Their original plan had been to wait two days before heading back to the Founder’s statue. With the discovery of a listening device those had to adapt. Things were suddenly much less certain. Would their agreement with the local forces stand, or would they have to flee again? It was not impossible they would have to fight their way out as their group had in the City of Terraces, only with much less of an element of surprise. That all drove Irwyn towards one path. He needed to carve the concept as soon as possible. It might well be the difference between success and death.

  He had made progress over the week prior, spending up to a few hours each day on the task. Which meant those had been days half wasted in sightseeing - eternities spent traveling or in idle chatter. But with the urgency of the situation clinging tightly to his throat, he had embraced the task with complete dedication. When he ate it was quickly, sneaking in mouthfuls in brief bouts of recovery. When he slept it was only because Elizabeth forced him to, persisting on and through the brink of exhaustion. He ignored Alice when she complained about the ever-lingering smell of burnt blood from all he had shed and disposed off. He had no humor in the moments to be amused by Waylan’s antics.

  He could almost feel it. So tantalizingly close. The utter certainty deep within him, bubbling, building up into a crescendo each time he cut into flesh. He refused to slow down as rent skin began giving way to muscle. The pain was excruciating but irrelevant. When Elizabeth began dosing him with potion rather than mere ointments, he barely noticed the difference. Altering the bone proved surprisingly painless compared to what he had been doing before. But of course, that was merely another intermediate step. It would not be the leg where the Concept would need to be carved, he knew that much. Therefore, to his displeasure, he found that the stomach was much more sensitive, far more prone to break the required state of mind he was getting closer and closer to mastering.

  Even then, he moved on, burning away ever more blood and something he suspected might have been part of the breakfast he barely recalled. He gulped some potion - when had drops turned to mouthfuls? - and continued. He had to consider where, which vital organ. The first contender was obvious for its place in the center of hius chest, but also too dangerous… not to mention not right for the very first concept. Eventually, he settled on the liver, as it dwelled just beneath the heart. Several times he altered flesh and organ with a blade of Starfire, recovering quickly afterwards with the wonders of magical healing. But he was no longer making mistakes. Nothing broke his focus anymore, because he had found the trick that made the difference. It was not that he could bear the unimaginable pain, merely that his focused had grown so deep he barely felt an echo of it. For the pain was irrelevant, only the goal mattered.

  “I am ready,” he announced, looking up. There was no one there. He was seated on the sofa in the apartment’s living room, sometime during the night - it was dark outside. And for a brief time he considered going through with it right at that moment, carving a Concept into his flesh and thus hopefully his Soul. But with a sign he restrained himself. That feeling rightness was dissipating. And it would be quite unkind to not give the rest of their group a heads-up of some kind.

  Not to mention he was feeling somewhat… tired. Frowning, Irwyn blinked, his eyes closing for what felt a bit too long. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

  “I am ready to carve the Concept,” Irwyn announced during breakfast, still feeling bone-deep weariness and echoes of pain in his stomach. Those were receding quickly enough though.

  “Welcome back,” Waylan snickered, though there was a hint of worry hidden behind the laughter.

  “Physically, I have been present the entire time,” Irwyn said, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Whatever state he had been in it had been… focused. On a singular goal and nothing else.

  “How are you feeling?” Elizabeth inquired.

  “Somewhat tired,” he admitted. “I think I might have pushed things too far at the end. But I am confident I can do it… probably after some more rest.”

  “No sense of foreboding?” she reiterated. “Any gut feeling guiding you towards something or somewhere?”

  “No. Was that what you felt back then?” Irwyn shook his head and asked back. “That guided you so that you would catch… whatever that had been?”

  “Which you still never explained,” Waylan added. Something had torn its way out of the Void back then, not long before the airship had found them.

  “I haven’t?” she paused, seeming surprised and then… embarrassed. “You could have asked.”

  “It seemed like a secret,” Alice said. “I never heard of anything like it before when carving a Concept.”

  “It’s not necessarily something related to Concept merely…” she paused. “No, I should explain properly. Let’s see… What do you think happens when a being holding a Truth or even a Name perish?”

  “They die?” Waylan guessed.

