A part of Vivi thought, selfishly, that after saving two cities’ worth of people, the least she could be rewarded with was a nap.

But even in her current head-pounding misery, she knew it was an immature thought to have. With the grand, mystical powers she’d been granted, a mantle of responsibility had dropped onto her shoulders as well. The mother of all headaches and accompanying nausea didn’t somehow supersede those duties.

So when the door creaked open, and someone strode in, she wasn’t surprised. She knew who it would be before she groaned and removed the arm covering her eyes. Rafael, Guildmaster of the Human Kingdoms, Steward of Vanguard, stood next to her bed, no doubt here to talk business.

She made a whining noise in the back of her throat, not able to help herself.

Rafael cocked his head at the rather pathetic display, then glanced at Winston. “She’s worse off than I assumed,” he commented.

“My lady has seen better days; I cannot deny that,” her ever-loyal butler replied as gracefully as he could.

“This can’t wait until tomorrow?” Vivi asked.

Her steward considered her, neither pityingly nor disapprovingly. “It can, strictly speaking, if that’s what you decide, Lady Vivisari.”

It was the worst response he could have given. Because it put the impetus to be responsible on her. Did she really feel awful enough that even a conversation was too much?

No. Obviously not.

“It’s fine,” Vivi sighed. “I should catch you up. And you me. But after, I get to sleep until at least tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” Rafael replied. “I will attempt brevity at all costs; this should not take long. I have lived for two centuries, my lady. I have learned, in that time, that only a fool stands between a woman and her sleep.”

Vivi side-eyed the demon for daring to attempt levity when she felt like dying, but she suspected the glare didn’t pass muster. Vivisari’s natural stoicism worked both ways; she had to put in effort to emote, and she couldn’t find the energy in her current state.

The demon seemed to understand her intent, but his lips only twitched in amusement. She didn’t think she’d intimidated him. He was obviously immune to her reputation, and her reputation did quite a lot of heavy-lifting when it came to intimidation. Her diminutive stature and ageless features certainly didn’t.

“I suspect you have more important information to deliver than I,” Rafael said. “Though I would not call the topics I’ve brought inconsequential. So, shall you begin, my lady?”

She considered. “There was a second dimensional breach above Prismarche. Also, I met the Shattered Oracle.”

She took satisfaction in how Rafael’s face went blank. It lasted a full second—an eternity for that keen demon’s mind to freeze up.

“Or a magical existence that mirrored him,” Vivi clarified before her steward started sprinting to too many wild assumptions. “Not the actual Oracle. Also, Prismarche is fine. I dealt with it. It’s why I’m like this.” She waved at herself. “I drank three mana potions, dumped the energy into the Codex, and sealed the breach. Then killed everything after it had healed. There were no casualties.” Besides her pounding skull, in any case. And the statue. But good riddance to that awful thing, honestly. “It was an overreaction. I didn’t want to take any risks. I’m sure the city is in a panic, but they’re safe. Maybe you should have someone scry the City Guard and tell them not to evacuate, or…whatever they might do.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” he said slowly. “But I find myself mildly concerned by the mention of the Shattered Oracle.”

“Just an echo of him,” she repeated. “He didn’t resurrect. And he can’t cross the boundary into reality. He probably doesn’t even exist in a literal manner.” She sighed. “I’m going out of order. Let me start from the beginning.”

She did so. Rafael didn’t once voice disbelief at the ridiculous tale she laid out. He digested her words and requested clarification where necessary. It took a surprisingly short length of time to relay. She supposed the trip through the void had only felt so eventful due to the constant magical research she’d been performing. The happenings of substance, those which Rafael needed to be informed of, numbered on one hand. She was done in a few minutes.

“Interesting,” Rafael murmured. “I suspect that my insight on the nature of that realm is worth less than dust. Also, it seems that time does not flow the same, if you haven’t deduced that yourself. It has been more than three days, my lady, not one since your disappearance.”

