[First Era – Year 6 of the Divinity War; Hopron, secret laboratory]

  

[Other body – Deep Space, aboard a Severed vessel]

  Nearly a year later Moraithe sat quietly on the edge of Saffrael's bed, watching over her sleeping, stardust-freckled body, or at least one of them. His gaze fixed on the map of this laboratory where they researched new weapons for the war. The soft hum of strange entanglements echoed down the corridors. The faint glow of light globes barely traced the growing tension in his heart. Breathing in the scent of her winterblossoms, he felt Saffrael's presence—both comforting and distant—her consciousness, a universe away, traversing the grand library of Sidren while he was here, trying to extract a different kind of truth.

  He blinked, shifting focus back to the task at hand. The map was clear, showing the section of the facility where the new crystals were being developed. In Moraithe's current body, he was acting the part of a researcher sent by a powerful lord, just another cog in the massive military machine, asking just enough questions to avoid suspicion.

  He and Saffrael had been inserted here as spies, part of the network of drackmoor agents spread across the galaxies, each partnered with another. It allowed them to create an information chain of sorts, passing news and knowledge from one to another, body to body, partner to partner. Their shared understanding aided to synchronize their efforts, making them far more effective than any lone operative.

  If he could do anything to stop the war it would be here. Wars were won when the enemy lost the will to keep going. He had to make the Severed believe the war was unwinnable. They needed an advantage so overwhelming that their enemy would realize they could not stand against it. A new discovery in this laboratory might be exactly what they needed to make the Severed see the futility of war.

  Saffrael awoke and sat up, rubbing her sapphire eyes. “I wish I could have spent more time there.”

  Moraithe looked up from the map. “Learning important things?”

  “Mostly, this body is just tired. Too many brief rests, not enough actual sleep.”

  “Did you find any information about it?” There was something unsettling in the air.

  “It's not easy sneaking into the command researcher's study. Seems like they're pushing the new crystals into production faster than expected,” Saffrael's voice cut through his thoughts, a whispering hum in his mind. “I've just overheard some senior officers discussing it—there's disagreement about its safety. Not everyone trusts the entropy crystals. Some generals think the cost of storing entropy in them will be too high.”

  “The general's concerns could be valid. The power to remove entropy from the mind of a person—what if it falls into enemy hands? That would be dangerous. Yet if the crystals work as expected, it could change the war.” Moraithe's lips tightened. “Is there any indication of our mole?”

  “Not yet, but I'll dig deeper.” Saffrael rubbed her temples. “Something feels off. One of the researchers may be playing both sides, and I'm getting the sense they're more than just a pawn.”

  He shook his head, trying to refocus. Too many threads. Too many risks.

  Now it was Moraithe's turn to lay on the bed, while Saffrael watched over him.

  Switching from one body to the next was never easy, and it wasn't just the physical disorientation. It was the mental shift that shook him, the sudden flood of different sensations, the disconnect between two places—two versions of himself, switching goals and personalities to fit the mission.

  He closed his eyes, and in the blink of an eye, he was no longer in the research laboratory, but underwater in a dimly lit chamber aboard a Severed vessel, breathing through a snogbreather he'd attached to his face. Its tentacles stuck to his face with dozens of suckers firmly attaching the creature to his skin as it pulsated, sucking in water and filtering out air for him to breathe.

  These bubble vessels always felt so small and crowded. It wasn't exactly small, composed of tens of thousands of chambers, enough to fit an entire Severed army. But it didn't even compare with a world, or even a small moon. Perhaps it was more that he felt trapped here—surrounded by the Severed and those who had allied themselves with them—with nowhere to run, only the bleak void of space outside the translucent walls of the bubble. At least he wasn't completely alone, not with Norgoth to keep him company.

  To be inside such a strange slimy, water-filled plant floating through space was nerve-wracking, but to do it while breathing underwater was so much worse. He understood that the giant plants couldn't contain air, the pressure differential would cause them to burst. Instead, they were filled with water, which also allowed those inside to swim around, rather than aimlessly drifting as things did in space.

