"BAILEY. WE FINALLY MEET."

  Amos recognised those eyes. He saw them leading him to Ink. The voice was the very same from the forest.

  "You!" he said.

  Amos felt the immense power emanating from the figure in front of him like pressure from a fire hose. He wasn't able to form anything other than monosyllabic words.

  "Who? What?"

  His teeth were gritted. It felt like he was being pushed away and pulled forwards at the same time. Like two great invisible hands trying with all their might to tear his body in two.

  "MY APOLOGIES."

  The woman closed her eyes. The power subsided and Amos gasped, his lungs no longer crushed by that force. His senses returned to normal and he was able to perceive the woman.

  She was old - stooped and greying. She leaned on a wooden cane inscribed with runes and other tiny markings. Her robes were long, folds of cloth layering over each other. When she moved, they rustled and overlapped fluidly.

  The woman smiled at him, her round face splitting into a spiderweb of wrinkles and deeply etched laughter lines. She opened her eyes and Amos braced himself for the pressure to return, but it stayed distant. It never left, just lessened. Waiting at the edges for its master's call to return.

  "Sit," she said, indicating the ground. Her voice no longer had a booming quality and resembled normality.

  "You owe me an explanation," Amos said, choosing to remain upright, "Many explanations."

  She nodded, then asked, "Are you in a hurry?"

  Amos thought of Ink waiting in Yakob's bed. He thought of his parents - Leila was probably watching over Kien while he rested. She wouldn't sleep herself. Wouldn't be able to.

  "No," he said. The elderly woman provided an opportunity for answers. She seemed to be acquainted with the magic of this world and benevolent, for now, at least. This was more important than his fickle obligations. Amos was sure his soul would agree.

  "Good," said the woman, "No doubt you have many questions, Bailey. I am here to answer them for you."

  "Yeah, no shit I have questions. First off, who even are you? How do you know who I am?"

  "Let us speak calmly, child. I have no quarrel with you, do not give me reason to. My name is Xaemarra. I brought you to this world when you died."

  Amos' jaw slackened. This was definitely more important than his new family.

  He sat down in the water, heavy. "You brought me here?" he asked, "Why?"

  "Luck," she waved a hand, "Fate. Is there a difference?"

  "It was an accident?"

  "Hardly, child. Allow me to enlighten you. Your old world - Earth of the Milky Way - is devoid of the divine, to my knowledge. When I brought you across the boundary, I learned that much. Here, on Holvarth, our Gods have not abandoned us. They meddle, influence, interfere in the affairs of the world below them. We lowly humans are but servants of their will. They grant us what you may call magic."

  "To the Drai?"

  "Indeed," she said, "But the Emperor of this land is a man ruled by hubris. Emperor Maur II cast off the shackles of power ordained by the Gods and sought his own. He perverted the usage of mana and broke the laws of nature."

  "I don't understand, how does this relate to me? I'm just a normal person. Or, I was."

  "The Emperor wishes to obtain immortality. He has not yet succeeded, but he may have done so if not for you."

  "What did I do?"

  "When you died, Emperor Maur II was conducting an experiment. At the exact time of your death, there was a surge of mana that I redirected to the boundary between worlds. The mana latched onto your soul, and pulled you across to here."

  "But why did my soul take Amos' body? Why not anyone else's?"

  "You choose," Xaemarra shrugged, "Fate. Luck."

  "How can you just do that? With mana and speaking in my head and..."

  Xaemarra smiled.

  "You're Drai."

  "I am a 6th rank Total Lunar Pisces Drai, to be precise."

  "What does that even mean?" Amos blinked.

  Xaemarra sighed, like she had to explain this multiple times a day. "Drai powers are determined by the sign you are born under after observing an eclipse. I'm a Pisces. Consequently, my powers fall under the school of Continguration: The manipulation of probability, time, and connections. You will understand the rest, in time."

  Manipulation of probability...

  So my reincarnation wasn't luck. Or it was, but influenced by her powers?

  I wonder what powers my star sign would grant me...

  Amos' mind was reeling. He attempted to categorise the new information on Drai as soon as he received it, staring off into the distance for a while. Xaemarra just watched his face. Then he processed what she had said:

  Pisces... Eclipse...

  "You made Shanty send that letter!" Amos realised.

  "Indeed, child."

  "Why? Why not just speak to me as you are now? Or in my head? Why make Shanty send it instead of yourself?"

