Two days after his reunion with Faust, James was informed of Malik's full recovery. He was finally allowed to visit the necromancer in his room, no longer held back by Emma's insistence that the man needed rest before anything. Apparently, Malik's behavior was noted as unusually delusional and spotty. They initially thought it was something similar to what James went through. However, after some time—and James' convincing—it was eventually ruled that the necromancer was acting as himself.

When James arrived at Malik's door, he was surprised to learn that it lay only a hallway away from his own room. It was a strange thought, knowing that they were so close yet at the same time so distant from each other.

'Not that it would've changed anything.'

James grimaced as he rested a hand on the doorknob, his healed wounds tingling at the memory of his painful resurrection back on that ship. While he didn't remember much of the details, he knew Malik was the one responsible for reviving him from certain death. To know that the necromancer had such a power was… disturbing.

'He could've healed my wound during my bond's deterioration.'

James knew he shouldn't have expected Malik to help with that problem, since all the man wanted was to study James' corpse once he dropped dead. Still, it was discomforting to know he had the power to help and had chosen to do nothing.

James set his jaw and took a deep breath, willing away his emotions toward the necromancer. He needed to approach this with a calm demeanor. If there was a way to get answers, it would not come from confrontational anger. After a second of mulling over his questions, James released his breath and opened the door.

The room was lit only by the soft light of the window, which was half-covered with sheets. Through the sparse lighting, James could only make out the bed a lone man sat in. Despite the shadows, Malik looked tired. His eyes were more sunken in than usual, and his cheeks were deathly gaunt. His hands rested on his lap, a small puzzle cube held between his fingers as he tried to solve it.

The necromancer, ironically, looked like a corpse.

"I already said I was not hungry," Malik muttered softly, his eyes focused on the cube. He glanced up with annoyance, his expression instantly changing once he saw James. He froze in place, his brow furrowed as he stared.

"Weren't expecting me?" James asked.

"Not sure," Malik said. "Depends on who I'm talking to."

"Who do you think?" James scoffed as he stepped in, hand closing the door. "We need to talk, Malik."

"The Outlander, then?" Malik said with a sigh of relief. He relaxed in his bed, his head settling on the pillows behind him. "What do you need from me?"

"Answers," James answered. He stepped closer to bed, a little cautious.

"I doubt I can give them to you," Malik said. He resumed with his puzzle cube. "I have forgotten a great deal since our last interaction. My head is a… swirl. I am not even sure I know who I am. Who I really am."

James raised an eyebrow. Perhaps Emma was correct in insisting that the man was not entirely well.

"You're Malik Ymir, aren't you?" he asked regardless.

Malik laughed at that, a genuine action that creeped James out even more. "That, my undying friend, is one of my many, many lies."

"Who are you, then? Really?"

Malik shrugged, his finger making a swirling motion at his head. "It's all gone. All just… absorbed, I suppose. By what, not even I know. All that's left is Malik. Even that is starting to drain away." He chuckled. "I don't even remember what I wanted with your corpse. Not exactly, at least."

James stared at the necromancer, who seemed like an entirely different person now.

"Do you at least know what you did to me?" he asked, almost hesitantly. Judging from how Malik was acting, there was a good chance that the man had also forgotten what he had done to revive James.

"I bestowed Life upon you," Malik said bluntly. "Two reserves, to be exact. I could've used more, should've used more, but I wasn't entirely sure if you were going to come back… whole."

"What do you mean by whole?" James prodded, concerned.

"With your soul attached," Malik explained. "Had I revived you as a corpse with no soul tethered, you would've become a Hollow. Self-explanatory, that name is. Thankfully, it did not happen. In fact, you came back entirely whole. Faust and Gryff included."

James stared at the necromancer, who didn't seem to notice what he had just said.

"Gryff?" he said slowly, the name sounding unreal to him.

"The Lumen Knight, yes," Malik said with a wave. "The same one you apparently killed last Frost. Funny how coincidental that was."

James only stared. He wasn't sure why, but he had expected this answer. Deep down, he always knew that the dead man's influence was still around, in more than one way. Yet, at the same time, it was haunting to hear it confirmed so casually.

"So his soul, Gryff's soul, is inside me?"

"Of course," Malik responded calmly, still playing with his cube. "When Nyrkl brought you back, they tethered a third soul to bolster your healing. Obviously, Faust wasn't going to be enough to heal a wound brought upon by Lightcaller itself, fragment or not."

"You… You knew about this?" James asked, horrified. "This whole time?"

