"So, I've got questions," Vera said.
"I surmised as much, my lady."
They stood together in the central foyer of the Dreadwake Alcove. Vera had briefly considered speaking in her quarters but dismissed the idea the moment she remembered the decor in there. Above them, a chandelier of black iron hung slightly too low, its branching arms splayed like the jaws of a sprung trap.
Vera stood with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed at Caldrin. He, in turn, had his hands neatly folded behind his back—the picture of a composed butler, if you ignored the faint quirk at the corner of his mouth.
"…Let's start with the big one," Vera said. "Do you know why you can't remember any specific conversations we've had?"
Caldrin shook his head. "I do not."
"Any theories?"
"None at all. Though I was rather hoping you might have some."
The way he said it—just the slightest shift in tone—made Vera's eyes narrow further.
"…I'm not really in the mood for games. If you've got thoughts, I'd prefer you just say them."
Caldrin lifted a single brow in response, the small smile fading from his face. He took a breath, letting a more neutral expression settle in.
"Very well. From your words and behavior so far, I've gathered that you are… let's say, unsettled by the current state of things. As though this situation does not feel natural to you. Would I be correct in that assessment?"
Vera considered him.
If it had only been her waking up in this world—in this body—she wouldn't have hesitated to keep up the act. Pretend to be the real Veralyth Mournvale. Keep her cards close until she understood the rules. Maybe forever, if that's what the situation demanded.
But now Serel was involved.
There was a literal child in the picture.
Vera didn't want to call herself a mother—not just because she'd woken up in the wrong skin. She hadn't asked for this, hadn't planned for it. But Serel existed now. The girl was real. And no matter how much Vera really wanted to back away from the responsibility that implied… she couldn't.
Not without becoming the kind of person she didn't want to be.
Which meant she needed help. Real help. And Caldrin was her best shot at getting it. But for that, she had to be more forthright.
She let out a quiet breath, tension draining marginally from her shoulders.
"You're right," she said. "I won't pretend otherwise. It'd be putting it mildly to say I'm… thrown off by everything."
"May I ask why?"
"It's complicated." She paused, watching him closely. "…When you look at me, what do you see?"
He squinted slightly, as if gauging whether it was a trick question. "I see Veralyth Mournvale."
"And who's that?"
"…I assume you're not asking for a summary of your own history."
"No."
Caldrin was quiet for a moment, considering. Then he raised one hand to his chin, studying her.
"I would like to say she is the woman I serve. A living legend. A wielder of old power. A wildly overambitious faux-new noble who has—for reasons I both will and never will quite understand—earned my loyalty, many times over."
Vera huffed a sound that wasn't quite a laugh.
"You think that's who I am?"
He stroked his chin slowly. "I do," he said, then added, after a pause, "Though… I'm beginning to wonder if you might be more than just Veralyth Mournvale."
Vera gave him a long look, then exhaled through her nose. "The simple answer is yes."
"The simple answer?" He lifted his eyebrows. "Should I take that to mean the more complicated answer involves why I can't recall any of our conversations in exacting detail?"
"Probably, yeah."
"I see."
A quiet stretch passed between them.
Then Caldrin glanced down at his wrist, placing two fingers against it as if checking the watch that still didn't exist. "Six hundred seventy-eight days, fourteen hours, twenty-four minutes, and twelve seconds."
Vera quirked a brow at him.
He met her with a mild smile. "That's how long I'm fairly certain I've been waiting for your awakening, my lady. But I'm beginning to wonder if it isn't also just about the total time I've spent waiting—period."
He tapped a steady rhythm against his wrist, eyes drifting to the air beside her as if looking for something beyond sight. "Now that I think of it, I realize there are quite a few conversations from my past where I remember the overall shape—the tone, the context, the emotional weight—but the precise words exchanged are surprisingly difficult to pin down. Almost as if they didn't truly happen at all."
Vera blinked, genuinely surprised. Had he figured it out just from that? She vaguely remembered tagging him as a borderline genius in his backstory, but even so, she wouldn't have expected this.
Caldrin turned his gaze back to her. "Pardon me, my lady. For a moment, I forgot that you preferred directness. In that spirit, allow me to ask plainly: would I be correct in assuming that your and my presence here is tied to some higher power?"
Vera hesitated only a beat before giving a short nod. "I'm running on that assumption myself for the time being."
He inclined his head slightly. "And would I also be correct in assuming that you are still Veralyth Mournvale—or something very close to her?"
This time her pause lasted longer. But eventually, she nodded again. "I think I'm about as close as you come, yes."
His hands returned behind his back, and he gave a small, almost ceremonial bow. "Then you are still my lady, and I have no further questions."
Vera stared. "…That's it?"