  "Shanty's Eclipse Modifier is better suited to that task. As to why I sent the letter: I want you to join us."

  "Join you?"

  "Bailey is no more. There is no returning to your life before now. You will witness the upcoming eclipse and, once you do, you will remain as you are or become changed. Those who remain unaligned are at the mercy of Emperor Maur II."

  "But still..." Amos frowned, "Why speak directly to me now?"

  "You found something that wasn't meant for you," Xaemarra shifted uncomfortably, "You were told to stay away from the forest."

  "What, Ink?"

  "You named the Vessel 'Ink'?"

  "What's the Vessel?"

  Xaemarra looked at him with incredulity in her eyes. "The pale man with the spiral tattoos? You did remove him from the forest, did you not?"

  "Um, yeah," Amos said like a schoolboy being scolded. "Was I not supposed to?"

  "No," Xaemarra drew the word out, insinuating the stupidity of the question. "It was a project for your brother."

  "Isn't Yakob joining the Trenmir? Don't they hate you guys?"

  "There is only so much information I can divulge while you are not aligned with us, child. While Ink - as you have deemed it - is in your possession, you must keep it safe. That is the reason for this visit."

  "So if I join you - become Drai - then what? I leave my family every other month like Yakob and work on mysterious projects with you?"

  "Precisely. The first project would be to bring the Vessel to us."

  They want Ink... Why?

  Shanty said he was 'a special boy'...

  Amos nodded. He had one more concern: "Will I go crazy if I become a Drai?"

  "That depends," Xaemarra said, "Can you withstand the whispers of Gods?"

  "My soul said either weak or strong Drai go insane."

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "Amos' soul, you mean?" Xaemarra looked intrigued. "I thought it had been destroyed. How intriguing."

  "No, we speak whenever I come here."

  "I must inform you," Xaemarra said, "I'm not truly with you. This is a projection cast by your own mind, influenced by my mana. Would you kindly inform me where the dead speak to the living?"

  "There's only so much I can divulge before I decide to join you," Amos said, mocking the elderly Drai for withholding information earlier. She smiled at his wit.

  The image of the old woman wavered slightly, like a glitching hologram. She clutched her cane and tapped a few symbols, the blue light flowing into them exactly the way Shanty had done.

  "I must take my absence now," Xaemarra said, concern creeping into her eyes. "Meet me at the Avidia Institute if you decide to join us. Be careful of the Vessel."

  "Wait!"

  Her body faded slowly. The voice went first, unable to respond to Amos' protestations. Then, Xaemarra began to lose her physical presence in stages. The water seeped inside of what appeared to be a very real person. It appeared to be remembering she wasn't actually there and returned to where it was displaced. Then, Xaemarra disappeared completely. Amos was left alone in the realm of death.

  I had so many more questions for her!

  What powers would I get if I become a Drai?

  Would I be putting my family in more danger by becoming Drai? The Trenmir might start hunting me, but trouble seems to follow wherever I go anyway.

  It would be better to have powers, right?

  I won't go insane... Not while I have people to protect!

  Amos thought over all the implications of Xaemarra's visit and more without moving from his seated position. The Infinite Lake was as still as ever. This place had always been quiet, lonely. It made sense, recalling Ink's description of it as the realm of the dead. Amos thought of theories of the afterlife from his old world.

  The Infinite Lake was most similar to Limbo - a liminal space full of nothingness and waiting. He connected it to the River Styx of Greek mythology, the purifying waters he had to be consumed by to enter this place. There was a possibility of hidden consequences to accessing the Lake. Amos hadn't seen any so far, but Ink had warned him it was dangerous.

  It was for this reason - the eternal stillness of the Infinite Lake - that Amos noticed the small disturbances in the water.

  The Lake broke its own peace. The water moved slowly, like a lazy river current cutting through the hillside. Amos stood quickly, looking around, bewildered.

  The water flowed toward a central point. It began to move faster and faster. It turned from a trickle, to a tide, then a cascading roar as the previously impenetrable obsidian earth trembled.

  Amos saw the reason for the water's movement: A hole. The obsidian was splitting. The opening was a circular pit that formed by the ground melting away like ice before a flame.

  Then the metaphorical flame rose through the sky: The source of the chaos emerged.

  There was nowhere for Amos to hide. The two men that rose from underneath the realm of death spotted him immediately. The obsidian closed behind them, stretching surreally to meet itself once again and cover the hole.

