Darian, Tomb Putresco of the Trenmir, slid into the chair opposite Yakob wordlessly.

  The setting hadn't changed: Same old isolated room. Same cold stone. Same muggy air. Between the two, resting on the table like a guilty verdict, was the slate mana battery. Overflowing.

  Darian ignored it.

  "Tell me why you want to join the Trenmir," Darian said.

  "I want to make a difference in the world and serve Emperor Maur as best as I can. I want to contribute to his holy purpose to protect my family and my country," Yakob said. Too fast. Obviously rehearsed. He gulped.

  "Noble," Darian said. He removed the ceramic mask covering half of his face. Underneath was white bone glimmering in the underground torchlight. A permanent grin. Gangrenous flesh where it met his skin. "Generic."

  The mask tapped the table as Darian set it down gently. Yakob could see through his empty eye socket to the back of his head. It was like someone had cleaved off all organic material and left only bone. Even part of his brain was missing.

  "How are you talking right now?" Yakob asked, unable to control himself, "Your brain, I mean."

  Darian licked his lips - what was left of them, anyway. His tongue was intact.

  "The Emperor's Alchemy is stronger than death. It has tamed the tomb, opening it for those who are willing. But you're not here for a sermon."

  "I'm sorry, it's just so intriguing," Yakob peered at the man, then injected wonder into his voice: "Magic..."

  "Not magic. Alchemy."

  Yakob's eyes lit up involuntarily - a genuine reaction. Technology, engineering, science. These were his interests.

  "You scored well on the Intellectual tests," Darian said, leaning back and producing some papers. He shuffled through them. "Physical..."

  Yakob grimaced. Darian noticed the expression and nodded. They both knew it wasn't good, nothing more needed to be said.

  "Ah, here we are," Darian said with a cheery tone. "Magic tests."

  "I was told to fill the slate."

  "You filled it too much."

  "I don't know how that happened," Yakob lied.

  Darian didn't react. He leaned forward, resting his chin on interlocking fingers. He never even glanced at the mana battery. "Your mana levels are very high."

  Yakob shut his mouth and nodded.

  "Abnormally high."

  "Yes."

  "This battery was made for a normal person," Darian finally looked at it, breaking the icy stare he had placed Yakob under. "The mana level of a Drai would break it. But for anyone else..."

  Yakob exhaled. His mana levels were already comparatively low due to his Penumbral Lunar eclipse modifier, so using a quarter must have reduced his stores below the threshold for detection.

  "It's an indicator that you will do well here. There is a place for you as an Alchemist here, if you want it."

  "Yes!" Yakob exclaimed, then quieter, more controlled, "Yes, but I would like to start in the Civilian Corps. It's only right that I work my way up like everyone else."

  "Why? I see the flame of ambition inside you."

  "I..." Yakob floundered, then thought of Skarn in another room, identical to his. The anger that bubbled up was genuine. "I want to beat everyone else. I want to show them that I'm better. They need to know that passing this test wasn't a fluke. They need to see it. See me."

  Darian's mouth curled into a smile. "Good," he nodded, "Very good."

  Yakob wasn't sure what came next, but Darian seemed to be deep in thought. His single eye was appraising the mana battery, then hardened, like he had made a decision.

  "Claude!" He bellowed suddenly. Yakob jumped at the outburst.

  The door swung open and the feeble, bespectacled man that had been assessing Yakob entered. Darian motioned him forward. Claude shut the door behind him.

  To his credit, Claude held himself as well as he could after being called like a dog. Straight back, hands by his sides, and chin up. "You called, Putresco?" he said.

  "Yakob here has performed exceptionally well on the Mental tests, has he not?"

  "Yes, highest I've seen, sir."

  "Hm. Such a shame he failed the Physical and Magical portions, don't you think?"

  "I'm not following, Putresco," Claude indicated the mana battery, "Yakob has overperformed in the Magical test as well."