  “Kind of, but there is more to it than that,” Elizabeth nodded. “Past a certain point, death holds lesser sway over a mage - for it is ultimately a phenomenon bound to the element of the Soul. Once a mage attains a Truth they become exponentially harder to raise as undead, for example. In a way they do not exactly die. They do perish, vanishing for the most part, yet something often remains.”

  “Something like the thing you captured?” Irwyn guessed.

  “Most would call it an echo. The screamed reverberation of a Truth as it goes forever silent,” she explained. “They do not always manifest… the exact mechanics of when they do is unknown to me, but I know it can be at most one for each individual Truth the mage possessed. These can take different forms.”

  “Such as?” Alice asked curiously.

  “You have certainly heard of them, even if under different name. Some might meld into a personal item,” she eyed Waylan. “Such as the Cloak of the Impresent you had eaten. That one had been also empowered by a legend to become a proper artifact but the original item had been such an echo.”

  “So, we both ate one, eh?” Waylan jabbed and was ignored.

  “A common form is that of a flower,” she continued. “We call it a Magebloom, for it most often sprouts from the corpse of an exceptional mage. The uses are many but one eclipses them all. Such flowers are the main ingredient of Ambrosia.”

  And Irwyn paused, staring. For he knew such a flower. In fact, one such was currently on his person, dormant and hidden but there nonetheless. Plundered from a corpse beneath Ebon Respite at a time when he had no clue about anything.

  “Or as what had come to me, a remnant infused with lingering obsession,” she did not notice Irwyn’s - and Waylan’s - mute bafflement and carried on. “It had been wandering somewhere in the Void, coincidentally ‘close’ enough that it noticed my ascent to Conception and could not resist the temptation of attacking. I am not yet completely sure as I am slowly disecting the captured echo but I believe it might have even belonged to the previous Name of Gluttony!”

  It was at that point that she finally realized that something was off about half of their group. Pausing her explanation.

  “So, there is something that it seems had not come up before…” Irwyn awkwardly started his explanation of those events from a time before trust. Of their stumbling on the old, deteriorated hideout. About the skeleton and strange Time magic which eventually collapsed once Irwyn had taken the Magebloom. He also touched on the book on Names he had found there while at it - he had been meaning to talk about it soon anyhow.

  “Makes me think, how Aaron identified the flowey, eh?” Waylan said. He had been mostly silent during the story despite having been there but the sneak only had a few details and good points to add.

  “It was obviously your Old Crow’s doing,” Elizabeth shrugged as if it were clear as day… which it perhaps was. Aaron had said he had found the matching description himself at the time but it could have easily been arranged by their mentor or just directly given, alongside an instruction to lie. Ebon Respite was a bit too far away to confirm either scenario. “But this story does remind me of something,” she frowned and began to rummage through her bag.

  “Magebloom of Time,” Alice half-interrupted, somewhat absentmindedly. Her voice was filled with clear wonder mixing with surprise. “Are you… certain?”

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  “Take a look,” Irwyn reached into his bag, needing to rummage for a while to remember where he had even hidden it. He eventually found it sewn into a small sealed pocket at the bottom of his old purse, which he had to rip open to get through. Even directly touching the frail teal-colored flower he could not feel a trace of magic. Nothing at all.

  Alice flinched, recoiling backwards before she even saw it with her own eyes. She was suddenly lightly trembling, making Irwyn hesitate whether he should remove it. But then she turned towards it, her gaze fixing on the little teal bud. A ring flickered on her finger.

  “Wow,” she gasped, staring.

  “What are you seeing?” Elizabeth asked, likewise feeling nothing.

  “It is like…” Alice seemed at a loss for words. “I imagine this is what looking at the River of Time through a curtain would be like, I think. Secrets and wisdom, so much so that I am afraid to keep looking yet also scared to look away. But they are locked within, so I can see only their shadows and rough shapes, not glean any actual insights. My Soul is screaming at me how incredible it is.”

  “The main ingredient for Ambrosia indeed,” Irwyn nodded, looking at Alice thoughtfully. He had not thought much about it before… but a clear use presented itself. One so obvious it did not even need to be spoken out loud. Their Time mage quickly interpreted Irwyn’s pondering gaze for exactly what it was.

