[First Era – Year 6 of the Divinity War; 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.

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  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 meditated. 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.”