The Transfer room welcomed Mitch like a forgotten secret.

  The wide space stretched, with a distant stone ceiling and burnt-out candles floating in the still air. Rather than the seamless marble floors, it was tiled.

  Dozens of distinct doors lined the stone walls. Some were simple worn wood, others gleaming and polished. A few were twisted and unmistakably demonic. These last wafted potent menace, almost daring anyone to touch their handles.

  Above each door, tiny stones lay implanted into the stone. Most were dull. A few glowed green, and Mitch’s attention was drawn to a familiar door where someone banged on the other side.

  Memories bubbled up and around his mind—fragments of stepping into this waystation before. Of passing through these doors into places beyond his current comprehension. Due to his reborn nature, the sensation wasn’t unfamiliar, and it only filled him with motivated curiosity.

  Where do, or did all these lead?

  He knew the answer unconsciously. Well, his body did. It had been in front of him when he locked the front door. However these passages worked, Mitch instinctively knew that he could open the doors to other places across the Abyss, Shadowreach, and if he believed his body, places he didn’t yet know. Be it the front door for main locations, or connected through the Transfer Room, Mitch could pass through these thresholds, and exit where he chose.

  But those lights. Most are extinguished. I need to figure out how to get them to work again, and where some of these lead.

  “Loud,” Varak gestured towards the banging door from her seated position in the center of the room, where she crunched loudly and slurped a bug. “Very loud. Smell… arrogant.”

  Mook skittered from one door to another, his overgrown claws clicking against the black stone. His voice carried awe and urgency. “These connections… they’re alive,” he said, inspecting a demonic door before retreating from its aura. “Mitchell, I must learn this Skill! This Estate–it’s a treasure trove! Knowledge! Portals! Doors to… places!” His excitement cracked through their bond.

  “But first,” he added pleadingly. “The Library. You must allow me to go there. Immediately!”

  Mitch smiled at his excitement despite the incessant banging from the green-lit door. The presence there, it felt familiar.

  “Mook, you can go whenever you want. I’m not keeping you here, you know.” Mitch answered, startling the creature.

  Mook paused and straightened. “Ah. But I would like to see who is here first. Who knocks on this grand Estate!?” His beady eyes snapped to the green-lit door.

  Hathgar grumbled, stepping closer to the banging door. “Stars, this door looks awful familiar. Gnawin’ at me brain.” He leaned in, sniffing the air. “Aye, familiar. Smells like booze. Bad booze.”

  Sable scanned each door. She lingered before a demonic looking one, flexing her hand as if prepping a Fracture. “These doors,” she said, “they lead somewhere deeper. Don’t they? I can feel it.”

  Mitch could feel it too. Certain doors didn’t feel human, leading to somewhere deeper into the Abyss. “Doors to deeper down.” He answered her. His memories didn’t tell where they went, but he was sure of his answer.

  Sable snorted and turned back to the banging door. “Well? Let’s see who’s here. I’d like to search for food later, much as I like never feeling hungry or thirsty from your heals…,” she trailed off while smiling at him.

  Mitch returned her smile and stepped towards the door. The banging grew louder, and he could just make out a high-pitched squeal behind the rusted metal.

  With one fluid motion, he swung it open, the sound of the banging cutting off abruptly.

  Mitch found himself staring into a familiar space–the hallway of Robin’s Club Mythos.

  The gothic interior greeted him with its dim lighting, shadowy corners, and floating chandeliers. Just beyond, Mitch could see the club’s interior. Dancefloor, couches, empty picture frames.

  “Blood and balls.” Hathgar rumbled.

  And there, standing at the threshold, was Robin himself.

  His form glowed faintly, edges blurred as if he wasn’t fully tethered to the physical plane. Robin’s too-wide grin spread across his face, and his slicked-back black hair shined under the club’s light. Dressed in his signature blue suit, he looked every bit the ethereal, excitable host Mitch remembered.

  Robin’s hand dropped from the doorframe. “Ah! My boy!” he exclaimed, his high voice full of amusement. “You’ve done it! You’ve found the Estate! I knew my hint about relics would do you good.”

  Mitch was dumbstruck. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about this reunion. On the bright side, at least they could leave the Abyss.

  Hathgar’s jaw dropped, and he pointed an accusing finger at Robin. “Stars! You!” he barked. “You still owe me a week’s pay, you thievin’ ghostly bastard!” Despite the accusation, Hathgar meant it as a greeting.

  Robin’s grin widened impossibly far. “Hathgar, my dear former barback, always a pleasure. Perhaps not Credits, but will ale do?” He held up a hand before continuing. “Don’t worry–I have better stock now. If you haven’t already found the cellar?”

  “Damned right we found the bloody cellar! Even got a gnome who can make wine! And a bloody rock elf, can ye’ believe that?” Hathgar laughed and threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Even made friends with some fookin’ Abyssal creatures!”

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  Robin didn’t wait for an invitation. He glided through the door, his posture exuding confidence as he took in the Transfer Room. He looked over the vast space, the burnt-out candles and the many doors.

  “I’ve missed this place,” he said, spreading his arms wide, “a marvel. A wonder, truly. Do you know how many days I’ve been knocking? Weeks! Practically a month! Yet…here you are, rather quick, I must say.”

  Been here before?

  “Robin, what is going on? We can just leave through the door?” Mitch asked, surprised.

  “Why yes, my dear boy. Back into Shadowreach, where the Grimmers have all but taken over the streets and the hordes are breaking through the Front. But we must get something else if we want to come back.” Robin answered while smiling.

  “Urgar and Warrick? Crae? Have you heard anything?” Sable’s question cut through Robin’s casual tone.