“That’s…unfortunate.” She’d rushed back because she hadn’t wanted Saffra to stew in worry for too long. So much for those good intentions. “I can’t say it’s wholly surprising.” The void hadn’t even been a physical place. She had no reason to believe that natural laws would function the same. If anything, she should be relieved that years or decades hadn’t passed, or something of that sort.

“Indeed. But the implications for how the mortal kingdoms will need to prepare and respond are substantial. I wish we knew more about these so-called voidgods. They are the true enemy, not the mindless beasts we’ve dealt with so far.” He paused. “No matter how world-ending those could be on their own, if we did not have the Sorceress defending us,” he said dryly.

Vivi nodded, lips twisting into a slight grimace. “I agree. I need to start rebuilding my warp anchor network as soon as possible, so I can respond if another breach happens. Since it might, anywhere in the world, at any time.” After a moment of consideration, she conceded, “I needed to do that anyway, to fetch Vanguard’s prior craftsmen, if they’re interested in rejoining.” That had been on her to-do list even before the invasion.

Rafael raised an eyebrow. “I expect they will be, my lady. I had my doubts on a few, but that was with the understanding that we lived in an age of peace. With the world imperiled once more, I find it extremely unlikely that any will refuse the call of duty. Even if their motivations are viewed through an unfavorable lens, it is their world that will end if they do not. They have selfish reasons to prevent the total destruction of their homeland.”

Vivi internally frowned. She didn’t want to uproot anyone’s lives, especially since it sounded like a few of Vanguard’s craftsmen had settled down comfortably. But the problem had escalated beyond worrying about something as trivial as that. Having the strongest possible craftsmen supporting the guild might be a necessity, for the good of all living people.

“Well, that’s what happened with me,” she said. “What do you have?”

“Nothing that requires your immediate attention, but there are a few events that I suspect you’d like to be informed of, even in your current condition. To set your mind at ease.”

“Duke Caldimore.”

“The preeminent case, indeed. He has been detained with appropriate measures taken to prevent his escape; you need not worry in that regard.”

Typically, high-rank threats were disposed of rather than imprisoned, but Damon was only orichalcum, and probably the most important criminal in the world at the moment, seeing how he had—well, nearly brought ruin to the entire continent. And was a Duke of the Central Kingdom. Likely the best means of imprisonment possible had been applied to him.

“I have a tracking beacon anyway.” She mentally checked on it. “He’s in the High King’s Palace?”

“The dungeon, yes.”

“As long as he’s secured so he can face justice.” She didn’t want to think too hard about that right now. Too complicated. “What else?”

“Your identity may have been preserved, despite the events of that night.”

She started. “What? How?”

“I predicted it from the start,” he mused. “The power you displayed went far beyond what any mortal—or immortal, truthfully—should possess. I did not, however, expect the Archbishop himself to lead that crusade. He has been…vocal about how the heavens descended to aid in battle against that otherworldly scourge.”

Vivi didn’t have Rafael’s unflappability for bizarre announcements. “He did what?”

“Of course, not everyone is convinced. In the minds of the public, supreme and benevolent sorcerous talent belongs to a single obvious individual, and the heavens have only ever acted through their champions—and never with such inimitable might. So the water has simply been muddied; your reemergence has not stayed hidden, exactly.” A hint of irritation appeared in his voice. “I consider the development very unfortunate. Zealot is not wholly an appropriate label for that man, but it is not far off either. If you were to announce that you were who dismantled the horde, I’m not sure how he would react.”

Vivi didn’t especially care if her actions were credited to her; she was just glad she’d been able to help, even if she hadn’t done as much as she wished she could’ve. But it was easy to see how announcing her return had become much more complicated. Contradicting a zealot by laying claim to feats he thought his gods had performed would be a social kerfuffle that made the Caldimore situation seem bland in comparison.

“Great,” she muttered. “And I do

need to announce myself soon, right?”

