Whitefinger

  In Ashen Legacy, during the first expansion Veil of the Hollow King, the raid known as the Sepulchre of Silence descended beneath Marrowfen into the Marrowvault. Its final boss was Veyrith, the Silent Lord, Vowpale Ascendant. You fought him in the very chamber Vera and Serel had run across while they were exploring the Marrowvault.

  The questline leading into that raid followed the players as they uncovered and dismantled the Pale Reconciliation and their infiltration of the city. It culminated in a confrontation with their leader, a prominent monk of House Hollow who sought to deliver Marrowfen into silence.

  That’s who Whitefinger was.

  Naturally, players killed him by the end of the storyline, which meant he shouldn’t exist in this world.

  “Why do you think it was Whitefinger who did this to you?” Vera asked, watching Caldrin’s face closely. “You wouldn’t say that without reason.”

  The man lowered his head, expression drawn. “Indeed, my lady, I would not.” His gaze shifted toward the Vice-Master. “And yes, it is true that Whitefinger is dead. Or, at the very least, that he is supposed to be slain by my ladyship’s own hand.” His focus returned to Vera. “One reason I have to suspect otherwise is that I know of none others who walk the path of the Pale Reconciliation and could match such strength.”

  Vera crossed her arms. “So you could confirm that the person who did this was part of the Pale Reconciliation?”

  “Without question.”

  “But it could have been another member. Someone who’s grown stronger since Whitefinger’s death?”

  “It could have,” Caldrin admitted. “However…” His eyes grew distant for a moment. “You may not know this, my lady, but I once knew the man who would become Whitefinger.”

  “You did?”

  That was news to her.

  “I did. This was quite some time ago, when I served the occasional duty in the Quiet Hall here in Marrowfen. I was by no means a high-ranking member—a mere attendant, actually—but it was enough that I met with and spoke to him, and listened to his sermons. The man I encountered today did not have the same appearance nor voice, and yet…” He paused, searching for the words. “I recognized something in him. Something that convinced me it was indeed the same man I met back then.”

  Vera frowned, turning over what he’d said. That would mean Whitefinger had not only survived his supposed death but had also somehow managed to change his appearance entirely after ‘Veralyth Mournvale’ had killed him. Not only that, but he would have grown significantly stronger since then.

  She glanced down at the bucket on the floor, still filled with bloody clothes.

  “I’m going to need you to clarify a few things, Caldrin,” she said. “First, did you get any sense of how strong he was? Second, where did you encounter him, and why? Third, did you see any other members of the Pale Reconciliation? And fourth, could you tell what they were up to?”

  “Also, if possible, I would like to know if you know anything about High Warden Vaust or the other missing members of the Boneward Concord,” Vice-Master Gard added.

  Caldrin nodded slowly. “To answer your first question, I believe a fair assumption is that he was of the Tenth Binding, my lady. I encountered him within the Marrowvault itself, in one of the higher passages that connect to the storage vaults of the Bonewright Guild—vaults which my investigation led me to believe had a connection to what was happening.” He looked at the Vice-Master. “This should also answer your question. I had been in contact with certain acquaintances of mine within the sigilist’s guild who spoke of irregularities in the city’s sigilworks. Once I surmised that this was unlikely to occur without the knowledge of Sancter Vehl—who oversees the sigilworks by authority of the Concord—I sought out High Warden Vaust himself. I have been in frequent contact with him in the past when managing official correspondence on behalf of my lady.

  It was then that I found signs of disturbance in his estate, which was, curiously enough, kept under close guard. Though I succeeded in searching it without being discovered, that is where I found evidence that the man had been investigating similar irregularities with the sigilworks himself. All signs pointed to something suspicious occurring within the Bonewright Guild. I intended to conduct only a cursory examination of their vaults, but I did not expect Whitefinger to find me so quickly.”

  The Vice-Master stepped closer, his brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re saying the High Warden was aware something was going on? When I’ve spoken with him, he’s never indicated anything of the sort.”

  Caldrin studied him for a moment. “Have you considered, Vice-Master, that Vaust was perhaps not confident you could be trusted?”

  The other man’s frown deepened.

  “I didn’t encounter others I could confirm were members of the Pale Reconciliation, but I detected signs beneath the Bonewright Guild that suggested the presence of Tetherborn.”

  Tetherborn were a type of enemy players faced frequently in Ashen Legacy during quests involving the Pale Reconciliation. They were essentially people whose souls had been twisted and tethered to skeletal and other undead forms. Vera had suspected that the creatures she’d fought beneath the Marrowvault were a variant of them, but they were far stronger than the ones she remembered.

