Music is He the Empty from the Ergo Proxy OST, composed by Ike Yoshihiro. Play it!

******

Gilbert's face looks blanched under his tan skin; his spine instantly straightens. Meanwhile, I manage to maintain my neutral expression, but I fear that the pounding of my heart will give away the tension building inside me.

Everest, Pietists bless him, is the only one who seems unaffected by Sir Kendrick's words. In fact, he looks more sceptical than anything else. "Sir?" he says cautiously.

"Like I said, there's a witch in the Cave of Three Souls." He marches over to the only fireplace, taking his gloves off and warming his fingers against the dancing embers. It suddenly occurs to me that I don't feel half as cold as I should be. "I sound daft, but that's the case."

"How do you know, sir?" Gilbert finds his voice, although it comes out a few pitches higher than usual.

The Bane's lips thin into a grim smile. "I grew up in a time when magic was still rife," he says. "You all are probably too young to remember anything of it, but I do. I can still recognise the telltale signs of a ward—even if I do not know the exact terms of its magic."

"What do you mean that there's a witch in the Cave of Three Souls, Sir Kendrick?" I finally dare to ask.

"All right, so it mayn't be a witch"—I release a small sigh of relief—"but there is magic at work there. No doubt about it."

"What happened exactly, sir?" Everest still looks cynical, though some of it has melted away into curiosity.

"Where do I start?" Sir Kendrick starts to pace up and down the room, his cloak flapping like a crow's wing. "I went down to the Cave of Three Souls. When I tried to enter it, I was thrown backwards. That was when I saw the glowing barrier."

Perhaps it only allows entrance for certain people. "Have you tried asking Grand Seer Fabienne about this?" I raise my brows. "The Lorelays must have access to the cave somehow. Otherwise they wouldn't be able to pay their annual homage to Pst. Zorah."

"She's nowhere to be found," Sir Kendrick replies. He stops pacing. "Get Sir Isaac. If he wants to be of help, he needs to help us find the Grand Seer."

Just as he finishes his command, the doors creak open. My necromancy flares; Miraterciel sings in protest. A disgruntled head peeks out. "There, there. No need for that," says Sir Isaac. "I promise that I'd help, and here I am."

Sir Kendrick gives the elderly knight a nod of acknowledgement; the rest of us salute. "Excellent. Had a good rest, Sir Isaac?"

"Aye, I did." My former trainer enters the room proper, stretching his spindly arms. Every part of me is screaming at him. The shadows seem to gather around Sir Isaac, poised to strike when I give the order. No. He is my trainer. I grit my teeth and hold the shadows back. "Nearly forgot how tiring travelling can be."

"You just travelled to Hallicus seven months ago, Sir Isaac," Sir Kendrick counters.

"Ah, but that was when I was on holiday. Pietists know that my squires didn't miss me!" Sir Isaac wags an impervious finger in the Bane's face. "This is for an entirely different matter."

On another day, Sir Kendrick might have been inclined to engage in friendly banter with Sir Isaac. But the older knight's light-heartedness does little to ease the levity of the situation. The cloud that had graced Sir Kendrick's brow returns, and his expression visibly hardens. "Aye, this is an entirely different matter." Then turning towards the rest of us, he says, "We'll split up. Falkner, take the southern district. Salin, the west. I'll take the east, while Rutherland and Sir Isaac shall remain in the northern district."

"Sir, if I may"—it's an opportune time to ask Sir Kendrick to change orders, so I have to try—"I think I should go to the Cave of Three Souls."

The Bane's eyes flash dangerously. For a moment, I see the fearsome warrior who wouldn't hesitate to reduce anything into carnage along his path. "Why is that, Rutherland?"

"I'm half-Lorelay," I say, carefully choosing my words, weaving a slight compulsion into them. I'm almost reviled at how easy it is to use my power; it feels like breathing. "I may be able to access the Cave of Three Souls."

Sir Kendrick's frown clears. "I see. I'll come with you, then."

"Apologies, sir, but I don't think anyone with outside blood can enter the Cave of Three Souls," I reply, subtly pushing more compulsion. "I have to go alone."

"Very well." Sir Kendrick bobs his head, effectively ending the debate. "Let's move out."

