The abyssal contract and the eerie quill dissolved into fine dust and future memories of regret, drifting away on the wind that carried away all hope of turning back. Even the little witch, so full of gall and bravado, found her words stuck in her throat, and a cold lump of fright writhing in her stomach when her viridian eyes, dormant thus far, opened up to the world beyond the world – a place of eldritch and divine things, where mortals and gods transgress the elemental rules that were imposed upon them. Outwards reaching, grasping hands of sanguine darkness covered the world around her, forbidding sight of everything that was normal and calming, and forcing upon her a sight that was wholly unsettling. They all originated from that one nexus of monstrous evil, the great demon above the lake before her, whose very form seemed to writhe with formless ecstasy and whose hellish, burning eyes stared straight through the human’s flesh to behold her exposed soul – feeling a great want.

No sound escaped the tense, uneasy woman’s mouth as she shuffled closer to her companion, seeking protection, or at least unity. What only was the demon doing? Did he think to betray them? Could he, even? Was this some vulgar show of power, or did they simply become aware of his true form? And if he did turn on his word and chose to destroy them, was there even anything Jillian could do about it? Certainly, no mortal spell could harm this fiend, not even the dreaded invocation of Gaath – death, as it were, of which Vincent had warned her many times not to even consider under normal circumstances. Regardless of the futility, she found herself retracing the forbidden symbol in her mind, wanting to go out in a blaze of glory if this nameless outskirt was to become her grave.

Yet, no betrayal came to pass, only hideous pleasure. The Grand Master, once recovered from his flash of excitement, clarified the situation once more: his power being unsealed, freedom granted, he was still bound by the limits and rules of the contract which the two magicians had signed. In his own words:

"I belong to you, now, and you belong to me. For as long as the contract exists, until it is fulfilled, we are connected."

This filth around her and she, connected? The very thought was upsetting, and Jillian wondered if it had been the right decision to trust Gerald and become part of this unholy communion. He was a desperate man with little to lose, prone to making decisions of dire consequence such as these, but what of her? Was whatever dark knowledge the demon held worth the price of becoming his eternal jezebel in death? Did she still believe that they could fulfill their unlikely quest in but half a month? It would all depend on what the demon chose to reveal next.

Fully calm now, the Grand Master held his end of the bargain, and gave away his knowledge on the origin and nature of the Withering. Dreams? It made sense, after all. The disease, as it was called, drained the very souls of whomever was infected with it, and the one link that mortals had with the Spirit Realm existed through those souls. As a magician, she should know, for it is in those precious dreams that she and her kin regained their magical energy after having burnt much of it on tiresome sorcery. It would only make sense that, just as much as energy could be gained from that lofty plane, it too could be taken away by vile creatures. But how would they be able to traverse the realm consciously, and defeat whichever demon was at cause’s avatar therein? How would one even fight in a realm of dreams and illusions?

“As to 'who'...” the Grand Master continued, finally unveiling the true source of the Withering: a certain Kevin the Insignificant – or, as the world now knew him as, Kreshtaat, the Lord of Darkness and bane of all life.

“Should have expected nothing less,” Jillian, addressing nobody, absentmindedly murmured with a mild chuckle, tinged in madness, “How are we going to accomplish that? One does not simply walk into the Spirit Realm. Even if we could, we cannot simply ask Kreshtaat to kindly leave, can we?”

“We signed a fiendish pact, and we’re left with as many questions as we got answers,” she mused, now looking towards Gerald. Her vacant expression was a mask that hid a breaking will, too battered by a day of unbearable hardships for a mortal mind to endure.