  Moraithe and Norgoth floated at the edge of the council room. This was the second path that might win them the war. If they could infiltrate their inner council then they could counter every effort the Severed made until they realized this war was futile.

  The shadows of his pretended allies flickered through the dim bioluminescent glow. The Severed leaders, their bodies like twisted patches of darkness and death sewn together with cursed threads, studied him with cold, hollow eyes. Their voices reverberated in the air, ancient and chilling.

  One of the Severed swam forward, a towering figure with a body made of flesh and metal, his face a patchwork of twisted, decayed human features. Even through the strange distortion of the water, his voice was grating, as though every word had been shaved from metal. “The time has come to test your loyalty,” he said, his hollow gaze narrowing. “You have been useful, but we need to know where your true loyalties lie.”

  The second Severed leader, a woman whose translucent skin shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly glow, spoke next. Her eyes burned with an unnatural light. “A village on the edge of Orsis,” she said, her voice like the hiss of a serpent. “We will see how far you're willing to go. Go there, and eliminate every soul. Show us your resolve. Only then will we know you are truly one of us.”

  Moraithe's breath caught in his chest. Innocents!? The thought of killing the innocent just to prove their loyalty sent a chill down his spine. His body stiffened, but he knew there was no turning back now. The Severed's gaze was upon him. He had to act, but he would not—could not—follow their orders as they expected. He would find a way to save them.

  Here in this place, where sound reverberated to the very edge of the bubble, it was impossible to communicate with Norgoth any secrets whatsoever. Rather they'd been forced to use the chain of drackmoor to relay messages from partner to partner, body to body, the entire way around the chain until they came back around to one another in their other bodies. Only then could they avoid suspicion under such conditions as these.

  As the Severed leaders withdrew to discuss their next move, Moraithe knew he had to make his way back to his sleeping cell. It helped that people slept at all hours in these strange conditions. But he needed to find a safe place to sleep and return to Saffrael. When he arrived at his chamber, he leaned against the wall and felt a shift—a jolt—as his mind flickered, the familiar sensation of switching between his bodies.

  Within moments, he was sitting up beside Saffrael in their quiet room, down the corridor of the research facility, a place that hummed with the secrets of war. He sucked in a deep lungful of air, finally able to truly breathe once more, the air full of Saffrael’s winterblossom scent. But the heavy weight of the task he'd been given lingered in his chest.

  Saffrael looked at him, sensing his tension. “What did they want?”

  Moraithe's jaw clenched. “They want us to kill … innocents. A village on the edge of Orsis. They want to see if we will obey without hesitation. If we do, they will trust us. But I won't do it, Saffrael. I refuse.”

  Her eyes softened, understanding flashing across her face. “Then we need to do something about it. You have a plan?”

  He nodded, his gaze distant as he thought through the details. “I do. But it requires all of us—your revenescent and my entanglement. And I'll need to get a message down the chain to Norgoth.”

  Saffrael tilted her head. “Go on.”

  “We'll fire arrows,” Moraithe said, taking a deep breath. “Each one will be entangled with your revenescent, pulling the innocents inside. They'll vanish without a trace. A second entanglement will leave behind a crater where they stood, to make it seem like we followed through on our orders.”

  Saffrael's brow furrowed as she processed the plan. “You'll make them disappear into my revenescent? All of them?”

  Moraithe nodded, the weight of his words heavy on his tongue. “Yes. They will be safe. No harm will come to them.”

  Saffrael momentarily hesitated, her mind whirling as she weighed the risks. “And the Severed won't know?”

  “No,” Moraithe said firmly. “They'll see the craters, the devastation. They'll think we did what they asked. But we will have saved every one of them. Norgoth needs to know the plan. I'll make up a bundle of arrows for him as well. I'll hide them … where? Do you know that village?”

  “No, but Ranth is nearby in one of his bodies. I'll talk to him, we'll figure out a good place, and relay the information to both you and Norgoth.”

  He realized his hands were trembling. Saffrael threw her arms around him. “Everything will be okay, even when you think it won't.”

  And he melted into her embrace. “What makes you say that?”

