If there's one thing I've learned in the last… however long it's been since I died, it's this:
The universe loves paperwork.
Not literal paperwork. Cosmic paperwork. The kind where you inherit an extradimensional property because you accidentally got stabbed by the deed.
I stare at the Waymeet as it drifts in its neat little orbit beside Aurbis, a fractured demiplane of glass and scars.
"So," I say, trying to sound calm and not like my brain is sprinting in circles. "Just to summarize. The Waymeet is a demiplane that houses… what, thousands of portals? Connecting to different worlds, dimensions, and places in its native reality."
«Correct,» the Gatekeeper replies immediately, voice neat and crisp inside my mind. It's weird hearing an entity that has probably lived for thousands of years talk like a polite librarian.
«Clarification: Those destinations are collectively designated as Realmspace. My world of origin is Faerûn.»
I pause.
My dead gamer brain and my former-DM brain meet in the middle and shake hands.
"You're from Dungeons & Dragons."
Insert image of D&D logo here
«Yes.»
Magnus's single eye narrows, amused. "He recognizes it."
"Of course I do," I mutter. "I've traumatized an entire party with mind flayers and mimic chests."
Akatosh's voice rolls like distant thunder. "Focus."
Right. Focus. Demiplane. Portals. Witch-King goals.
I point at the orbiting shard of reality like that means anything out here. "Can you make new portals on Tamriel for me? Like… could we set one up in Skyrim? A hidden gate in Winterhold. Or a door in a ruin. Or—"
«Negative,» the Gatekeeper interrupts. «Not at this time.»
My hope deflates like a punctured balloon. "Why not?"
The Gatekeeper's answer comes with a faint sensation of embarrassment, which is honestly impressive for an AI.
«Previously, I was connected to the Weave. The Weave is the conduit through which raw magic is refined and distributed in Realmspace and Faerûn. Wizards manipulate that structure to cast spells. It is… filtered. Shaped. Predictable.»
It pauses, like it's choosing words simple enough for my tiny mortal brain.
«Here, magic exists in raw form. In your world, it is magicka. In the Void, it is even less structured. I was not built to drink from a flowing river. I was built to drink from a still pond.»
I blink. "So you struggle to absorb raw magicka properly."
«Correct. Only in small quantities. My reserves are limited. Additionally: my barrier has a tear. My glass city is extensively damaged. Void energies remain active within my borders. The essence of my core is compromised.»
I stare at the Waymeet again. I can almost feel it, now that we're tethered. A low ache across the bond. Like a house that's half burned down still trying to keep the lights on.
"So," I say slowly, "we need to figure out how to help you draw raw magic. Remove the Void energy. Repair your barrier. Rebuild your city. And completely fix your essence."
«Correct,» the Gatekeeper says again, like it's happy I'm finally reading the manual.
I rub my nonexistent temples. "Okay. Then what can the Gatekeeper Crystal do? Like, what did it do before it fused with me?"
The Gatekeeper shifts into lecture mode, and I get the distinct impression it's been waiting a long time to show someone its feature list.
«Before fusion, the Gatekeeper Crystal was designed for administration, control, and denial. Capabilities included:»
And then it starts listing them, one by one, like a magical tech spec sheet:
«It can bring down wards, spell traps, arcane locks, and defensive enchantments.»
«It can destroy mythals.»
I choke. "Hold up. Mythals. Like city-sized or bigger static super-spells, spells that enchant a large area permanently, doing things like giving people the ability to fly or teleport within its boundaries?"
«Correct.»
Magnus makes a small, thoughtful sound. Akatosh's eyes narrow, suddenly more attentive.
The Gatekeeper continues, unbothered:
«With direct contact, it can forcibly return outsiders to their native plane.»
«It alerts the bearer to nearby gates.»
«It can negate a being's magic, divine or otherwise, within a wide radius.»
«It can temporarily disable the undead by negating the sustaining energies that animate them.»