"No, of course not!" Malik scoffed. "When you came back that night, everything I knew about the nature of Convergence was shattered. It took me quite some time to put the pieces together. I only managed to note the knight's soul a couple months after those events."

"So you knew, and you never told me about him?" James was almost shouting, his anger broiling underneath as he stepped toward the bed. If Malik was intimidated by the motion, he didn't show it.

"I didn't want to panic you or, gods forbid, allow him to awaken within you," Malik explained with a disdainful look. "I wanted to study the nature of his inclusion and maybe get a clue on how Delphine's Blessing broke. Even now, I am unsure of what exactly happened in those black waters." He shrugged, hand waving in the air. "Regardless, what I say is purely conjecture. I still don't know how Delphine's Blessing was broken. The sword Arthur stabbed you with was no ordinary blade, you know."

"I kinda figured…" James said, taken off track in his thoughts. The strange golden sword used to exorcise Faust had disappeared after Arthur's death, leaving James and Dahlia to believe that it was a manifestation of some exclusive casting he had.

"It was a piece of a Divine Blade," Malik explained. "Delphine's own essence manifested into physical form. Lightcaller, I believe, was the proper name for it. It should have kept you dead. But it didn't."

"Nyrk— that thing prevented it," James said, shaking his head. "How do you even know its name?"

"Why would I know?" Malik asked, shrugging. "I erased that bit of me a long while ago."

James narrowed his gaze at the bedridden man, who had just played with his puzzle cube like normal.

"What do you mean, erased?" he asked.

Malik stopped in place, hands still as he avoided eye contact.

"Do you know the nature of the power that runs through your ley lines?" he asked. "Mana, or whatever they call it, is more than just a fancy way to summon sparks and ice from your fingertips. It is life itself, in a way. Now, there are many ways to use this power. Many ways to destroy and many ways to create. However, I have lost much of its knowledge over the years…"

The necromancer rubbed at the side of his temple as if he had a headache. "She would have done a better job at explaining this…" he muttered. "She wrote down the notes for Dremor's sake."

"She?" James asked.

"Just rambling," Malik explained with a shake of his head. "You see, I possess a unique ability, one that was taught to me a lifetime ago. There is this power, separate from the one that runs through your ley lines. It is… hard to explain. Simply put, I can create these reserves of Life, a great power that holds our very souls together. It can heal someone from death itself, or, in my case, make someone live for a very, very long time.

"But there is a price, as with everything relating to the nature of Convergence. For you and other spellcasters here, the price comes with the limits of these runes and their complexity. And obviously, the tax it takes out on the body. Overheating, for example. Or mind deterioration as another. Or perhaps, an intervention of fate itself." Malik waved away those examples. "Either way, the price for my boon is simple. Knowledge."

"Knowledge," James repeated.

Malik nodded. "Memories, to be specific. At first, it seemed like a great deal. I erase some memories of my experiences and receive a reserve of Life, enough to retain my youth for a decade. A steal, I should say. But things get complicated if you live a life of constant danger. When you find yourself facing certain death more times than you can count. One moment, you're erasing memories of useless things you were taught, and the next…"

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A moment of silence followed his words, Malik's body slumping as his eyes stared out at nothingness. Then he spoke once more. "At some point, you have to decide between living for a while longer or saving a few memories that hold next to no meaning. I mean, you've found yourself dying before, haven't you? Would you rather submit yourself to that void? Or would you sacrifice pieces of the past?"

"I…" James found himself trailing off. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. "I wouldn't forget. I can't forget."

"Even if those precious memories hold no value in that darkness beyond?" Malik questioned. James only stared, hands still clenched. He wasn't sure what it was about the question, but the idea of it pissed him off. James had experienced both sides of that coin. He had seen the void beyond death, and it had haunted him. He had also temporarily lost his memory during the initial days of his recovery. Just the thought of reliving those days, clueless to the world around him and the ones who needed him, terrified him.

Both were outcomes that he never wanted to live through again.

"Enough with the hypotheticals," James growled. "You and I need to talk about what you did to me."

"I healed you," Malik said simply. "Healed you completely. From the wounds Faust and Gryff held together and the killing blow that Immortal dealt to you. Even gave you a few years of youth while I was at it too. However…" he squinted, expression unreadable. "Your eye was… how did you…?"

"That's not important," James said. "You need to give me answers. How did Gryff lurk within my body for so long? Why hasn't he made himself present yet? How do I get rid of him?"

Malik just watched him, body still as he fiddled with his puzzle box. "Gryff's spirit is… how should I place this? He's in a state of purgatory. When I first found him within your body, he was strangely docile. Like someone who is asleep, to put it into simple terms."

