John sat at the small breakfast table, working his way through a plate of sliced fruit. The dining room they'd cleared was quiet this early in the morning, just him and the sunlight filtering through the windows in dusty beams.

  The door opened and Miriam walked in.

  She moved with the same severe efficiency as last night, her dark robes perfectly arranged, her hair pulled back without a single strand out of place. She looked like she'd been awake for hours already.

  "Mr. Hale," she said, taking the seat across from him.

  "Morning," John said around a mouthful of apple.

  A servant appeared immediately with tea for Miriam. She accepted it with a slight nod, then turned her full attention to John with that same unnerving intensity from the night before.

  "I have questions," she said.

  "I thought you would."

  "What happened last night shouldn't be possible." She studied him carefully, as if trying to see through him. "Mindbreakers don't fail. Their parasites override mental defenses, they force their way past resistance. Past skills. Yet you resisted to the point that she died."

  John kept chewing slowly.

  "I need to know if this is something that can be taught."

  John paused, another piece of fruit halfway to his mouth. "Taught?"

  "If there's a method to resist Mindbreakers, the Kingdom needs to know. They cause tremendous damage. If you've discovered a defense that can be taught, that would be priceless."

  John set down his fork, thinking. How could he explain it? How could he explain his world? "I don’t know why I’m like this. Maybe it was continuous exposure to... contradictory information?"

  "What kind of information?"

  "Memes and stuff."

  Miriam's expression didn't change. "What is a meme?"

  John opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. "Okay, so... imagine a cat. Flying through the sky. But its body is made of bread with pink sugar on top, and it's farting a rainbow, and there's this song playing..." He started singing the Nyan Cat theme, his voice uncertain. "Nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan—"

  He only made it through about 10 seconds before he stopped. Miriam's expression hadn't changed at all, but something about her absolute stillness made him trail off.

  "Uhh..." John cleared his throat. "That’s a meme."

  It suddenly felt very warm in here. John quickly worked through the rest of his fruit and stood, trying not to think about the fact that he'd just sung Nyan Cat to an old woman. "I'm going to get some air. Head to the pool."

  He started toward the door.

  "I will join you," Miriam said, standing as well. "I would like to know more about memes."

  John stopped and turned. "Really?"

  "Yes."

  Her tone left no room for argument.

  "Uh, sure."

  They walked through the main hall together in silence. John tried to think of something to say about memes that wouldn't sound completely insane, and came up empty.

  They passed the old dining room and she stopped dead.

  John took two more steps before realizing she wasn't beside him anymore. He turned back to find her staring through the doorway, her expression frozen somewhere between fascination and horror.

  The crystalline lattice still hung suspended above the table, rotating slowly in the morning light. The threads of pale light connecting the various points pulsed in their steady rhythm. The circle of smaller crystals at its base hummed quietly, each one marked with symbols that seemed to shift when you weren't looking directly at them.

  Miriam's face had gone completely pale.

  Oh crap.

  "What," she said slowly, her voice barely above a whisper, "is that doing in this house?"

  John glanced at the construct, then back at her. "That's Scholar Mistwood's project."

  Miriam's jaw tightened. "Sybelra Mistwood?"

  "Yeah."

  Miriam took a step toward the doorway, then stopped herself. Her hands clenched at her sides, fingers curling into fists. "That," Miriam said, her voice taking on a dangerous edge, "is a soul cage." She turned to look at John, her eyes sharp and hard. "And there's someone inside."

  John's stomach sank.

  Justices and their abilities were a huge pain in the ass. In the game, they were a hard counter to psychotic playthroughs. If you wanted to see how the game would react to killing a whole town, Justices were the ones who made it almost impossible.

  Miriam was already moving into the room, her hands coming up, fingers positioning themselves in what looked like the beginning of a spell.

  "Wait," John said.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  She didn't stop. Her fingers continued their precise movements, threads of golden light beginning to form between them.

  "Wait!" John stepped forward, reaching out but not quite touching her. "Don't."

  Miriam paused, her hands still raised and glowing. She turned her head slightly, not looking at him directly. "This is necromancy. In a noble house."

  "I know," John said.

  She turned fully then, her eyes narrowing. "You know?"

  "I know it's necromancy," he said. "The others just say it makes them uncomfortable. They don't know what it is."

  "And you allowed it?"

  "Allowed is a strong word. I’m just some guy."

  Miriam's expression hardened. "You understand the seriousness of this. It’s—"

  "Her daughter," John interrupted. "Sybelra's dying daughter is inside."

  Miriam went very still. The golden light between her fingers flickered and faded. She lowered her hands slowly.

  "Explain," she said, her voice flat.

  "Her daughter was poisoned," John said. “She’s tried pretty much every cure imaginable, and its lead to this.”

  "Who would dare poison a Mistwood's daughter?" Miriam asked, her tone measured but sharp. "To be willing and able to create a poison the Mistwoods couldn't cure, and to make an enemy of them? That's a very short list of people. Did she say who did it?"

  “Someone that she thinks is my mentor”.

  Her eyes widened and she stared at him.

