The man pushed the cup forward more insistently, grunting again.

Finn shook his head again and this time, gently pushed the man's hand back. The man tensed immediately at the physical contact. Finn felt the man's muscles go rigid in that brief moment as if he was primed for action if Finn decided to move.

But after noticing that Finn's intention was only to push the cup away, he forced himself to relax.

The message seemed clear enough now. The man withdrew the cup and placed it back on the table.

Then he said nothing else and walked to the far wall, leaning on it and crossing his arms as if in waiting.

Silence reigned in the room as Finn stared at the man for a second before realizing it might have something to do with the instructions he had given his daughter earlier.

Finn sighed, then mirrored the man's posture, crossing his own arms and closing his eyes. No point in maintaining a staring contest. Instead, he turned his mind inward and finally tried to review the set of events that brought him here.

The Stagnant Sea. He had traversed that impossible sea and somehow survived.

As he thought back to the things he had seen, the way he had weaved his way through… he almost shook his head at the craziness of it all.

Just one slip of focus, one moment of breaking out of that trance state fully, and he'd either be scattered remains torn apart by spatial rifts, or trapped in a pocket of frozen time, forever wading forward in perpetual motion while the world outside moved at normal pace.

Or even worse, both. He could be a scattered remain floating through a frozen pocket of time…

But he hadn't… and that was because of the fragment within him. The thing he had kept referring to as 'intuition.'

The fragment of Error.

After experiencing that level of immersion, that level of embodiment… there was no doubt left in his mind.

The fragment within him was definitely Error.

And now that he knew that with certainty, he couldn't even fathom how broken such a power was.

If he was right, then there were so many applications to it.

Besides just finding flaws, could he create errors in people's spells? What were the limits of generating errors? Could he bend reality itself with errors? Could he effectively start to turn probability in his favor?

No. Calm down. You're far reaching now…

Finn stopped that train of thought and reconsidered more critically.

There had to be limitations to this power. There had to be costs beyond just the backlash that made him unconscious.

Because if there wasn't, and it turned out he could truly create errors at will, manipulate any flaw to his advantage… what could stop him? Who could stop him?

He'd be unstoppable. He could simply make every attack directed at him to miss. He could just make an enemy's defense fail spontaneously...

...Maybe only something like Order could counter it? Finn mused.

The thought brought Althea to mind. Then Tron. The memory of Tron's headless body falling made Finn frown and clench his jaw hard.

The guy had been overbearing for the most part, but Finn chalked it up to his upbringing and the talent he'd shown from birth as a Sepulchre house Scion. That wasn't enough to make Finn feel nothing after he died.

Would his family even know what had happened for now? Would they know their son was dead?

The only hope now was Althea. Since the Husk leader had come after him after killing Tron so easily, she should have had the opportunity to escape.

And with every fibre of his being he hoped Althea had escaped. He hoped she had found some way to—

Suddenly, Finn felt a disturbance in the air and his eyes snapped open.

The man leaning against the wall raised an eyebrow, apparently surprised that Finn had reacted before anything visible occurred.

Then right in the center of the room, the air began to shimmer. Space twisted and warped for a few seconds.

And then a figure materialized, already talking rapidly in their language as he appeared. His gaze went immediately to Finn's bed, and his eyes lit up with curious interest for a fraction of a second when they found Finn sitting there awake.

The newcomer was short — maybe five-foot-three — with the same white hair and pale gray eyes as the others. He continued to stare pointedly at Finn, observing every expression on his face very carefully.

What's with this guy? Finn watched the newcomer warily.

But then he noticed something and couldn't help the frown that spread on his face.

He looks familiar…

Finn studied the man's face more carefully, and very slowly, a sense of recognition began to creep in.

The facial structure. The particular way his features were arranged. Even accounting for his taller height, his older face, the horns, the fur on his body and the racial differences...

Finn's hackles raised slowly as the realization dawned on him.

Isn't this the guy from that temple?!

The short white-haired man materialized fully into the room — A display that was already shocking because of the use of spatial magic. It further solidified Finn's conjecture about the man's identity.

There's no mistaking it. This is the guy from the temple back in Aethelos! Egon Callahan!

Finn schooled his expression as much as possible as the man stood and watched him before walking forward slowly.

Does he recognize me?! How does he have fur and horns now? Is this actually a different person?

Thoughts sped through Finn's mind as the man drew closer slowly. He thought of making a dash outside through the large cut-out windows, but he discarded the thought after calmly analyzing that even back then, he hadn't particularly done anything to trigger the white haired figure.

Calm down Finn.

He stilled. But remained wary.

The short man walked up to the bed and went for the same cup the other man had handed to Finn earlier.

He picked it up and stirred it, then brought it up to Finn and grunted.

Finn remained still.

The man pushed it forward again and nodded.

But Finn only watched him placidly.

"...Drink. And understand," the short man spoke in human language.

Finn clenched his jaw immediately.

Any doubts he still harbored in his mind about the short man's identity was now utterly quenched. The fact that he could speak human language when the others could not meant that, at the very least, he had a connection to humans.

He knew of the world beyond the Stagnant sea wall. And more likely than not, was connected to what happened at the temple, if he wasn't the culprit himself.

"I'm not going to drink that." Finn reiterated flatly.

"It is an understanding concoction. Drink."

"I can understand you just fine can't I? I don't need it."

The short man pursed his lips at Finn's words, then sighed and placed the cup back on the table.

"You do not trust us then, Fallen One?"

Fallen One? Finn noted, confused, but remained stoic.

"Why would I trust you?"

"Well, for starters, you are alive and well, are you not?" The man let out a small, courteous laugh. "We rescued you when the Calm Sea washed your body ashore. We took care of you despite the fact that you are a Fallen," he looked pointedly at Finn's wings then back at him.

"That status alone would have had you killed if it weren't for me. I pacified my people, and kept you alive, yet here you are being ungrateful."

Finn's face immediately soured. "Heh. So what do you want from me then? A show of appreciation?"

"Nothing of the sort." The man guffawed. "What good would that serve?"

He then said something in his language to the other man in the room, all while maintaining that courteous, calm look on his face.

It seemed to be an order, because right afterwards, the man stepped out promptly and closed the door behind him.

And immediately the other man left, Finn spread out his wings in a blatant show of hostility. He was no longer hiding the fact that he did not trust or even harbor any trace of amicability for the short man in front of him.

The man himself regarded Finn's open display with an amused smile.

"Good," he grabbed a chair and set it right in front of the bed, sitting down with his legs crossed.

"We are all alone now. Your feelings have been laid bare. My tiring facade is no longer necessary," he rubbed his face and allowed the raw condescension he had somehow been hiding to spill out fully.

"The moment is now pure."

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