"So he's just in limbo?" James asked.

"In a sense," Malik said. "Gryff cannot influence your mind and body like Faust. He is just simply there. Existing."

'Tell him what I told you,' Faust spoke. 'About the visions.'

"Faust said he experienced something strange during my coma," James started. "He re-lived his past, and was speaking to someone in between visages. He thinks it was Gryff."

"That's fascinating," Malik muttered, hands placing the cube away. He leaned in, eyes twinkling. "I never assumed that Gryff might try communicating with the other spirit. How strange. What exactly did they talk about? Did Gryff show signs that he was self-aware? Did he manifest?"

"He just spoke to Faust," James explained. "Asked him cryptic questions, like what he believed in and what he thought about fate."

"Hrmm," Malik scratched at his chin, his eyes closing as he mulled in thought. "It's possible that he's become self-aware of his situation. Also possible that he has no idea. Has he spoken to you at all?"

James shook his head.

"I see," Malik murmured. "You should stay vigilant from now on. There will be trouble if there is even a small chance of him breaking from his purgatory."

"Trouble as in…"

"Do you recall the first time you and Faust met each other? Something like that, perhaps worse considering Gryff's previous life as a Lumen Knight," Malik explained. He furrowed his brow a little, his hands clenching as a thought seemingly crossed his mind. "What still confuses me is why Gryff was chosen to heal you that night. Tell me again, how did you initially kill Gryff?"

"I…" James hesitated. He shook his head. "I used my drain ability. The one that Faust and I can do." he demonstrated with his left hand, which glowed a soft blue as he focused Faust's spirit into it. "When I tried to kill Gryff, I attempted to drain his ley lines. I couldn't, so instead, Faust and I overflowed them. The amount of power we forced into him ripped his ley lines apart."

"That's…" Malik trailed off for a moment. "I never told you, did I?"

"About what?"

Malik ignored him, his muttering growing frantic as he fished into his cloak and brought out a small black book. He flipped it open, revealing pages with unreadable glyphs. He stopped at one page. "That's right, I never explained it. For what reason?" he tapped his head, clearly frustrated. "I clearly erased that part a while ago… Stupid, stupid!"

"Malik?" James started. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You don't drain ley lines," Malik said sharply, his hands snapping the book close. "You never could. Otherwise, your reserves would have replenished anytime you did the deed. And you were out of spells when you fought Gryff. If you truly overloaded his ley lines, you would've ended up dead like him, no?"

James stared at the necromancer, unable to say anything back. Malik continued his ramble.

"You… Your and Faust's bond is special," Malik said slowly, almost as if he just hit an epiphany. "You drain Life, James. You take what makes up someone's soul. When you killed Gryff, you overflowed him with your and Faust's own essence. No wonder Nyrkl bonded him with you; his soul must've already been a part of you in some way."

Malik snapped his fingers. "The cyromancy… it isn't just a side effect, it's an imprint."

"Wait, you mean to tell me that…" James trailed off, his left arm tingling at the realization. Before he could continue his sentence, Malik got up from his bed. The necromancer wobbled as he tried to gain a foothold on the floor, his hand on the wall.

"It's all still fuzzy, but I know," he muttered. "I know there's still something to pursue. Your bond, your abilities, hell, maybe even your body may hold answers to what I need. But…" He stood up straight, fist banging the wall. "I can't remember! Damn my past self!"

James didn't listen to Malik's ramblings. Instead, he focused on his left arm, which had started creating a layer of frost over the bandages. He stared, hand raised to his face as his fingers twitched slightly. Gryff was imprinted on him. He had always been there, and James hadn't been the wiser.

'Has he been there this entire time? Even before my revival at Vindis?'

He recalled the white plane, back when he had been sure he was dead. Gryff had been waiting there, calm and collected. It was almost as if…

"He fucking knew…" James realized aloud in horror. Almost as if on cue, the world turned black.

Whiteness. It encompassed the entirety of the plane, replacing the familiar oblivion and mist that James often associated with the mindscape. The last time he had been here, he had thought himself to be in Helheim, the perceived afterlife in Azura. Now, James knew better. Helheim was just a story, like the myths of ancient dragons and the stories of fanciful heroes.

No, this place was something else. It did not belong to him, not cognitively, at least. This was the place where the Lumen Knight, who he killed, lay. A purgatory.

"You knew," James said, his focus on the man standing before him.

Gryff was a tall man during his lifetime, with sharp, thin features and a prominent nose. His skin was pale tan, contrasting with his long black hair and faint stubble. The most notable feature James always remembered, however, was those icy blue eyes that seemed to command respect from anyone who met them.