"Hie, so what am I supposed to do!" Sir Isaac protests just as we're about to leave the room. "Sit about here mucking all day?"

"Not mucking. We want you to keep an eye out for Grand Seer Fabienne," Sir Kendrick says, as though he were trying to convince a hedgehog to shed its spines. "She might return here any moment. Besides, you'll have to ask the servants and her relatives on her possible whereabouts."

"Ah." Sir Isaac looks satisfied. "I'll see what I can do. Some of the servants know me anyway."

"Why is that so?" Everest picks up quickly on the trail. We all look at the Knight of Elder expectantly.

"I stopped by Battein for a while when I was holiday," Sir Isaac explains cheerfully. He then notices our horrified expressions, and snorts. "What? The Lorelays were terribly hospitable towards me."

"You—" Sir Kendrick bites back a growl of frustration. "Never mind. We'll discuss this once we find Grand Seer Fabienne."

Without another word, the Bane storms out. Gilbert and Everest follow without hesitation. But shadows draw me towards Sir Isaac, and I stall my footsteps.

"Sir, will you be all right?" I ask, fighting to ignore the dreadful hissing of Miraterciel in my head. It's almost as though the athame has found a voice of its own, practically begging me to use it.

"Can a goose pinch your buttocks? Of course I'll be all right!" he barks.

"I'll be off then." Wheeling around, I finally head out, ignoring the chills running up and down my spine.

"Pst. Bronicus be with you," Sir Isaac calls out. I hasten myself, putting as much distance between me and the knight as I can.

Putting distance between me and the image of the alien darkness in Sir Isaac's eyes.

.******

I grit my teeth, carefully treading my way through the mountains of snow. If there is one solace in this day of misery, it's that my newly-enhanced necromancy grants me a natural resistance towards cold. Who knows why? Perhaps it's because shadows are usually associated with cold as well.

The villagers had given me directions to the best of their abilities, but being the absolute idiot I am, I'd wandered off towards anywhere but the Cave of Three Souls for the better half of the hour, even when I'd strained my necromantic senses to their limits, just to find a clue that would lead me in the right way. Now, I've finally spotted the wooden poles buried into the ground, marking the path leading towards the cave.

So, Abner, you were going to tell me something? No better time to ask him about everything than now, when I'm practically alone, trudging down a virtually invisible path.

Ah, yes. Abner unfurls out of whatever corner he's been residing within my mind. Would you be so inclined to enlighten me upon the topic?

The ritual. You'd known about this, I say bluntly. How? And why? You'd known that it would raise the Deathslayer in me. Why did you insist that I go through with it?

Oh, that. Well, evidently it would be beneficial to you. And since you've been ignoring my steady advice regarding the shadows...

Forget that, I snarl. Blindingly white hills gradually roll into view, and I see a massive structure of natural deformities and darkness beneath them. The Cave of Three Souls. I slow myself down. I need more time to talk with Abner first. My real question is, why the shadows? Enough dodging, Abner. I need the truth, and nothing less.

After a long moment of anguish, Abner finally speaks: I can't say anything.

Anger begins to cloud my mind. Again! I give a maniacal chuckle. Again, you can't say anything. Because of your oath? If you are going to be this secretive, then you might as well have not said anything at all!

I wasn't done, Abner replies calmly. I may not be able to say anything, but I can say that you have to learn about your abilities yourself, and eventually decide everything on your own.

I was forced into this, I say gloomily. The anger has mostly dissipated, but there's still a stone of resentment lodged in my heart. I did not have a say in the matter. As usual.

I only did what I thought was best for you, says Abner. Whatever may happen, Constantine, I will never do anything unless I think it's for your own good.

I pause at those words. Yes, Abner would never try to harm me, but...I can't help the small seed of doubt growing in me. If you say so, I say in a dismissal fashion.

Abner swallows a frustrated growl, opting to churn in my head instead. Yes, I do say so, he says. And if you were wondering how the Grand Seer had known that you were coming, you can owe that to the Lorelay Seers.

The Seers. Mother had told me that they were the leaders of the clan—the ones who possessed foresight into the future; who could predict the unpredictable weather as no Quinnian ever could; who knew all—little or big. They're true? I say incredulously. They aren't just a myth fabricated by the Lorelays themselves?

