Marvel couldn't tell where they were or how long they had taken to get there. He didn't remember much about the journey to the hut. He was sure they were in a forest, though not the one east of the Academy Castle. When he tried to think of any outstanding details about it, he found his memory lacking.
They must have walked all night because the sky was already light through the treetops. It felt unseasonably cold for spring in Southern Irrhydia. His breath puffed in front of him like smoke, though the cold didn't make him feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. Maybe because he was dead?
All he knew was that the girl took him to a small hut in the woods, made of grey stone and roofed with straw. It didn't have a door, something that had alarmed him upon entering.
"Isn't it unsafe?" he asked the girl. "I mean, anything could get in. Like wolves or bears or—you know."
The girl shot him an unworried smile. "I don't think they'll want to come in here." She glanced at the gigantic hound that had followed them in.
Marvel grudgingly admitted that if he were a wolf, he'd probably not want to come anywhere near that thing either.
"Do you mind helping me light the fireplace?" she asked. "I'll get us some hot ale."
Ale. Marvel could use a drink after everything that just happened. He crouched by the large stone fireplace and did as she asked. Once a warm fire was blazing behind him, he straightened to peer at his surroundings.
The hut had very few things in it. Two wooden chairs in front of the fireplace, stacks of books in the corner, and a rough, woollen carpet underneath his feet. He found no bed, no cooking utensils, no hooks or lanterns or candles, no food or water. What did the girl and the dog eat? Where did she sleep?
He opened his mouth to ask when the girl chirped that the ale was ready.
But he'd seen no cups and he'd just lit the only fire. How?
Marvel decided that if he was going to keep encountering things that make any sense, he might as well just accept them as they came. The girl held two tankards balanced on saucers in either hand and passed one to him.
He took one and waited for the girl to sit before dropping to the wooden chair opposite her. The hound stalked over to the fireplace and lay down in front of it, at the girl's feet. She patted the creature's head fondly.
Marvel took a sip of the ale and stifled a frown. It tasted like nothing.
"Thank you," he told her anyway.
She nodded, smiling kindly. "I assume you have questions. You can go ahead and ask them now."
The polite thing to do would probably be inquiring about his host's name first, followed by sensibly asking what the hells was going on.
What came out of his mouth, however, was: "The athar."
She blinked at him.
"You said it was safe," he said. "Where is—"
Before he could finish speaking, everything changed. Or well, not everything, just the light. The sky outside the windows became dark as night out of nowhere. Only the fire broke the darkness around them.
Perplexed, Marvel looked to the girl for an explanation.
"That'll be him, then," she said, rising to her feet. "Come on."
Marvel was thankful to leave his ale on the wooden floor beside the chair and hurry after her. They went outside, stepping into what felt like night. There was no moon, but somehow Marvel could see everything as clearly as if there had been light.
The forest around them was completely still. He swept his gaze through the trees, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. He could see each leaf on every tree, though, hear roots groaning beneath the soil under his feet.
"Er…" He glanced at the girl. "What am I supposed to be looking at exactly?"
"Oh," was all she said, and then she pointed up.
Marvel followed her finger. Above them a storm was brewing. Thick, large dark clouds hid the sky. Lighting sliced through them ever so often, illuminating the night. Never before had he seen clouds blocking the sky away so completely, making it as if there were no sky at all. And those clouds, restless and angry, felt familiar somehow.
"The sky's alive," he told the girl.
She looked at him as if he had just said the most obvious thing in the world. "That's your athar, silly Marvel."
"What?" Marvel blinked again at the roiling, writhing mass of clouds. He could feel their rage, their wickedness, these shadows in the sky. "Shit. You're right. That's—that's—"
"He's very big," she said. "Bigger than the whole sky. His master must be very powerful."
"How do I—How is it—"
"Outside of you?" She shook her head, giggling. "Satis' descendants are not as smart as he was. Obviously you died, and now he's free, and he can exist here without being attached to a vessel."
"A—a vessel?"
"You know, like you. Alchemist too. You're all just vessels to make athar comfortable." She cocked her head at an especially loud peal of thunder, then directed a narrow-eyed look at him. "Although he says you haven't been very good at doing that, like all Alchemists. I've told him it's not your fault since you're not really an Alchemist."
Her words stung, but he ignored it as he stared up at the sky above. There was so much of it. All that had been inside him?
Another realisation slotted into his brain, and he asked, quietly, "So, I'm really dead then?"
She made a sympathetic face. "I'm very sorry."
He was quiet a while as he struggled to process it. The athar rumbled above them. "Does that… make you Death then?"
"What?" She shook her head, her entire body to show how much she wasn't. "No. Death isn't a person, silly Marvel."
"Oh." Marvel didn't particularly register the answer. His mind continued to play a constant loop of I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead.
"I'm only a lowly emissary of the goddess Griffith," she continued, unprompted. "You've heard of the House of Griffith, haven't you? She's their patron god."
"Yes," Marvel said absently, until his brain caught up. He nearly choked when it clicked. "Wait. Griffith? You mean, like the idio—like Caspian Griffith?"
"He is a descendant of the goddess, yes," the girl said.
Marvel couldn't believe it. That idiot was connected to the goddess of death?
"Do you know your patron, Marvel?"
He snorted. "You mean Satis, god of the cosmic joke? Not really."
Most people, like him, paid occasional visits to the family temples and forgot they existed until they needed something.
"Close," she said. "He is the god of perseverance."
Of course, Satis would not be the god of something useful like success, or ambition or money. What exactly was perseverance good for?
"Since I'm dead," he asked, circling back to the matter at hand, "is this one of Satis' Paradises? Or one of the hells or something?"
"No." The girl shook her head. "It's just somewhere he can't find you."
"Somewhere who can't find me?" She dropped her gaze to the ground immediately. Now he was curious. "I don't know if you know this, but I've died before. Why didn't you bring me here the other two times?"
That one she seemed eager to answer, almost like an apology for not answering the last. "Because your killers held your soul from crossing over, kept it from me. When the Grandmaster killed you, he wanted to bring you back."
"And when the golem killed me the first time?" he asked. "Who kept my soul from you then?"
She made a low noise of pain, her eyes darting left to right as if she were afraid someone would overhear. "It was the athar. He was instructed to keep you alive."
He crowded her. Her large eyes rounded fearfully, though she didn't move away.
"Who," Marvel asked, "instructed it to keep me alive?"
The girl winced, her face constricting in a grimace. She looked as if she was debating over whether to tell him or not.
"I'm already dead," he said. "What could I possibly do with that information?"