After Morrigan finished explaining her terms, she stood and grabbed her staff.
"Alright. I gotta go inform the Guardians of my decision." She turned toward the door, then paused and reached beneath her robe. "Oh, almost forgot."
She pulled out the enchanted notebook and tossed it across the table. Grub caught it with both hands and held it against his chest instinctively. As Grub held his notebook close he could only describe the feeling as having a missing limb returned.
"Temporarily confiscated," Morrigan said with a shrug. "In case the interrogation went sideways. But seeing as you didn't try anything stupid, you can have it back."
The cover was stained with dark purple blood. Pazuzu's blood. His thumb brushed over the mark until he got it off before he tucked the notebook beneath his arm.
Then Morrigan left. The door closed behind her and the room went quiet.
Grub and Luthiel sat in silence for a while. Opening the notebook, Grub flipped through the pages of his notebook, checking to make sure nothing had been removed. He let out a slow breath of relief and slid it back into his coat.
After some time, footsteps approached. The door opened and the same Guardian who had escorted Grub from his cell stepped inside. This time Grub actually paid attention to him.
The Guardian had the body of a man but the head of a dog. Long snout, pointed ears, dark fur that ran down his neck and disappeared beneath his white vestments. His eyes were sharp and amber-colored, and they carried professional detachment and conviction of someone doing a job they didn't particularly enjoy.
Grub didn't know what to make of it. But everyone here was an oddity as far as he was concerned. One more strange face barely registered anymore.
"Follow me," the dog-headed Guardian said flatly. "Both of you. Chief Morrigan will be hosting a quick meeting with the other Guardians. She asked that I take you to the training grounds while she handles it."
Grub and Luthiel stood and followed.
The Guardian led them through the village streets — drawing stares from every villager they passed — and out toward the edge of the settlement where the buildings thinned and the forest began. They walked down a narrow path between the trees until the canopy opened up into a small clearing. A few trees stood scattered throughout, but the space was wide enough for movement. The thick forest pressed in from all sides, visible and close.
The Guardian stopped at the edge of the clearing and turned to face them. He gave a short wave.
"Good luck."
The words sounded less like encouragement and more like a funeral prayer. The look on his face confirmed it. Apparently word of Grub's upcoming match had already spread. The Guardian clearly believed he was looking at a dead man. The dog-headed man turned and walked back through the trees toward the village without another word.
Luthiel turned to Grub. Lu's golden eyes carried a weak smile that didn't reach the rest of her face.
"I warn you, Mister Grub. This is going to suck." She clasped her mitten-like hands together nervously. "A normal training day with Master is already hell on Aethrys. Now we have to endure a whole week's worth crammed into one day?" She shook her head. "I am not excited at all."
Grub shrugged. He understood the worry about the physical toll, but honestly? He was excited. The prospect of finally learning how Anima worked — not from a textbook or a lecture but from practical application — made his brain practically salivate. This was what he had been waiting for since he arrived at the village.
Luthiel sighed as she studied his face.
"You look excited."
"I am."
"Of course you are."
Then she reached into the folds of her dress and Grub wisely chose not to question where she kept finding storage space inside that thing. After a moment she pulled out a familiar white coat.
His coat.
"I thought you'd want this," she said, holding it out with a small smile. "I went into your inn and grabbed it for you."
Grub looked at the coat, then at her. He chose to ignore the fact that she had trespassed in his room again and simply took it. He slid it on over his shirt, rolling his shoulders as the familiar fabric settled across his back.
"Thanks," he said.
They sat down near one of the trees at the edge of the clearing. Grub leaned against the trunk and rolled his arms experimentally, still marveling at how good he felt. Every injury Morrigan had healed was truly gone. The complete lack of pain still felt bizarre.
Luthiel sat beside him, her golden eyes watching the trees.
"Master Morrigan is incredible, isn't she?" Luthiel said softly.
Grub nodded.
"Yeah."
He looked toward the forest. "She seems strong."
"She is." Luthiel pulled her knees up to her chest. "Before founding the village, she was considered a powerhouse. Untouchable by most. Only a handful of people in all of Aethrys could rival her strength." She rested her chin on her knees. "Eventually she decided to settle down and build this place. A home for people who needed one."
She paused.
"We've had many try to invade the village or take what's ours. Like, bandits, armies, monsters, even Johnnys. Yet, all of them failed. Thanks to Master and the Guardians."
Grub looked at her. "You really admire her, huh?"
