"Life was a series of messes, and one spent one's time cleaning them up; if one had any heart at all one also gave a part of one's time to cleaning up those of other people." ~ Phyllis Bottome

  There wasn’t much going on in the visible spectrum, but mana sight told a different story. Sir Milback’s divine light dimmed a bit, as he devoted his efforts elsewhere. I restricted my contribution mostly towards maintaining a watch over the surrounding area and keeping the lights on so as not to distract him. It came to me that we likely should have made some sort of formal plan of action, or at least discussed what he intended to do, but it was too late now. I got the sense that it hadn’t particularly crossed the paladin’s mind either; I got the sense that he was accustomed to working on his own, at least for tasks like this.

  Whatever entity was inhabiting the book in question, and I did get the sense it was some concrete void-based thing, was fighting hard. Well, no, *concrete* clearly wasn’t the right term, but I wasn’t sure what was. It seemed rather amorphous, and possibly not exactly individual, but seemed to have some sort of intelligence or at least more than animal cunning, as it attempted to fight off the divine binding Sir Milback was trying to emplace. Perhaps having been bound in such a manner for millennia had encouraged it to contemplate ways to evade, resist, and break such bindings - and I assumed that was probably easier before such bindings were in place.

  In any event, in my mana sight, the bindings Sir Milback first attempted appeared as a sort of silvery chain, not entirely unlike the fraying binding still in place on the book itself, and I could hear him muttering to himself. ”First, get a rough binding in place to restrict resistance. Then I can see about reinforcing or replacing the existing seal; that’s going to be tricky. That seal Isn't by any god I know, and it doesn’t look like it connects to order, exactly.”

  Sweat was already beginning to appear on his brow, as the divine-aspected mana flowed steadily through him. It wasn’t a huge amount, compared to, say, the mana conduits being used to power the flight of the island, but the elderly gnome was certainly channeling more than any other living being I’d seen do magic so far (limited though that selection was, not even Mayphesselth had worked on this scale, though I suspected she certainly could if she felt the need).

  I discreetly sealed several doorways between the city and this place, figuring that if the book could summon creatures, I could at least block it from bringing in existing creatures from the island. Well, physical ones, at least. I was thinking about those void creatures in the odd village/ritual space, specifically. I had no idea if they were connected to this artifact, but there was no sense in taking unnecessary chances. I was reasonably sure, somehow, that I could prevent even most intangible creatures from passing through the walls of my domain, if I chose to do so. The book itself, or the entity it contained, rather, was beyond me, but not lower tier creatures, I felt.

  The struggle between the book and the paladin was not so much a contest of strength, as it was a struggle between control and evasion. The gnome was trying to lock the entity down, and it, in turn, was largely dedicating itself to writhing free; it was clearly a slippery kind of thing, and that evasion wasn’t even remotely three-dimensional - it was moving in ways I’d call orthogonal to reality and it was actively repellant to watch. That’s not to say that it wasn’t also attempting to attack Sir Milback, but those attacks seemed secondary and intended as much as distractions as serious efforts to do damage.

  At the same time, I didn’t get the impression it was simply trying to escape back to the void. No, there were distinct overtones of malice involved, and not just towards Sir Milback. It was seeking its freedom, but freedom to wreak havoc and destroy. I wasn’t sure if it was an urge inherent to the creature, or a result of its imprisonment for millennia. It brought to mind the old joke about the genie trapped in the lamp – after millennia imprisoned, all it wanted was to visit suffering on anyone it could.

  In any event, the writhing, icy, not-purple mana pseudopods weren’t flailing wildly as they fought to evade the even colder, silvery chains Sir Milback was spinning out and attempting to constrict. It did, at least, seem as though the void mana of the entity wasn’t able to directly resist the divine order of the chains. I had the sense that Sir Milback had access to more power than the entity, but less nuanced control of that power, and the struggle lay in the balance.

