Dawn broke over the Howling Peaks with uncharacteristic gentleness—a subtle indication that they had finally reached the outermost edge of the reality-bending mountains. After days of traversing the treacherous terrain, the boundary between dimensional zones had stabilized enough that Azreth could sense the more familiar demonic energies of the Neutral Territories ahead.

  "The Gray Market should be just beyond that ridge," Vexera said, pointing toward a jagged outcropping in the distance. Static electricity crackled through her blue hair as she surveyed the ndscape. "Haven't been there in decades. Hope they still have those fried shadow-beetle snacks I liked."

  Lyria's nose wrinkled in aristocratic disgust. "You actually eat those things? House Crimson would never stoop to such... common fare."

  "Says the woman who drinks blood," Mara muttered, her shadow rippling with amusement.

  "That's different," Lyria sniffed. "Blood is sophisticated."

  Azreth suppressed a smile at their bickering. After weeks of traveling together, he'd grown accustomed to their constant competition. "Let's focus. The Collectors are our best chance at finding information about these Church movements without crossing fully into human territory."

  "Don't get your hopes up," Vexera warned. "The Collectors sell to both sides. They're notoriously hard to pin down on anything."

  "That's why we brought valuables to trade," Azreth reminded her, patting the pouch at his side containing items they'd gathered throughout their journey—crystallized storm essence from the peaks, shadow-infused obsidian, and vials of Lyria's enchanted blood. "Everyone has a price."

  As they descended toward the Neutral Territories, the ndscape gradually shifted from the twisted, gravity-defying formations of the Howling Peaks to more stable terrain. The perpetual twilight gave way to something resembling normal daylight, though the sky retained a strange, mottled quality—a reminder that this region existed in the bordernds between realms.

  The Gray Market appeared suddenly as they rounded the final ridge—a sprawling collection of tents, makeshift structures, and more permanent stone buildings nestled in a protected valley. Demons of every conceivable variety mingled with other beings that defied easy cssification. A few human traders could be spotted as well, though they kept to themselves and wore distinctive gray cloaks that marked them as neutral parties.

  "Remember," Azreth cautioned as they approached the market's edge, "we're here for information first, supplies second. No unnecessary attention."

  Lyria adjusted her hood, concealing her distinctive blood-red hair. "House Crimson is well-known even here. I suggest we split up initially. I'll make contact with some old trading partners who might know about these Collector representatives."

  "I'll do reconnaissance," Mara offered, already beginning to blend with the shadows at the market's edge. "The Guild has informants everywhere."

  Vexera shrugged. "And I'll get those fried beetles." When the others stared at her, she added, "What? You seriously underestimate what vendors hear. Plus, I'm hungry."

  "Fine," Azreth agreed. "We meet back here in two hours. Watch for anything unusual, and at the first sign of trouble—"

  "We gut whoever causes it," Vexera supplied cheerfully.

  "I was going to say 'retreat discreetly,' but sure, let's jump straight to violence," Azreth sighed. "Just... be careful."

  As they separated, Azreth felt a familiar unease—the sensation of being watched that had accompanied them since leaving Nyx's domain. He scanned the crowded marketpce but saw nothing obviously suspicious. Everyone here had secrets; everyone watched everyone else. That was the nature of the Neutral Territories.

  He made his way deeper into the market, listening to snippets of conversation, observing the goods being traded. Most were mundane—weapons, supplies, magical components—but occasionally he spotted items of greater significance: a caged void-sprite, Church relics that had clearly been stolen, even what appeared to be a human child's toy, oddly pristine amidst the grime of the market.

  After nearly an hour of careful observation, Azreth spotted what he was looking for—a tent bearing the distinctive spiral symbol of the Collectors. Unlike the gaudy dispys of other merchants, this tent was simple, almost austere, with two impassive guards fnking its entrance.

  As he approached, one of the guards stepped forward. "State your business."

  "I seek information," Azreth replied. "About recent Church movements along the northern boundaries."

  The guard's expression didn't change. "Information costs. The Collector doesn't waste time on those who can't pay."

  Azreth produced a small vial of Lyria's enchanted blood. The crimson liquid inside glowed with an inner light, clearly no ordinary blood.

  The guard's eyes widened fractionally before returning to impassivity. "Wait here."

  Minutes ter, Azreth was ushered inside the tent. The interior was surprisingly spacious, lined with shelves containing artifacts from both human and demon realms. In the center, seated behind a low table, was a figure Azreth recognized from descriptions—Nexra, the mouthless demon known as "the Collector."

  Nexra's face was smooth where a mouth should have been, but Azreth heard a voice in his mind nonetheless. Interesting. A demon with a human shadow. Or perhaps a human with demon skin. The Void Whisperer's new pet, I presume?

  Azreth concealed his surprise. "You know of my visit to the Void Whisperer?"

  A sound like ughter echoed in his mind. Little happens in the bordernds that the Collectors don't know about. Your journey through the Howling Peaks with the Blood Countess, the Shadow Guild's rogue assassin, and Lord Tempest's killer? Oh yes, we've been watching with great interest.

  "Then perhaps you already know what I seek."