  The first man was dressed in a fine doublet made of a navy velvet. The buttons were polished brass and the whole affair was tied together by a golden trim on the hems. Over one of his broad shoulders was draped a half-cape, the folds of the cloth enveloping his arm and hiding it within the shadows. His face was sharp and angular, but the most striking of all was his eyes: The irises were a dark crimson that betrayed extreme intelligence.

  Red eyes filled with hubris...

  He led - pulled, more accurately - the other man through the unfathomable opening. This second arrival was inferior in every aspect to the first. He was weaselly, pale, and withered. Where the first man entered the Lake gracefully, this one stumbled over himself. His clothes were cheaper than the velvet doublet, though they appeared to be standard issue; part of some uniform. There was a badge affixed to his shoulder with an icon of a potion bottle and two crossed arms underneath it. The only thing distinguishing this symbol from the one above Amos' front door was the skull in the centre of the bottle, and a small knot of black thread hanging from it.

  The most striking thing, however, about the second man was the exposed bone. One side of his face featured sunken cheekbones and pallid skin, deep set eyes with a deadness in them. The other gave way to the skull beneath. The skin transitioned from grey to shrivelled black gangrene, then smooth bone. His eye socket was empty, teeth drawn into that iconic permanent grin, giving him the appearance of a half smile.

  "How interesting, Darian..." muttered the man in blue, raising an eyebrow at his companion. His voice was a deep rumble. Low, promising.

  The second man - the uniformed half-skeleton named Darian - caught the glance and interpreted its meaning, which was lost on Amos. He snapped to attention, catching himself. "Trespass!" Darian screamed at Amos, "Interloper! Declare yourself! State your business, now!"

  These guys look dangerous, I probably can't fight them.

  I'll try bluffing!

  "I am the ruler of this place, divine overseer of the dead and Lord of the Infinite Lake!" Amos puffed out his chest and tried to lower his voice an octave. "Trespass? In my own realm? Ha!"

  "Master?" Darian looked to the red-eyed man in confusion.

  "Lord of the Infinite Lake, you say?" A smile crept onto the thin lips of Darian's master. "I think you may be mistaken, lost soul."

  "Leave, now," Amos tried, his confidence wavering, "Or face my wrath!"

  "Be a good man and take care of this thing, won't you?" Darian's master ignored Amos, speaking to his subordinate. "We have much to discuss."

  At this point, he showed his back to both Amos and Darian, stretching out the hand not covered by his half-cape to the open air. He gripped something invisible and pulled it towards him. The obsidian ground responded to his gesture, breaking its uniformity to surge forward. It was as liquid as the water resting atop it, until the man released his grip. The obsidian immediately solidified into a throne of dark glass, which Darian's master promptly took. He laced his fingers in front of his face and rested his chin on them.

  "Quickly now," he said, "earn your colours, my Putresco."

  Darian bowed to his master, then turned to face Amos. "The dead have no use for delusion," he said, cracking his knuckles and rolling his neck.

  Just one...

  Half-dead, no weapons.

  This might be a fair fight.

  Amos settled into a pose that felt good. He didn't really know what he was doing, but he had played Street Fighter in his old life. It couldn't be too hard to throw a punch. The void portal back home was a decent distance if he needed to run, but it was manageable.

  Darian ran forwards. His feet splashed through the water as he came. Amos waited for his move to react.

  Darian ducked low, striking upwards. His blow was a claw grip, aimed at Amos' heart. Amos reacted in time and slapped it away.

  Strange... Not punching...

  Darian's arm went wide, under the direction of Amos' slap. His guard was open. Amos bent his knees and used the elbow of his free arm to attack Darian, aiming for the head. It connected with a sickly crack and sent Darian sprawling to the side.

  The newcomer to the Lake put a hand to his head, woozy. Amos stepped back a bit. "That all you got?" he taunted with newfound confidence.

  Darian spat a globule of blood, mixing it with the water. He looked at Amos with derision. He stood straight, pointing with an index finger at Amos, then said simply, "Hold."

  A ghostly spectre errupted from the water and reached out with grasping, spindly fingers to grab onto Amos' legs. He didn't have time to react and found himself entangled with the thing. Its grip was strong - stronger than it had any right to be. Amos couldn't move.

  Darian smiled, the flesh of his pale lips matching the shape of the grinning skull. He pointed at Amos again, "Restrain."

  Another ghost burst from the water, behind Amos. The first one held him so he couldn't turn to defend against it, while the second grabbed his arms and held them in a vicelike grip behind his back.