  “Elithir and all the souls that shine from ten thousand stars, they will light the way.”

  * * *

  

[Hopron, secret laboratory]

  The flickering light of lanterns bathed the laboratory in a soft, eerie glow. The air hummed with the low murmur of sealed entanglements and the scratch of quills on parchment. Tall shelves lined with strange apparatus and containers held the bizarre experiments of the researchers who worked here — all of them brilliant minds, each one focused on their own secretive project.

  Moraithe adjusted the collar of his cloak, his sharp eyes scanning the room. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a presence and a mystic grin that commanded attention without needing to raise his voice. By his side, Saffrael moved with the fluid grace of a shadow, the scent of winterblossoms followed her. Her dark eyes scanned each of the researchers as they passed by. Her stardust freckled beauty, coupled with her intelligence, often made her seem enigmatic. Together, they were a perfect pair—sharp, strategic, and now, on a covert mission.

  Their task was clear—identify the betrayer.

  “I don't like it,” Saffrael whispered under her breath as they passed a workbench cluttered with glowing crystal fragments. “The Severed have gotten too close to some of our secrets.”

  Moraithe's jaw tightened. “We'll find out who. Stay alert.”

  They approached the first suspect. Shran, hunched over a table in the far corner of the lab. The space around him was cluttered with ancient tomes, fragile and yellowed with age, and his face was set with intense concentration. He barely looked up when they approached, his gaze fixed on the pages before him.

  “Ah, Shran,” Moraithe began, his voice purposefully light. “What are you working on? Anything interesting?”

  Shran's sharp eyes flicked up to meet Moraithe's, and a cold, calculating expression crossed his face. He quickly closed one of the books with a snap, his fingers lingering just a moment too long on the fragile cover. “Nothing of concern,” he said, his voice clipped and guarded. “Just some research. Old texts. They have … historical value.”

  Moraithe studied him closely. “Old texts? Interesting. What exactly are you looking for?”

  For the briefest moment, Moraithe saw the flicker of something like suspicion pass through Shran's eyes. He sat back, closing his arms protectively around the books on his desk as if guarding them from prying eyes.

  “I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your distance, Moraithe,” Shran said, his voice tightening. “These are private matters. Research that doesn't concern you.”

  Saffrael raised an eyebrow.

  Moraithe took a slow step forward, his eyes narrowing. “We heard you were working on some kind of scrying device, something about entangling dragonflies. Is that what this is?”

  Shran stiffened, and for a moment, there was an unsettling silence. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he reached for one of the books with deliberate slowness, as if to put distance between himself and their questions.

  “Why don't you leave me to my work?” he said, his voice suddenly icy, his tone unyielding.

  He didn't want them anywhere near his research. There was something off about his entire demeanor now—too defensive, too guarded.

  Saffrael took a subtle step back, glancing at Moraithe. Her voice was quieter, but still cutting. “We're only trying to help.”

  Shran didn't respond. He was already focused back on his books, not acknowledging them further. But as Moraithe and Saffrael turned to leave, Moraithe couldn't shake the feeling that Shran was hiding something far deeper than just old records.

  They found Karthiim's workstation in a chamber containing several other researchers, a tall, brooding man whose dark eyes glinted with the sort of ambition that made people uneasy. He was examining a rev crystal, its edges flickering with strange, otherworldly light. The crystal seemed to pulse like a heartbeat, its aura reverberating throughout the room.

  “Ah, Moraithe, Saffrael,” Karthiim greeted them with a nod, his voice tinged with an odd sense of both welcome and distance. “Come to see my work, I assume?”

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  “I hear it's one of the more promising projects,” Moraithe said, stepping closer. “A gateway into a shared warehouse. So this is the famous rev crystal.”

  Karthiim's eyes gleamed as he held up the crystal, his fingers tracing its intricate carvings. “I hope not too famous. We don't want the Severed to learn of it, after all.”

  “It's a rather simple idea, isn't it?” Saffrael asked, her voice as smooth as silk, but her eyes sharp.

  Karthiim smirked, his lips curling into something like a sneer. “Most of the best ideas are. The greatest difficulty has been security. Logistically, it is quite powerful, but it opens us up to quite the vulnerability.”