Oh no. They're very, very real. Abner sounds smug now. Most of them have gone mad from their visions, but their power is real. All thanks to Pst. Zorah.

I wasn't aware that she'd favoured the Lorelays so much. First necromancy, then the Deathslayer, now Seers. Anymore abilities she's gifted upon humans?

No more that I am aware of, Abner replies easily. Anyhow, the Seers' bloodline has thinned. Nowadays, the visions they have are mostly flashes of the near future. But evidently it was enough to predict your arrival in the cathedral.

The idea that these people can tell where I will be in a moment's notice is alarming, even if their power is limited. How do they receive these visions anyway?

In case you haven't noticed, most of your cousins are descended directly from the Lorelays—which means that most of them have powers of Seers. And where have they been all this while?

I think; reality punches me in the face. I haven't seen them at all, I say. They're...somewhere. And if their blood has thinned out—they'd need to gather all their energies in order to conjure a proper vision. Is that it?

Correct, Abner purrs.

So, where are they now?

I think you're about to meet them.

Just as he says those words, I find that I am standing before the mouth of a chasm of darkness. The shadows tremble in my presence, shifting ever so slightly as though in welcome to their domain. I take in a deep breath, trying not to get drunk on my necromancy. It'll still take a while before I'm completely adapted to my shadows.

I step into the Cave of Three Souls.

Magic singes my skin, and I hiss from the reaction. But otherwise, I pass unharmed. I shuffle around, observing the mouth of the cave. The view outside has a slight distortion and there's a faint humming quality in the air around that area. It seems fairly normal though; one wouldn't think that there was a magical barrier here if Sir Kendrick hadn't discovered it.

Shrugging off the vague sensation of dread off my shoulders, I continue to head down the cave.

Eventually, it becomes so dark that I can't see anything, even with my supposedly enhanced vision. I stand in a sea of black, drowning within it, having no idea of the creatures it holds. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and reaching for the shadows instead.

They immediately respond. I don't question the fact that there shouldn't be any shadows, without any light. It's as though they'd been patiently waiting by the side-lines, ready to spring as soon as they're summoned. It feels so natural—I fall into the map sketched out by the shadows so easily. I remember how I'd done this two years ago, and how it'd felt like second nature to me.

Which is what it feels like right now.

I try not to think too much about the fact that I've grown so accustomed to necromancy in a short while. There's a humming presence of life further down; I quicken my footsteps, only stopping when the cave branches off into three paths.

Perhaps this is why it's called the Cave of Three Souls. All openings are equally wide, and equally ominous. Equally deep too, if my shadows are anything to go by.

I strain myself to detect the origin of the humming. It's coming from... The right opening, to my slight disappointment—I'm instinctively drawn to the one in the centre.

Another day, perhaps, I tell myself as I venture down the right.

Abner remains uncharacteristically silent.

I'd chosen the correct path, as I sense the silhouettes of a few people at the end of the path, seating in a circle. It takes a full fifteen minutes before I reach the end though—or is it twenty? Time is infinite down here; I feel like it would be an impossible task to mark the days, even for the finest mathematician in the world.

A faint light greets me at the end. A single star burning bright against the night. I drop the shadows, feeling their disappointment clawing at me. The light illuminates the cave walls, which glitter in a mesmerising swirl of colours. Not a single star, I think. A star sharing its light with others. I have a vague impression that I'm walking amongst the clouds.

An impression that I'm treading upon magic.

Still, that impression doesn't prepare me for what's awaiting beyond the light.

The cave tunnel opens up into a yawning cavern in the shape of a dome. Here, the cave walls glitter even more furiously, as though they were trying to bedazzle any visitors. And right in the middle of the cavern, there is a pool of water, glowing a strange, unearthly purple. But that isn't the strange part.

There is no wind down here, yet there are ripples in the water. And they seem to be forming...images. Pictures that go by too fast for me to process—flashes of whole scenarios, only comprehended by the circle of people sitting around the pool.

And at their head, Maya.

So this is where she lives, I realise, noticing the traces of necessities scattered at the back of the cavern. As to the other people, I'm sure that not all of them remain here around the clock: their white robes are unstained and fresh, and they look well groomed, if a bit dishevelled with madness.