Luthiel nodded without hesitation. "Yes. We all do. All of me." She smiled. "So does everyone in the village. Those old enough to remember the early days say she saved them when nobody else would."
Grub nodded slowly and stared up through the canopy. He was about to respond when the sound of rustling brush cut through the clearing.
Morrigan burst through the tree line.
"What the hell are you two doing sitting around?!" she barked, her staff already pointed at them. "We have limited time! Get your fucking butts up!"
Grub and Luthiel shot to their feet so fast they nearly collided with each other. They stood straight as boards, shoulders back, eyes forward. Morrigan eyed them with a look that said she was already disappointed and the training hadn't even started.
"Good." She planted her staff in the dirt. "Now. First things first, ya fuckers."
She looked between them.
"Look into your Soul and see your Ego. I need to know where you two currently are."
Grub blinked.
"My what?"
Luthiel, on the other hand, immediately dropped into a cross-legged position on the grass and closed her eyes. Her body went still. As she concentrated, her appearance began shifting — slowly, steadily cycling between her three aspects. Golden eyes flickered to crimson, then hid behind blue-streaked bangs, then returned to gold. Her hair braided and unbraided and fell and rose in a quiet, constant rotation.
Grub watched her for a moment. Then he turned to Morrigan.
"Look at my Ego?" He frowned and scratched his head. "I don't think of myself as particularly self-centered."
Morrigan stared at him. Then she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her beak.
"No, you dumbass. Your Ego is like your soul menu." She opened her eyes and pointed at his chest. "It lets you know everything about your Anima. Your Forte and Maladroit, if you have them. Your rank and tier, and other important shit about where you stand."
Grub's frown deepened. "My menu?"
"Yes. Your menu. The readout of your soul. Everyone has one. Most people learn to read it as children." She gave him a withering look. "Just meditate. It shouldn't be hard to check your Ego once you're used to it, but for the first time it might take some concentration."
Grub stared at her. Then sighed.
Fine.
If everyone else could apparently open magical soul menus, he could try too. So he sat down on the grass, and copied Luthiel's posture. He went cross-legged and put his back straight with his hands on his knees. Then he closed his eyes.
At first there was nothing. Just darkness and the sound of his own breathing. He concentrated harder, trying to look inward the way Morrigan described. Looking for something without knowing what it looked like.
Seconds passed. Then minutes. The darkness stayed empty.
He pushed deeper. Past the surface thoughts. Past the awareness of the clearing, the trees, the breeze on his skin. Deeper into something he didn't have a word for, a space beneath thought where identity sat bare and unfiltered.
Then the darkness changed. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the clearing.
He was standing in an ocean of black ooze. It stretched in every direction — an endless, formless expanse of nothing. No sky above. No ground beneath, just the thick, dark substance that rose to his ankles and clung to his feet like tar. Or some strange living shadow. The surface of the inconspicuous liquid rippled around his feet. The air was still and heavy.
Grub looked around.
"What the hell?"
Then he froze. He saw someone floating in the darkness a short distance away. When he looked closer he saw himself.
Not a reflection of himself. Him. The same body, clothes, and face. Suspended in the black nothing like a figure caught between falling and flying.
Grub trudged through the ooze toward the other him. Each step was slow and heavy, the viscous, dark substance pulled at his feet as if it didn't want him to move. But he pushed through until he was standing face to face with his own image. His jaw slowly dropped.
Grub studied himself intently. Black hair with green highlights, messy and unkempt. Dark eyes that shifted between black and green depending on the angle. Pale skin stretched over a frame that was still lean but slightly bigger than the last time he had looked at himself properly. He had grown. Not much, but enough to notice. His arms were a little thicker while his shoulders were a little wider. The wilderness, the Ridge, the Lacert camp, the village — all of it had been quietly reshaping him.
He also noticed that the shadows under his eyes seemed dimmer than before. As if something that had been pressing down on him had eased slightly.
The other him seemed to understand the question and simply said.
"The Void. It's empty right now. That's why."
Grub stared at his own face for several seconds. Then spoke.
"Who the hell are you?"
The other him smiled. It was his smile — the rare, small, barely-there one that most people never got to see.
"I'm you," it said simply.
Grub frowned.
"No you're not."
The figure shrugged.
"Well, I'm your Ego. The representation of your soul, or how you see your soul."
The smile widened.
And for some reason it looked far more natural on him than it ever did on Grub. The figure tilted his head.
"Have you finally come to chat?"