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I stared at the red liquid in the cup and nodded. It was a hard pill to swallow, but I was still too weak. While it wouldn’t always be the case, I was a sheep amongst wolves. The dragons and torok and fairies and guardians. There were third evolution beasts and beyond in this forest.

Right now, I was on the razor’s edge. There was no value in refusing but everything to gain.

"Do I remove the leaf remnants?" I asked. "Or do I drink them?"

Nephralis’s lips curved in a slight smile. "I don’t have a strainer."

I flipped my fingers, and all the physical matter within the cup floated out, hovering in a sphere that lacked oxygen from a domain.

"Fan~cy," Nephralis said.

I stared at the multicolored powder, radiating with neara, just like the cores I had. "Why haven’t you extracted the neara?" I looked at the cup and found that there was no essence within it.

"Hoho… maybe you did make that elixir."

"Is this a test?"

"Maybe."

I returned the powder to the cup and stirred it. Then, I shut my eyes and recreated the soul extraction process Yakana and Brindle taught me, slowly extracting the aura around the plants and threading my core while unraveling the neara.

I should’ve known there was something wrong right then because the aura fit around my soul core like a glove, tightening it into a rock. But it didn’t feel bad, so I continued until it was done.

Then, I opened my eyes and shivered at the sight. The red liquid was shifting. It moved from bright red to maroon to dark purple to black as it stirred itself.

"Now purify it," Nephralis said.

I did, and the cup radiated with light. I put down the cup as the black particles within separated and exited the cup, flowing away in the breeze.

"Now drink," she said.

I was entranced by the liquid, which was now clear as water and drank.

My soul core froze over as if it were dipped in dry ice, and my whole body spread with chills. I tried to speak, but my throat and lungs had stiffened, making it impossible to even croak.

Poison… I thought weakly.

As if he could hear my thoughts, Kline released a roar in response. He jumped into my lap and then onto the table, pouncing at Nephralis. The fairy put up her hand, and his body froze, hitting the table with a thud. Then, she extracted the mana within her cup and purified it. She pulled out a bubble-sized sphere of the liquid and dropped it on the table before Kline.

"Kiran root isn’t a poison," Nephralis said calmly. "It’s a soul-strengthening agent. You’ll need it. Now cycle your core. If you don’t keep it active, it’ll lock forever."

My heart released a heavy beat that cracked the icy frost in my chest, and I churned my core. It turned slow as if it were rusted over, but it creaked and cracked and broke free, turning like a cog in a clock, circulating freely. As soon as it did, the cold water in my chest and veins started flowing. I was now swimming in arctic water—if I slowed for a moment, I would succumb to the cold and fall into my final slumber.

2.

Nephralis released Mira’s companion, whose hair bristled as he moved back. She needs it, she repeated. If she would’ve taken that elixir she brought, her soul would’ve exploded.

Kline looked at Mira worriedly and then back at the liquid on the table.

You’ll need it, too, she said. Otherwise, you won’t be able to journey where she needs to go.

Kline’s eyes widened, and he looked between the liquid, Nephralis, Mira, and then Emael.

You know I’m not lying.

He grimaced and narrowed his eyes, and then looked at Mira. Then he took hesitant steps to the liquid, sniffed it, lapped it up quickly, and then walked to Mira with rigid steps, laying at her feet.

Nephralis frowned as she watched them suffer. It wasn’t pleasant to watch, but it was necessary.

To think you brought Kiran before our meeting, Emael said. Kiran was a rare soul root the Drokai used for soul core evolution rituals.

It was a test, Nephralis replied quietly. If Mira couldn’t identify and extract neara from the root, she couldn’t have worked with the Teelia flower. The power within the Teelia was too much for most of her alchemists. So, it was more likely that Mira had smuggled the elixir into the forest or had an accomplice. Yet, to Nephralis’s surprise, Mira extracted the neara with a cycling technique that she had never seen before. It was elegant and beautiful, like watching aura dance around Mira’s body. If there was any question that she was a student of a legendary soul master, it was obvious then.

She turned to Emael. She really didn’t have a core?

Neither, Emael confirmed. She had no soul force at all. It was eerie.

Nephralis stared at Mira with complex emotions. She decided to comply with Brindle’s request the moment that Emael brought her to Serenflora, as Brindle’s only method of communicating with the forest was through the Drokai, so Emael’s timely visit was unrelated and voluntary. But seeing the truth…

Nephralis turned to the entrance of the pavilion. "Zyphrael."

The male Drokai cut his Active Camouflage and appeared outside the barrier.

"My lady," he said, bowing.

Nethralis sat on the lip of her cup, facing him. She tapped her finger on the rim.

His face twitched nervously, pushing back, but he quickly broke under her pressure. "Forgive me, My Lady. I cannot leave you unguarded."

She stopped tapping her finger. "Get Kyro."

Zyphrael’s face contorted in disgust. "Kyro? You can’t be serious."

"What do you care? I’m sending him away."

His eyes widened. "Where?"

"Kellam Pass."

3.

Kyro cheered with drink in hand as he watched two earth sprites wrestle in a reinforced glass container, like bugs in a jar, smashing each other around with crazed magic. His eyes were bloodshot but he was feeling more alive than he had in months. He was one large bet away from paying off his debt—

—a sentiment that all gamblers had.

A big enough bet could pay off any debt, and this was the one. He could feel it.