  “I also found evidence of an extensive supply network,” Caldrin continued. “Signs of goods being transported into the Marrowvault in significant quantities. Much of it appeared to be Resonance-rich resources.” He met Vera’s eyes. “I would assume the Pale Reconciliation has had considerable influence over the Boneward Concord for some time and that the edict against Resonance trade has been, at least in part, a means to establish a chokehold on the trade itself. Presumably, the Reconciliation’s goal is to enact a similar grand ritual as they did nearly a decade ago.”

  “That’s impossible,” the Vice-Master said. “Their purpose then was to offer Marrowfen as sacrifice to the Hollow King, wasn’t it? But he is gone.” He hesitated, and a note of fear crept into his voice. “Unless you mean to suggest he’s somehow still alive as well.”

  “No, the Hollow King is definitely dead.” Vera shook her head. “There’s no possible way to bring him back anymore.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  A big part of the first expansion’s final raid had been finding a way to put the Hollow King down permanently. His very existence had been erased. There should be no more reviving him.

  “But that doesn’t mean we’re safe.” She pressed her lips together, focusing on Caldrin. “If you’re confident Whitefinger is involved, what do you think the chances are that he managed to perform the Rite of Sovereign Remnants again?”

  Caldrin’s expression hardened. “I couldn’t say, my lady. But given what you found beneath the city, it seems the most reasonable conclusion.”

  “What’s the Rite of Sovereign Remnants?” Vice-Master Gard asked.

  Both Vera and Caldrin were silent for a moment.

  “…It’s the ritual originally used to bring back the Silent Lords,” Vera finally answered.

  The man’s eyes widened before a look of horror settled over his face. “You’re saying that’s what we saw down there?”

  “It’s possible. The Resonance I felt there was definitely of the Hollow King’s domain.”

  The possibility had occurred to Vera more than once, but she’d doubted it because the ritual was only supposed to be achievable by Whitefinger. He was a type of ‘Chosen’ of the Silent Lords, who were themselves demi-divine. As far as she remembered from the game, there had never been another who could perform the rituals he could.

  Assuming Whitefinger truly was alive, though… bringing back one of the Silent Lords should have required an immense quantity of souls and Resonance to be carried out. He would have been orchestrating this for years, and there was no telling how many lives he had defiled during that period.

  “My lady, if you would perhaps calm yourself.”

  Vera blinked, looking at Caldrin as he regarded her with patient concern. Then she looked at the Vice-Master, who had suddenly started sweating, his jaw clenched tight.

  She realized her Resonance had been leaking out.

  There was a cold fury coiling in her gut, shimmering quietly just beneath the surface.

  It surprised her how visceral the thought of what Whitefinger had done made her feel.

  “...Sorry,” she mumbled, reining her Resonance in again. She took a steadying breath. “Caldrin, do you know what happened to the heart of Veyrith after he was slain last time?”

  Once you killed the Silent Lord in the Sepulchre of Silence, the primary quest item he dropped was his ‘heart,’ which had been used to bring him back. The players had just turned it in as part of the quest to confirm his death, so she had no idea what would have happened to it after that in-lore.

  “I believe it was delivered to the vaults of Hollowstone Table, my lady,” Caldrin said, turning his attention to Vice-Master Gard.

  Vera turned to him as well.

  The man wiped the sweat from his brow as he seemed to recover from Vera’s earlier pressure, straightening under both their attention. “I am afraid I’m unfamiliar with this ‘heart.’ I only became the Vice-Master three years ago, and I haven’t seen any mentions of it in our records.”

  “Then we’ll have to ask Vanded.” An edge crept into Vera’s voice. “We also have to deal with Whitefinger. Properly this time.”

  She’d never killed anyone. Never saw herself as someone who could. But she felt no hesitation at the thought of putting someone like him down—not even a flicker.

  “Caldrin, describe his current appearance.”

  “Certainly, my lady.” He cleared his throat. “He was a large man, among the largest I’ve ever encountered. Pale hair cropped close to the scalp. Dark eyes—nearly black—and strangely flat, like there was nothing behind them. Angular face, heavy jaw, and a rather threatening presence. Quite distinctive.”

  Vice-Master Gard made a sharp, startled noise.

  Vera’s gaze snapped to him. “You recognize him?”

  He nodded, his expression grim. “That’s Mereon Talse. The Bonewright Guildmaster. We suspected his involvement, but Whitefinger...” He stared at Caldrin. “Are you certain? Both Chapter-Master Blazegrip and I have met with Talse on numerous occasions. The man isn’t even Kindled.”