  Confirmation, I imagine. Verification of rumors. Context for fragments you've already gathered. Nexra gestured to a cushion opposite the table. Sit. Let us exchange... values.

  Azreth sat, pcing the vial of blood on the table. "First sample freely given. The rest comes when I have what I need."

  Generous. Nexra's fingers—long and unnaturally jointed—reached for the vial. House Crimson's blood is rare indeed since the Countess became so... selective with her associations. What would you know in exchange?

  "The Church is mobilizing. I need to know their movements, particurly regarding a young female padin who carries a golden sword."

  Nexra went utterly still. You seek the Saintess's protégée. The one they call the Golden Sword of Dawn.

  "I don't know what they call her. I know she's important—crucial to understanding how to break the cycle."

  Break the cycle? The mental voice had lost its commercial smoothness, taking on a sharper edge. You speak of fundamental patterns that maintain the separation of realms. Dangerous knowledge. Dangerous intentions.

  "The separation is artificial," Azreth pressed. "Maintained by interdimensional parasites feeding on the conflict between realms."

  Nexra set the blood vial down carefully. The Void Whisperer has been... generous with her insights. But consider this: not all who benefit from the current arrangement are parasites. Some are... stakeholders. Like the Collectors.

  Azreth leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

  Before Nexra could answer, a commotion outside drew their attention. Shouting, followed by a crash, then an unmistakable sound—Vexera's storm-ugh, the kind that usually preceded violence.

  "I should check on my companions," Azreth said, rising.

  Indeed. But first— Nexra slid a small crystal across the table. The information you seek. The Church's Golden Sword leads a new initiative they're calling the Purification Crusade. Not random raids like before, but a coordinated campaign to cleanse the bordernds entirely. They've developed new weapons—soul-binding chains, essence-draining spikes. And they're gathering specimens for something rger... something their texts call the Great Severance.

  Azreth pocketed the crystal. "What's the Great Severance?"

  That information would cost more than blood. Nexra's mental voice had regained its commercial calm. Much more.

  Another crash outside, louder this time. Azreth had no choice but to leave, though every instinct told him Nexra knew more than they were sharing.

  The scene outside the tent was chaos. In the market's central area, Vexera stood atop an overturned stall, electricity arcing around her body as she faced off against a group of gray-cloaked figures. Nearby, Lyria had abandoned all pretense of anonymity, her blood whips shing out at traders who were scrambling to flee. And weaving through the crowd, Mara's shadow form appeared and disappeared, causing confusion and panic wherever she materialized.

  "What the hell is happening?" Azreth demanded, rushing to Vexera's side.

  "Ask your void-witch girlfriend!" Vexera snarled, pointing to the edge of the marketpce where—impossibly—Nyx stood, her translucent form shimmering as if she weren't fully present.

  "She's not my—" Azreth began, then shook his head. "Never mind. What's Nyx doing here?"

  "Helping," came Nyx's ethereal voice as she drifted closer. "I sensed danger. Perceptions were... incorrect. I adjusted them."

  "You what?" Azreth stared at her in disbelief.

  "These traders saw you as mere demons," Nyx expined, as if to a child. "They didn't perceive your true significance. Your dual resonance. I helped them see properly."

  "By driving them insane?" Lyria demanded, backing toward them with her blood whips still extended defensively. "Everyone started hallucinating at once—seeing Azreth as some kind of divine entity with multiple heads and wings of fire."

  "Not hallucinations," Nyx corrected calmly. "Truth perception. I merely... intensified their ability to see across dimensional pnes. Temporarily."

  A trader nearby was curled in a fetal position, sobbing about "the eyes, the endless eyes." Another was babbling prayers to entities that existed in neither human nor demon pantheons.

  "You call this helping?" Azreth gestured at the chaos around them. "We needed information, allies maybe. Not... this!"

  "The Collectors were going to betray you," Nyx said, her star-like pupils expanding. "I saw it across probable timelines. They seek to maintain the bance, not disrupt it. They would have reported your presence to both Church and Demon Lords. I prevented this."

  "By exposing us completely?" Mara materialized beside them, her entirely bck eyes narrowed in fury. "The entire bordernd will know about this incident by nightfall!"

  Nyx tilted her head, genuinely confused. "Would you prefer subtle betrayal to open conflict? I chose crity."

  "We would prefer options," Azreth said, trying to control his anger. "You've taken those away."

  Around them, the market was emptying rapidly as traders and customers fled. Only the Collectors' guards remained in position, watching impassively as if cataloging every detail for future reference.

  "The information," Nyx said suddenly. "The crystal the mouthless one gave you. It's incomplete. Deliberately so."

  "And now we have no way to get the rest," Lyria hissed, her aristocratic composure cracking. "Because you've turned us into pariahs in neutral territory."

  Vexera jumped down from the stall, nding beside Azreth. "We need to move. Now. Border patrols will be here soon—both kinds."

  Nyx drifted closer to Azreth, ignoring the others. "I wouldn't have interfered without reason. The Golden Sword approaches. Sooner than the timelines initially suggested. She leads a contingent of Church Purifiers just beyond the northern ridge. Three days at most before they reach this pce."