  "Regardless," Darian said ignoring Claude's protestations, "of these failures, Yakob could serve well in the Trenmir Civilian Corps, would he not?"

  Yakob realised what was happening before Claude did, who frowned in confusion. "But, sir, he has great potential... the slate..."

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  This time Darian's icy mono-stare was locked on Claude. "Break it."

  "Sir, I-"

  Darian silenced him with a glance. He didn't ask again.

  Claude took the slate in two hands and held it above his head. He hesitated, confirming the action with his eyes. He looked at Darian, who was pointedly ignoring him, then at Yakob. Yakob just shrugged noncommittally.

  Claude sighed and brought the slate down on the edge of the table. It shattered into a million tiny pieces, grey rock shooting into the corners of the room. The blue mana filling it hissed and dissipated into the air. It made Yakob's hairs stand on end.

  Darian looked down at his papers, then made a mark. "Shame," he said, "that Yakob failed two of the three tests. He will suit the Civilian Corps, for now, Claude."

  Claude was breathing heavily. He couldn't disobey an order from his superior, but something about this felt wrong.

  Darian picked up his porcelain mask and fixed it over the bony half of his face. "Make sure this boy gets an appointment in the Civilian Corps, Claude. I have a... meeting." Then he left the room.

  Claude and Yakob existed in silence for a short moment.

  "What did you say to him?" Claude asked.

  "Nothing," Yakob said earnestly, "Guess he just liked my attitude."

  "Darian doesn't like anyone."

  Yakob shrugged. "Sounds charming."

  "Alright then," Claude shook his head in disbelief, "Let's get you signed up."

  …

  Once Yakob had signed all his paperwork, he joined the rest of the new recruits in the common room. Previously full to the brim, there were only a few people milling about. There couldn't have been more than thirty.

  Skarn was there, unfortunately, but they didn't have time for niceties. The black drapery behind the stage was disturbed and Putrescos Tertia and Darian stepped out onto the stage again. Like last time, Tertia took the lead.

  "Welcome, newly appointed Trenmir Agents. Congratulations on achieving the bare minimum. For now, you will all be placed within the Civilian Corps, with opportunities for promotion to Putresco. Then, if you're lucky or skilled enough, to Albedo, Citrinitas, or even Rubedo."

  The crowd shuffled on their feet, excited murmurs rippling through them.

  "You will be assigned a Civilian Corps squad, and must always report to your immediate supervising Putresco. Punishment awaits those who break the chain of command."

  Her gaze landed on Skarn.

  "Your jobs will be to keep the peace, locate criminals, and any other tasks assigned by your Putresco. We have one grand mission in the Trenmir," Tertia paused for effect. "To fulfil the holy will of the Emperor and eliminate the plague of the starcursed."

  Yakob flinched at the word - 'starcursed'.

  "The Tomb Order has been granted special privileges over death by his eminence. We are its deliverers and its deniers. With your help..."

  She threw open her uniform, revealing a skeletal ribcage where there should be flesh and meat. Stark white bone blinds the audience, and Tertia finishes with a final promise:

  "We will destroy the Drai."

  ...

  Amos rose from the enforced slumber slowly. There is something to be said about waking up in an unfamiliar place - a feeling of peace followed by immediate panic.

  Heavy remembrance came as Amos opened his eyes, heat of the bright sun blasting down upon him. With it, came the pain. Throbbing, aching pain.

  His lungs burned and he coughed. His throat was raw. His cheeks stung and his nose sent shooting pain across his entire body whenever he moved. His knuckles were split and bloodied.

  Ink was right. That place isn't safe.

  If I want to return there, I have to get stronger.

  The only reason I survived was because of Amos' soul taking control of my body. I won't be able to speak to it again if Darian and that man come back.

  And did he control the unbreakable obsidian? He must be the true Lord of the Infinite Lake!

  Amos lay on his back, groaning softly in the field where the portal had dumped him. He tried opening his eyes, but it hurt too much. A combination of the beating he had taken and the brightness of the sun.

