Xej's door is open a crack, the lights low, a single candle burning on the floor in the corner providing an uneven light.

Xej is meditating, cross legged in the middle of the room, the mysterious fruit from the garden in front of him. He looks up as he feels Vark's presence in the doorway. He beckons him inside.

"What price would you pay for peace? To silence the voices?"

Vark gulps. Xej wants to silence the voices and here he’s brought the voice a mouthpiece. 

“Uhm… I- I’m sorry… I really can’t imagine what it’s like.” Vark enters and sits down cross legged across from Xej, the fruit between them looming like an elephant. “You said voices? Are there more than just Jex’s?”

Xej shakes his head.

"Not Jex, Jex is annoying for the opposite reason, he tells me to let him out, to kill, to save you all, to fight alongside you for glory." 

He paused and gestures for Vark to sit opposite him on the floor.

"I mean the ones that make me resist Jex, my conscience, and his for what it is. You were with Jex on the walls of the fort, in Sheercleft, everywhere, I've seen you incinerate cultists, goblins, bandits, beings of conscious thought. Do you not have the voice reminding you they were someone's parent, child, sibling, friend? Questioning whether you were on the right side of each conflict? When we have so many, we can't have been right in them all. I know Jex was not."

He stops again, his eyes wide open as he stares intently at the fruit in front of him, bloodshot and heavy with deep blue bags. 

"How do you find peace with it?"

Vark listens intently, though his gaze as well rests on the strange black fruit. He is silent for a while after the broken man asks the question again, but then he responds with a shrug.

”It’s nature. At least that’s how I was always taught. The wolf doesn’t think of the elk’s friends when it eats dinner. The ram doesn’t think about the yeti’s family when it gores it in defense of its own. Violence is unfortunate, but it’s not unnatural, at least that’s what the elders said. When it comes to whats right and what’s wrong though, well…” another thoughtful pause, a scratch of his increasingly bearded chin, “I mean… I feel like we were on the right side of things in all of our battles. But I’m sure the goblins and the cultists thought they were right too.” another shrug. “I don’t know… I don’t think beating yourself up over it helps anyone. Jex is annoying and an ******* but, I do think he’s right about that at least.”

Xej shakes his head.

"So Jex is right? Should I just give him control then? You know who he is and what he does? He tortures me you know. Trying to get me to give him back the body, reminding me of the things we did when we were one person, hoping I won't be able to take the guilt. He's quiet now though, he knows neither of us would care anymore if I took a bite if this."

Xej picks up the fruit from the floor, he makes no move to bite it, rather sizing it up. The move likely for Jex more than Vark.

Vark frowns, his expression and shoulders weighed down by sympathy for his friend. 

“I’m sorry, Xej… that sounds awful. I still… I still think the best thing is to put the two of you back together though. And maybe that doesn’t have to mean ‘giving him back control’ ya know?! You are part of him, a part that he separated and hid away but, maybe when we put the two of you back together we can do it in a way that’s more… balanced! Both of you should have control, killer and conscience. I think that’s how it is for the rest of us and thats why we don’t get so hung up on doing the hard stuff that we have to do to protect Sheercleft and each other. You gotta have both. Jex was wrong to silence you completely before, but… I don’t know, I‘m sure there was a reason he felt like he had to do that, to protect himself, to survive. It doesn’t have to be that way going forward though, you should have as much of a voice as him.”

Xej shakes his head. 

"We split for a reason, we couldn't handle what we had done. Jex took the part of him that cared and shut it away, as he always used to when we'd done something terrible. We cared much more since we met you though, or maybe it was wearing the mask. Maybe this was just so much worse. I don't know. But being back together, would mean we would have to reconcile, the killer and his conscience. I'm not sure it can happen or that either of us would want it."

He brushes back his hair, tugging it roughly as he thinks. After a moment he gives a sad smile.

"What did you come here for anyway? Did you need something?"

“Uhmmmmmm…” he replies, biting his lip and glancing down at his satchel. “I don’t know… maybe this is a bad idea, you’re probably gonna hate it…” he mutters beneath his breath. Eventually Vark takes a deep breath and finds the resolve to do what he came here to do. He pulls the arcane mirror from his bag, gently unwraps it and places it next to the fruit. 

