feet. She was unconscious, but her technique was still going, leaving her healed. And naked. And caked in blood from a thousand cuts, so there wasn't much to see, but he still looked away.

Mercy had raised her gaze to the ceiling, where she pointed to the silver-and-purple owl. “Aunt Charity,” she said, “we've won.”

The owl didn't move, but Akura Charity stepped around a corner as though she'd been waiting for that exact moment to appear.

Though it was Lindon’s first time seeing her, something about her face struck him as familiar. As though he’d glanced her before. Maybe that was just her resemblance to Mercy.

She appeared much younger than he had expected—roughly his age—but she carried an intangible sense of wisdom along with her. Her silken black robes were adorned with softly glowing lines of violet that looked like script, and while he didn’t know the significance of the clothes, they must be expensive.

“They have won,” the Sage said. “You've lost.”

Lindon looked to the squirming black cocoon that his spiritual sense told him contained Seishen Daji. He couldn't imagine that counted as a loss, but Mercy didn't disagree.

She also didn't look happy.

“You promised me a favor, Aunt Charity,” she said. She sounded hurt.

“I will add a gift of my own to the Blackflame Empire in compensation,” the Sage said serenely. “I will also allow each of you to take all that you can carry from this place.”

Lindon's void key zipped open.

Everyone looked at him.

“Apologies,” he said, cutting off the flow of madra. “Forgiveness, please.”

He wondered if 'from this place' included looting the Seishen Underlords. What about Kiro's Remnant? That was morbid, and for a moment his thoughts sobered.

[Yes, terrible thought, but what did happen to that Remnant?] Dross asked.

“You warned the Seishen Kingdom,” Mercy accused her, and Yerin's gaze sharpened. “You put us all in danger.” Lindon had assumed as much, but what was he going to say to a Sage?

“Everything was under my control,” Charity said, but that didn't comfort Lindon. He would bet his own Remnant that she would have watched him die as easily as she had watched Kiro. Mercy might have been safe, but he doubted that protection extended outside her family.

Seeing that Mercy didn't seem appeased, the Sage added, “And everything worked out perfectly well for you, in the end. I don't see any reason for you to be upset.”

Mercy glared, but her aunt swept a hand over the vault. “Ten minutes,” she said. “Then we leave. I must announce the results.”

[Go to the dream one!] Dross said. [The dream one, the dream one!]

Lindon did, but he had to trust Dross to protect his mind from illusions.

Ten minutes later, Lindon had filled his void key, and all his pockets, and every line and fold in his clothes. His robes bulged like a chipmunk's cheeks. The fire treasure he had stuffed in his sock was starting to smolder.