  The wheat swayed gently, tickling his exposed skin and sticking to the blood where it still dried.

  Leila's gonna kill me if she sees me like this. Kien might actually die from shock.

  I have to get cleaned up...

  Coincidentally, at that moment, Amos heard a gasp from his side. There was the soft whoosh and thud of a tool being dropped in the wheat.

  "Amos!" Leila exclaimed with worry, "What happened?"

  Damn it.

  "Who hurt you?"

  When Amos elected not to respond, Leila began crying.

  "What is wrong with you lately? Say something, Amos, anything!" She thumped his chest with a gentle fist. Salty tears dripped from her cheeks, washing away little lines of blood on Amos' face.

  "Sorry..." was all he could manage.

  "Just stop, Amos. You need to take better care of yourself. You never used to be like this. Are you using drugs? Is that Ink influencing you in some way? Your father-" her voice hitched, "Your father and I are worried about you."

  Amos' heart dropped. "No... Just dumb," he spluttered.

  Leila leaned in to hug him, not moving her son from where he lay. Now there were two injured men on the farm, leaving herself and the newcomer to work and earn their wages. Amos didn't know if they could do it.

  He pushed Leila off, gently, and tried sitting up. He slipped in the soil a little, but managed to prop himself up on one of his arms. He opened his mouth to speak, but frowned when he felt the temperature drop decidedly.

  His heavy breath came out misty, visible. Leila looked around, just as confused as the man in her son's body.

  "What?" Amos grunted dumbly.

  Leila saw something in the distance that made her eyes widen. Fear written on her face. Wordlessly, she hooked one of Amos' arms around her shoulder and heaved him into a standing position.

  "Head down," she said, "keep your eyes closed. Do not look up."

  Leila half supported, half dragged Amos through the fields. The temperature was strange, so strange. He kept his eyes at the ground - not only because Leila had told him to, but also because he needed to watch where he was going or he would certainly fall.

  It was bright when Amos exited the Infinite Lake. His vision began to darken now - not the bleariness of waning consciousness, but the fading of the light with great alacrity. Something was wrong.

  Leila was puffing hard with the effort of carrying her son's muscular body and its new inhabitant. She was none the wiser to Bailey taking Amos' place - and why should she be? It would be ridiculous to attribute strange behaviour and forgetfulness to the expulsion and replacement of a soul.

  Clearly, she thinks something else is going on.

  Madness... Insanity...

  Drai...

  Leila must think my strange behaviour is due to becoming Drai!

  But Amos' parents think the Drai are dangerous... Just where is she taking me?

  Amos panicked and pushed away from Leila. The light was fading faster. She looked back at him with hurt in her eyes. He stumbled. Fell.

  "Amos," she said "Just wait."

  Amos' tongue was too heavy to say anything complex. He just gave her a meaningful look.

  Then, the sunlight disappeared entirely. Leila and Amos were plunged into darkness - night come to swallow day before its time.

  "Please, Amos. Let's go home. Come inside with your father and I." Leila was ignoring the absence of light. She kept her head bent, never looking up, not even to meet Amos' eyes.

  "I don't know how to fix this, but I have to try."

  "I'm here to protect you."

  "...Power. Real power."

  "Watch for the eclipse..."

  Amos looked up.

  The sky was dark as night, despite it being afternoon at most. There was a smattering of stars, technicoloured. Faint lines connected them, appearing like a low opacity overlay bridging between bright points. The lines denoted the zodiac constellations. Cancer, the portal.

  And there, in the centre of it all, was the dark sun. What Bailey/Amos and many other learned astrologers knew to be the moon passing in front of the sun, but the masses ascribed to myth and legend. There was a bright ring around its edges, light spilling over. Pink flares of solar activity lashed out like tentacles in space.

  It was the source of the Drai: An eclipse.

  A Total Solar Eclipse.