"Yes."
"You don't want to know anything more?"
"No. I'm content as I am. I feel I should be thankful, in fact. I am, after all, rather exceptional—and I see no reason to complain about whatever circumstances happened to bring that particular exceptionalism about."
Her eyes didn't leave him.
That was… certainly one way to look at it.
She might even respect it. She didn't think she could've reacted the same way in his place.
Though that thought brought a frown to her lips.
Caldrin might be fine with this. But what about Serel?
This situation could be far more confusing—and disturbing—for a child. If Caldrin had figured things out just by retracing old conversations, wouldn't Serel eventually notice something was off too? She'd already been confused by not remembering anything Veralyth had supposedly told her.
"If you're worried about Miss Serel adjusting to these revelations, my lady," Caldrin said, "I don't believe you have much cause for concern."
"…How did you—?"
He tapped a finger to his temple. "To be entirely frank, I suspect very few individuals would come to the same conclusions I have, even under similar circumstances. The young miss is bright, yes, but her memory is not quite so… exhaustive as mine. For most, the general impression of a conversation is enough. The mind conveniently fills in the gaps."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"I only noticed the inconsistencies because I maintain a comparatively detailed mental archive of my past interactions and dialogues—if only for the small joy of precision."
Vera didn't know what to make of that.
But she did know that this man was kind of scary.
Her frown twitched back. "Wait… how did you know I was thinking about Serel?"
Caldrin chuckled lightly. "Possible telepathy and metaphysical intuition aside, I have served Veralyth Mournvale for some time, and I'm exceedingly familiar with her idiosyncrasies. Despite whatever reservations you may have… to me, you are clearly her. And very few things bring that particular look to your face, my lady, save for Miss Serel."
Vera fell quiet again.
She still wasn't sure what to make of any of this.
But… it was reassuring, in its own way.
"Let's move on to other matters," she said. "I need to understand what's going on. To start: what year is it?"
"It is the fourth Veilday of Emberfall, year 156 of the Ember Cycle," Caldrin replied smoothly.
Vera hummed under her breath, mentally working through the date. She knew the calendar system used in Ashen Legacy, though it wasn't exactly user-friendly. Still, that sounded about right. A little over two years since the last in-game date she remembered. Which meant her timeline guess had been correct.
"Has the Godgrave become active again?" she asked.
"It has," Caldrin replied, sounding slightly surprised by the question.
"And The Silence Between? Has it surfaced?"
He studied her briefly, then nodded. "Yes. Last I heard, the entire Graven Reach fell to its Unraveling in less than a season. The Covenant of Flame eventually pushed it back into the outer reaches, but the damage, as I understand, was extensive."
"I see," Vera muttered, mouth thinning into a line.
While The Waking Deep—the fourth expansion of Ashen Legacy—hadn't launched from her perspective, the devs had revealed its major arc and antagonist. So she wasn't completely in the dark.
Still… it felt surreal hearing about those events like this.
"Unfortunately, that's about the extent of what I can tell you about the state of the world," Caldrin continued. "In waiting for your awakening, I've not once left Sablewatch Hollow. The mountain passes have been overrun by Hollowmaw Sentinels. I did consider making the trip regardless, but decided I was rather fond of my limbs and soul. What news I've gathered came from Lady Valecrest's visits."
"Hollowmaw Sentinels?" Vera frowned. "Huh. I guess they might've been building up without anyone around to cull the spawns?"
Sablewatch's location was basically prime real estate—great for farming rare mats and high-tier resources. The Hollowmaw Sentinels patrolling the surrounding ridgelines were a major source for both, acting as semi-roaming mini-bosses. Not the kind of thing the average player tackled solo.
Vera used to sweep through the area now and then for drops. Normally, they didn't spawn in enough numbers to block all travel, though.
She'd have to check it out later. Their mats might still be just as valuable now as they were in-game. Maybe even more so.
"I'm sure you've just had a deeply ridiculous thought," Caldrin remarked. "But I shall pretend I have nothing to do with it."
Vera shot him a dry look but let it go. "Another question. You said you've been waiting all this time while I've been 'slumbering,' and that you expected me to wake up in three days. How did you know when I'd wake up?"
Caldrin cleared his throat and gave a sheepish cough into his gloved fist. "Ahem. I didn't. That was a joke, my lady."
"…Get better jokes."
"I'll respectfully consider the suggestion—and just as respectfully ignore it, my lady. But that is neither here nor there." He coughed again, more politely this time.
Vera sighed. "Right. But that means you didn't actually know when I'd wake up."
"Precisely. I had no idea whatsoever."
"But you were certain I would eventually?"
