David's family could do nothing but stare at the strangely familiar light.

  If it really was the young girl's soul...

  Isaac was the first to snap out of his stupor, slumping back into his chair with an audible thump and limply waving a hand in David's general direction.

  “This is ridiculous. Did you wake up one morning, years ago, and decide you were going to make your brother question the point of his own life? If that is so, then congratulations, brother, you've succeeded.”

  Agatha remained transfixed on the light, but Jacob began working his jaw, eyes turning cold and calculating. He looked to his son.

  “If it truly is a soul, then I understand what you meant by having every powerful man and woman obsessed with this. To know that it is even possible to preserve a soul after one's death...” The patriarch trailed off. The rest of his thought didn't need explaining.

  David and Niala shared a complicit look. They had elected not to reveal the process of incarnation or lichdom for the exact reason Jacob had just hinted at.

  People would go crazy over this. A chance at immortality? Or even just to cheat death? There would be no unjustifiable ends for some of the more depraved individuals out there.

  That was, if the secrets of incarnation weren't already known and simply suppressed.

  Jacob grunted. “Can I assume nobody else knows about this? That you figured out a way to preserve a soul?”

  David dipped his head. “We haven't told anybody else.”

  His father nodded. “Good. Let's keep it this way.” He said before squinting at David. “You said this was a treasure beyond worth? This just seems like a very dangerous piece of knowledge.”

  “No, this is just part of it. I want to bring Annabelle back to life.” David explained.

  Agatha and Jacob froze once more.

  Isaac slumped even more into his chair, a pout on his face, staring intently at his older brother.

  His mother jumped to her feet. “Back to life!? How!? Explain it to me!”

  David shook his head. “I'm not going to; that would reveal even more of our secrets.”

  “Do you not trust us?” Agatha asked, wounded.

  David only stared back.

  As her face began turning into a scowl, Jacob brought a hand to his wife's arm. She snapped her head in his direction, only to see him shake his head. “He is making the right decision. Secrets have weight, and they are already burdening us with a lot. It's enough that he would even tell us, Agatha.”

  She looked back at David, emotions warring on her face, before taking a deep breath and sitting back down. “My apologies, son. Your father is correct.”

  Jacob clasped his hands on the table. “I am guessing you want our opinion on this. Whether or not you should bring Annabelle back to life.”

  “We do,” David said.

  “Then, we will need time to discuss this. Analyze the situation, the pitfalls, the upside, what we stand to gain from th-”

  Agatha cut in like a hatchet snapping a bone. “You will do it.”

  Jacob, mouth still mid-word, turned to look at his wife, who kept her gaze locked on David. “...Agatha?”

  “He can bring our daughter back to life, Jacob. I don't care about the bottom line. David said it right, a treasure beyond worth.”

  The patriarch blinked. “Are you certain? We can take steps to hide her afterwards, but if it came to be kn-”

  Isaac's voice broke in. “Mother is right. We're doing this.”

  His father looked at him, eyes wide, and then back to his wife.

  He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. When he reopened them, they were devoid of their usual sharpness. Jacob leaned back in his chair, his shoulder slumping somewhat. “It appears that I have once again considered the family before thinking of my family.”

  He looked at David. “Very well. Please, do all that you can. We will provide everything you need, and follow your instructions.”

  David recoiled at the intensity of the sadness pervading Jacob's eyes as he spoke once more. “Please, bring back my daughter.”

  That night, Isaac and David went about the macabre task of unearthing Annabelle's remains. David knew that his sister had been barely five years old at the time of the... incident that led to her death, but the tiny coffin they retrieved after half a bell of digging still tugged at his heart. He hurried and stored it within one of his cargo cloths, both men refilling the hole, hiding their traces as best they could.

  David thanked his brother, who had remained silent throughout, and went back to the guest house where Niala had stayed up and waited for him, even though he'd told her not to.

  Because of course she'd wait, even if she hadn't felt the amount of unease and guilt pushing through their link.

  A quick shower later, they tucked into bed, though sleep evaded him. Digging up his sister's grave had been harrowing in itself, but to think that she might be a single night's sleep away from returning to life...

  If he didn't fail.

  He had the sinking feeling that they would only get one chance at this. Once her soul was released from Leviathan's care, anything could happen, and they definitely did not have a manual for the whole process.

  They had entertained the thought of bringing in animologists and other experts in the trappings of the soul, but this led to their secret spreading to people they could not control, and they weren't willing to gamble on that.