"Welcome, sister," one of the people speaks up. A woman, her voice deep and resonant. It sounds familiar, but I can't place it properly.

"Uh..." I have no idea on how to respond. Yes, I wanted to come here. However, now that I'm actually here, I haven't the faintest idea on what I can do. Pst. Bronicus preserve me. I hadn't planned this very well.

"You seek answers," the woman continues, heeding no regard to my awkwardness. "And answers you shall receive."

The person who speaks finally stands up. I edge closer to her, studying her every move. She's tall—nearly my height. And she moves with a fluidity that isn't unlike a stream's. She opens her eyes, and looks straight at me.

I understand why she sounds so familiar.

"You're my mother's younger sister," I say, dumbfounded. "Alvina."

"That would be Aunt Alvina for you," she replies evenly. Her hair is hidden beneath a white cloth, wrapped in layers around her head. Yet I know that its colour is as red as mine. "But I digress. What do you wish to ask, Deathslayer?"

Oh perfect. All the Seers are already accustomed to calling me by that title. Hopefully, it also means that most of them are holding me in reverence, which theoretically, should make it easier for me to ask them any questions. Not that I'm keeping my hopes up. "Where is Grand Seer Fabienne?" I ask. Best to get business matters out of the way first.

"Rest assured, no matter if your companions find her or not, we will not let them know the purpose of this place."

My head tilts in curiosity. "All right then. What exactly is this place?" I continue.

"This"—Alvina flings a hand towards the ceiling, the embroidered hem of her sleeve catching the light of the pool and temporarily bedazzling my eyes—"is the All-Seeing Pool. It's where us Seers channel our abilities in order to guide the village."

I blink. I hadn't expected her to answer my questions so readily. She's a bleak contrast to Grand Seer Fabienne, and in turn, my mother.

She gives me a wry smile. "Unfortunately, as you can see, I'm not quite as cryptic as most of my relatives," she says. "It'd give you less material to ponder upon."

"No, it's all right," I say, secretly excited. Of all people, perhaps Alvina will be the one to tell me everything.

She chuckles. "I may be a Seer, but I have no use for maintaining the secretive guise we've always worn," she explains. "If you have the power to see the future, why not be open about it? No use hiding the truth."

"Ah." I pore over her words carefully; no trace of malice in there. She seems genuine so far. "All right then. So basically, all of you are mages."

"Only of a certain sort, but yes."

"Then why was the clan left alone? There was a decree issued that all magic be banned."

Alvina's smile melds into something more cunning—devious, even. "The king thought that we were all mad, of course. Which was true, to a certain degree—our Seers do have tendency to lapse into gibberish once in a while. But we embraced the guise of madness, created tales of charlatans and imposters, just so that Perinus would leave us alone." She pauses a while, watching in delight as her words sink into me. "Besides, our clan has been here for centuries and it isn't likely that we are going to give up our heritage anytime soon. We've been tasked since Ancient Cambirian times to uphold certain duties."

"Like foretelling the future, for instance?" I peer into the pool. Ripples continue to dance over the surface; a lurching sensation overcomes me, and I pull back hastily.

"For instance," Alvira confirms. "Also, don't look into the pool. Anyone without the proper magic will be consumed with grief and madness—this is real, I assure you."

"I believe you," I say.

"Any more questions?"

"Plenty." I point at Maya, who is kneeling on the ground, eyes closed and expression serene. I'm actually half-surprised that she isn't the one who greeted me here. "What is she doing in Battein? And what is she doing right now?"

"So many questions." Alvina sounds amused; I take it that I'm growing in her favour. "Well, for the first question, she's here to fulfil her role in the Prophecy of Far'hellan, as the Lost Witch."

The Lost Witch... I've heard it somewhere before. Of course! Sir Kendrick had said that the Lorelays had been raving to him about it the last time he was here. "What does that mean anyway?"

"Unfortunately, I can't say." Alvina shakes her head mournfully. "Prophecies are a warning, or a telling of what is to come—but it is not up to us to interpret its meaning. We can only pass it down and pray for the generations that come after."