“The time for hiding is over,” Rafael agreed. “At least in private channels. The major players need to be informed of what you’ve learned, and of your role in further defense against this threat. Public announcements are not as pressing, but the return of Vanguard shouldn’t be delayed for long either, and its return will imply yours. Better to be explicit. More on that when you’re not suffering manaburn; it can wait.”

She nodded. These announcements were important enough to serve as a distraction from the pounding in her head, but only partially. She very much wanted to lie down and sleep as soon as possible. “What else?”

“William Trent has been extricated from his cell through legal, if heavy-handed, means. The ramifications are barely worth mentioning, considering what else we are dealing with. I hope the executive decision I made in your absence is not displeasing.”

“No. Good job. Thank you.” She was a bit embarrassed to admit that she’d almost forgotten William. More pressing matters, and all that—though that wasn’t a proper excuse. She was glad Rafael had picked up the slack.

“I chose not to provide an official explanation for the spatial anomaly on the ninth floor of the Institute,” he informed her next. “The mages are extremely interested in it, I have heard.”

Vivi winced. “I should deal with that sooner rather than later. I can…maybe fix it.” Then again, it might be better to leave it alone. “It’s very dangerous. I hope they aren’t doing anything stupid.”

“I presume the archmagi know better than to poke the metaphorical bear with a stick,” Rafael said amusedly. “I dare say their approach to high-tier, unknown magic is more cautious than my lady’s, in fact.”

That was a not very subtle way of calling her reckless, and she couldn’t say it wasn’t deserved. “I’d prefer looking into it so I can confirm what happened to the Red Tithe, too. It seems…extremely unlikely that he’s alive. But he might be, inside whatever that dislocated and shredded section of space is. And if he somehow is, against all odds, then I should capture him.”

Or put him out of his misery, she thought darkly. She was terrified that she’d replicated something akin to the Shattered Oracle’s worst atrocities, like those bubbles of repeating or frozen time. Victims trapped for millennia. There were fates worse than death, and she desperately hoped she hadn’t delivered one.

Rafael seemed to sense her somber tone. His voice was serious when he responded. “Indeed. Perhaps the Institute’s curiosity will bear fruit. They cannot match the power of the Sorceress, but they are not insufficient researchers.”

Vivi nodded. That was why she’d gone to Aeris for help with the dimensional anomaly. The entire Institute would be a significantly greater asset; it just required her announcing herself. “I’ll need to make contact with them. And the various elvish, dwarvish, and demonic organizations. For the dimensional anomaly, and also for studying void energy and voidglass.” And whatever else she needed help with. She was only one person, and the invasion would be the world’s responsibility, not simply her own. “Osmian too,” she added after a moment.

“The founder of the Institute? I’m not sure I follow.”

Vivi tilted her head, then realized she hadn’t informed him of that detour. “Oh. Right. I met a soul fragment of Archmage Osmian. A ghost that’s partially sapient…I think.” She didn’t know exactly how that incredible piece of necromancy had come about, and the precise nature of ghost-Osmian’s existence. “He may or may not be willing to help.”

“When, I dare ask, did my lady have time for that, amidst everything?”

“Right before everything went crazy, actually.” She waved her hand. “It’s not that important.”

“A living replication of one of history’s preeminent arcane minds. Quite—not important in the slightest.”

Okay, she deserved the sarcasm. Osmian might serve as a major asset, not a minor one. At the very least, he wasn’t worth dismissing, not until she discovered how amenable he would be to the idea of helping.

Though he might not be. The ghost clearly had limits imposed on him; his purpose was to find an inheritor, not have ambitions of his own, or even necessarily seek the preservation of the mortal kingdoms. He wasn’t a real person, much like the echo of Remian she’d spoken to earlier.

A vicious pang in her skull made her flinch, and she rubbed her temple. “We’ll figure that out tomorrow. Anything else?”

Rafael nodded. “One more major event of notice—I did promise brevity. The next Quest has appeared in the guildhall.”