  I wanted to help but wasn’t at all sure what I could do. I didn’t want to distract Sir Milback, and my options to coordinate with him weren’t great. For the moment, I focused on gathering mana into the surrounding stone of the ceiling, hoping to restrict the options of the void entity. I made no effort to strike at it directly, but I was endeavoring to cut off what limited flows of mana it was receiving. That said, it seemed as though it was either working from mana stored over the millennia that had trickled through the bindings or it had established some sort of access to the void. It seemed to notice what I was doing, though either it didn’t particularly care or it considered me a much lower priority, or possibly both. I was hoping that it at least assumed I was a non-sapient dungeon simply interested in expanding my territory, though I doubted it given the timing of my press. Still, it did have to devote at least some of its mana to resisting my advance and the concentration of my domain in the stone surrounding it.

  It didn’t so much attempt to fight back at my encroaching as it seemed to be trying to discourage me with stinging slaps of its mana. And I will be honest, it WAS discouraging. It wasn’t causing me any damage, per se, but it felt disgusting - as though, the mana had been tainted with some offensively scented goo that was both slimy and adhesive. I wanted to sever the contact and simply annihilate the stone, though I knew that wouldn’t help.

  That was the point where I discovered that while Sir Milback had no telepathic ability, the void entity did – at least of a kind. It made that clear with an angry, confusion-inflected cry.

  ## EnOuGH! DeSIsT! WilL DEstrOy ALL! ##

  That didn’t sound promising, though it sounded like even Sir Milback had caught that message, as he smiled grimly and redoubled his efforts. His face was reddened, and sweat was pouring down his face. His hands were steady, though, as they flared with a visible silvery light as the chains flattened out into a more spherical shape and began contracting steadily, if rather slowly.

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  It seemed like that might be the turning point, as the efforts of the void entity grew more frantic and less studied. My concern was mostly whether Sir Milback could maintain the sort of brute force approach he’d adopted long enough to finish the job.

  ## NO! NoT gOIng BaCK! OblITerATe YoU ##

  The entity was clearly not going to concede the fight, if its only option was a return to divine imprisonment. It shifted its approach, countering Sir Milback’s encroaching sphere with a series of sharply pointed strikes at perceived weaknesses in the silvery globe.

  The struggle was still ongoing, but it seemed as though Sir Milback, or perhaps Zymther, decided that their chances of success would be better if the extraplanar entity had an out, other than death or imprisonment.

  With a grimace distorting his normally placid and serious face, the gnome paladin continued to compress the metaphysical space containing the entity, but allowed (I thought, intentionally) a thinning spot to develop – but only against the damaged borders of reality that led back to the void.

  The entity seemed to be aware of the weak point in the divine trap and the scar in reality that I assumed its arrival had generated – mostly healed over, but still representing a flaw and a passage back to the void. It continued trying to break free without being forced into the void, but its struggle seemed less frantic. A choice between death and imprisonment offered no choice at all, but one between death and a return to the void had it hesitating.

  I continued slowly expanding against its edges as Sir Milback convulsively squeezed the sphere inwards, leaving the one weak point accessible. The void entity’s odds of escape seemed to be steadily decreasing, though it wasn’t willing to surrender just yet. The gnome was gasping for breath, but he showed no real signs of faltering as the noxious extensions of void mana beat against the walls of his sphere, seeking weakness that would allow true escape, but finding nothing.

  One final round of effort on Sir Milback’s part had the void entity flailing and cursing as it was compressed back against the designed weak spot. It still refused to seize the obvious opening, and Sir Milback screamed out a hoarse cry to Zymther as he burst the bubble himself at the weak point.

  ## NOt GOinG. Can’T. WOn’t. KiLL YOu. DEstROy! ##

  That seemed like futile bravado, at this point, though, as it burst through the weak point in reality. In my mana sight, the last I saw of it was a flailing appendage appearing to grasp at the silvered, slivered edges of reality as its pustulent existence sprayed back into the void with one final, futile threat.

  ##NOt OvEr. COme FoR ALL. EnD COmeS##

  Sir Milback held on to the divine magic as the spherical binding flattened out, apparently acting as a seal on the rupture, until the being had passed, and the flickers of void mana at the edges of the seal sputtered out. The gnome, having gone from red-faced to a pallid grey, toppled forward, falling in slow motion without even an attempt to break his fall.