  That got everyone's attention.

  "Padin Sera? Here?" Azreth asked.

  "She seeks the same information you do," Nyx confirmed. "About the cycle. About what happened to Kael Lightbringer. The sword fragment she carries contains enough of your previous consciousness to spark questions. She doesn't fully trust her Church superiors."

  "How do you know this?" Mara demanded.

  "I walk in dreams," Nyx replied simply. "Hers are... interesting. Conflicted. Much like Kael's were near the end."

  Azreth processed this information quickly. "Then we don't run. We wait. If she's coming here seeking answers, this might be our best chance to make contact."

  "Are you insane?" Lyria grabbed his arm. "She's a padin. With a fragment of the same sword that killed you in your previous life. And she's traveling with Church Purifiers who would love nothing more than to capture us all for their Purification Trials."

  "She's also questioning," Azreth countered. "Doubting. Just like I did before the end. That makes her a potential ally—maybe the only one who could help us reach the original Divine Sword."

  A tense silence fell as they considered the options. Finally, Vexera broke it with a resigned sigh.

  "Great. So instead of running from this disaster, we're going to hide nearby and wait for an even bigger disaster to arrive. I love this pn." Despite her sarcasm, there was a gleam of excitement in her storm-cloud eyes.

  "Not here," Azreth decided. "We need somewhere defensible, somewhere we can observe the Church forces without being detected."

  "I know a pce," Mara offered reluctantly. "An old Guild safe house in the cliffs overlooking the northern approach. It hasn't been used in years, but the concealment wards should still function."

  "Perfect." Azreth turned to Nyx. "Can you maintain physical form long enough to come with us? We could use your insights."

  "My projection is limited," Nyx admitted. "But I will return when the Golden Sword approaches. Her presence... interests me."

  With that cryptic statement, Nyx's form began to fade, dissolving into motes of light that scattered like stars before vanishing entirely.

  "I really hate when she does that," Vexera muttered.

  "Come on," Mara urged, already moving toward the market's edge. "We should be gone before anyone comes to investigate this mess."

  As they left the ruined marketpce behind, following Mara's lead toward the northern cliffs, Azreth clutched the crystal Nexra had given him. Incomplete or not, it represented their first concrete information about Padin Sera's movements and the Church's pns.

  The Great Severance. Whatever it was, it sounded ominous enough to justify Nyx's interference, disastrous as her methods had been. But something else nagged at him—Nexra's comment about "stakeholders" who benefited from the cycle. Were the Collectors merely opportunists profiting from the separation between realms, or something more integral to maintaining it?

  "You're brooding again," Lyria observed, falling into step beside him. "Your eyebrows do this little thing when you're overthinking." She demonstrated with her own perfectly shaped eyebrows.

  "Just wondering how many more enemies we're making," Azreth admitted. "Demon Lords, the Church, now potentially the Collectors. Not to mention whatever interdimensional parasites are feeding on the cycle."

  "Don't forget your void girlfriend who just ruined our only chance at diplomatic retions with the neutral factions," Vexera added helpfully from behind them.

  "She's not my girlfriend," Azreth said automatically.

  "No, that position is clearly under fierce competition," Mara commented dryly, her shadow stretching back to envelop his briefly in what might have been either a protective or possessive gesture.

  Despite the disaster they'd just experienced and the uncertain confrontation ahead, Azreth found himself smiling. These three dangerous, powerful women—each capable of terrifying destruction in her own right—had somehow become the closest thing to friends he'd known in either of his lives.

  "Just so we're clear," Lyria said primly, noting his smile and misinterpreting its cause, "when we do eventually meet this padin, I reserve the right to bleed her just a little if she tries anything. House Crimson has standards to maintain."

  "Get in line," Vexera growled, small storm clouds forming above her head. "She's connected to the Church that killed my mentor. I get first crack at her."

  "Or," Azreth suggested mildly, "we could try talking to her first?"

  All three women gave him identical looks of exasperated disbelief, as if he'd suggested they try breathing underwater.

  "Fine," Mara sighed. "We'll try diplomacy. Again. Because it worked so well this time."

  As they climbed toward the cliffs overlooking the northern approach to the Gray Market, Azreth couldn't help but wonder if Nyx's interference had been truly necessary or merely her cosmic meddling. Either way, the path forward was clear: they would wait for Padin Sera, the young woman wielding a fragment of the weapon that had once been his, and somehow convince her that everything she'd been taught was a lie.

  Simple.

  Meanwhile, in the abandoned marketpce below, Nexra the Collector carefully packed away their most valuable items, preparing to relocate before the Church forces arrived. Their mouthless face revealed nothing, but in their mind, calcutions were being made—profit and loss, risk and opportunity. The twice-lived demon and his companions represented both extreme danger and extraordinary potential.

  A Collector always hedged their bets. Information would flow to the Church, yes, but incomplete. Details would reach the Demon Lords, but filtered. And certain other interested parties—those who existed in the spaces between realms, those who had maintained the cycle for centuries—they too would receive their due reports.

  After all, business was business. And when the borders between worlds were at stake, a wise trader sold to all sides.