  Caldrin arched a brow. “I’m certain, yes.” He gestured at his arm, where the blood under his shirt had now started seeping through the fabric. “One tends to remember the faces of those who tear one’s arm off.”

  “Ah. Of course. Sorry...”

  “No matter.” Caldrin waved the comment aside.

  “Caldrin,” Vera said as something occurred to her. “Did he say anything when you encountered him?”

  “Only that ‘a rat shouldn’t be scurrying around down there.’”

  “He didn’t recognize you?”

  “That does not appear to be the case, no. But I was only one face among many back then. And you and your compatriots had already dealt with the Pale Reconciliation when I officially entered your service, if you recall. As for this ‘Mereon Talse’ character, I recognize the name, but we’ve never met.”

  “Talse has been guildmaster for four years now,” the Vice-Master said. “He’s cultivated connections among the city’s high houses. I never thought much of it until recently, but many of those families were those who were once shunned after the Pale Reconciliation’s fall—families with previous ties to Whitefinger and House Hollow.”

  Caldrin closed his eyes, some sadness showing on his face. “To disparage our name so…” he spoke in a quiet voice.

  Vera touched a hand to her chin. “Then we can assume he hasn’t deduced my involvement from seeing Caldrin. That’s one advantage. But we still don’t know if they have a Silent Lord or where it might be if they do.”

  “A concerning matter indeed,” Caldrin said. “What do you wish to do, my lady?”

  “I’m not sure.” She scowled. “But I can’t stand aside anymore. I’ll have to face Whitefinger eventually. Veyrith too, if it comes to that. I’d just prefer not to do it on their terms.”

  If Caldrin’s assessment was accurate, Whitefinger was nowhere near her level. But Vera had never been in a real life-or-death fight, and she didn’t relish the thought of her first being against someone that dangerous. Whitefinger might be manageable with their level difference, but the Silent Lord was another matter entirely. That had been a raid boss—something meant to be fought by dozens of players working together.

  Sure, at level 276 she could solo him easily. But that was game logic. Power creep was baked into MMOs by design, each expansion rendering the last obsolete. She’d seen enough here to know that even if that logic held here, it couldn’t be completely trusted. Her abilities were vastly stronger in this world than they’d been in the game, for one. The Rite of Embercalm’s reaction when it tried to measure her Binding was another sign.

  She couldn’t trust game metrics to accurately gauge the strength of a demigod here. Especially not after feeling that Resonance beneath the city—Resonance that had dwarfed everything else she’d encountered, and that might only have been the dregs of a ritual.

  Could she win?

  Possibly.

  Maybe even probably.

  But it wasn’t certain.

  “To start, we find Vanded and confirm what he knows,” she said. “Then we can work together to rally what forces we can beyond the Chapter. Gather anyone willing to fight.” She glanced at the Vice-Master. “We might also need to start evacuating parts of the city. At least where we can.”

  He nodded. “Agreed. The Chapter-Master’s name carries weight. Even if the Concord tries to interfere, we should be able to mobilize some groups and spread the word.”

  Vera looked to Caldrin. “I’ll send you back to Sablewatch Hollow. Prepare as many phials and elixirs as you can, as well as some of the equipment from my armory. We’ll let Hollowstone Table borrow it. And ready the mounts that won’t lose control and can handle themselves.”

  He bowed. “As you command, my lady.”

  Vera summoned Stillwake. The weapon materialized in her hand, feeling more solid than usual. “Good. Then I’ll—”

  “—her—”

  Something shifted.

  She stilled.

  Her eyes shot wide.

  “My lady—?” Caldrin asked with some concern.

  The floorboards splintered beneath her as Resonance flooded outward. The room buckled. She was gone before the debris finished falling, tearing through the doorway in a blur that left a gouge through the wall where her shoulder grazed it.

  The hall blurred around her. Her pulse drowned out everything else.

  She reached the next room—

  —and stopped.

  Korrin lay sprawled on the floor beside an overturned chair, pallor spreading across his skin.

  But Serel wasn’t there.

  Instead, there was a cradle. Suspended from the ceiling by a single chain, swaying in a current that didn’t exist. The sight stirred something cold and unwelcome in her. Betrayal radiated from it like heat from a forge.

  She stepped closer. The world narrowed. Sound faded beneath the pressure building in her chest.

  A locket rested in the cradle. A locket with a silver chain and velvet casing.

  The air around her folded inward. Walls shuddered. Mirrors fractured with sharp cracks. Wood groaned. Pressure rolled off her in waves that warped the light and split the floor.

  Stillwake thrummed.

  A single thought dominated her mind.

  Where was Serel?