I chew on the insides of my cheek, digesting Alvina's reply. So that means I can't ask anyone about the meaning behind the Song of Prophecy. I heave a sigh. "My second question then?"

Alvina's gaze flutters towards the Marshem girl for a moment. "She is currently conversing with her past lives," she says, probably having no clue of how ridiculous that sounds.

"Come again?" I say.

"She is currently conversing with her past lives," Alvina repeats, unfazed by the sharpness in my tone. "It has always been a trait of the Champion of Pst. Zorah, to be able to actively channel past spirits. An ability unique to this particular Champion."

Abner, hadn't you mentioned that you are made up of slivers of past Champions? I call out to my guide.

Why, yes. Except that for the Champion of Pst. Zorah, he or she can actively tap into the memories of the predecessors, and freely engage in conversation in them.

Now you tell me, I say grouchily.

You didn't ask!

I grit my teeth and say aloud: "That means she has the memories of Kendra as well?"

"That is correct."

I pause for a while, thinking. If Maya truly has the memories of her predecessors, that means she can see into the past. That means she can learn things that have been lost to history. That means...

She may be able to find the root of this infection.

"I have to speak with her," I say. Maya seems oblivious to my words, her serene expression unwavering.

Alvina places a hand on my shoulder. "Not now, I'm afraid," she says. The Seers are engaged in a transmution with her."

"A transmu-what?"

"A transmution. In other words, the Seers are using her power to accurately interpret the visions they're receiving. Once upon a time, Kendra was the one who had this role. But then we had no Champion to guide us for two decades... That is, until she came along. We cannot miss this opportunity to recover magic that was long lost to us."

I bite down a snarl of frustration. "I'll wait," I say, folding my arms.

Alvina gives me a thoughtful look. "Or why don't I bring you down to another cavern?" she suggests.

My curiosity piques. But I don't show it, picking my nails in a showcase of boredom. "I suppose that's plausible."

"Come on then." Without another word, she heads out of the cavern. I trot after her, a bumbling boar bounding after an elegant doe. I suspect that she's traversed the cave so many times that she can get by without a torch, as is evident now.

Time trickles by, and I'm caught once more in its endlessness. I attempt to break the spell by asking more questions: "Alvina, are you the head of the Seers?"

"It's Aunt Alvina to you," she corrects me. I wonder why she's so insistent on me acknowledging her as my aunt. "And yes, I am the head of the Seers."

"So why don't you have to participate in the transmu— The channelling of power?"

"Because we saw you coming, and we all agreed that one person should be ready to welcome you." Her bare feet glide over the rocky floor effortlessly. "Unless you'd prefer to remain alone amongst the presence of people who are in a trance?"

I shudder at the image. "No thank you."

"I thought so." She begins to hum a song—one that rings of life and death, of beginnings and ends. The Song of Prophecy. The book in the Manuscript that had condemned me to death since birth. An involuntary shiver reverberates throughout me, just as I do every time I hear this melody. Is Alvina singing it just to rattle me?

"Aunt Alvina," I say, desperate to cut the melody off. She stops. "Was my mother a Seer as well?"

"See an eccentric, ghoulishly mad person descended from the Lorelays and you've found yourself a Seer," Alvina answers, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. So far, she's been averting the Seer-like descriptions she mentioned. Until now, that is.

"So she was a Seer." My eyebrows crease together. "Why did she leave?"

"Marcella was always a spoiled child," Alvina says lightly. It doesn't disguise the undercurrent of bitterness in her tone. I study her closer, intrigue. "She had a thirst for adventure, and so decided to pay the outside world a visit. Little did she know, a young lord took a liking to her and asked for her hand in marriage. Marrying someone without Lorelay blood. Imagine!"

I shuffle uncomfortably, knowing that I'm the product of said union. "Is that so bad?" I ask.

"For most, no. For Marcella, Kendra and I? Yes. We are the firstborn of our generation, and our blood is the strongest. To marry someone without any lineage from the Lorelays would give unexpected results." Alvina casts a conspicuous side-glance at me. "Although I suppose you haven't turned out so bad after all."

"Glad to hear that," I say with good humour. We've finally reached the area where the cave branches off into three separate paths. Alvina, despite the fact that we're completely engulfed in darkness, manages to find my elbow and steer me towards the middle path. Shock jolts down my spine. Is it coincidence that I'm going into the tunnel where I'm intuitively drawn to?

