Vera blinked hard as she stared at Elaria. The woman watched her with a clear, cutting suspicion.

  “When you say doll… what do you mean?” Vera asked, choosing her words carefully, trying to brace herself for the direction this conversation was taking.

  Elaria’s tone flattened. “Are you trying to claim you don’t know what I’m referring to?”

  Vera thought back to the various game plushies in her room. She hadn’t paid much attention to what half of them even represented since they’d been there for so long, but… yes. Given her luck, one of them probably looked exactly like Elaria.

  Vera had almost never in her life experienced genuine, socially induced mortification. She was usually pretty comfortable with herself, even when she screwed up. The most embarrassing moment she could remember was when her mother accidentally showed off her middle-school sketchbook to visiting relatives. Even that had been survivable.

  But this—standing in front of a living person who’d just discovered she had a literal plush version of them—was several grades beyond that. This was the sort of humiliation that would sponsor new nightmares.

  “Wait.” She paused, looking at Elaria. “How’d you know about that?”

  The woman had only arrived shortly before dinner, right? How could she possibly know what was in Vera’s room?

  “I came here first, before I flew to Marrowfen,” Elaria said.

  “What—? How did you get in?”

  Wasn’t the estate supposed to lock out nonresidents?

  Elaria’s brows rose. “You gave me access to Sablewatch Hollow.”

  Oh.

  That tracked.

  But still…

  “Why were you in my room?” Vera asked, narrowing her eyes.

  That wasn’t normal behavior, surely? She couldn’t be the only one in the wrong here.

  Elaria stayed silent for several seconds—long enough that Vera briefly wondered if she’d actually caught the woman off guard—then Elaria folded her arms across her chestplate. “You and Serel were missing. And I still did not know the circumstances behind Serel’s existence. I was searching for answers.”

  Vera opened her mouth to argue, then shut it. Because she couldn’t immediately think of a good counter.

  Elaria watched her steadily. “…Mournvale,” she eventually said. “Are you romantically infatuated with me?”

  Vera’s eyes shot wide. She lifted both hands. “No. No, no. That’s not—”

  Elaria’s gaze sharpened. “The doll and Serel’s existence suggest otherwise. You claim you don’t remember the details, but you were likely the one who forged the bargain that created her, yes?”

  “That’s…” Vera trailed off, grimacing. She studied Elaria’s face. The warm, sun-touched skin. The clean lines of her brow and nose. The crimson irises that caught the light like embers. The vivid vermilion hair she’d only ever seen as pixels, illustrations, and promotional art, now sitting in front of her in undeniable reality.

  She exhaled slowly and lowered her gaze.

  “I don’t,” she said earnestly. “Like you, I mean. Not in that way.”

  Elaria Valecrest, until about a week or so ago, had been a character on a screen. Vera didn’t actually know this real woman. She wasn’t going to confuse her admiration of a fictional persona with actual affection, and she wasn’t going to project those feelings onto a living person.

  That just didn’t seem fair.

  When she looked up again, Elaria was frowning.

  Did she doubt her?

  “I respect you,” Vera said. “A lot.”

  That seemed to only deepen Elaria’s skepticism. “You respect me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I find that hard to believe. Few have undermined my authority as often as you.”

  Vera tilted her head. She… didn’t know exactly what Veralyth Mournvale had done to earn this reputation among the people around her—but she knew herself well enough, and she’d seen enough of the fights through the Graven Daughter’s visions, to know the truth. That she could be reckless. That she could push too far, ignore limits, and sometimes did things just to prove she could. And that, yeah, maybe she reveled in it more than she should.

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t respect you, though,” she said, meeting Elaria’s eyes. “I know what you’ve gone through and what you’ve sacrificed. I know what you are in the face of danger and injustice. That’s the part of you I’ll always respect.” She was quiet briefly, then added more quietly, “And that I think is cool.”

  A flicker of surprise crossed Elaria’s face. It pulled a small, involuntary smile from Vera.

  Even if she didn’t know this Elaria as a person, she knew her feats. She’d been a part of and followed many of them in the game, seeing Elaria start as someone seeking to escape their fate, then rising through the expansions into one of the most iconic warriors in the setting.

  A quiet settled between them as Elaria seemed to process her words. Finally, the woman gave a short, controlled nod. “I see. And is that why you had a doll of me?”

  Vera nearly groaned. They were back to that.

  She cleared her throat. “Kind of, yeah. I’ve got, uh, plushies of a lot of things. I collect them.”

  Something dangerous showed in Elaria’s eyes. “Collect? Where do they sell that doll?”

  Vera felt a bead of sweat threatening to slide down her spine. “…I can’t remember.”

  “Is that so.”

  “Yeah.”

  The woman’s doubt was obvious.

  “It’s also for Serel,” Vera added quickly. “She sleeps in my room sometimes, and since she doesn’t get to see you much, it’s something familiar for her.”

  Elaria’s expression eased slightly, and something softer entered her voice. “…Has she said anything about not seeing me?”