  Amos thrashed, trying to free himself. It was no use.

  Darian came towards him, slowly, enjoying the moment. He grabbed Amos by his blond hair, tilting his head back with a forceful yank. He studied his eyes - socket on stormy grey. With a sneer, he pulled back his elbow and snapped it across Amos' face.

  Pain shot through like a dagger. His vision blurred. This guy was strong. Blood dripped from his nose. Darian did it again.

  CRUNCH.

  And again.

  SNAP.

  Amos couldn't help himself. Darian had begun laughing. They both seemed to have forgotten about the man on the throne, who interjected. "Finish it, Darian. We have business," he said in a flat tone.

  "Yes, Master," Darian said turning away to look at the man on the obsidian throne.

  Mistake...

  Darian turned to look back at Amos. He begun speaking before he met his eyes, "Souls should know their place. Let me show y-"

  Amos headbutted him in the nose. Tears welled up in Darian's single eye as an involuntary response to the attack. He staggered back, his hands instinctively coming up to cover his face. The spectres dissipated, letting Amos free.

  Amos stumbled forward, not letting Darian recover. He threw his fists at his head, blow after blow. He missed more often than not, due to the dizziness. The onslaught was enough to drive him back, and in the shallow water, Darian lost his footing. He fell backwards.

  Amos jumped on the opportunity and straddled Darian. He sent punches into Darian's guard, hoping to break through with one, at least. Fist met forearm, again and again. Skin split. Blood mixed. Bone cracked. Amos' teeth were gritted and spittle flew, thick and heavy. He was a machine.

  One punch got through, meeting the exposed jaw. It cracked and Darian began to scream. A surge of adrenaline gave him the strength to push Amos back and they staggered away from each other.

  Amos was panting. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Darian had hatred in his eyes. His master was laughing in the distance, deep and hearty.

  Darian reached into the breast and pulled out a little pouch. He opened it and grabbed a fistful of dark soil, then threw it at Amos' feet.

  "Perish."

  Nothing happened.

  Darian's eyes widened in shock.

  "Master!" he said, "It's not a soul! He's a living human!"

  Amos winked at him.

  "So?" his master said flippantly, "He's unarmed."

  Darian gritted his teeth and nodded. He returned the pouch to his breast pocket, then sunk into a defensive stance. He cast that hateful, lopsided gaze onto Amos and beckoned him forward.

  Amos raised his fists like a boxer, then thought better of it. He reached down and splashed the water at Darian, aiming for his eye. With the inferior temporarily blind, he turned and ran with all his remaining strength to the portal.

  Darian cursed behind him and gave chase. His master's bellowing laughter followed them.

  The portal was approaching. Amos reached out a hand, but he wasn't fast enough. Darian grabbed onto his tunic and pulled him backwards. They both fell.

  Darian tried to get on top, pushing Amos down with his arm. They were too close together for punches and kicks. Amos took the only option he saw left, and bit Darian's arm. The flesh came away too easily, like biting off a piece of cotton candy. The muscle beneath was deteriorated, blackened. Darian didn't seem hurt.

  Amos spat the rotten flesh out and tried a headbutt again. Darian was ready this time and dodged. The portal was so close. He just had to get up. To touch it.

  Darian began to strangle Amos. Breathless, he reached up with his fingers, trying to pry away the hands around his neck. They wouldn't budge. Amos' face turned red and was moving into purple. He kicked weakly at the man killing him slowly, trying to push him back, anything.

  Amos' head began to pound.

  "Get up, body snatcher."

  A familiar pain pounded behind his eyes. Not the pain of the light going out while he was strangled, but the stabbing of a body sharing two souls. It increased incrementally, sharper and sharper, providing a strange clarity to his asphyxiating brain.

  His arms moved on their own, with a strength that wasn't his. They snapped into Darian's stomach, striking over and over. His eye bulged in pain, but it wasn't enough.

  "My ultimate move..."

  Amos' arms dropped, control ceded back to him. This time it was his right leg that moved on its own. Snaking up with a speed and force Amos had never known. His kneecap drove directly into the soft undercarriage between Darian's legs and his hands suddenly popped open. He tumbled to the side, groaning and holding his nether region to soothe the pain.

  "Now get home."

  Amos was free and gasped at the air. The pain in his head left and he immediately began crawling to the portal. From all fours he reached, stretching until he just barely touched the anti-light.

  He felt the pull and blacked out. Hoping it would take him all the way through.