Vera crossed the chamber, stopping a short distance from the Bound Witness and offering a small wave. “I don’t mind the delay. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

  She’d been curious about the Witness ever since first seeing it during her fight with Veyrith. She hadn’t recognized it from Ashen Legacy, which alone made it worth her attention, but its connection to House Hollow also made her interested. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to meet and speak with it properly until now because it had been disrupted by Veyrith’s presence and had to recover.

  “It is my honor,” the Witness replied with a voice that was low like grinding stone. Its head dipped slightly, then the hollow glow where its face should have been seemed to drift past her.

  Vera followed its gaze to where Serel was lingering a step behind, half-hidden by her leg, one small hand clutching the edge of her mantle.

  She looked back to the Witness with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. She can be a bit shy around new people. This is my daughter—Serel.”

  The specter regarded the girl in silence, chains shifting softly as it hovered in place. “She is no ordinary child.”

  Vera’s smile tightened just a fraction, but she only shrugged. “No, but I guess me saying so is just par for the course. She’s my kid, after all.” She glanced down at Serel. “That makes her special enough.”

  The Witness studied her in quiet consideration. “I see.”

  Without another word, it rotated and drifted forward, rising slightly as it moved down the tunnel beyond the doors.

  Vera watched it go for a moment, then looked back at Serel. The girl’s eyes were fixed on the retreating figure. Vera smiled, patting the girl’s head once before reaching for her hand and pulling her along to follow after the Witness.

  “So,” Vera said as they caught up, glancing around the descending passage, “how deep does this place go?”

  The tunnel reminded her of the sections of the Marrowvault they’d explored before, with layers of pale stone and black shale, interspersed with seams of marrowbone that threaded through the walls in irregular veins and pockets. Farther ahead, the passage dipped into deeper shadow. Vera drew out a Lumen Stone, letting it flare to life and float above her shoulder, bathing the corridor in a steady white light that didn’t glare.

  “Deep,” the Bound Witness replied, its attention flicking briefly to the stone.

  “As deep as the Marrowvault?”

  “Yes.”

  Vera let out a low whistle. “That’s deep.”

  “It is.”

  “Is this vault completely separate from the rest? Or do they connect somewhere?”

  “They are separate.”

  “Huh.” She nodded to herself. “Alright.”

  She couldn’t help imagining what Marrowfen must look like from below, with two massive ossuaries running beneath the city in parallel.

  “Must be like Swiss cheese,” she muttered.

  The Witness’s faceless glow angled toward her for a moment, then turned forward again without comment.

  Serel tugged gently at her hand. “What’s Swiss cheese?”

  “It’s a kind of cheese with lots and lots of holes all the way through it.”

  Serel scrunched up her face in thought. “Is it good?”

  “Nah. Not particularly.”

  Vera had never been much of a cheese person. That opinion tended to earn her odd looks.

  Serel seemed satisfied with the answer and fell quiet.

  The Bound Witness slowed, its attention shifting toward a dark fissure running along the wall ahead.

  Something slid out of the crack, its surface rippling as a voice began to form.

  Stillwake was already in Vera’s grip.

  Mark of Ember Flame.

  The creature disintegrated into ash before it could finish its first syllable.

  Vera lifted a hand in front of Serel’s eyes, Resonance flaring as she invoked another Mark.

  Mark of the Stillbound Veil.

  Several more presences flared ahead—some retreating deeper into the stone, others clinging to pockets within the walls.

  Looked like this place was actually more dangerous than the regular Marrowvault. She’d have to stay sharp.

  Serel squirmed, trying to peer around her hand. Vera kept blocking her eyes.

  The girl pouted. “I want to see,” she said, craning her neck.

  “…And why’s that?”

  “I just do.”

  Serel twisted around her, hoping to catch a glimpse of the monster. But there wasn’t much left to see other than a faint scatter of ash already settling into the stone.

  Her pout deepened.

  Vera watched the girl closely.

  This was the first time Serel had actually been close to something like this with her. In any normal world, the idea of exposing a six-year-old to anything even remotely adjacent to bloodshed wouldn’t have crossed her mind. But this wasn’t a normal world. Monsters were real. They were dangerous. She had already been thinking about easing Serel into that reality—carefully—with maybe some of the less gory sights.

  But she hadn’t expected Serel herself to seek them out.

  That part bothered her. More than a little.

  A smaller part of her worried about what Elaria would think if she found out. A much larger part wondered whether this was something she should actually talk to Serel about. Discuss where the interest came from, and if she understood the gravity of some of this stuff. Especially given that the girl had even shown fascination in hunting monsters herself.

