We assembled in the portal chamber. It was the first time that most of them had seen the Gate, and their reactions varied.

Gavin and Merill were visibly impressed and stood far away from it, watching from a distance with something approaching awe. Sam didn’t seem to care about the Gate at all, instead doing last-minute checks on everyone’s packs. Mal, however, was fascinated by it.

She approached the Gate, practically ran towards it, and started poking at it. She pushed against it in different places, stepped through the empty air a few times, and tried hitting it with her sword. The Gate didn’t react, at least not visibly. But Mal still managed to notice something.

“It’s waking up.”

I frowned and joined her, giving the Gate a cursory examination. It didn’t look any different from when I’d seen it. “What do you mean ‘waking up’?”

“I mean: I’ve been here before. I crept in one night while I was still with the Chantry, wanting to see this instrument of doom for myself. It felt dormant then. I don’t know how to describe it, not exactly. What does it feel like when you use magic?”

“Um, I don’t know. It doesn’t really feel like much, but I’ve never been very good at magic either. I feel anger when I use sorcery. I feel a little push when I cast it out. Is that what you’re talking about?”

She shook her head. “No. The push is kinetic feedback and the anger is what you’re using to fuel the spell, but those aren’t magic. What I feel is… it’s an energy field. Like heat, like air, like sunlight. Crackling around me. There’s some in you, and a little in those three, and there was a lot in Gwyn last time I saw her.”

“And this thing?” I pointed at the Gate with my thumb. “It has that? It uses magic? I thought it was Ancient tech.”

Mal gave it a suspicious look. “Yeah. Me too. But I’m not sure the Ancients were using technology when they made it. Either way, it feels different. Before there was energy but it was buried, I had to really search for it. Now it’s at the surface, and it’s leaking out. I think someone or something turned it on.”

“Implying that before, it was turned off.”

“Right. Which might explain why nobody could get it to work.”

I struggled. “But… why? Why would it suddenly turn off? How could someone even do that in the first place, and how did it turn back on for Gwyn?”

“Dunno. I don’t think we’ll find out, either. Not any time soon, at least. The Ancients kept their secrets well.”

“And left us a mess to clean up. So can you open it?”

Mal nodded. “Oh, definitely. Might want to stand back.”

I obliged, backing away to join the others. We watched as Mal stretched, cracked her knuckles, and shoved her open palm in the direction of the Gate. Sorcery rippled from her hand, a glowing red mass moving like vibrating water. It struck the center of the Gate and stretched outward, flowing into it. The Gate crackled to life and the star chart hologram appeared next to Mal.

She grinned. “See? Now help me find our target.”

I scurried back over to her side and peered at the display. I quickly guided Mal through the menus to reach our world and the city Gate. The portal shimmered to life, a curtain of energy waiting for us to pass through.

I drew my blade and let out a deep breath. “Okay. Hopefully Gwyn is too power-drunk to expect us. But we should plan for the worse. I’ll lead the way, since I know the city. We stick together, we hit the palace first, and the moment we see Gwyn we take her down. Everyone on the same page?”

They all nodded, and then there was no more putting it off. I faced the portal, steeled my nerves, and stepped through.

I emerged in the dead city, inside the portal fortress. Thankfully it was empty, so I sheathed my blade and waited for the others to come through. Mal was first, then Sam with lantern raised and lit. Cold blue light emanated from it, casting us all in its glow. Gavin and Merill followed last, weapons ready.

Gavin swept his gaze around the room with a frown. “This place doesn’t look as ravaged by time as I imagined it.”

I nodded. “It’s pretty well-preserved, yeah. Except for the people, obviously. I think there’s a bit of magic involved, at least from how hard it was to get to the Well. A door stronger than iron that shimmered when struck.”

Merill tapped the walls with her blade. “You think the whole city might be enchanted like that?”

“Maybe not as strong an enchantment, but something. Mal?”

Our resident mage took a whiff of the air and frowned. “Possibly. There’s a lot flowing around here, but most of it feels like ghost energy. I’d have to see the door you were talking about to have a better idea. Also a good place to start the search, yeah?”

“Right. Gwyn might still want access to the Well. Let’s go.”

I pushed out of the central chamber and through the halls of the portal fortress, noting the continued lack of any guards. Even the ones who chased me were gone. Somehow, seeing all those ghosts just vanish was creepier than when they were wandering. Where did they go?

When we exited the building, we came out into an empty city. It was an eerie wasteland, a sprawling cityscape of desolate streets and lonesome corpses. I couldn’t see a single ghost in any direction. In the sky above, clouds churned darkly. A storm was brewing.

The group filed out after me and examined the place. I could see similar looks of concern on their faces. Sam was the first to put it into words

“So, this doesn’t look good. I was expecting to see more ghosts.”

I drew my sword again. “Yeah. Me too. I think we’re a bit late to the party.”

“What do you think happened?”

“Battle. Before the betrayal, Strix and Gwyn were preparing a rebellion, and Nero was mobilizing his army to crush them. I get the feeling that one of those things happened, and this is the result. I just don’t know who won.”