  I wasn’t overly concerned, as his heartbeat remained strong and his breathing regular, if a bit shallow and fast. It seemed as though he was simply exhausted and perhaps stripped of mana by the process. I spawned in a basic potion of mana recovery and another of stamina recovery, though until he recovered enough to drink them there wasn’t much for me to do. Spawning in a goblin to force feed him potions seemed excessive, and it turned out to be unnecessary as he came to just about a minute later.

  He turned his head tiredly, noted the characteristic colors of the potions, and chuckled. ”I thank you for the thought, dungeon, but I’m afraid I’m a bit beyond those. Fortunately, I have a few of my own that I keep for such occasions.”

  He painstakingly hauled himself up into a sitting position, fumbled with his belt pouch and extracted a pair of vials in related colors, but practically throbbing with intensity in my mana sight. He drained them carefully, first the stamina potion, then the mana recovery, wincing at the taste and rubbing mournfully at his temples.

  “For what they cost, you’d think they would taste better. Swear to Zymther, I think they make them taste foul just so you only drink them if you have to.”

  “Ugh. Too old for this sort of nonsense. Thank you for the assist, dungeon. Not sure it helped much, but it certainly didn’t hurt. Think it might have been able to wiggle free without your backing.”

  I wasn’t sure how a green light would be received, but I appreciated the thought. I did wonder what the next step was, though. The entity and the worst of the aura had been banished back to the void, but the book itself remained and repellent fragments of void mana continued to circulate in the enclosed space.

  Almost as though he heard me, he grunted and forced himself back to his feet. “Now to see whether I can reinforce the existing divine blessing on this chain, or whether I need to enchant a new one.”

  He peered tiredly at the book, apparently unable to read the runes himself, but focused largely on the thin chain binding it closed. ”That’s gnomish work, and no doubt, but I’ve not seen the like before. Not surprising, I suppose, if it’s as old as you say. Give me a moment to consult with my God.”

  He closed his eyes, though I wasn’t sure if it was part of his prayer ritual or simply the result of his fatigue. Even in mana sight, the communion was nigh invisible, the barest thread of silvery mana radiating from his forehead, above and between his eyes.

  A few moments later, his eyes re-opened. ”Well, good news, dungeon. I have been empowered to temporarily reinforce this chain. It’ll need more permanent sealing once it reaches the archives, but they have staff on hand for that exact function, I’m told.”

  The procedure for this was rather less fraught, involving a much finer application of divine mana that was fascinating to watch. It seemed less under Sir Milback’s control and more like he was simply the implement through which his deity passed the delicate enchantment. I watched the silvery mana divide itself into fine threads and sink into the unknown metal of the intricately worked chain. Each thread sank itself into the interwoven filaments that made up the binding and slowly wrapped itself around the faltering threads of the original working, then steadily bolstered and expanded until the book was entirely encircled, mana strands meeting in a sudden flare of divine mana that collapsed into an invisible seal at the joining point - making the chain appear as though it had been forged into place.

  “There,” the tired paladin said as his shoulders slumped. ”That should hold it until I get it secured. Now, all that’s left is to clean up the mess. I hate this part. ‘S like cleaning up after a party that got out of hand. Y’ know it needs doing, but you’re always wishing someone else stuck around to help. Just don’t absorb any of it yourself. Can’t imagine it would do you any good.” He sighed and held his hands above his head. “I’ll clean up, but you let me know if I missed any spots. His gauntleted hands flared into light, blasting away the shadows and purifying the repellent stray bits of void mana that lingered in the room. He began with the area directly around the book, but spent five minutes effectively scouring the entire space, getting the corners and the spaces below tables and chairs like the world’s most bizarre maid – tiny, ancient, and fully armored, trying to shed divine light into every crevice of the room.

  Finally, he stood and gazed at the nearest mana light. ”How’s that? Miss any spots?”

  **RED**

  “Right, then. Time to check in on the orcs.”