  Vera wasn’t necessarily opposed to Serel learning how to fight. It was normal here, and most probably wouldn’t give her weird looks for making sure her daughter knew how to defend herself. She also doubted seeing a few monsters turn to ash would suddenly turn the girl into some bloodthirsty maniac.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  But even setting age aside, she still remembered Serel’s face when the girl saw a bloodied Caldrin.

  She hesitated.

  Vera had thought about teaching Serel Marks. Thought that the girl also wanted it. And yet lately, she’d found herself holding back on those plans. Maybe that had started after the thing with Caldrin happened, and learning about the Graven Daughter’s role in Serel’s existence. That power—whatever it was—clearly played a part in the girl’s aptitude. And a part of Vera wasn’t entirely comfortable encouraging that, even if it came naturally.

  Perhaps she was overthinking it. She wasn’t sure.

  She’d figure it out later. Maybe even talk to Elaria about it—though she wasn’t even sure how interested the woman would be. Elaria cared about Serel; that much was clear to Vera. But with her planning to return to the frontlines and having maybe-not-so-positive opinions about some of Vera’s characteristics, it was hard to say how involved she intended to be in the girl’s life.

  Vera didn’t really want to assume. She would be happy if they could just arrange something stable for Serel. Maybe the girl got a chance to meet Elaria every now and then, similar to how it was in her memories.

  She ran a hand through Serel’s silver-gray hair, earning yet another pout and a quiet huff, then let Resonance flow into Stillwake again.

  Mark of Ember Flame.

  Almost a dozen crimson glyphs flared into being as distant distortions of Resonance collapsed deeper in the vault. She followed with another Mark of the Stillbound Veil to be sure she’d dealt with the worst of it, then dismissed the halberd.

  She hadn’t tried targeting Marks purely based on location before. Turns out it was easier than expected. Something to experiment more with later.

  Taking Serel’s hand again, she turned to the Bound Witness, which was watching her with a faintly unreadable stillness.

  “What?” she asked.

  “…Blazegrip is considerably louder than you,” the Witness said.

  Vera raised her brows. “Thank you…?”

  “And yet,” it continued, “somehow, he remains less conspicuous.”

  “Oh.”

  Vera winced.

  That was basically an insult, no matter how you cut it.

  Serel giggled. “Mommy, you’re more con-spick-you-us than Uncle Vanded!”

  The Witness’s attention shifted to the girl.

  Vera frowned down at her. “Do you even know what ‘conspicuous’ means?”

  Serel nodded eagerly. “Mmm! Caldrin taught me. He said that’s what you are.”

  “…Did he now.”

  On one hand, Vera was impressed by how clever her kid was. She was fairly sure that was the sort of word she didn’t learn until around sixth grade or so. On the other hand, she wondered if anyone around her wasn’t actively spreading propaganda about how flashy and excessive she supposedly was all the time.

  Now they were even brainwashing her daughter.

  Elaria had accused her of basically turning Serel into some kind of battle junkie, but what was this? Double standards much?

  Vera heaved a long sigh. Life was pretty unfair.

  She looked back to the Witness. “Right. We should probably keep moving. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, don’t we?”

  There was one location in particular that Vanded had mentioned, deeper down, that she wanted to see. That was the main reason she’d brought Serel with.

  The specter’s gaze lingered between her and Serel for another moment before it turned away. “Yes,” it said, and resumed its descent.

  Vera and Serel followed.

  Serel’s shyness seemed to have mostly evaporated now, and she kept sneaking glances at the Witness’s back while occasionally tugging at Vera’s hand whenever anything caught her attention in her surroundings. The deeper they went, the larger the passages and chambers grew, some opening into grand, bone-carved caverns similar to the ones they’d explored in the normal Marrowvault. These held skeletal remains embedded in the walls and patches of strange undergrowth in the form of pale fungi and vein-like plants clinging to the bone.

  Vera kept invoking her Marks at even intervals, dealing with anything that strayed too close using quick Ember Flames. Beyond that, the descent was smooth. Vanded had mentioned this part of the vault could become heavily infested if left unattended for a while, but he’d apparently cleared a good portion of it on his last visit. She also wondered if the smarter monsters around here didn’t also learn to keep their distance after a while, because they ran into fewer of them the deeper they went.

  For all of the walking—and detours whenever something caught Serel’s eyes—there wasn’t much actual conversation happening between them. Vera spoke with Serel, but the Witness clearly preferred silence, and she didn’t want to push.

  That said, she had come here for answers, and eventually, curiosity won out.