  “Is this a true revenescent, or something artificial?”

  “Neither would impact the security of the design.” He made a dismissive gesture, clearly unimpressed by their questions.

  Moraithe narrowed his eyes. There was something … off about him.

  As they turned to leave, they were met by Barthum, the kind, mousy researcher who always seemed to have a perpetual smile plastered to his face. He looked up from a cluttered table filled with entropy crystals—smooth, faceted stones with a faint shimmer.

  “Moraithe, Saffrael! I was hoping you'd drop by.” Barthum's voice was always soothing, the kind of voice you trusted without question. “Come tell me what you think of these entropy crystals. They are meant to store entropy as other crystals store anger and fear. Of course, I've still got a long way to go, even though they're already pushing for production.”

  “That sounds promising,” Saffrael said, her smile genuine. “I've heard many good things about your work, Barthum.”

  Barthum's eyes sparkled with excitement. “Come look. Tell me if you have any thoughts.”

  Moraithe examined the crystal. There seemed to be strange patterns within them as if mimicking something familiar. “Why does it seem so …”

  His thoughts started to drift back to his visit to the First Star, but he shook away the memory before he could get lost in reverie. The pattern was so familiar. “Is it a prison of light?”

  Barthum's eye bulged. “What did you say?”

  “It reminds me of an all-consuming light from my past.”

  “Brilliant!” Barthum threw his arms around him in a sudden embrace. “You are a genius.” He turned to his papers and began scribbling. “This could increase the yield by fifty, no …” He scribbled down a quick calculation. “A hundred and eighty-five times!”

  Barthum beamed. “You have just changed the entire war.” And within moments he had been completely consumed by his work. Saffrael turned to him and angled her head in a suggestion that they leave. Moraithe gave her a mystic grin, nodded, and they left Barthum to his project.

  Down a long corridor, Marsh was working on battle golems, his workshop a mess of massive jars containing half-formed bodies and sleek, fanged, bristling figures lying on tables, with vacant eyes. Battle golems were an idea that had been floated for years.

  Golems were made in the exact same way as Moraithe and Saffrael had made their own bodies, twice, only lacking a soul. And without a soul, they lacked power on the battlefield. Without a soul, they could not feel anger, exude fear, cast an entanglement, nor hold a revenescent. They had no self-assurance, nor could they contain gratitude. Hence, they lacked sufficient power for battle.

  Marsh, however, was convinced that his work was close to completion. Golem soldiers that could move, fight, and protect — but still, they were nowhere near the strength of real soldiers. Even the greatest golems couldn't stand up to the powers wielded by the Severed.

  As they approached his workspace, Marsh bent over a scroll, his brow furrowed, lips muttering under his breath. He was obviously inscribing a long list of conditions and instructions. Such scrolls were typically read aloud while the reader entangled his thoughts with its brain.

  “Looks different from a standard golem,” Saffrael observed, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

  Marsh jumped, clearly startled by her presence. His hands instinctively moved to cover the scroll, as though trying to hide something. His eyes darted between Moraithe and Saffrael, a flicker of guilt in his expression.

  “I… I'm working on it,” Marsh muttered quickly. “These forms, they're almost there. I just need to … tweak a few things.”

  Saffrael raised an eyebrow, sensing something off. “They're not strong enough to withstand a powerful enemy, though, are they?”

  Marsh's face flushed. “Not typically. But there are uses no one has considered. The small-minded think of a battlefield only as great powers attacking one another. In your mind, it is all self-assurance and entanglements, but the only reason no one has considered quantity as its own sort of power is the vast cost of time and effort to create a body. No one even considered making them self-replicating, like what they did when creating plants. That was brilliant, but why did they stop there? We could have a vast army creating itself. An entire—”

  Moraithe leaned forward, examining the golems. “Do the instructions replicate with them?”

  “I’ve created something I call instincts. It will pass along knowledge, desires, and instructions.” He suddenly appeared afraid, as if he’d said too much.

  “Can you show us?” Moraithe stepped forward with interest.