“It’s a Whispering Mirror. If you speak into it at night then Jex will be able to respond through the mirror in the morning. If we’re gonna find a solution to this then we all have to be able to talk to both of you… without forcing the mask back on your face.” Vark stares hard at the mirror, collecting his own thoughts. “I.. I don’t know if it’s possible for you to reconcile, but I know you both have to at least be open to giving it a try. Jex is an important member of the Acharnost, we can’t leave him trapped in your head, but if we separate you and he does become the monster that you say he is… well I think we’d end up losing both of you. And I mean… if he’s on the loose because you’re not willing to try rejoining and balancing that part of him… isn’t the blood still on your hands?” Vark’s face scrunches up in immediate regret for making the potentially painful point. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you feel worse I know this is all a lot I just… please, give it a try.” He leans forward to scooch the mirror closer to Xej. “Please.” He pleads with his big, storm-grey eyes. “Think about it at least.” With that, Vark rises and heads for the door.

"Wait!"

Xej calls out as Vark makes to leave. "What did you want to ask him? You want to talk to him without the mask and when he can't hold a dagger, that's fine by me. But I've nothing to say that I don't know the answer to "

Vark stops in the doorway, turning back.

”Uhm… I guess ask if he is willing to work towards unifying the two of you. If you’re both hesitant or unwilling then… it probably is a lost cause.”

Xej crinkles his face a moment, unsure what either of them has to gain from being rejoined but also considering it seems to be the only solution the people who knew him best wanted to find it occured to him that perhaps there was something he and Jex we're overlooking. He sits once again in meditation, this time with both the fruit and the mirror in front of him. Perhaps this at least was something to discuss with Jex, they had little common ground beyond three things: looking after the orphans of Sheercleft, not wanting to share a body, and caring for and valuing the people who seemed to want them back sharing a body. After great deliberation, he decides to pose the question to Jex.

"Why do you think our companions are so desperate to reunited us? Are we missing something?""

Vark leaves Xej, returning to his own room and immediately dropping to the floor. He pulls the codex from within his robes and sits cross legged, the ruby in front of him. He unintentionally mirrors Xej just down the hall. Even if both shards of the splintered rogue do agree to attempt some sort of reunion ritual or process, it won’t matter if they can’t figure out how to do it. Vark is excited to explore the informational resources Karaz Kadrin has to offer, but he carries quite a large cache of knowledge with him. His fingers play across the artifact’s planes, tapping runes and aligning his own mind with their frequencies. More runes and geometric shapes lined in crimson project out from the codex, spilling across the floor and rising into the air around him. With a cracking burst of sparks, Varks eyes flare red and his mind plunges into the ruby depths within the runestone.

Vark's fingers trace the edges of the ruby codex and the air around him hums with familiar tension. The sensation is akin to that of a bowstring drawn taut across the boundary between thought and form. The runes ignite, one by one, casting a blood-red glow against the walls and floor of the small room, and the soft sound of the half-orc's breathing is drowned by an arcane chime from within the stone. With a final pulse, the sorcerer's mind is pulled inwards, while his body is left still and unaware.

Vark lands softly on polished obsidian tiles, beneath a sky of endless shifting constellations. All around him, colossal shelves of glowing crimson crystal rise from the ground, shifting and rearranging themselves with silent grace. Books, scrolls, tablets and orbs float in mid-air, or rest within alcoves of impossible geometry. The library smells like ozone and old fire.

A shadow moves between the aisles and a towering figure emerges from the haze of refracted light: scales like molten metal, horns like carved basalt and robes woven from starlight. Odexes, the eternal custodian of the codex, peers down at the half-orc with eyes that shine and sparkle in the dim light.

"Vark," he intones, voice like falling stone in a chasm. "You return."

The great dragonborn steps aside, gesturing with one clawed hand. In response, shelves split, parting to form a wide corridor. Crimson glyphs flicker to life on the walls as books shift to accommodate the change.

"Walk with me," Odexes rumbles.

Vark grins at the dragonborn servitor.

