“Cyril, is that you?” Lena approached a mage in leather bandings sitting on the edge of a cliff in Bakbattahl throwing pebbles into the water below. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Wolf,” he answered without turning around. “I am sitting on the edge of a cliff throwing pebbles into the water. The same as you, really.”

“I see you haven’t changed.” Lena sat down next to him.

“Why would I?” He looked at her and smiled. “We pawns don’t age, so what’s another hundred years? Has it been really that long? You haven’t aged either, I notice.”

“Arisen don’t age apparently,” Lena shrugged. “At least Arisen like me.”

“Yeah, the ones that can’t let go of their hearts,” Cyril nodded. “You lost yours again and now you’re going after the dragon. You’ll get it back for a short while, or may be even you won’t, but if you do, it’ll be taken away from you soon enough, and you will anew throw yourself into chasing the dragon, all in the hope to regain your heart, only to lose it shortly afterwards, etcetera, etcetera. Plenty of pebbles to throw into the water, there is a neverending supply.”

“It is as you say,” Lena nodded. “And yet I cannot give it up.”

“Many Arisen do, though,” Cyril looked at her sideways. “My master finds it quite convenient to live without a heart, doesn’t miss it in the slightest. He has no need for it at all.”

“Has he abandoned you?” Lena’s voice fell.

“Not really, no,” Cyril shook his head. “I am still officially attached to him, but he doesn’t want me to crowd his bedroom, and so I’m staying out. He can call on me any time and I’ll come at once, not that it will ever happen. But he didn’t throw me off a cliff, if that’s what you’re asking. I am not forfeit.”

“And of course he cannot possibly throw you off a cliff now, since you’re not in his bedroom,” Lena smirked. “Well played, Cyril.”

“It is as you say,” Cyril inclined his head. “I am free to roam the land all I like.”

“We need a mage, come with us,” Lena smiled at him. Cyril was a good mage.

“Come with you to do what? I prefer to avoid battle, as you well know. And this means avoid dragon-chasing Arisen.”

“We need a mage, Cyr.”

“You’ve got Scorpio.”

“We also need a fighter and a sorcerer, and brilliant though he is, Scorpio cannot be a mage as well.” Lena put on her stubborn face. “And I’m not bothering Rook again, he really earned some time with his wife now.”

“Rook got married, I heard,” Cyril nodded and whistled. “You don’t see a pawn getting married every day… Well, you pretty much never see a pawn getting married… Rook’s always been an odd one out.”

“I wonder how Scarlet is doing,” Lena sighed. “I haven’t seen her in ages.”

“Scarlet’s been forfeit,” Cyril said softly. “And her Arisen died of old age… Yes, it can happen to those that give up chasing the dragon. Their hearts die, and Arisen start ageing and eventually die as well.”

“Does it mean that Scarlet is no longer a pawn? Like Selene back in Gransys? Through the Transference of Souls ritual?”

“No, Scarlet is still a pawn,” Cyril sighed. “She was forfeit long before her Arisen died… There was no soul transference, since she wasn’t wanted.”

“Good grief… That is awful,” Lena shook her head, looking into the distance. “I just hope Scarlet won’t end up in the Everfall or on the Bitterblack Isle like the pawns we met there…”

“That is entirely possible,” Cyril nodded. “She cannot walk the worlds now, she can only walk the Rift… which means the Everfall or the Bitterblack Isle… or just float in the mist until her soul dissolves into the Void…”

They sat in silence, looking into the distance.

“Come with us, Cyril,” Scorpio said softly after a while. “Lest your soul starts dissolving into the Void as well.”

“Hmm… Perhaps I should…” He looked at Scorpio. “I’ve heard what happened to you here… Wounds like that never really heal. Unless… well… I don’t really know what I’m talking about. But there is knowledge here in Battahl, long lost to the ages. You’ve seen carved panels here and there, old archeologists carved reports of their discoveries on them. Discoveries of antique artefacts and knowledge. They speak of Godsway of course.”

“We’ve seen such panels,” Lena nodded. “Never found any Godsway next to any of them though…”

“Perhaps it’s not Godsway itself but the knowledge relating to it that we should seek,” Scorpio looked at her. “Why did those archeologists carve their reports on stone tablets dotting the landscape rather than just write them on a piece of parchment?”

“They also wrote them on pieces of parchment, I found one or the other fragment in Phaesus’ laboratories,” Lena nodded. “There was some political upheaval, and those archeologists were declared traitors to Battahl, they were tortured, and the ones that survived the torture were executed… I found some diaries too… They didn’t seem to understand what they were being accused of or why, and so couldn’t give the right answers to the inquisitors to make the torture stop…”

“Godsway is a forbidden topic, any research into it eventually carries a death sentence, they knew what they were doing,” Cyril turned to look at a guilded door set into the rock some distance away from them. “Why do you think they call it the Forbidden Magic? It is only in Battahl that you can have a public building called ‘The Forbidden Magic Laboratory’ quite well-known in the capital, with a corridor connecting to the Imperial Palace, yet pretend that it doesn’t exist,” he smirked. “Lord Phaesus is an interesting man.”

“Lord Phaesus didn’t build it, he merely took possession of it,” Lena objected. “The laboratory has been there for millennia.”

“Housing doting old mages who could hardly cast a fireball,” Cyril scoffed. “The building’s been there, aye. It’s as old as the Imperial Palace, both were carved into the rock as one complex. Nobody knows by whose design or why… It could be just glorified servants’ quarters for all we know. Or a fighting arena.”

“The laboratory is a dragon trap,” Lena shook her head. “It’s open at the top. You lure a dragon into it, and once it’s inside, its wing span prevents it from flying through that same channel out again. The same way as you catch wasps and other insects in a clay pot with some honey in it.” She laughed, picturing a dragon reduced to a wasp.

“You didn’t kill Lord Phaesus,” Cyril observed.

“No, I still have need of him,” Lena nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

The conversation died down again. Someone walked past, the city was buzzing with activity day and night, like a beehive, or perhaps a wasp nest… Three people were sitting on the edge of a cliff occasionally throwing pebbles into the water below. The night fell and the stars above were gazing at them from the depths of the Void.