  The golem creator tensed, his fingers twitching as he carefully ran them over the limp form. “There's nothing to show. Not yet. I don't want your help. Now out!”

  Moraithe exchanged a glance with Saffrael, and they left.

  They moved on, searching for Creth's workspace. They found him standing in front of another golem, this one holding a giant axe. Creth crouched below it, clutching his head. His project was an air shield, a type of entanglement he'd been perfecting for months. Creth was known for his quiet demeanor, and though his work was always meticulous, it had been a while since he'd made any notable breakthroughs.

  As they approached him, Creth straightened up, giving them a friendly, if strained, smile. His eyes flickered nervously toward the stack of old letters sitting in a neat pile on the corner of his desk. He rushed to his chair and quickly swept them out of sight, but not before Moraithe noticed the words “urgent” and “confidential” written upon them.

  “What's this?” Moraithe asked, his tone casual but probing.

  “Just some old correspondence,” Creth replied quickly, his voice too light. “Nothing to worry about. They're just … from some past experiments, I keep everything organized, you know?” Lumps bulged out of his face, chaotically dancing in and out. His nose began to melt.

  Saffrael's eyes widened. “Looks like you've got a bit of chaos sickness. Too many entanglements?”

  Creth's smile wavered, and he adjusted his glasses nervously. “That is the nature of research, of course. I hear Barthum has something that could help.”

  Moraithe nodded. “Yes, his entropy crystals have garnered quite a bit of interest.”

  “But he's a bit stingy with his research.”

  Moraithe caught the faintest flicker of a lie in his eyes. “Stingy. I've never seen him as anything but friendly.”

  “I—” Creth faltered, glancing down at his cluttered desk. “Let's just say… I don't like to be in anyone's debt.”

  Saffrael stepped closer, her voice lowering in a way that only added to the tension. “Are you in debt?”

  “Why would you think that?” he replied, a little too defensively. “Let me show you the air shield.” He leaped up and strode to the golem, an obvious distraction. “I've been improving the conditional bindings to deal with other types of—”

  Saffrael held up a hand. “I don't want to push you any further. You already have chaos sickness. Perhaps you can show us another time.”

  They left to consider their next move. Creth wasn't the only researcher hiding something. There were too many secrets in this place, too many anomalies.

  “We're getting closer,” Moraithe muttered as they walked away. “But we need more information.”

  Saffrael nodded, her expression grim. “Keep watching. One of them is the mole. And when we find out who, we may have one last trick for the Severed.”

  With that, they retreated into the shadows of the laboratory once more, suspicions swirling in their thoughts, and the truth still just out of reach.

  * * *

  

[Hopron, secret laboratory]

  

[Other body – Deep Space, aboard a Severed vessel]

  Moraithe frowned at the enormity of the task looming before him. “This would be easy if I could just place a runic key in your revenescent.”

  Saffrael gave him an uncertain expression. “You want to just be able to access my revenescent any time you want, to do anything you want with it? Uh, you know I love you Moraithe, but that's asking a little too much.”

  “Okay, I guess I'm doing this the hard way then.” Moraithe sighed in resignation.

  Years ago, they'd sought out a temple to discover the secrets of sealing an entanglement so it would last beyond the moment of compressing their will upon it. They had never found that temple, but thankfully, Elithir had taught him the trick, along with variations upon it. Only with that knowledge could he prepare the arrows for his trick against the Severed.

  He closed his eyes, his breath slowing as he prepared to reach across the divide of his existence. He felt the weight of both bodies, as if they were tethered to his mind by invisible threads, each one a separate world, each pulling him in different directions.

  With one body, he focused on the gentle hum of Saffrael's revenescent, the vast, unfathomable space stretching before him. He could sense it now, the edges of it—an ethereal, shimmering space that was hers alone. She held it open just enough to let him work, as the delicate tendrils of her winterblossom scent spiraled into his consciousness.

  His other body, floating in his sleeping chamber, touched the tips of the arrows—the deceptively soft barbed metal, which would easily crush into a blunted tip. With their wooden shafts warded against the wetness, they seemed to pulse with the weight of their purpose. Moraithe's breath hitched as he reached for them, his mind splitting, pulling between his two lives—drawing between them an entanglement.