  Even if it meant they'd waste their chance, letting the knowledge of what they were trying to do escape would only lead to new and worse suffering than having to keep living with her death in their mind.

  Niala opened her bright amethyst eyes and stared deeply into David's. He felt his mind unwind, his heart calm down, his distress dispelled by her loving gaze and the feeling of her body pressing against him.

  His heart began beating faster once more, but for a different reason. A much more pleasant one.

  Eventually, he did fall asleep.

  They were directed down into the second sub-level, deep in a seldom-used part of the underground complex underneath the Wardenfel mansion.

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  With Isaac standing outside the single door, David and Niala set themselves up.

  Annabelle's desiccated remains were gently laid out on a thick cotton cloth overlaid over a sturdy table, while Niala brought out her best healing potions, including a pair of what she called God's grade; the potions that were only possible to brew by mixing alchemy with weaving.

  To David, this might have been an even greater secret than being able to preserve one's soul. So far, Niala had only brewed healing potions of this type, but who knew what else she could do. Someone with her skill and ability and a whole lot less scruple... he didn't even want to think about it.

  Once everything was set, they shared a look and nodded. They went over Annabelle's corpse, making sure every bits were still attached, using silk wraps to bind together what wasn't.

  Niala then took up one of her unique potions and walked up to Annabelle, holding the bottle in both hands. She positioned it above the tiny body and tipped it over, starting at the head and running down the body and over each limb.

  The pearlescent liquid flowed quickly over the dried husk at first, as if uninterested in interacting with it. But, slowly, it began seeping in. The dead flesh began smoothing out, little by little.

  David stared at the process, mesmerized. He hadn't truly expected this part to work. That it was having an effect at all spoke to the potency of Niala's brew.

  Annabelle's mottled brown flesh lost its leathery sheen, as a healthy pink colour began radiating out from where potion drops had landed, like paper drinking up ink spots. Muscles inflated, skin stretched, hairs regained their colours.

  The mummified body returned to its pristine, youthful form under his eyes, like a dried sponge gorging with water.

  As Annabelle's body took on the appearance of an emaciated young girl, the revitalization process began slowing, even stopping in places.

  Niala nodded and retrieved her second potion, dousing the body with half its contents, before moving to the head, where thin, cracked lips had revealed themselves. She dropped some more of the miracle liquid over them and, once they were soft and supple, she gingerly opened them with two fingers and let the rest of the potion drain inside Annabelle's throat.

  Annabelle's body began faintly glowing, a light suffusing her flesh, radiating from within.

  The distended skin puffed up, healthy-looking muscles filled in, and a thin layer of fat smoothed out her form. Her eyes went from wrinkled fruits back to glistening globes; her hair shone under the room's illumination.

  The little body stopped glowing. Before him was Annabelle as he'd remembered her; long chestnut hair, an impossibly cute, rounded face adorned with a button nose and two large eyes. She was covered in the remnants of her funeral dress, giving her a ghastly appearance, like a dead spirit haunting a house.

  David put a finger to the girl's cheek. It was lukewarm. She had no pulse, nor any reaction to his touch. Right now, it was nothing but a body, rapidly cooling down after being returned to a life-like condition.

  But it was missing its soul.

  Niala gave David a nod, and he closed his eyes, forming a mana bead within his inner world and breaking it, pushing Leviathan back into the physical plane.

  The serpent brought out Annabelle's soul, moving it close to her body.

  Any hope that the two would interact on their own died quickly, and they were left with the uncertain task of finding a way to merge soul and body back together.

  Their best guess was to use what had worked before: Niala's weaving, and the way she had been able to bind her soul to her body when she went to search for David's.

  This time, however, she would be using David's mana, so she could weave the biggest, strongest tale possible, past anything her own meagre supply would allow her.

  David put one hand over Annabelle's body and put another over her soul, his brow rising as he felt the warm, slightly electric sensation course down his arm upon touching it.

  Niala put her hands over David's, felt out with her mana, touched upon David's, and began weaving.

  She was keeping her tale simple. Without the necessary knowledge on how to proceed, she had to eschew finesse in favour of David's preferred method: brute force.

  If the secret to returning Annabelle's soul to her body was akin to using a key to open a lock, instead of trying to guess at the shape the key should have, she would ram a spiked rod into the mechanism and spin it until something gave.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated, picturing in her mind a tall, bright and warm house on one side, a small, cold bed on the other, and a brightly lit path linking the two.

