POV: Nara
The shop smelled like crushed leaves and something sharper underneath, something that burned the back of the throat if you breathed too deeply.
Nara stood just inside the doorway for a moment, letting her eyes adjust. The place looked… wrong. Not messy. Not disorganized. Just arranged in a way that didn't follow any pattern she recognized. Shelves climbed the walls, packed tight with jars, bottles, powders, and things that didn't even look like they should be stored indoors.
Everything had a place.
She could feel it.
Even if she didn't understand it. Behind her, the door shut with a soft click.
Rhen had refused to enter. He hadn't even tried to hide it. One look at the interior and he'd taken a step back, arms folding across his chest.
"I'll stay with the army," he'd said.
Which left Varyn and Sena.
That had turned into an argument that lasted exactly thirty seconds before both of them decided, somehow, that they would stay outside. Together. With Stone.
Nara hadn't asked how they both lost that argument.
Now it was just her.
And Solenne.
The woman moved through the shop without looking at where she stepped, her hand brushing past shelves without knocking a single thing out of place. She set the lantern down on a central table and gestured lightly.
"Sit," she said.
Nara didn't. Not immediately.
She watched Solenne instead. Measured her.
Young face. Calm expression. Eyes that didn't match either of those things.
Old.
Not in the way of wrinkles or wear. In the way of someone who had seen too much and kept all of it.
"You've been waiting," Nara said.
Solenne gave a small nod. "Yes."
"For me."
"Yes."
Nara stepped closer to the table but didn't sit. "Why?"
Solenne studied her for a moment, then reached for a small glass vial, turning it slowly between her fingers.
"Because you were always going to exist," she said.
That wasn't an answer.
Nara's eyes narrowed slightly. "That doesn't explain anything."
"No," Solenne agreed calmly. "It doesn't. It explains why I am not surprised."
She set the vial down and finally looked at Nara directly.
"What do you know about your class?"
Nara didn't hesitate. "It's a glitch."
"That is what it is called."
"That's what it is," Nara said flatly.
Solenne's lips pressed together for a brief second. Not disagreement. Just… consideration.
"The System does not make mistakes," she said.
Nara let out a quiet breath. "It already has."
Solenne tilted her head slightly. "You are assuming error. I am suggesting intent."
Silence settled between them.
Nara didn't like that answer.
She crossed her arms. "Explain." Solenne turned, reaching for a notebook on the table. It wasn't the one she had been holding outside. This one was older, edges worn, pages filled with tight, controlled writing.
"There have been four recorded instances," she said, flipping it open. "Of what the System classifies as 'Glitch Classes.'"
Nara's attention sharpened immediately. "Four."
"Yes."
"And?" Solenne glanced up at her. "None of them were random."
Nara felt something tighten in her chest.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," Solenne said carefully, "that every one of those instances was tied to something that already existed."
"Existed?"
"Before the System categorized it and assigned it a structure, even before it tried to give it structure."
Nara's fingers curled slightly against her arms. "You're saying this isn't new."
"I'm saying it is not unintentional."
That was worse.
Nara took a slow breath. "Then what is it tied to?"
Solenne didn't answer right away. She turned a page instead, scanning something only she seemed to understand.
"That," she said after a moment, "is where certainty ends and deduction begins."
Nara's patience thinned. "Then start deducing."
Solenne's gaze lifted again, steady and sharp.
"Necromancy," she said, "is not your class."
The words landed heavier than they should have.
Nara frowned. "It literally is."
"No," Solenne said. "It is what your class is expressing right now."
"That's the same thing."
"It is not."
Nara held her stare. "Then what is the difference?"
Solenne closed the notebook slowly.
"The difference," she said, "is that Necromancy is a symptom."
Nara didn't speak.
"The System," Solenne continued, "is building something. It does not give you everything at once. It layers it. Piece by piece. Ability by ability. Until the structure is complete."
Nara's mind moved quickly, connecting pieces she didn't like connecting.
"Building toward what?" she asked.
Solenne went quiet.
For longer than necessary.
When she finally spoke, her voice was lower.
"Something that was killed."
Nara felt a chill crawl up her spine.
"Killed by what?"
"The System doesn't say."
"That's convenient."
"It doesn't need to," Solenne replied. "The pattern is enough."
Nara shook her head once. "No. That's not enough. Not for me."
Solenne watched her, unreadable.
"It has been trying to replace it," she said. "For five hundred years."
The number settled heavily in the air.
Five hundred.
Nara let out a slow breath, her thoughts sharp, restless. "And you think I'm part of that."
"I think," Solenne said carefully, "that you are the first successful iteration in a very long time."
That was not comforting.
Nara looked away for a second, her gaze drifting across the shelves, the jars, the strange order of the room.
"Why tell me this?" she asked quietly.
Solenne didn't hesitate. "Because you are already being hunted."
Nara's eyes snapped back to her.
"By more than one entity," Solenne added. "Some of them you have already encountered. Some you have not."
Vorath. The name surfaced immediately. Nara didn't say it out loud.
She didn't need to. Solenne reached for the vial she had set down earlier and pushed it across the table.
The liquid inside was dark, almost black, with thin silver streaks running through it.
"What is that?" Nara asked.
"A stabilizer."
"For what?"
"For you."
Nara didn't touch it yet. "Be specific."
Solenne nodded once. "It will not cure your undeath."
"I didn't expect it to." Nara said flatly.
"Good. Because nothing can."
That landed harder than anything else so far.
Nara's expression didn't change, but something behind her eyes did.
Solenne continued. "What it will do is stabilize your grey bar."
Nara glanced down instinctively, as if she could see it without calling it up.
"Stabilize how?"
"It will make it less… visible," Solenne said. "To System-sight above Level 20. You will register as injured. Not dead."
Nara looked back at the vial.
"That reduces attention," Solenne added. "And fewer people will try to kill you on sight."
That was useful. Very useful.
Nara picked up the vial, turning it slightly in her hand. The liquid inside moved slowly, thicker than it should have been.
"No side effects?" she asked.
Solenne's expression didn't change. "Many. None of them immediately lethal."
Nara almost smiled at that. "Good enough."
She uncorked the vial and drank it in one motion.
The taste hit instantly. Bitter. Sharp. Cold. It burned on the way down, spreading through her chest like something alive.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then— Her vision flickered.
Not like before. Not like the Soul Link. This was internal.
She felt something shift. Adjust.
Her breath caught slightly, her hand tightening around the empty vial.
Then it settled.
Gone.
Nara exhaled slowly and pulled up her status. The grey bar was still there.
Unchanged. Or— No. Not unchanged.
It felt… quieter. Less obvious.
She lowered her hand. "Still grey."
Solenne didn't answer immediately. Nara looked up.
The woman was staring at her. Not calmly this time. Not neutrally.
Something else.
she was focused, sharp.
"What?" Nara asked. Solenne's voice, when she spoke, was quieter than before.
"Your bar just flickered."
Nara frowned. "What?"
"Red," Solenne said. "For almost a full second."
Nara blinked once.
Then shrugged slightly. "It does that sometimes."
Solenne's gaze didn't move.
"That," she said slowly, "is not possible for an undead being."
Nara didn't respond right away.
Her mind was already moving, faster than before, pulling at that single detail.
Grey then red Red a Flicker.
Not fully one, Not fully the other.
She looked down again, as if she might catch it in the act. Nothing.
Just grey.