"I only speculated," Gryff simply said, his lips pulled back into a smile. "The nature of Convergence is not common knowledge, even amongst my peers. Yet from the scrolls and tomes I once read as a lad, I remembered one section."

"Imprinting," James muttered. "That's what Malik called it."

"The necromancer is quite the knowledgeable one, I'll admit," Gryff said, his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn't wearing the armor he died in; his clothing instead consisted of blue scholarly robes. "In fact, I suppose he knows a surprising amount, despite his mental state."

"How… How long have you been here?" James asked. He had to use every bit of his remaining sanity not to let his voice shake.

"Asking the important questions, are we?" Gryff chuckled. The action disturbed James more than it had any right to. He was way too casual, too laid back. It was unnatural. "The answer depends on what you mean by here. As a mindless imprint of the former man I once was? Since the day you killed my living self. As a conscious spirit? Well, I think we both know when that happened."

"Why now?" James pressed. "Why did you wait so long to make yourself present? Better than that, why are you revealing yourself to me? How are you revealing yourself to me?"

Gryff raised a hand to that, his smile faltering as he looked at James with a curiosity that only seemed to unsettle the young man even more.

"I wanted to watch," he admitted. "Bide my time and mull about my choices. You see, despite my apparent plan to imprint myself into you, there's not much I can do. I cannot take your body over. I cannot influence your mind. If anything, I'm more of a source of power for you. As for how I'm doing this." He gestured to the white plane. "I only managed to figure it out after my intrusions on Faust's memories. This is technically my first time doing it."

James nodded slowly. "So…what do you want? Really?"

Gryff shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? I want knowledge. Truths. Anything a scholar would want. I've spent so much time shackled to the whims of Delphine's church that I'm thirsting at the idea of something beyond its restrictions. I want to explore, learn, and discover the universe's secrets."

"That's surprisingly normal," James murmured. "You waited all this time and lurked around, all because you debated telling me your passions?"

"I'll be honest with you," the dead man said with a sigh. "While I am technically just a shadow of the real Gryff Brenwick, an imprint made from his dying moments, I still carry his memories and personality. As such…" his smile fell, and he stared at James with a cold gaze. "I feel nothing but hatred for you."

James stepped back from that, hand reaching for a sword that was no longer by his side. He cursed at that.

"Don't be an idiot," Gryff said with a scowl. "I'm not going to do something so stupid as to get revenge for a man who died screaming like a coward. These emotions are illogical. I acknowledge this."

"So, what now?" James asked slowly. "What do we do now?"

"We proceed as normal," Gryff said. "You took Villtur's deal, did you not? He's going to help you get your ship back so you both can save Yorktown. Quite the plan. Ambitious, even."

"It's our only shot," James admitted. "Yorktown is half a month's sail, even with longships. Ivan's keep is just a couple days from Turstead. If we time it right, we can return home quickly enough to break the siege."

"Solid," Gryff responded with a nod. "Solid, indeed. However, I have to ask. What does Villtur get out of this?"

"What do you mean?"

"What is Lukas Villtur's end goal?" Gryff asked. "I doubt he's doing this from the goodness of his heart. Have you ever asked him?"

"I… I guess he just wants my favor," James said, instantly noticing the discrepancy in those words. "He pacted with me, either way. He has no choice."

"He doesn't look like he's being forced," Gryff pointed out. "Hell, I'm willing to say he looks excited to help. He cannot wait to liberate your home and help you enact your revenge."

James could feel a part of him grow cold at the dead man's sarcastic tone. He was right. Why did Lukas want to help? How did freeing Yorktown align with the man's interests?

"He wants the southern territories," James said. "He thinks I'll give him a portion of Ivan's holdings for his efforts."

"Think a little bigger, James," Gryff said. He was closer now, his eyes studying the young Jarl. "Villtur is no simple politician. He does not grovel. Nor does he beg."

"He takes," James whispered. His eyes widened. "He's found a way to break the pact, hasn't he?"

"Now you're thinking," Gryff said. "What better opportunity to take the south than to eliminate competition, eh? Get rid of the orcs, the Bastard Jarl, and the Outlander, all in one fell swoop."

"Oh god."

"Do what you will with that information, James," Gryff chuckled as he turned away. He began to saunter off into the nothingness, his hands behind his back. "Know that I will always be around, ready to speak my mind. It does get lonely here sometimes."

James did not respond as the whiteness faded into the familiar oblivion that was his mindscape.

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