  She drifted closer to the specter, keeping one eye on Serel as the girl wandered toward a knotted spiral of fused marrowbone protruding from the ceiling.

  “Mind if I ask you some questions?” Vera said.

  The Witness turned toward her. “…Ask what you wish.”

  “Alright. Then could you tell me who you are? And what’s your connection to House Hollow?”

  Ashen Legacy had no shortage of ghosts, echoes, and half-living remnants scattered throughout its setting. Not all of them were tied to House Hollow, but a fair number were, thanks to Hollow’s dominion over memory. Specters fell squarely into that category, being memories given shape and persistence. That alone placed this entity somewhere within the same divine framework from which Vera drew much of her power, but it didn’t automatically mean the Bound Witness followed the same path as her. Plenty of specters in the game were little more than drifting impressions or vindictive remnants with no loyalty to anything but their own obsessions.

  The specter regarded her in silence for several seconds. Its chains rattled as it raised one arm, Resonance gathering above a shadowed hand. “I am a Witness of a promise made, bound to ensure its remembrance.”

  The Resonance bloomed into a delicate, layered shape, almost like a flower formed of stillness and pale light. It carried a familiar sensation at the back of Vera’s mind that she couldn’t quite place.

  When the Witness closed its hand, the construct collapsed, and something somber threaded into its grinding voice. “My purpose is simply to remember what will be forgotten, and what has already been forgotten. You are the Chosen of Hollow of this age. It is your duty to remember what must not be forgotten. That which should fade, however, is not yours to carry.”

  It turned away from her, gaze drifting deeper into the tunnel.

  Vera studied it.

  That… unfortunately meant almost nothing to her.

  Though it did brush up against something she’d realized she’d spent surprisingly little time actually thinking about since arriving in this world.

  “What does it actually mean,” she asked, “to be Hollow’s Chosen?”

  She knew what it meant in the game. She knew the lore blurb. The questline. The payoff. But in the end, it was just a fancy title you earned as a reward for a long, miserable grind that unlocked a handful of unique Marks and Form. It was hard enough to get that you didn’t see many people running around with it, sure—but it wasn’t unique to Vera. Ashen Legacy was an MMO, after all. There were always others.

  Here, though, she got the sense that wasn’t the case.

  As if to confirm her thought, the Bound Witness snapped its head back to her, chains drawing taut with a dry scrape. “…You ask what Hollow’s Chosen does?”

  Vera nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

  The specter stared. “You do not know?”

  “I’ve got an idea. But… you could say I’ve forgotten. That’s part of why I wanted to meet you.”

  She’d actually already asked Caldrin about this and dug through the records in the Ashledger Archive. None of it had given her answers that went much further than what she already knew. The Chosen of Hollow was a sort of living representative of the House within the physical world, bound deeply to its Resonance and dominions. That said, while House Hollow had temples, shrines, and various cultic offshoots, it didn’t have a central authority where a Chosen filled some obvious ceremonial or leadership role.

  So Vera had been left wondering whether it was just some lofty title in this world as well. If all it meant was that she was slightly better at using some of her skills.

  “The Chosen cannot forget,” the Witness said. Its attention fixed on her more sharply now. It drifted closer, one hand lifting toward her as Resonance gathered again. “You…”

  Vera didn’t step back. She felt the power brush against her, measuring.

  “The Gray-Mother’s whispers linger within you,” the Witness continued. “Your soul bears their imprint. You should not forget. You cannot. Containment through remembrance.”

  Vera frowned. “What? Containment…? Of what?”

  The Bound Witness didn’t answer. It withdrew its hand and turned away, drifting farther down the passage.

  Then it stopped.

  It looked back at her. “…Come,” it said, urgency threading its voice. “We must perform the rite.”

  “The rite?” Vera echoed—then froze. Her eyes widened. “Do you mean the Rite of Stillness?”

  The Witness inclined its head. “Yes.”

  “…You’re saying that’s possible here?”

  The only place she knew where the Rite of Stillness could be performed was Gloamsdeep Hollow, which had supposedly fallen to the Silence.

  The Bound Witness was quiet for several long moments, its attention fixed on her as if it had only just realized the weight of what it had said. Finally, though, it spoke again. “It is possible. He Who Sleeps Without Name rests here.”

  Vera’s eyes widened further, heat prickling along her spine as her thoughts raced toward the only connection that title had in her mind. And then—inevitably—her mind circled back to the original purpose of the Marrowvault beneath Marrowfen.

  She’d always assumed the ossuary had long since outlived that purpose.

  But…

  Was it possible this place was still housing a proper god?