Mal hefted her weapon and started walking towards the palace. “Let’s find out.”

Our walk through the city was grim. I’d almost forgotten the scattered remains of long-dead citizens, but my friends were seeing it for the first time. Merill took it hardest, judging by her constant near-vomit expression, but I saw Sam reaching for Mal’s hand after we passed one particularly gruesome corpse.

The entire military quarter was like that, just one giant graveyard with nothing moving, nothing acting, except us. At any moment I expected to see a few straggler ghosts, some survivors of the battle, anything. But it was just a hollow expanse.

Then, as we passed over a bridge and entered the palace district, we saw echoes.

They weren’t ghosts, not exactly. More like… the ghosts of ghosts. Barely-visible, eyeless husks shambling about with broken weapons and tarnished armor. They barely resembled the imperial guard, but their tabard colors were unmistakable.

When they saw us, they charged. A somber, keening cry erupted from translucent throats and the wailing soldiers advanced on our position.

I looked to my companions and started giving orders. “Sam, raise the lantern high and try to catch as many as you can in its light. Mal, slow them down with sorcery, try to break up their unity. Gavin and Merill, you’re with me on the front line.”

They took their places swiftly. It felt more natural than fighting at Gwyn’s side, like we were all one unit and not competing champions. I stood with one twin on either side of me and felt connected to them. We raised our weapons and met the echoes in battle.

There were five of them. Two staggered behind, caught by Mal’s magic. The three that stepped into the lantern’s light grew more solid, more whole, but still faded and weak, still shadows of shadows. I took the initiative, lashing out at the first one to get within arm’s reach. The echoes had strength, and retained their skill, but they were slow and lumbering and easy to maneuver around.

My blade bit into something that wasn’t quite flesh but no longer felt entirely ethereal, and I saw life essence pour out of the wound in the place of blood. Wisps of energy bleeding out into the world, ghostly substance splitting from the main host and dissipating into thin air. With each strike the echoes seemed to diminish and weaken further.

To describe it as a battle would be to give us too much credit. It was a slaughter, one without any chance of rout. These broken remnants were no match for warriors of flesh and blood. It made me uneasy.

We stood in the shadow of the palace, that vast and labyrinthine spire looming overhead like a carrion bird in wait. That too, unsettled me.

Mal looked to me and asked, “Those things, did you see any of them last time you were here?”

“No. Definitely not. Even the most frail and befuddled of ghosts still felt… real. These things are like fragments. They’re not people. They’re like memories.” I glanced at the ground where they’d fallen, but they were already gone. “This… this must be her doing.”

Unspoken, the fear passed through me: what if all the ghosts in the city were like that? How many had Gwyn taken in just a few days?

We kept moving, drawing closer to the palace. There were a few more echoes, but they were easily dispatched.

At the palace entrance, Strix was waiting.

The once-proud Consul was an echo herself, though stronger than the mindless soldiers. Her form bore signs of Gwyn’s malice: her eyes unseeing, her robes tattered. She slumped against the wall next to the broken doors of the palace, her arms lying limp at her sides, her sightless gaze staring into oblivion.

At our approach, she twitched. Her head turned to face us and with rasping voice she whispered, “You… are you with her?”

The others didn’t recognize her, of course, so I stepped forward. “It’s me, Maia. From before. What happened to you?”

“Maia… Maia? Ah, the girl. Her shadow, ha. Following her around. Have you come looking for your master, lost pup?” Her voice was distant, dreamy, but her words were biting.

“I’ve come to kill Gwyneth before she has the chance to kill me. Did she do this to you, Strix?”

Strix laughed, a coarse and choked sound. “With glee, with glee. She emerged from her little hole in the ground to swallow us all up in her hungry, hungry maw. Taste. Carve. Devour. Repeat. Till none left.” Strix waved an ethereal hand at the desolate city. “Never satisfied, that one. Always hungry.”

Our fears were confirmed. I could see the worry on the faces of my companions. I clenched my fists and tried to get Strix to focus. “I need you to tell me everything you can, Strix, so I can kill her. Where is she now? What does she want?”

The long-dead, now-dying woman ignored my questions. “We’re all just echoes now. Well, not everyone. Some are just gone. Eaten up. I think she likes leaving a bit behind. A reminder of her power. A tortured memory. A city of echoes. Then a world of echoes. Then a hundred broken, tortured worlds forced to remember her gentle caress. I don’t want to remember.”

Seeing her so broken, so battered, it was unnerving. This was the woman who spent three hundred years plotting. Brought low by magic. I turned to the group and asked, “What do we do with her?”

In response, Mal drew her blade and cut off Strix’s head.

I stared at her rapidly-fading remains until there was nothing left but glittering dust. “You killed her.” I sounded a bit numb. Maybe I was.

“It was a mercy. We should keep moving.” If Mal’s tone was cold, I didn’t hold it against her. These weren’t people, just the memories of people.

They still looked human when they died, though.

We entered the palace.