  “Who? Crae is at the Front himself, battling back the horde. I didn’t even hear anything about your disappearance, Sable. Really, it is mayhem in the city. But we have bigger things to attend to!” Robin answered darkly.

  Mitch watched Sable’s face break into a bigger frown at that. He wanted to reach out for her, to comfort her.

  “Bloody need some fresh air. Stinks down here, even in this castle. Ye’ wouldn’t believe how ripe Mitch gets. And me Ma! She must be worried sick about me!” Hathgar started towards the door.

  “Ah, Hathgar. Always one to rush. Wait but a moment, you won’t want to miss this.” Robin responded with mystery.

  That stopped Hathgar in his tracks. The dwarf looked over his shoulder with squinted eyes, grumbled, and came back, muttering about “friends and decent enough cellar to stay,”.

  Mitch wasn’t bothered to stay and explore the Estate. He felt comfortable within its walls, and he honestly needed a moment away from the constant fights. If Crae hadn’t even sounded the alarm at Sable’s disappearance, the Front could wait until he learned more. There was a lot to figure out. What to do with the Abyssal prisoners back near the Pit. How this Estate worked. What his next steps against the Abyss were.

  One thing at a time.

  “You’ve been here before?” Mitch asked Robin.

  “Of course! You think I was always like this? In this form? I helped with some of the more…inventive additions.” Robin ran his hands over his faint body while winking. He turned and looked at Mook. “And who might you be? A being of the dark.”

  Mook nervously cleared his throat. “I am a Scholar, ethereal one. Mook. Mitchell has wisely granted me the honor of…accompanying him. This place. It is extraordinary. But I am pleased you do not see me as just a monster.” Mook finished and bowed his head.

  “Monster? Your form does not define you,” Robin chuckled, giving Mook a small bow. “A scholar no less! That will be most useful.” His gaze shifted to Varak, who watched the conversation while munching on a bug she had pulled from somewhere. “And you,” he said. “My dear. Who are you?”

  Varak tilted her head. “Varak. Mmmm. Not bad, ghost. Watch…your step. Dusty.”

  Robin laughed. “A being of undiscovered power and loyalty–a rare combination. Keep her close, Mitchell. She will serve you well.”

  Sable watched Robin warily. The ghost noticed her scrutiny and turned his attention to her. “You,” he said as he glided closer. “Been a while, Sable. I hope you are well. You feel it now, don’t you? The Abyss. A result of being his First Follower, perhaps? Hmm?”

  Sable stiffened. Robin had been the one to craft Sable’s Patchling form. “Robin. Of course you have more to do with this.” She said through gritted teeth.

  “Do not beguile me, my dear,” Robin answered her tone. “Would you rather I left you without the opportunity that lays before you now?” His tone became harsher, more serious than his usual blasé. “You might not agree with my methods, but now you stand a chance to find your soul. Would you rather I left your found body undisturbed? Unless you think it better I just allow the Abyss to take. And take. And take. Hmm?”

  She didn’t bite back and backed down.

  Robin chuckled knowingly, and turned to Mitch. No, he focussed on Galadrith. “And the sword,” he said reverently. “A marvel. To lock your soul to metal and serve another. One final time.”

  The words latched onto Mitch’s neck.

  “What? One final time? What do you mean?” Mitch asked with a tight voice.

  Robin’s eyes lingered on Galadrith with a mixture of admiration. The sword answered instead of the ghost.

  “This man is powerful,” Galadrith said. “To hold onto one’s soul, to keep it bound in ethereal form…It requires immense will. To lay claim to your own essence after death. It is a feat few can achieve.”

  Mitch tightened his grip on the soul sword. “And you?” he asked, voice meant for the blade alone. “What does he mean?”

  There was a pause before Galadrith answered. “I am your blade,” the sword answered finally. “Your soul sword. My fate is tied to yours. I told you this… To wield me is to carry both my strength and my burden. Together, we cut through the Abyss. I will not go back to the Abyss. We win, or I die forever.”

  The words didn’t bother Mitch. What choice did he have? What choice did Gal have?

  “Ah yes,” Robin said to everyone. “You have so much yet to uncover. Enough sadness!” He focussed back onto Mitch with a maniacal look. “Now, where are my relics? I’ve been holding your room for a month! We had a deal, Mitchell.” Robin waggled his eyebrows at Mitch.

  The word hit Mitch like lightning. Relics.

  It stirred something deep in his core. The souls within writhed too, echoing the pull of the word.

  The Estate undoubtedly held relics. Powerful artifacts he could use against the Abyss.

  Robin watched Mitch’s reaction with amusement. “It’s time. To get the most important relic of all. The Relic room. Shall we?”

  Mitch hesitated and turned toward the doors lining the Transfer Room. Each one whispered with possibility. He stared at the green-lit door behind Robin, then on the demonic doors. But it wasn’t those that his mind lingered on.

  There was no polished red door for Mathilda’s in the Transfer Room. No trace of Mathilda’s call. The absence of the door bothered him. She had led him here. With her key. With her fragmented memories. With Rex.

  Where is she?

  He would ask about her later. Not in front of Sable.

  Mitch saw the Estate in a new light. Redirecting him to new paths and possibilities. But the lack of answers regarding Mathilda left an ache from his body.

  “The relic room, then,” Mitch said, his voice steady. Without any of them knowing, he had locked away the anxiety that was mounting into Devoid. It was his first gift in this world he now inhabited.

  He needed to keep a level head, and this was not the time for his mind to run amok. It was Mathilda’s first gift to him, and it felt fitting to use.

  He gave Robin, and then everyone else a curt nod before turning back to the hallway before them.

  There’s time for that later. For now…

  Mitch walked up to the threshold, the thought of undiscovered relics guiding him.

  For the first time, the thought pushed back, as if the Estate was pushing against his request to transfer to the Relic Room.