  Vera was quiet for a second. “She has. I don’t think she understands the full situation around what she is, but she senses some things aren’t quite normal. She’s… scared. That we’ll leave her. Or don’t want her.”

  Elaria watched her for several seconds. “Will you leave her?”

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  “Never,” Vera said without hesitation. “I told you, I’ll take responsibility. She’s my daughter. Even if I turn out to be the worst mother in all of history, I’ll stay with her and make sure she gets every chance to smile like any other girl.”

  “I find it difficult to imagine you as a parent.”

  Vera huffed a dry laugh. “Same. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve panicked thinking I’m screwing it all up. But if Serel’s safe and happy, that’s enough.”

  “That… is good to know.” Elaria glanced at the empty plates on the table, a faint frown returning. “Where do you intend to go from here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you staying here to raise her? Are you not leaving Marrowfen?”

  “Oh.” Vera scratched the back of her head. “Not sure yet, honestly. I’ve got things I need to handle, at the very least. The biggest is figuring out the terms of whatever deal was made with the Graven Daughter so she won’t come after Serel again. To do that, finding Mireya might be the best option.”

  “Halstrad?” Elaria’s brows knit. After a moment she nodded. “She may be able to help.” Her gaze lingered on Vera. “…The two of you have always been close.”

  “Yeah?” Vera didn’t know what to do with that, so she let it sit. “Do you know where she is? Vanded said she should be in Darnelle.”

  Elaria shook her head. “She is not. Not anymore. The Thryne passes have been sealed behind ice storms blocking the Covenant’s forces for months. Halstrad is among those investigating the phenomenon.”

  “The Thryne passes?” Vera repeated.

  That still wasn’t too far off from Darnelle.

  “Do you have a way of contacting her?” she asked.

  “I do not.”

  “No Ashmarks or anything?”

  “I am sure I could procure several, but the Silence’s unraveling contaminates all invocations, and its influence has already spread into that region. Until she returns, speaking with her is impossible.”

  That was inconvenient.

  Vera considered Elaria. “…How are things looking? With the Silence, I mean. I heard Graven Reach fell a while back.”

  Elaria’s expression hardened. “The situation is severe. The Silence Between advances more slowly than the previous tribulations, but it is a true Forgotten Throne. We can drive back its adherents and distortions, but the Silence itself cannot be opposed directly.”

  “Because of the… unraveling you mentioned?”

  “Yes. The Silence unravels Resonance wherever it spreads. Only the Unraveled remain unaffected, and they are far more dangerous than the Chainfather Cult ever was.”

  “Oh.”

  Vera absorbed that information.

  She didn’t actually know too much about The Silence Between—just the foreshadowing and promo material that had meant to lead into the next expansion in Ashen Legacy. But if it crippled Resonance itself, that made almost all of their side’s firepower useless. It would cripple even her.

  How did you fight that?

  Ashen Legacy had to have an answer planned. No developer would bother creating an unbeatable boss. But would that solution have translated here? And could it be found?

  “If it’s that bad, does that mean you’ll have to return to the front soon?” Vera asked, eyes on Elaria.

  The woman’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

  “Right... I guess that makes sense.”

  They watched each other.

  Elaria gestured. “And what of you?”

  Vera blinked. “…Are you asking if I’ll help?”

  “It is your duty.”

  “Duty? Since when?”

  “Since you gained the strength to help. It is the burden of the strong to protect the weak. Without us, the world will not survive.”

  “Then what about the others? Kaelen, Branthorne, all the other ‘Marked Ones’? I heard some of them aren’t helping right now.”

  Elaria’s eyes turned severe. “…Those who can, should. That is all I will say. Are you saying you won’t?”

  Vera dragged a hand down her face. “No. Not exactly, but…”

  She didn’t want that sort of responsibility. That said, she wasn’t the type to pretend she didn’t see a burning building because she didn’t want to carry a bucket. Marrowfen had proven that much.

  “But Serel comes first,” she said. “I’m not leaving her to go off to war.”

  Elaria held her gaze, weighing. Finally, she inclined her head. “There is no one but me who could force you, and I won’t. If you choose to assist, I—as Flamebearer of the Covenant and Keeper of the Pyric Oath—will do what is within my power so that your contributions do not interfere with your… responsibilities to Serel.”

  Vera paused for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you.” She studied the woman. “Though… are you sure you could force me?”

  She sat directly across from Elaria, close enough to feel the woman’s Resonance radiating off her like a banked furnace. It was intense, contained, and surprisingly patient. She was, without a doubt, the strongest human Vera had met so far. But unlike the Silent Lord who’d allowed his power to leak all over the place, it was much harder to properly gauge the woman’s strength.

  If Ashen Legacy had increased the level cap to 250 for the fourth expansion the way players had assumed, then in game terms, Elaria should have been sitting somewhere near that range by now. But nothing guaranteed the rules translated cleanly here. Vera already suspected there were no Flamebindings beyond the tenth, meaning most people in this world were simply capped at 200 unless they became Cycle-forged. Truebound, as the Silent Lord had called it when he mentioned the Slow Reckoning.