Those who bet on the blue sprite felt the same way as they circled the glass container in the betting den, high in the branches above Serenflora. The area was a dome made of twigs and stalks and leaves that were twisted together, and rays of light passed through the cracks for ambient lighting, keeping the area feverish and darkened in the bright sunshine.

He had been there for days, on a streak he felt would never end, body surrounded by nymphs who were cheering him on.

Suddenly, the red sprite cracked a tiny hand on the blue’s jaws, sending the blue female sprite into the reinforced glass with an impact that caused deep cracks in the glass before they repaired themselves.

The crowd fell still for a moment—

—then burst into violent cheers as the fight continued on.

That’s it… that’s it! Kyro’s heart drummed as he flew in the air, pressing his hands against the glass as the red sprite whomped the hell out of the blue one, finally giving him a chance at freedom.

And right at that moment, as the decisive blow was boring upon the blue spirit, the walls of the den unraveled. The branches and stalks and leaves that created the dome opened to the open sky, scorching his eyes with the threat of life and making him hiss and turn away as the crowd screamed.

His hangover was bad that day, and his flask had run dry hours ago, forcing him to pay out winnings for zelbearan wine as the frenzied crowd of yelling, screaming, and betting as they threw chips onto the table. Now, he was a sullen victim of natural forces, hissing with the rest as he shielded his eyes.

Multiple fairies in royal armor swooped in, turning over tables and airing out the den.

Kyro hid in a corner, trying to keep out of view, but the fairy he least wanted to see called out his name. "Kyro!"

His heart sank, but he forced himself up and walked over. "Zyphrael, my good friend! I know that I’m a bit late with the payments. But as any of these wonderful people could attest, I was mere moments away from—"

"Shut up," Zyphrael groaned. "Do you really think I would be collecting your loans?"

Kyro put up his hands. "You never know. I am rather strong—"

"Stop clowning. Nethralis requires your presence. Let’s go."

"Oh… I mean." He looked down. "Like this?"

Zyphrael nodded. "Like that. Now move."

Kyro frowned. He was going to demand these people fill his flask, or he’d choose death.

4.

I can’t explain what happened to me after I drank the tea Nephralis gave me, but I felt the way that liquid dripping off an oxygen tank looked. Cold—yet functional. Like a machine that contained compressed rocket fuel before feeding its engines.

I tried to thread aura; I tried to cleanse neara. I tried everything, but nothing helped. All I could do was churn and churn my core, hobbling along like a broken wheel.

I did that for a few hours, lost in this hypothermic trance when everything started to ease up. I felt tiny hands on my shoulders, and a warmth radiated through my shaking body, warming me up, thawing me inside out—allowing me to breathe.

I lay there for a few minutes after function returned to my body, exhausted, listening to the distant voices around me. It sounded like I was hiding under a massive metallic pot.

"That’s ridiculous," a strange male voice said. "This is Brindle’s pupil. We need to keep her here… we need to protect her until she’s ready. At the very least, we shouldn’t be sending her off to die."

"We cannot house her," someone that sounded like Nephralis replied. "If our rules were so flimsy that we would bend them for the first exception, we would be extinct."

"Then dig her a cave. Give her some bodyguards. Kill Thorvel and thrust the arrogant prick on a pike and send a message—"

"Hold your tongue!" Zyphrael’s arrogant voice flooded my mind, and my hearing returned. "You will show respect—"

"Can you not?" the other man groaned. "The adults are speaking."

"Unbelievable. My Lady, please allow me to—"

"Zyphrael—stop. Kyro… I understand why you’re concerned, but it’s unfounded. Brindle gave her the route to Lake Nyralith—if she dies there, that’s on him."

"That may be, but she just got here," Kyro protested. "I doubt Brindle thought she’d attempt it this century. This is… oh, great, she’s awake."

I groaned and opened my eyes slowly, using my hand to shield my eyes from the sunshine. Three silhouettes of fairies hung around me. Nephralis and Zephrael were familiar, but there was one that looked like he didn’t belong. He looked… like a beleaguered husband on the verge of a divorce. He had a ten o’clock shadow with bloodshot eyes and a cute little suit that was stained by various liquids. He must have been Kyro—and he reeked of hard liquor and bad decisions.

"Uh… hello?" I said.

Kyro groaned, and he clasped his head. "Just… stay out of this. Quietly… please."

I looked to the sky and saw the sun at its meridian, beating down hot on the grass beyond the gazebo’s shade. Then I turned back to him. "Are you hung over?"

"No," he said.

"You’re hung over."

"No. I’m still drunk."

"That’s worse." I looked around for Kline and found him conked out at my feet, likely from drinking the tea or something similar. Then I turned to Nephralis. "Who is this?"

"This is Kyro," she said. "And whether he likes it or not, he’ll be your guide to the Tranea Crypt."

I frowned. "I see… uh… what’s Trenea Crypt?"

"Now that is an ex~cel~lent question," Kyro said with forced cheeriness. "Allow me to elucidate on that and the full nature of your chosen assignment. My wonderful Drokai queen has ordered me, her humble servant, to take you, an unevolved, unawakened human with a weak soul core and ostensibly no soulmancy experience, to Tranea Crypt, a graveyard where the meanest, nastiest, most vengeful souls that refuse to be purified end up. It’s also a wonderful resort where corrupted beasts go to bathe in pure anger and prove themselves superior to other vengeful creatures. And, if you’re not aware, you’re woefully unprepared for that and all but destined to suffer a horribly gruesome death."