«It can create dead magic or wild magic zones.»
«It controls portals: opening, closing, detecting, and interfering with gates and teleportation within a broad range.»
«It can convert stored magical energy into an explosive release, with potential to level a city.»
I just stare.
"That last one is not a tool. That's a war crime in crystal form."
Sithis looks pleased, like he's taking notes.
The Gatekeeper finishes with the most important ones, the ones that make my stomach twist in equal parts excitement and dread:
«It granted ownership and administrator rights over the Waymeet. It enabled direct communication with me. It allowed access to the demiplane and teleportation to it. During the fusion, a new function was acquired: the demiplane may be used as a storage space for living and inanimate objects, comparable to a city-sized containment effect.»
A city-sized bag of holding.
My inner witch-king practically starts building a throne room blueprint in real time.
I swallow. "And… those abilities still work?"
The Gatekeeper's tone shifts, more cautious.
«Not all functions may remain identical. Fusion altered the crystal's architecture. Some abilities may be lost. Some others may be weakened. Some may be changed. Once you are reincarnated and your body can channel your soul's magicka safely, you will wait until your magicka pool grows and the crystal finishes bonding with you, then you should perform controlled tests.»
Magnus nods. "Sensibly stated."
"Controlled tests," I repeat. "Right. Because if I accidentally trigger 'city-leveling explosive discharge' in the wrong place, I'll immediately delete the city of Whiterun."
Akatosh's gaze sharpens.
"…I'm joking," I add quickly.
Sithis's grin says he wishes I wasn't.
I look back at the Waymeet and feel that ache again through the tether. "So the Void energy is still inside it."
«Yes,» the Gatekeeper confirms. «Residual contamination persists. It destabilizes structures and erodes internal law.»
I turn to the three gods. "Is there any way to clear that out? Like… can you cleanse it? Purify it? Smite it with a divine something?"
Magnus opens his mouth—probably to deliver a complex explanation involving metaphysics and energy conversion—
—but Sithis steps forward first.
He looks at the Waymeet.
And his eyes brighten.
He takes a deep breath.
Then he starts sucking.
No, seriously. Sucking.
The Void energies inside the Waymeet—those ugly, oily, wrong-feeling currents I can sense through the bond—start moving. They stretch toward Sithis like smoke being pulled into a chimney. Streams of darkness pour out of invisible cracks in the demiplane's skin, spiraling across the nothingness between us.
Sithis slurps them down.
I can't even pretend it's dignified. It's like watching a cosmic eldritch god drink a milkshake.
He makes a satisfied sound halfway through, like someone enjoying hot cocoa on a snowy day.
I just stand there, frozen in stunned disbelief, watching the Waymeet visibly stabilize as the pressure inside it eases. The bond between me and the demiplane feels… lighter. Less painful. Like salt removed from a wound.
When he's done, Sithis gives a small burp.
Then rubs his belly.
I blink once.
Then twice.
"…Well," I say, voice flat with shock, "that was something."
Sithis beams at me like I've complimented his cooking.
Magnus looks like he wants to be offended on behalf of magical theory, but can't argue with the results.
Akatosh rumbles, sounding mildly amused despite himself. "He enjoys the taste of change."
"Of course he does," I mutter. "Of course the embodiment of primordial chaos treats corrupted Void energy like a snack."
The Gatekeeper's voice returns, quieter now. Less strained.
«Contamination levels: reduced to zero. Thank you.»
Sithis gives it a thumbs up.
Okay. Progress.
I inhale—out of habit—and square my shoulders even though I'm basically an immortal soul blob right now.
"Alright," I say, looking from Akatosh to Magnus to Sithis. "Now can you guys answer some of the questions I have?"
Akatosh's eyes, full of galaxies, settle on me.
"Ask."
I glance at the Waymeet one more time. It drifts steady, orbiting like it belongs here now. Like I belong here now, which is frankly still insane.
Then I turn back to the gods and let the dam break.
"First question," I say…