"I had hope. And I knew that when you did, you'd inevitably require my ever-discerning talents to clean up whatever trail of chaos or improbable triumphs you'd leave scattered in your wake."
"…I suppose you have my thanks for staying loyal, at least."
"You are very welcome, my lady."
She rolled her eyes. "Back to my 'slumber,' then. What do you actually know about it? Any idea what caused it?"
"I'm afraid not," Caldrin said. "As I recall, I was tending to duties outside the estate one morning when the gates simply… no longer recognized me." He gestured to the embroidery on the inner lining of his collar. The sigils of House Hollow and the old gods of stillness. "At first, I was confused. Then I received a Quiet Calling. Through it, I understood that Sablewatch Hollow would remain sealed until your awakening. That has been the sole directive I have been working under ever since."
"A Quiet Calling?" Vera's voice shifted, interest creeping in.
That was the closest thing to a divine revelation one could get from House Hollow. And it was far from casual. Veralyth Mournvale had gone through an absurd number of fragmented questlines, puzzles, and multi-stage rituals just to earn the 'Chosen of the Hollow' title, and the Quiet Calling only came at the very end.
The fact that Caldrin had received one?
That was… notable.
It meant the old gods knew something about this situation. Or about her.
She wondered if she could trigger one herself. The Rite of Stillness came to mind, but that required offerings, a binding place, and—more annoyingly—a trip to Gloamsdeep Hollow. Not exactly a casual walk through the woods.
She filed the thought away for later. That was a project for another time.
Just as she returned her focus to Caldrin, she paused, catching the faint sound of feet on thick carpet. Careful, deliberate steps. Soft enough that she shouldn't have been able to hear them at all. She went quiet, narrowed her eyes, and turned her head toward the stairs.
There, peeking around the corner of the upper landing, she soon caught sight of a tuft of pale silver hair doing a poor job of staying hidden.
Caldrin had noticed too, his mouth quirking into an amused smile.
Vera sighed, her voice taking on a kind of exaggerated dryness she hadn't even known she could muster. "Serel, have I ever told you anything about eavesdropping?"
A soft, squeaky "eep" escaped from the top of the stairs, and the silver tuft vanished. A few long seconds of guilty silence passed before Serel's flushed little face peeked out again, cheeks burning crimson with embarrassment.
"Sorry…" the girl mumbled, barely audible. Her eyes were squinted, lower lip slightly tucked between her teeth, one hand nervously twisting the hem of her sleeve as she shifted in place.
A crack snapped through the foyer—a dull, meaty thud that bounced off the walls like someone had punched solid rock. The chandelier overhead gave a faint rattle, its chains swaying gently.
Caldrin looked at Vera with one brow raised.
She ignored him.
She couldn't be blamed. For a moment, she'd been sure her heart had stopped at that sight.
And it had taken pure, reflexive instinct—and, unfortunately, a body strong enough to dent in plate armor—to get it beating again.
Her sternum hurt now, but she didn't let it show. If nothing else, three years of intermittent pain attacks had taught her how to keep a straight face through worse.
Serel had frozen at the top of the stairs, staring down with wide, startled eyes. Then she launched herself down the steps two at a time, rushing straight toward her. Vera barely had a second to brace before the girl collided with her, arms flung around her waist in a terrifyingly tight hug, eyes glistening.
"Mommy, are you okay? Why did you hit yourself?!"
Vera turned her head away, dodging that wide-eyed, shimmering stare before she did something stupid. Again.
She cleared her throat. "I'm fine. Don't worry. That was just me… recalibrating. Sometimes you've gotta give yourself a hard reboot."
Serel looked even more confused and not the least convinced.
And Vera didn't even want to imagine what Caldrin's face looked like right now. So she pivoted. Fast.
"Since you're here, I'm guessing you got bored with the book? Want to come with me to the Trial Chamber? I figured I'd try working off some of the rust."
Every trace of concern in Serel's expression evaporated like mist in sunlight, replaced with radiant excitement. "Really? Mmm! Let's go! I wanna see you fight!"
Vera blinked. The enthusiasm threw her off for a second. It was almost too much—to the degree that it was alarming. But she couldn't exactly backpedal now.
"If you intend to train in the Trial Chamber, my lady," Caldrin said calmly, "then I believe I'll use the opportunity to assess the rest of the estate. While two years may not have undone its enchantments, a formal inspection is still in order."
Vera glanced at him and gave a small nod. "Alright. I'll call for you later. There's still more we need to go over."
He dipped his head in a respectful bow. "As you wish, my lady."
With that, he turned and strode toward the stairs, his footsteps silent on the floor.
Vera looked down at the bundle of unreasonably eager child currently clinging to her side like an overly affectionate limpet.
…Was this just her life now?