They stood on the edge of the collapsed lecture hall, the walls half-eaten by shadow rot, the floor still warm with echoing magic.
Spandrex sat on the edge of a broken desk, one boot on the ground, the other tapping lightly in thought. His right eye—the black one—seemed quieter today. Still dark, still watching, but less... invasive. He hadn't heard the voice in hours.
Kael watched him, arms crossed.
"You should meet the Separators," she said.
He blinked. "You make them sound like a band."
"I'm serious."
"So am I." He looked up at her. "You really trust people who call themselves Separators?"
Kael took a step closer. "They don't just separate. They extract—shadows, curses, fragments of broken spirits. Whatever it is inside you, they might be able to pull it out."
"And put it where? In a jar? A spellbook? Me?"
"No. Into a binding vessel," she said. "A soul bottle. Temporary containment, until we know what it really is."
He gave a dry laugh. "You've thought this through."
"I've watched you get worse, Spandrex." Her voice cracked slightly. "You hide it, but I see the way you grip your own arms when no one's watching. The way you blink hard, like trying to stay awake in your own skin."
He looked away.
She continued, softer. "And you said it yourself—it's getting stronger."
Silence.
Then finally: "If I let them in… what if they don't stop at just it?"
Kael met his gaze. "Then I'll make sure they do."
They traveled in silence.
The chamber of the Separators was deep below Umbran, far beyond the main halls. Kael led him past locked doors, over shimmering runes that hummed when he stepped on them.
By the time they reached the circular chamber, the air had grown thin, like the room had never known laughter or air or time.
Three Separators stood waiting. They were masked—each wearing a smooth, mirrored face, reflecting everything except themselves.
Spandrex paused. "They look like they stepped out of a nightmare."
Kael whispered, "They stepped into a thousand of them—and survived. That's why they wear the masks."
The central Separator stepped forward and raised an arm, gesturing toward the stone platform at the room's center. Spandrex hesitated, then nodded and stepped onto it.
The platform began to glow beneath his feet.
Kael watched from the edge, heart pounding.
A low chant began—low and guttural, yet strangely melodic. The Separators moved in a circle around him. From their hands, thin strands of blue light wove together, wrapping gently around Spandrex's torso, arms, neck.
He stiffened.
The strands pulsed, searching.
Then found.
Suddenly, his body lurched. His head snapped back, jaw clenched tight as something inside him pulled against the invisible threads. One eye went wide—the black one. It swirled, no longer just dark but storming with movement, like a portal to somewhere alive.
A howl erupted—not from his mouth, but through him.
The room trembled.
One of the Separators shouted something in an ancient tongue. A second produced a bottle from within her robes—a twisted, glassy thing lined with runes, sealed with obsidian wax.
The strands of light began dragging the shadow from Spandrex's body, pulling it inch by inch from his spine. It came screaming—a silhouette within smoke. Almost human. Almost him.
Kael stepped forward. "Is it working?"
Before anyone could answer, the bottle glowed—too brightly.
A vein of black cracked down its center.
"No—" one Separator cried.
The bottle shattered.
The room exploded.
Not fire—but force.
A concussion of magic, soundless and deep. Lights blinked out. The walls cracked. Kael felt herself lifted, thrown backward into darkness.
And then—
Nothing.
Everyone unconscious
Just silence.