“Hi Odexes! I was wondering if you could help me research something. I have a friend who’s uhm… well I guess his soul split in two, like… he has two very opposite parts of himself that hate each other and an artifact somehow split them apart. Right now they’re fighting for control of his body. Our group thinks it’s best if they are put back together, but in a more… balanced way.” Vark stops walking, looking at Odexes as if he realizes what he is asking doesn’t make sense. “Does that make sense? Is there anything in here that talks about putting two souls back together?”

Odexes pauses mid-stride, the dragonborn's long tail curling around one ankle as he studies Vark. For a long moment, only the whisper of shifting tomes can be heard in the silence of the library. Then, slowly, the ancient custodian nods.

"You speak of anamnesis, the art of remembrance across fractured soul-patterns. When two souls are split from one, they can form a dyad of identity in opposition. Each incomplete, yet clinging to dominion. You speak not of binding, nor of banishment, but of integration. This is rare, difficult and dangerous."

With a sweep of the librarian's hand, a spiralling staircase unfolds from the air itself, leading down into crimson-lit depths. The codex rearranges itself around them as Vark follows. Floating glyphs ripple across the walls. Some familiar, others so old that they speak directly to the spine. The pair descend into a round chamber where massive ruby lenses hover, turning slowly in perfect synchronicity. Beneath them lies a platform of smooth obsidian etched with two intersecting circles. Odexes lowers himself to one knee besides the platform and begins drawing symbols in the air, speaking as he does so.

"There are four known methods for reuniting splintered selves: the Mirror Rite, the Reforging, the Labyrinth of Selves and the Pact of Binding Stars."

The dragonborn looks at Vark again, more gently this time.

"You must know that not all soul-fragments wish to be whole. Some fear oblivion, others seek conquest. Reunification demands more than magic. It demands mutual recognition. Choose your path carefully."

A crimson lens lowers itself to eye level and begins to display shimmering memories, some of them Vark’s, others not. Half-formed figures flicker in the glass. Xej, and… the other one. Crueler. Sharper. The dagger-beaked shadow.

“Anamnesis,” Vark echoes slowly, committing the term to memory. 

“Yeah, we are working on the mutual recognition part. The two parts are very much at odds but… I think we can get them on board. We actually have a magic mirror already. so maybe the Mirror Rite would be good, or…” he scrunches his face, trying to deliberate on which method might be best based solely on their titles. “Maybe the star pact, I know a warlock who’s already in a pact with a star! Can you tell me more about those two?”

"Mhm, yes, the Pact of Binding Stars," Odexes ruminates. "A celestial covenant written in the runes of destiny. This requires intervention from a higher power, divine or otherwise, and typically includes an exchange or sacrifice. The Mirror Rite, on the other hand, is a ritual confrontation within a shared mindscape, guided by an anchor of trust. Success requires that both fragments willingly yield power and acknowledge the other."

“Oh, wow, okay… maybe the Pact of Binding Stars is a bit out of reach, it’s hard enough just getting a straight answer out of Shahar. The Mirror Rite seems doable though, if we can get Jex and Xej to cooperate. This anchor of trust, could that be a person?” Vark asks, resting an elbow in the crook of the other arm and scratching his chin in thought.

Odexes inclines his head slowly, eyes glowing softly in the crimson light cast by the codex’s living geometry.

"Yes," he replies, "the anchor of trust can be a person. In most successful instances, it must be. The Mirror Rite draws its stability from something or someone both fragments acknowledge as… steady. Familiar. A fixed point against which the chaos of self can be measured."

The dragonborn rises and walks a slow circle around the etched platform as he speaks, claws trailing faint arcs of red light through the air.

"This anchor must possess three qualities. Mutual trust, stability of spirit and a willingness to witness."

 He stops before Vark and places a hand lightly on the young half-orc’s shoulder.

"If you would serve as anchor, you must ask yourself: do they trust you? Can you carry what they reveal without breaking it or them?"

The lens behind them flashes, scenes of Jex and Xej flickering across its surface. Jex laughing, charming and dancing through danger; Xej quiet and brooding, eyes hollow with some unspoken thing. Their pain is not symmetrical, but it is real.