"It looks like you're in trouble there. Can I help?"
Ashar turned slowly, his withered glare settling upon the old woman who had spoken to him, while Maereth observed from several steps away. There were pursuers behind them now. Though still distant, their Axiom energies could already be felt by anyone sensitive enough to perceive them. They needed to reach the temple that held the secret of becoming a Second Tier being. Only then would Ashar be capable of fully wielding Serpent's Wisdom and returning them to the Base Dimension, just as he had first brought them out of it.
"We do not need help," Ashar said coldly. "You would be wise to leave us."
"My, what a harsh tone," the old woman replied. "It does not suit a man so young."
"I will tell you again. Leave us."
Maereth stepped closer.
"Ashar, no," she said quietly.
In the bitter cold of the desert, survival demanded cooperation. Yet the silence between them revealed the truth more clearly than words ever could. There was hatred there now, heavy and unspoken. Maereth hated the monster Ashar had become, while Ashar hated the one who restrained him from unleashing himself completely. For now, necessity forced them into civility.
"I was merely going to offer you shelter," the old woman said pleasantly. "A place to stay for a night or two. Perhaps I could also show you some of the things I sell."
"We have no gold."
"Oh, do not trouble yourself over that." She smiled. "We will find an arrangement."
They travelled onward through a sultry haze where yellow flickers and drifting shadows lingered endlessly overhead. Most of the journey passed in silence. Maereth knew they could not risk travelling through the skies, where they would immediately be seen. The ground was their only protection for now.
But her true concern was Ashar.
Could she stop him from killing again?
She still had not fully processed the horrors she had witnessed in the desert. Once they returned to the Base Dimension, she would either flee from him or try to kill him herself. Something had to be done. This creature could not continue to exist. He had become an enemy to life itself.
"Where are you travelling from?" the old woman asked.
"You do not need to know," Ashar answered.
"What a rude young man." She turned toward Maereth. "I do not know how you tolerate him."
Maereth forced a faint smile.
"It is fortunate that I am the kindest of the sisters," the woman continued. "The other two would not be so forgiving."
"How far is your dwelling?" Ashar asked.
"Not far now."
Ashar made a decision.
This woman was too dangerous to trust. At any moment she could betray them, sell them out, or lead them into some trap of her own. He and Maereth could continue without her. More importantly, he knew the mission he had been given. This old woman had likely endured nothing but suffering throughout her life in the Dream Dimension. Her existence itself was a tragedy. And now, while she walked ahead—
He would summon the blade and—
"Is something wrong?" the old woman asked suddenly.
Ashar stopped.
The steadiness vanished from his expression.
"No," he answered.
What was that? he thought.
She had known.
For a brief instant, he was certain she had sensed his intent to attack her.
Now he understood there was something deeply dangerous about this woman. More than that, there was something behind her. Whenever he used the Eye, he sensed a faint presence moving beside her. Something about her unsettled him.
Yet they still needed shelter.
So they continued onward.
Above them burned many suns beneath a dying red sky, one that seemed to sing a mournful hymn across the wasteland. Since entering this place, Ashar had seen nothing but realities of decay and death. And yet somehow, these realities still produced life.
He could not understand it.
"Here we are," the old woman announced.
Before them stood a lone dark hut rising from the sand.
"We have arrived."
"You and your sisters live in such a small place?" Maereth asked.
"It is a simple life," the old woman replied. "But it is still life. And life is all."
There was something in her tone that suggested the words were directed at Ashar specifically, but he gave no response.
They entered the hut and found an interior of rotting wood and cluttered shelves. Two more old women knelt upon a carpet, praying before a wooden carving of a bird.
"These are Ashar and Maereth," the first woman said.
"Welcome," said one of the sisters. "I am Sister Vaelith."
"And I am Sister Lythea."
"And I," said the first woman, "am Sister Seraphelle."
"What are you praying to?" Ashar asked.
"To the one who guides us," Seraphelle replied. "We are the Sisters of the Phoenix."
"The Phoenix?"
"Yes. The force that drives all life. Every breath. Every heartbeat. Across every dimension and every reality."
Ashar lowered his head for a moment.
Then he laughed quietly.
"Why do you laugh?" asked Lythea.
"No reason."
"Please," Seraphelle said warmly, "sit with us. We have much to discuss."
They seated themselves in a circle upon the carpet while tea was poured for each of them, though Ashar refused his cup. He studied the three sisters carefully, yet saw nothing beyond the appearance of still statues. He could discern nothing about them.
"So what is it exactly that you sell here?" he asked.
"We are healers," Vaelith replied.
"Medicine?"
"We are practitioners of the arts of life," Lythea said softly. "We preserve life. We heal it. We allow it to continue."
"It is a beautiful thing to live," said Lythea.
"Especially when one considers the alternative," Seraphelle added.
Ashar smirked faintly.
"And who decided that?" he asked.
"You do not believe life is worth living?"
"There exists a greater reality beyond this one, to which all beings return after death. Perhaps a person can endure the suffering of life. Perhaps they can even transcend it. But to drag another soul into this world and deny them that higher reality…" He shook his head. "There is nothing noble about it."
Seraphelle studied him carefully.
For the first time since entering, emotion had truly entered Ashar's face.
Then she smiled knowingly.
"There were others like you in ancient times," she said. "Though history remembers them only through scattered myths and condemned fables, they certainly existed. Entire empires attempted to erase them and their teachings from memory, yet throughout every age they endured unseen."
Her eyes settled fully upon him.
"And now here you are. Proof that they truly lived."
"What are you implying?"
"You are a missionary of death," Seraphelle said calmly. "A worshipper of the ending of all things."
Maereth immediately sensed the shift in the room.
The Sisters became still as stone itself, while beside her Ashar's presence warped into something rotting and chaotic, like a sketch of ruin taking shape.
Seraphelle smiled faintly.
"You did not require your precious Bethryl to foresee this meeting, Ashar of the Noctis Mountains," she said.
"Pendulum Blade!"
At the speed of passing light, Ashar launched himself toward the three women.