  Power surged in his fingertips. The first arrow became the sole focus of his will. Slowly, carefully, he reached out to it. The tip of the arrow blazed with his intent as he connected it with the depths of Saffrael's revenescent, a portal linking the arrow to her pocket universe. The first spark of connection flared in his mind, and a wave of entropy surged inward, unbidden.

  He couldn't stop now. The next arrow—he touched it swiftly, his hands moving of their own accord, his thoughts dancing between the two bodies. Another. Then another. He felt Saffrael's presence stronger now, an anchor that he clung to as his mind stretched like a band pulled too tight. Another entanglement. Another wave of entropy and the strain on his mind deepened.

  Nearing the final arrow, the entropy twisted painfully—too much, too much—and Moraithe's mind screamed in protest. He completed the final entanglement, sealing it with the heavy threads of his will. They would carry the innocents into Saffrael's revenescent, out of sight, safe from the Severed's demands. A ripple of chaos flooded through him.

  His vision blurred for a moment, and for a split second, he was unsure which body he had landed in. His skull felt as though it was cracking under the pressure.

  He fell into a form of meditation, an automatic response against the burden of entropy spilling over the walls of his mind. If any splashed out into his body he would experience chaos sickness. Then who knew what distortions or chaos the entropy would force upon his body.

  This step was done—but at such a cost.

  Gasping for breath, his eyes snapped open, and everything around him seemed to shimmer and warp. He staggered, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him, but he caught himself against the stone wall. Entropy. It had left its mark on his mind—chaos, a seething, jagged thing that clawed at the edges of his thoughts, making the world spin in dizzying circles.

  Saffrael's voice was gentle in his ear. “Moraithe,” she murmured, her tone filled with concern. She was close now, her presence grounding, but even her voice seemed muffled, distorted by the weight of the chaos.

  He shook his head, swallowing hard. “I … I'm fine.” His voice was hoarse, strained, but it was enough to reassure her. At least, he hoped it was.

  Saffrael's fingers brushed against his arm, and he could feel the warmth of her touch cutting through the fog of his mind. “Are you sure? That's a lot of entropy for one person to bear. Maybe we should use one of those entropy crystals to clear it out.”

  He winced, feeling a stab of discomfort deep within his skull. The thought of using a crystal—the crystals that stored entropy—was tempting, but taking one could jeopardize their mission. And Elithir was skeptical of them. He didn't entirely trust the consequences of their use. Power always came with a price. What was the price of this?

  “No,” he said quietly, gritting his teeth. “Not yet. I can handle it. I just need … a moment.”

  Saffrael's gaze softened, her lips pressing together in a thin line of concern. She wanted to argue, but she could see in his eyes the resolve that she knew well. Moraithe would push through the pain, just as he always did.

  “Alright,” she said finally, her voice softening. “But I want you to take it easy. Lean on me until you can stand alone.”

  Moraithe let out a shaky breath. “Thank you. At least the hardest part is done.” He lay his head upon her shoulder and mediated. They just had to endure, together.

  Saffrael rubbed his temples. “We're going after the mole next, right?”

  Moraithe nodded. “At least my part of that plan is the easy one.”

  * * *

  

[Hopron, secret laboratory]

  When the day ended the laboratory always grew to a roar of voices before it fell quiet again. It was silent now, save for the low hum of some curious entanglement down one of the corridors.

  Moraithe and Saffrael stood at the center of the hush, staring at the case of crystals.

  They had needed to pull some strings, but they had maneuvered themselves into the position where they were the ones who would lock up the rev crystals every night after all the goods had been stored inside. Lock them up every night, and retrieve them every morning. This was the key to their plan for catching those in their ranks who might have divided loyalties.

  Saffrael stood near the vault, her stardust-freckled presence barely more than a shadow among the towering shelves. She looked out over the vast arrays of tubes, trays, beakers, and glass chambers used for growing the various crystals they made here. The residue of their energy hummed softly, a constant reminder of the vast potential of what was made in this place.