  “I wouldn’t be able to repay you,” she said timidly, looking away, but Irwyn did catch the intense desire she was trying to suppress. Who would not crave such a thing? He had no real inkling of its value when he had obtained it, but it was invaluable indeed… to the point of danger.

  There was a degree of trust he had built with Alice, but it was not ironclad beyond question. They got along well and had undergone some trials side by side. Were bound to the same banner… but that was without conflict. Could he hold on to something so invaluable to her yet essentially useless to him? Would she ever forgive him if he decided to trade it away, leaving her deprived of the opportunity that had been just out of reach for potentially years?

  No, it would breed bitterness and hatred, fracturing any chance for trust between them – a dangerous prospect in someone he expected to associate with for years. Not to mention that an Ambrosia would make Alice much stronger, which in a way also benefited Irwyn while they journeyed together. Better to offer it freely and put her in his debt to hopefully be repaid one day than greedily hold onto a poisoned bauble. It seemed like the best option by far.

  “I have…” he began.

  “You forget that you are my retainer, Alice,” Elizabeth interrupted him. “And I will spare no expense on you. Irwyn holds an invaluable tressure that you need, therefore, I shall purchase it from him in exchange for another. It is the simplest thing in the world. The least of what I am dutybound to do.”

  “Then I will not be able to repay you instead.”

  “You have bound yourself to me already,” Elizabeth smiled. “Your power is mine and your growth is my growth. What else could I possibly desire from you? All I do ask is for you to remember these moments in times of strife. When loyalty is gnawed at by doubt, you need merely recall and any debt would be settled fully.”

  “I… don’t know what to say,” Alice somewhat shily turned away but seemed relieved.

  “We do not have anyone who can brew it, unfortunately, as that will require a Truth mage of Time with some specific skills… and also discretion,” Elizabeth nonetheless shook her head after a moment, bringing the air of anticipation down. “Not to mention the subsidiary ingredients. It will most likely have to wait until we return to the Federation. Irwyn will hold onto it before I find him something of equivalent value in exchange.”

  “That is fine,” Alice nodded. “Steelmire never knew the methods needed to make one. It will still be early enough for me in a few years. Thank you.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Irwyn smiled, putting the flower away. “Now, while we are at it, the Book.”

  He retrieved it, the title still reading ‘The Nature of the Named, by Magelord Viriterus von Lonera‘. A text he had not touched in perhaps far too long. Just like the flower, almost forgotten yet suddenly more interesting than ever. From a time before he could grasp its importance.

  “Yes, I found what the name reminded me of,” Elizabeth nodded, showing she had also retrieved a whole dossier at some point. Showing the title, it spoke of the very same mage who had started writing the book and perished in obscurity. “Magelord Viriterus von Lonera, originally a bastard from House Wertol, sent to the Duchy of Teal for both education and to forge alliances for his family when his talent for Time was discovered at 11. Married and then widowed young, he afterward returned to Duchy of Black, quickly becoming renowned and respected as an expert on Time magic. He was able to claim the title of Magelord and thus the right of founding his own House, though there had never been any members besides him.”

  “Dying made that a lil difficult,” Waylan interrupted but was promptly ignored.

  “Notably, he did not support my father during the succession wars, fiercely backing another candidate - though at the time of his disappearance, my parents were not yet even considered frontrunners. He likely would have been a major hurdle by the end had he still been alive, at least that is speculated in the file. Before he vanished, he had been the last Time Truth mage permanently living in the Duchy of Black, rumoredly angling to claim a Name. Fits with the book.”

  “And why exactly do you even have his file?” Alice asked dubiously.

  “Because it was suspected he might have perished somewhere in Ebon Respite,” she chuckled helplessly. “Or in one of 15 other cities. Tracking when and where an exceptional Time mage vanished for good is difficult even for the most competent spy network - hence why the corpse was never found until someone just stumbled onto it - more by whim of Fate than coincidence, I would guess. I had thought it was interesting enough to read up on and kept the file.”

  “If you had just asked, eh?” Waylan chuckled.

  “What interests me the most are the Marks,” Irwyn nodded. “I had never dared use them before but what the principal had done had reminded me of it. Perhaps you will know more. This for example.”