  For nearly a quarter bell, she thought of nothing but those three elements, to the point she could also feel them impress on her mind, as if they were real, physical objects.

  And only once she began wavering on her feet did she release her tale, through David's mana, and into their recipients.

  A sharp snap, like a taut rope breaking, rang out. The sudden release made Niala tumble backward, the tale she had woven eager to press forward, to act out the story.

  David pulled his arms back, his hands singed, as if he'd thrust them into an oven and left them there to cook. He hissed at the pain, but pushed it out of his mind, instead turning his eyes to the soul and the body.

  And waited.

  She stirred. Scrunching her closed eyes, she lazily groped for her bed sheets. It was cold, and she wanted to be warm again.

  But her hand found nothing. Annoyed, she cracked an eye open and looked around.

  What she saw didn't make sense. She had been sleeping. She should have been in her bedroom, in her giant, comfy bed.

  But instead, she was lying on a flat, bare mattress, in the middle of a clearing out in the woods. It was nighttime, and the air was cold and biting.

  She pushed herself up into a sitting position and rubbed at her eyes. It felt as if she had been sleeping for a long time, and felt like she could have slept for even longer, but something had changed...

  Out in the wilderness, alone, she should have been afraid, or at least anxious, but instead she knew she was as safe as possible, like she had a guardian watching over her.

  What she was, however, was cold, and being cold was annoying.

  She spun her little head around, stopping and blinking when she spotted a glow through the trees, where it looked like there was a small stone path weaving through the forest.

  That light sure looked warm...

  She gave her “bed” another glance; grey, thin, uncomfortable, cold.

  She humphed, shuffled over to the side of the bed and let her legs dangle, not quite touching the ground. With a little shove, she pushed herself over and to her feet, wobbling and flailing her arms to remain upright.

  Somehow, standing up was harder than she remembered, but she regained her balance and took a tentative step forward, her movement measured and slightly awkward.

  How to walk quickly returned to her, muscle memories reasserting themselves, and she began padding over to the path, the smooth stones somehow warm under her bare feet.

  She moved her little legs, unhurried, letting them carry her over to the warm place. The place that felt new, but still familiar.

  Soon, the forest thinned, and she could see where the light was coming from: a compact two-story stone building, with a large decorative wooden arch, attached to a walled-in garden. The house looked old, but renovated, and well-cared for.

  It was strange to taste feelings, but love, warmth and safety rolled off her tongue, down her tummy, and pushed away the cold from her body.

  The beds inside that house must be marvellous!

  With a toothy smile, she sprinted forward, arms floating at her side like the wings of a bird gliding through the air.

  As she got closer, the front door opened, and three silhouettes stood against the light spilling out from within, hiding their features.

  But she recognized one of them right away, even though she didn't. Big brother, that was him, the tall and muscly figure on the left, except he was even bigger than before!

  On the right, someone she didn't recognize, but looked like a good person; smaller, with two cat ears on top of her head, and a tail swishing behind her rump. A new friend?

  And, between the two... herself.

  She blinked. The other her blinked at the same time, except her eyes were empty, dark. Eyes were supposed to have a light! This wouldn't do!

  She pushed forward, reaching for her empty self. The empty her reached back. Their hands passed each other, and pressed against each other's cheeks.

  She was holding her cheeks with both hands.

  But something was wrong.

  She couldn't breathe.

  She had to breathe.

  She began to panic. Not breathing was bad.

  Maybe if she tried really hard to breathe.

  She closed her eyes really tight, and pushed.

  A small gasp cut through the silence in the room. Two heads snapped toward its source.

  Annabelle's tiny body, her chest rising and lowering.

  Neither dared make a sound. Neither dared take their eyes off her.

  The young girl groaned, brought her hands up to her eyes and rubbed them. She blinked them open, looking around, puzzled as to where the nice, warm home had gone. Her bright green eyes landed on David, and a big, wide smile drew across her face.

  “Big brother!” She shouted with her tiny, happy voice.

  Before David had taken two steps toward his little sister, the door burst in, startling everyone.

  Isaac stumbled in, righted himself up, and stared at a miracle.

  “Little brother!” Annabelle called out with all the joy a five-year-old could muster.

  And Isaac, unable, or maybe even unwilling, to hold it back, shed a tear.

  Much to Niala's delight.