"Then again, we require heirs to our clan. So your mother has managed to fulfil that," Alvina continues. My skin prickles; I ignore that and keep moving on. "Only, it's questionable whether said heirs want to inherit our blood."

"I think not," I say, shedding all formalities. I think of my siblings: Eric, serious and kind, a Quinnian-in-training of the House of Invention; Isolde, fierce and undaunted by danger, soon to be married off to Baron Samareal; William, playful yet sharp, currently readying himself to be enlisted as a squire; and Ronald, young and full of dreams, innocent of the dangers of the world. Perhaps Ronald could fulfil the role of leader to the Lorelay clan, since his patron is Pst. Zorah. Assuming that Father allows that. "I'm afraid none of us are quite up to the task."

"I know." Alvina waves a dismissal hand. "Fortunately we've decided upon a cousin of yours as the successor."

"You don't have any children of your own?" I ask, surprised. Alvina strikes me as the maternal type; and she is regal, if not beautiful, even at her age. Surely she would have easily be wedded to someone.

She snorts. "Not every woman has to marry, unlike what most Perinians think. Besides, I'm not quite sure if I'd like to bear the burden of having children."

"Why is that?"

"Oh, nothing. Personal preference." Alvina laughs, but my ears catch on the remnants of nervousness.

I stay quiet, a small battle raging within me, further ignited by the prickling sensation that doesn't seem to ebb away. All along, I've avoided using compulsion to get the answers I want. It's an unspoken code of mine—I can't just control someone at my whim and fancy. It feels like a breach of privacy—I know because that's how I feel whenever Gilbert uses his compulsion on me. So I've only ever used it in desperate situations.

But this is different, I tell myself. My gut tells me that I have to get the whole story out of Alvina, no matter what.

"What sort of personal preference?" I say, compulsion tightly woven in the air.

"Oh, nothing, really. It's just..." Alvina's entire demeanour slacks for a while, before it sharpens with alertness. "You— If you truly want to know that badly, then just say so!"

I'm struck speechless for a few moments. "What did I do?" I find my voice, barely audible, still attempting to feign innocence.

"Don't play with me," she growls. "Being a Champion doesn't mean that you may do as you please."

"I—" My face crumples in defeat. "My apologies."

Alvina chuckles again, in light-heartedness, this time. "Apology accepted," she says. "Your compulsion is subtle, yet its presence is still as brazen as a bonfire in the middle of the night. An excellent control for one who has had no formal training; a poor handle for somebody who went through one, of course."

"Does that mean you can teach me how to control my power?" I gasp.

Alvina jumps at my enthusiasm. "Why yes, if you want to," she says, confused. "Magic is magic. We won't be able to help you with the specific terms of your power, but the fundamentals are similar."

Resorting to shortcuts now, Constantine? Abner says.

I have to learn how to control my power, somehow, I reply. I can't risk blanking out in the middle of a fight again. If learning how to use my compulsion is the first step, then so be it.

Fair enough. Abner retreats into the crevices of my mind.

"So, how about it? If you don't mind being taught by charlatans and crooks, of course," Alvina offers, a glint of mischief in the curve of her mouth, as I can see through the shadows.

"I accept," I say, satisfaction draping hazily over me. "Now, about that personal preference."

Alvina's posture stiffens. She moves less like a stream, and more like a river. "I suppose that you really want to know."

"I do."

Alvina releases a huff. "Well then. I prefer not to have children because it's very likely that they'll be necromancers."

If she'd told me it was because children were noisy, screaming creatures, I would have instantly believed it. But necromancers? "What in Pst. Kamira's name do you mean?"

"Our magic comes in generations. In mine, we were mostly Seers," Alvina explains. "The next would be necromancers."

"That means—"

"You and your siblings are born necromancers." 

******

A/N: Okay, okay. I'm on a cliffhanger streak. Sue me (actually, don't). But hey, it makes stuff more fun, no? And well, lots of stuff going on in this chapter. Lots of foreshadowing too. Knowing you intuitive Champions though, you'd catch on pretty quickly. Can you catch them all though?

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