  Miriam sneezed suddenly, her whole body jerking with the force of it.

  "Bless you," John said.

  Miriam frowned, looking at him with sudden intensity. She opened her mouth, closed it, then studied his face carefully.

  John blinked. "What?"

  She didn't answer immediately. Her eyes narrowed further, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. Finally she asked, "What did you just say?"

  "She thinks it was my mentor," John repeated.

  Another sneeze, even more violent than the first.

  "Bless you," John said again, confused now.

  Miriam's frown deepened. She was staring at him like he'd just done something impossible. "Continue," she said carefully.

  "I told Sybelra about another way to heal her daughter. She took off to get the ingredients."

  "What other way?"

  "A Pre-Veil chamber."

  Miriam's jaw tightened. Her eyes fixed on his face with unnerving intensity, studying every micro-expression.

  She looked back at the soul cage, then at John again. Her jaw worked like she was chewing on something unpleasant.

  "If you've truly pushed Sybelra off this path," she said slowly, "then you've averted a significant tragedy." She straightened, her robes settling around her. "I have urgent business to attend to. We'll continue this conversation later."

  John stared at her. "That's it?"

  But Miriam was already walking away, her footsteps sharp and quick against the polished floor. She didn't look back.

  John stood there for a moment, staring after her in confusion.

  That was weird. She didn’t even ask about last night.

  He shrugged, then headed toward the back of the manor, following the sound of water and voices. The morning was warming up quickly, sunlight streaming through the tall windows and making the whole place feel less like a crime scene from last night.

  He found them by the pool.

  Erin lay stretched out on a cushioned chair, wearing what had to be the fantasy equivalent of a swimsuit, some kind of light fabric that was probably more expensive than everything John owned. She had a book propped on her stomach and looked completely relaxed. Marcus sat a few chairs away, very carefully reading his own book and very obviously pretending not to look in her direction every few seconds.

  Erin looked incredibly smug about the whole situation.

  Leon stood nearby, surrounded by paperwork spread across a small table near the pool's edge.

  "Marcus!" John called out. "Long time no see!"

  Marcus looked up, grinning. "John! How's the brain?"

  "Still dumb, but parasite free."

  Marcus gave him a sharp salute. "Good to hear."

  John turned to Leon. "So Miriam took off without really questioning me. She seemed in a hurry."

  Leon's eyebrows rose. "That doesn't seem like her. Justice Vex is obsessively thorough."

  "Yeah, well, she saw Sybelra's soul cage and suddenly had urgent business elsewhere."

  The reaction was immediate.

  Marcus's book hit the ground. "Soul cage?!"

  Erin sat bolt upright, her own book tumbling off her stomach. "What?!"

  Leon's face went pale, then red, then pale again in rapid succession. "That thing's a soul cage! A soul cage. In our manor. On Valebrant property."

  His voice rose with each word, his movements becoming more agitated. "Do you have any idea what the consequences are? The political ramifications? If word gets out that we were harboring—"

  He stopped, breathing hard, running both hands through his hair roughly. "My parents are going to have my head. The King's Justice was literally in our house and found necromancy. Active necromancy!"

  Leon was pacing now, his movements sharp and jerky with agitation. "This could destroy our family. Centuries of service to the crown, gone because we let some scholar turn our dining room into a—"

  "I dealt with it," John said.

  Leon stopped mid-pace. Everyone turned to stare at him.

  "You... dealt with it?" Leon asked slowly.

  "Yeah. Explained the situation. She seemed satisfied."

  "Satisfied." Leon's eye twitched slightly. "A King's Justice found a soul cage in our home and she was satisfied."

  "Yeah."

  Marcus picked up his book slowly. "How are you real?"

  "Good question," Erin muttered.

  Leon took a long, slow breath. Then another. He closed his eyes for a moment, clearly counting to ten in his head. When he opened them again, some of the panic had faded, replaced by weary resignation.

  "What exactly did you tell her?" he asked carefully.

  "That Sybelra's daughter is dying. That she was looking for a way to save her. That I gave her a better one."

  "And she just left?"

  "She said I averted a tragedy. Then she left."

  Leon stared at him for a long moment. "My parents didn’t pay you enough."

  “Huh?”

  Leon pulled a rolled document from the paperwork and held it out. "My parents sent your contract for finding the Pre-Veil ruin. You'll be very pleased, I think." He gestured to the table. "Read it over."

  John took it and unrolled the parchment. His eyes skimmed over the formal language, barely taking in the words.

  Leon pulled out a small crystal, about the size of a walnut, that glowed with a soft internal light. "This is connected to a Goldspire Bank account. It's keyed to you now." He handed it over. "Congratulations on being richer than some nobles."

  John picked up a quill from Leon's table and signed the bottom of the contract without reading the rest.

  Leon blinked. "You didn't even—" He stopped himself and sighed deeply. "Of course you didn't." He rubbed his temples. "Anything else before I go drown myself in alcohol?"

  John looked down at the crystal in his hand. Money. Real money. Enough to actually do something. His thoughts raced through possibilities and plans. He looked up at Leon. "There is something..."

  Leon’s shoulders sagged.