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A day and a night had passed, just like that.

…

Talia woke up once she could no longer ignore the snoring of her merry band of thieves. Pickings were slim in the Outer Layer when it came to thievery; the best her men had done was steal from the wretched and the poor, when it came down to it. A redistribution of assets was a kind way of thinking about it, but on the other hand, it was a far cry from the sort of thievery she had engaged in before.

A bright new day awaited her, however. She smelled about as rancid as her surroundings, but her pockets were a bit heavier. She still had no real power, but that halfling was a useful piece. Everything remained in flex for the Queen of Thieves, but what of it?

The future, after all, was a coin, forever spinning.

It was her task to grasp and place it on whichever face she desired.

…

The atelier served as a good enough hideout, but only for the time being. Sleep had came fitfully for Meisa, even with Firenze standing guard. Her clash with the patrol from the Blackhand Butchers hadn’t caused any immediate ripples the day prior, but now? There was no way that the leader of that gang hadn’t heard, and if her Paladin’s dispatch of five of those men hadn’t inspired any real confidence amongst the merchants, they weren’t dealing with [i]just[/i] a bunch of hoodlums with hatchets. It was a stroke of divinity and fortune though, that she had managed to convince a few of the merchants present to assist her in funding, if nothing else, but the fact-of-the-matter was that she had far too little time to prepare.

She had access to funds, but did not have it with her on hand. She needed adventurers or mercenaries, but she knew not who would be trustworthy. Camille’s atelier was a wonderful place, compared to what she saw of the inns in the Outer Layer, but even though the young artist could secure the doors and windows, it was all still so [i]flammable[/i]. Today, undoubtedly, would be a decisive day.

Meisa, after all, would have to prove that Civilization could overcome crime, or her support would vanish like the morning dew upon the windowsill.

…

It was Flame-Warden O’see who roused Lethe and his followers in the morning from the communal sleeping chambers within the Ever-Burning Mausoleum. It was strange, how quickly they had acclimated to the constant dry warmth, but their faces and lips felt cracked regardless, and they could see that many of the other adherents slathering oils or butter over their skin. Coin could be earned here though, so long as they sought to toil, but that didn’t mean that they were bound to the Mausoleum either. O’see had told them after showing them around the various crematories that they were free to work for food and board, but that they weren’t bound to it either.

Whether Lethe sought work that aligned closer to his duty or settled into the role of one who swept and divided ashes was up to him. He too felt the pull of the Abyss in the same way as any other Ichor-Blessed, but his faith held strong against the impulse to descend still.

…

Theo could be nothing but optimistic.

After all, once he set everything down and counted it out,  between himself, Maris, and Ezra, they had made more than triple the amount of money that Arnfinn, Sana, and Jaxon had. Their wounds hadn’t fully healed, of course, but their relationship with Samuel meant that they were only in an even better position to make money.

And there was the matter of Ichor too. Could there be any other Ichor-Blessed in Oratorio who was in a better position than the Domain of Blood to take in the Ichor of the Abyss? To grant the destitute miners of the city his blessing, to allow them to gorge their fill upon what would otherwise be entirely unpalatable, to [i]obtain[/i] tons of that Divinity-fuelling substance through it!

Day was bright, his ambitions, brighter.

Perhaps by the end of it, that psychotic swordswoman would be [i]mundane[/i] compared to him.

…

There was nothing but mundanity that awaited Cantor when he roused. Little had changed after an evening’s rest, after all. The weight of Ordo Benevolence’s debts was a yoke around his neck, while the work that would await him in the noon was thankless and gave the church only a pittance. There had to be other ways of making money, and there were, but such things would have to be done separate from his religious duties.

He had promised a walk with Sister Laina though. Whatever anxiety he held in the future would wait until after he got a lay of the land.

…

Elys herself understood now, just little it counted to get a lay of the land beneath. Her sword was chipped and bent in far too many places by the time the sun rose. No wonder Oratorio could expand without thought. No wonder adventurers would continue to come into the city, and find monsters, [i]adventure[/i], waiting for them.

The monsters were alive, but they were only offshoots of the living, breathing [i]thing[/i] that was the Abyss.

She had witnessed it herself, after all, once the darkness fell and the Perishing Star rose, once the ground beneath her twisted and churned, rearranging itself in such a way that while the biome of a high-altitude mountain plateau was maintained, everything that could have been used as a landmark had shifted away, peeling into something…unnatural.

And the attacks had been endless too, sporadic waves that eluded any attempts to sleep. The swordswoman had tried to maintain her blade, of course, but the wolves howled on, the goblins crawling out from holes in the ground. The ogres and orcs emerged from the white fog, and she had almost lost her shoulder to the death-dive of a vulture.

It was nothing like her work as a monster slayer, and when she finally managed to secure a lift out of the Abyss, her limbs were leaden weights, her sword in such a state it could no longer be sheathed in her scabbard.

But she had gained much too. Had obtained that same ‘substance’ that she had sensed in the bloodied presence, and knew too why he possessed more than she had.

All her strength did not remove the necessity for [i]followers[/i].

If Elys did not find those willing to follow the Void, she would never do more than scratch at the surface of the Abyss.

…

As for Time? Time was running out, at a steady pace that could not be escaped.

As for Light? Daylight offered new opportunities, but also chance enough to revisit previous ones.