"...and who is this fucking guy?" Aquila gestured at Mondir.
He was pacing, steam practically erupting from his ears. The soul Amos had unwittingly pushed out of his current body certainly fulfilled the stereotype of an Aries: Hot headed, passionate, and brash. He had just finished a rant about his separation from the mortal world, his inability to see his family due to Amos keeping him at arm's length and not visiting the Infinite Lake during these long months in hiding from the Trenmir to renew their bond.
Mondir knelt in the shallow water, confusion written across his features as his eyes - those sullen, empty eyes - darted between the raging spirit and Amos' identical, yet exasperated, face. Ink leaned on his good arm, singed and panting. He appeared to be suddenly emaciated; his tattoos thinner around his shrink-wrapped extremities. Mondir looked naked without his weapons, having thrown everything he had (literally) at the Terradrake, but even more so without Bin's hulking form grumbling by his side.
"What is this place?" Mondir said. He was seeing true infinity for the first time in the horizon of the Lake.
"I thought death was your business," Amos smiled gently.
"Are we dead?"
Ink spluttered by his side. He was weak, and could only manage to say "Between... The dead around us..."
"Oi," Aquila snapped his fingers to get Amos' attention. He was holding his hand out expectantly. Amos grabbed it and the memories flooded from him to Aquila. "Fuuuuuck..."
"Is she here, then?" Mondir looked up at Amos.
Amos knew what the Wildman meant. "Of course," he said. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as a sad hope entered Mondir's.
"Can I see her?"
"I..." Amos shook his head.
"Amos," Ink began, then fell into another coughing fit.
"I can come here because of my connection to my spirit," Amos gestured at Aquila, who now understanding the magnitude of Mondir's grief, dipped his head gravely. "I might be able to control it. Others can. I don't want to give you false hope, but I need to learn more about this place first."
Mondir nodded. "If you truly wish to learn, we must set for the Avidia Institute in Port Ryndem. I will guide you, for all you have done for me."
Port Ryndem...
The map! The Gods were guiding me to a Port!
"Is Port Ryndem in the north?" Amos asked.
"Yes," Mondir spat. "A disgusting place where trees are shorn like sheep and life exists inside boxes. Where the Empire gorges itself on taxes and-"
"Amos," Ink tried again. "Need... to go... not safe... here..."
"He's right," Aquila said. "That man with the red eyes has been coming more frequently."
"Master..." Ink rasped.
"He brings visitors. Performs torture. He knows I'm here but he can't find me," Aquila continued, "I think he's showing off. I managed to learn that he's a big shot in the Tomb Trenmir, though."
"Yakob..." Amos said, remembering his encounter with Darian.
"For all that boy's smarts, he sure is dumb," Aquila said.
"Let's go," Ink said, urgency creeping into his voice. "Now."
Amos nodded, then turned to Aquila. "Will you be in my head again?"
"Should be," Aquila shrugged. "I'm just a stupid, sexy, farm boy. Yak's the brainy one. What I do know is that our connection only started when we became Drai and it seems to need a recharge of sorts. That's why I keep telling you to visit."
"I'll make sure to come back," Amos turned to go.
Suddenly and without warning, a section of the obsidian floor burst upwards, raining water onto everyone below it. Two more obsidian walls shot up by the sides of the first. The path to the portal out was blocked.
"There you are," came a familiar voice; light-hearted, yet full of malice. "We've been looking for you, Amos Aquila."
Amos turned to face the only opening afforded to them by the obsidian. Standing before them, outlined in sky blue, was the red-eyed man. Darian's master, the true Ruler of this plane in which Amos seemed to be the only other person allowed to visit.
"And you've bought me a gift," he said, "two for the price of one."
Amos glanced at Ink. There was a despair in his eyes so deep that it pulled Amos in, nearly knocking him over.
"Who are you?" Amos demanded.
"We've done this dance before, Amos."
"If you're going to kill me, at least let me know who you are!"
The man spread his hands and leaned backward, his fall stopped short by an obsidian throne rising from below. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards.
A flair for the dramatic...
"Undoubtedly, you know very little of our shared space, save what the Vessel may have told you. Allow me, if you will, to indulge in a moment of camaraderie before we begin the unpleasantries. Never before in the history of Alchemy have two separate individuals been able to independently access Soul Space. What fascinates me is your method. You do not enter, as I do, slipping gracefully between the boundaries of existence. Your mana control is not good enough for that, and besides, such a thing is not in the purview of a lowly Drai. No, you force yourself through the boundaries. You pull viscerally at the seams of the world, full of anger."
Amos flinched as something touched him from behind. The enemy was looking at the sky, lost in thought. Mondir had his one hand at Amos' hip, questing slowly for the bloodstained Dreadclaw blade that hung there.
"What is unique about you? I asked myself. You leave portals when you enter, and exit through them. You have stained this place with your violence. Even when you are not here, I can sense your soul. Souls do not last so long here, you know. My theory is that you are some type of undead with a knot in your soul to keep you from passing. If I could decipher the knot, then you would be but a thrall... No better than the poor Vessel that follows you around like a lost little puppy."
"Ink told me how he was made," Amos said. Mondir had the blade now. Amos stepped forward to draw the man's attention away from Mondir, approaching his slouching form slowly.
"Ink? Don't make me laugh. Like that thing deserves a name, let alone such a banal one. You all think much too highly of yourselves. Do you know who I see before me? A filthy forester cripple, an intruder brimming with hubris, and the empty shape of a human."
Only three, not four...
"The Vessel is mine and I made it half a thing. Its purpose is to be destroyed and it should be glad to have a reason for existing, more than many of us ever get. You could still fulfill your purpose, Ink. Come back to me."
Ink spat to the side, unable to talk but showing his 'master' exactly what he thought.
"Ink is a person, and you will treat him like one!" Amos shouted.
Mondir charged the throne, hiding the Dreadclaw blade behind his back as he went. Red eyes tracked him blithely. He didn't move from his throne, not an inch. If the carelessness on display worried Mondir, he didn't let it show, and continued to rage forth with reckless abandon.
Mondir was practically on top of him when his movements began to look strange. Amos saw him thrust the Dreadclaw out from behind his back, quick as a flash, then... not so quick. Mondir slowed exponentially, appearing as if he moved underwater, or was being captured by a slow motion camera while everyone else, including Ink's master, moved at normal speeds.
Ink's master sighed as he looked at the keratin blade, then stood to the side of Mondir with ease and smacked the blade from his hand.
"See, Amos? You bring violence to this place. Look at what you are making me do," he said. "You wanted to know who I am?"
He tapped Mondir lightly on the arm. From the point of contact, Mondir's skin began to turn gangrenous. Black rot spread from the touch of Ink's master. He was killing Mondir with a single touch.
"Your friend would die instantly if I hadn't slowed his entropy. I hold his fate in my power. I am Death, and I am Life. I am the Tomb Trenmir Eidolon, master of Alchemy, trusted of the Emperor. You may call me Enoch."