  Moraithe's fingers brushed over a rev crystal—its surface alive with pulsing light. He held it carefully, feeling the weight of it in his palm, considering their plan. These wondrous artifacts were all gateways to the same place, a massive warehouse, containing all the supplies needed for the war.

  “So these are what they're going to distribute to all the quartermasters on our side of the war, huh?” Saffrael asked, her tone a little strained as if she was still digesting the implications of their plan.

  Moraithe’s face spread in a mystic grin, still turning the crystal in his hands. “Not just the quartermasters, those manufacturing our supplies will also have one. A shared vault for all our weapons stores, food supplies, and armor. Even Barthum's entropy crystals will be stored here. It's quite the logistical miracle.”

  “Almost overnight it has become our greatest weapon, and also our most vulnerable point. If it fell into the wrong hands …” Saffrael let the words hang in the air, her lips pressing into a tight line. “It would be a disaster on the scale of nothing we've ever seen.”

  “Exactly. That's why this is the perfect bait.” Moraithe turned his gaze from the crystal to Saffrael. “If there's a mole in the research laboratory—someone trying to sell these crystals to the Severed—they'll have to make their move once they think we've hidden the crystals away securely.”

  “It didn't seem like you had as much trouble making these trap crystals as you did making those arrows, even though it was basically the same thing.”

  “I had to stretch myself across both lives and maintain consciousness in both places to make the arrows. These were easy. I just had to be in the prison cell we put in your revenescent to do them. It was actually more difficult to make them seem like rev crystals, I had to entangle them with the aura of the rev crystals themselves. I've never tried entangling an aura before. It could be a nice trick on the battlefield though. Make it seem like we have barons running around everywhere in the ranks.”

  “Why stop there, how about princes, infinites?”

  “It's got to be believable. Anyway, once we swap out these crystals for the trap crystals, we should be set.”

  Saffrael reached out for the case of rev crystals and stored them in her revenescent. The scent of winterblossoms wafted around her as she took out an identical looking case.

  Moraithe examined the case. It looked identical. “How do you know those are the trap crystals? What if you got confused?”

  “Want to test one?”

  “I really don't want to be stuck in an unbreakable prison cell, thanks.”

  “You said my revenescent was warm and cozy. At least that's a plus right?”

  Moraithe laughed. “We've got work to do. And I have to secure the crystals.”

  Saffrael raised an eyebrow. “Okay, there's one thing I'm not clear on. How do we make it look secure but leave an opening tempting enough for our mole to take advantage of?”

  “You know that our researchers have their own tools of the trade?”

  “Of course.”

  “Have you heard of the entanglement breaker?”

  Saffrael shook her head.

  “It's a device specifically designed to sever entanglements. I even managed to get one.” He pulled it from his pocket and held it out to her. It was a sleek, silver instrument with intricate runes carved along its surface, its edges sharp and delicate. “They are invaluable for breaking sealed entanglements, the very sort the researchers are constantly using. They are also particularly useful for dealing with secure vaults or entangled locks.”

  “It seems like we should have countermeasures for something like this.”

  Moraithe set the case of trap crystals into the vault, which glowed faintly with some ethereal light. “We do. They aren't often used because entanglement breakers are so rare. But I mean to deliberately ignore those countermeasures, feigning bravado, that no one could possibly break my entanglements, they are simply too strong.”

  Saffrael tilted her head, impressed. “I suppose you've tested it.”

  “It slices right through all the locks and protections.” He said as he set those very locks and protections over the vault.

  Saffrael examined his work. “That should do it then. They take the bait, break the entanglement. And when they touch the crystal…”

  “They'll find themselves locked in your revenescent,” Moraithe finished, his lips curling into a mystic grin. “Perfect.”

  They both paused, the weight of their plan sinking in.

  “After they take the bait,” Saffrael said, her voice softening, “We'll send a message to Elithir.”

  Moraithe nodded, imagining all their work coming to fruition. “Once the trap springs, they'll have no way out.”

  Saffrael threw her arms around him in celebration. “Now we wait.”