  “The Mark of Wrath,” Elizabeth recognized the first symbol at a glance. “I can confirm it is properly drawn. The paper must have been incredibly expensive to hold it so well after all this time. Most of the families with any claim to the bloodline have access to the Mark but it is rarely used.”

  “Why?” Irwyn asked.

  “Because while the first Duke of Black might be dead, his will lingers in the Name that was once his,” she sighed. “Any formation or spell trying to use it will most likely manifest all-consuming, unquenchable Wrath in anyone close by. The best use is in remote traps that cause a berserk state on the victims - since it is Wrath and thus Void, the effect actually bypasses most defenses against Soul magic which one would prepare against spells altering the mental state.”

  “But not usable in combat spells as you would be too close,” Irwyn summarized with a nod.

  “Exactly,” she nodded.

  “What do you have next?” Alice asked with some interest. Unlike Elizabeth she did not have plentiful experience with such secrets.

  So, Irwyn opened the following page at the polar opposite of Wrath, the first Archduke of Yellow had been Temperance. But when he laid his eyes on the mark, Irwyn frowned. It was… wrong. He could not tell why, yet the certainty of it was unerring. There was a mystique to it that he had once felt, yet with his better senses it was distinctly shallow. Like a glass of water where an ocean should have been. He described as much to the others.

  “I know what you mean,” Elizabeth had an idea. “One time I was shown a faded Mark of Gluttony and had a similar feeling. Not from the current mad claimant, but the old one before them. The reason for that is simple: That Name had been taken by someone else. The Mark will hold some small remnant of power but it is but a fraction of a fraction. The Name has shifted and its power no longer fits this shape.”

  “That wasn’t in the Federation, was it?” Irwyn asked after nodding.

  “No, it was likely not even in this Realm,” Elizabeth confirmed. “I am quite sure of that there had been no other Temperance within our borders since the first.”

  Afterwards, he moved to the Mark of Conflagration, the founding Duke of Red. The feeling was different this time. Like a spark that would burn the very heavens. Incinerate oceans and land in the blink of an eye. The essence of it was in that first moment, a blaze so quick it flared faster than Time could pass. It still encompassed other forms of Flame but those would be an afterthought.

  “This has the opposite problem,” Elizabeth shook her head helplessly. “This is indeed the Mark of Conflagration, of the Archduke of Red. Definitely do not use it without his explicit permission. The man is known to be reasonable but brutal when intentionally crossed. We actually might want to visit at some point, it would not be difficult to arrange after the Lich war.”

  Irwyn nodded. He knew that the first Archduke of Red had been Conflagration and so was the one in the current day. That a descendant had claimed the same Name after millennia was an interesting coincidence but not something too strange. To Alice’s incredible disappointment, while the last founding Archduke, Twinpresence, had been spoken of, his Mark was missing. Irwyn almost nostalgically read out the author’s note: “How do you ‘misplace’ the records of Twinpresence’s mark?”. The book was, after all, unfinished and had mostly blank spaces where most if its contents should have been.

  “That must have been an excuse given to Viriterus,” Elizabeth commented with a raised eyebrow. “There is no way the Duchy of Teal had actually lost those records… unless maybe the Name had also been claimed since, rendering the Mark embarrassingly useless.”

  “Twin presence was the one who had made the Beacons, right?” Irwyn remembered.

  “Yes,” Alice confirmed, still looking dejected. “His mark would have almost certainly been great for teleportation. Maybe even bending Finity to some degree when used right.”

  Next, the book spoke of the Soulcatcher who was still very much alive, though most of the text were notes complaining about the scarceness of information. Elizabeth did not know much exact information either but she was aware of stories about the man.

  He was from the Duchy of Purple and a famous rogue, even called vigilante in some older records before he became so powerful that people learned to hold their tongues even in private letters. Known splinter in the behind of the current Duke of Purple. Notably not of noble birth nor associated with any notable faction – almost unheard of for a Named. And his sole disciple was supposedly also a great prodigy Elizabeth thought might be able to approach the two of them if what she had heard was true.

  That was mostly it for the book. Alice wanted to read into some of the details so Irwyn lent it to her but the conversation was mostly over. That meant moving on to a more serious topic.

  “While this has been a pleasant diversion, now that Irwyn is mentally present again we have to plan,” Elizabeth nodded. “When and how do we approach the statue again?”

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