  Elaria was definitely Cycle-forged. The questions were how far and how she became one.

  Vera intended to ask about that, but not now.

  “You have always been too self-confident, Mournvale,” Elaria said, a brief flare of heat passing through her eyes. The air in the room warmed a few degrees.

  Vera lifted her hands. “That wasn’t a challenge. I was genuinely curious.” A faint edge of anticipation welled in her, uninvited, as she wet her lips. “That said… if you’d be up for a spar, I wouldn’t mind.”

  She couldn’t help enjoying the idea. As dangerous and serious as things had been at the time, the fight with the Silent Lord had been one of the most exhilarating experiences of her life.

  She doubted she’d be able to let loose like that again anytime soon.

  Elaria’s gaze turned dangerous.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I intended to ask—are you intentionally teaching Serel to inherit the same depravity as you?”

  Vera stared at her. It took a moment for her words to actually register. “D-Depravity? What—? I’m not depraved!”

  “I saw what you kept hidden in your wardrobe,” Elaria said, voice cold.

  Vera froze. The flicker of anticipation died instantly, smothered beneath another wave of humiliation, somehow worse than the earlier one.

  “That’s—No, no, no, you’re misunderstanding. Those aren’t—” she leaned forward, voice firm. “I don’t wear those, okay? Especially not in fights. They’re just items I picked up and never threw out. Some were gifts.”

  They were cosmetic sets. Collectibles. Everybody had those in MMOs, even if you didn’t use them. That didn’t make her weird. Sure, the ones she’d kept in her room leaned toward certain aesthetics, but that was it.

  It was a totally normal thing to do. She had guildmates who’d been a hundred times worse.

  Elaria gave her a look as if she was re-evaluating everything she knew about her. Vera felt her face burn hotter.

  How the hell was she supposed to defend herself here? Without the MMO context, the whole situation looked incriminating no matter how she explained it.

  “I will not comment on your preferences,” Elaria said, “but I suggest you do not let them influence Serel.”

  “You’re talking like I’m trying to indoctrinate her.”

  Elaria raised a brow. “Are you?”

  “No!”

  “I would hope so.”

  Vera swallowed.

  She would need to warn Serel to keep a lower profile if Elaria was around when the girl watched her fight. The last thing she needed was Elaria thinking she was grooming the kid into a battle addict.

  “You know I’m not—” Vera began, then stopped.

  Both their heads turned toward the doorway.

  A few seconds passed, then small footsteps padded down the hall, and Serel appeared—dressed in a white nightgown, hair freshly washed and still damp, rubbing one eye as she yawned. “Mommy, I finished my bath. Are you done…?”

  Vera looked at the girl, then at Elaria. The woman met her gaze, then addressed Serel. “We are done. You wished for your mother to help you with your… drawing, was it?”

  Serel nodded. “Mmm. She promised. Do you want to join us, Mama?”

  Elaria was silent for a moment before lowering her head. “I can watch.”

  Serel beamed, then trotted to a cupboard, pulling out their small kit of charcoal sticks and folded paper. She climbed back onto her chair at the table.

  “Serel, your hair’s still wet,” Vera said. “You’re lucky Korrin isn’t here to see this.”

  She realized it was a good thing the old barber had trimmed the girl’s hair to stop just above her shoulders, or else it would’ve stuck to everything any time Vera wasn’t around to help her dry it.

  “Korrin?” Elaria asked.

  “Grandpa Korrin!” Serel declared.

  Elaria frowned faintly.

  “He’s an old guy who runs a barbershop in Marrowfen,” Vera said, still a little tense after the wardrobe discussion.

  “I see,” Elaria replied simply. She then rose from her seat, stopping behind Serel and placing her hands lightly on the girl’s hair. “Let me help you.”

  Serel giggled at the touch, leaning back to look at her upside down. “That tickles!”

  “Endure it,” Elaria said, and a faint whisper of Resonance flickered around her fingers. Serel’s damp hair dried cleanly, lifting and settling as the last traces of moisture gradually evaporated.

  When she finished, Elaria smoothed the girl’s hair back into place.

  “Thank you, Mama!” Serel chirped, twisting around and hugging her before she could retreat.

  Elaria stayed perfectly still.

  Vera watched, saying nothing.

  After a few moments, Serel pulled back and turned to the table again, already reaching for her drawing tools.

  Vera exchanged one final look with Elaria, then moved to sit beside Serel, pulling a sheet of paper closer. The girl leaned into her, chattering about what she wanted to draw, and Vera guided her hand through the first few shapes. Elaria settled across from them, silent, arms folded, gaze steady as she observed the two of them work.

  It felt weird, having a spectator for that, but Serel hummed on happily, and that was enough for Vera, at least for tonight.

  Though at the back of her mind, she made a mental note to either burn or permanently hide every piece of clothing in her wardrobe as soon as she got the chance.