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The unintelligible noises continued, changing wildly. It sounded more like a broken subwoofer or something than a spoken language. How in the world could Rasalased comprehend any of this?

"Excellent," said Ras. "If you wish to be made whole again, then please, embrace us. I know little of your kind, but I am certain that the process will be made much easier with your cooperation. Young Abbas here will guide you through it."

Oh, hey, he could sense Abbas' soul beside him again.

"Uh--ah--y-yes, I shall do my best?" That definitely wasn't a question, but Abbas' obvious uncertainty made it sound like one.

More thrumming arrived.

For quite a while, this time.

Hector could sense the darkness trembling more than ever now. It felt like he was in a bubble with heavy rain falling upon it--or a meteor shower, perhaps.

"...Oh," came Rasalased's voice again. "Well... ah... I do not think that will be necessary. You are not yet whole, after all. A full retelling would be strenuous for you. And you have my assurances that these young souls are worthy of your trust. They would not--"

The rhythmic sounds cut him off, growing still more intense.

"Ah. You do not trust me, either... of course... I only meant--"

And the bubble shattered.


Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Eight: 'A walk in the Dark...'
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Everything was truly black now. Hector couldn't sense a thing. No Abbas. No Rasalased.

Even his own soul was questionable. Was he still here? Where WAS here, even?

The world rose up all around him, ascended from the seemingly infinite pit below him. All within a few moments.

He was outside. In a field. A thin, ethereal fog covered everything, making him feel like he had to squint.

Ah, he could feel his body again. Or could he? The fog covered his own hands, he noticed. Like the fog was part of him. Or he was part of the fog.

Hmm.