Shiva's expression immediately sombers upon hearing of Iskander's station, throwing a heavy glance to Caio. The memory had almost faded to nothing, yet she can still envision the field watered by the blood of the devastated janissary force, killed by those who embodied the very spirit of the forest. This is quickly followed by the thought of her compulsion to consume one of those dead bodies, driven by the demonic spark of power within her. 

She gulps, fighting back nausea at the thought, then nods. "I see. We came across a ruined force of janissaries some time ago, seemed like the forest had taken its vengeance against them for some wrong they'd committed. Grisly stuff." She takes a few steps back to sit in a nearby chair. 

"I wouldn't have thought that Clarissa's influence would've already gone so far as to be dictating the movements of the Sarameian emperor's forces."

Iskander's face shifted with a mix of grief and anger, both at Clarissa and himself. He should have defied those orders.

"She's not Musir. She doesn't dictate. She influences. She is in the heart of the court and spreads a corruption that will lead to our ruin. I don't think any Musir is fully hers. Yet." 

Shiva leans forward, assuming meaning from context. 

"Alright, well that's something, at least. And if there are Musir in her pocket and she's influencing the direction of the military, does that create potential for civil war? Or that we will have to find a way to go through them to get to her?"

"...She'd probably install a fall guy into a position of power within her little cabal to avoid consequence if things go to shit."

This last comment is quieter, more to herself than anyone else.

While the others were attending to their various errands Astrid has managed to find herself a change of clothes for the travels to the warmer climates of the Empire. In place of her robes, but still in her traditional scheme of blue with silver accents, she now wears a loose, long-sleeved tunic with matching a pair of high-waisted baggy trousers. A shield emblazoned with an all seeing eye sits at her feet next to a satchel that bulges with her various components and tools.

The dwarf glances up from the map she had been studying with Ciao's arrival. "Well, would you look here! Another cat dragging a half dead mouse to my feet." Astrid snaps her head toward Shiva and Alaris. "I just finished mending a few minor scrapes on this one."

She rises to her feet and waddles over to Iskander. "C'mon, now. Have a seat and let me have a look at you." She guides the injured janissary to a chair so she can begin her inspection.

Iskander sits as directed and lefts his trouser leg to show his worst wound. "Only a quarter-dead at worst by my reckoning. You should have seen me before"

 "Is this everyone you wanted me to talk to?" the janissary directs to Caio. He holds back some of the anger he feels but the way he bristles in his response to Shiva is noticeable. "I'd appreciate if ravaging my country with a bloody civil war wasn't the primary plan for getting to Clarissa." He gives a weary sigh and continues, "I'm not naïve. I do know that a purge will be needed but that plan is sacrificing many for the sake of a few."

Shiva leans forward in her seat, noting the man's restrained anger. She's about to make a point about jumping to conclusions and looking a gift horse in the mouth, when her line of thought becomes fuzzy and briefly nonsensical. She recognizes the intruding voice as that of her Other, but never before had their thoughts crosses through one another, disorienting her in a blend greater than its component parts.

She mingles with Ki-Tanra within her mind and soul, both parties disparate and inextricably bound. They dance an ineffable pattern, souls resonant in manners unique to each, shaping and sharpening that which would be made manifest in the material world through Shiva's body. The tides of their expression come into tighter and tighter alignment, until they synchronise entirely.  

It is only the most brief of pauses as the others look on, almost as though she were about to sneeze, and the moment passes. Now as she regards the man, she smiles. The expression is icy, nearly patronizing. Her voice is silken yet pointed, like a dagger sliding cleanly between the third and fourth rib towards the heart.   

"That wasn't a proposition, Iskander. I ask because we need to know what we're walking into, otherwise we may as well already be dead. If there is kindling for civil war, Clarissa will fan the flames the second it becomes her best move. From what we've learned, I don't doubt that she'd cause cycles of bloody horror throughout Sarameia if it was advantageous to her father and herself." 

She then leans back in her chair, crossing both her arms and her legs. 

"We don't cause carnage for it's own sake. We don't throw away lives like they mean nothing. We want to achieve our goals with as little bloodshed as possible. With that being said, there are realities here that we can't look away from. You say you're not naïve. You're going to have to prove it and be present in this conversation. Understanding that fighting Clarissa means the deaths of some will be unavoidable." 

She stands, light as forgiveness, to cross the room and pick up a guitar sitting against the far wall. She returns to her seat and begins playing calmly, eyes still focused on the janissary . 

Caio’s eyes widen at Shiva’s retort and odd intensity, then narrow as he processes that something has changed in her. His eyes scour her as she begins playing with her own gaze on Iskander.

”Yes, this is everyone. For now at least. Nikolai ran off to who knows where to do who knows what, and I mentioned that one of our number is currently being held hostage by Clarissa and her father. That’s Ling.”

The bug eyed cormorant with greasy black feathers that has sat perched on Caio’s shoulder since their arrival squawks indignantly. 

“Ah, how could I be so rude. This is Ghoul, my familiar.”

She had a point but the way she'd delivered it instantly had his back up, and now Shivala was rudely playing music over him.

Iskander didn't react to her words, it was Caio he spoke to instead. "So you wanted to know Clarissa's allies and enemies?"

He winced as his wound was examined but continued, "In Sarameia, rather than putting people in power purely based on birth as is done elsewhere, the Emperor's advisors are selected based on administrative ability. The highest of these positions is the office of Vizier. Clarissa meets with Vizier Tarefan Shuqir often and when the vizier speaks, he speaks with her voice. He is as her echo, carrying her voice to the emperor and the court. To contest Shufir is to pit yourself against the administrative apparatus of empire; several of his detractors have been pushed into irrelevance by clever reallocations of budget."

Caio nods and begins to pace.

”We also know that Clarissa has been consorting with the 99 Hundred, and that both parties seek the emperor’s runestone. We must simply expose their machinations to the emperor and the rest of the court. I’m sure Clarissa will make that far from simple, but I believe the web she’s woven can work in our favor. Between all those strands are holes. Tarefan’s bureaucratic defenses won’t work against the Septem Mortale. If we can get at him before Clarissa notices, then we can make him talk. That is what politicians love to do after all. The 99 Hundred are also a potential pawn, if we can play them against Clarissa. It’s safe to assume that it’s only a matter of time before the cabal turns on the Morgenstern’s or vice versa. I don’t believe for a second that either would willingly let the other have full control of the relic even if their plans align beyond simply stealing it. If we are clever, we could ignite that fuse.” He stops pacing, hands clasped behind his back. “Our primary plan is espionage.” He speaks with authority, though he does his best not to sound condescending. “Gather information and evidence, disseminate it tactically, then strike at Clarissa while she’s on the back foot.”

Shiva's playing grows in volume and complexity as Caio relays his plan of action, ending her playing with a final, powerful strum of a terminating chord as he concludes. 

"Perfect. And we can gather information on the other Musir and rally them to our side, if we find they haven't been turned. You're brilliant, Caio."

Iskander lifts a finger. "What's a Septem Mortale? You've mentioned it twice now. A secret weapon? Will you be able to smuggle it into the city?"

Caio smirks, he even chuckles.

”We are the Septem Mortale. I suppose so long as you accompany us we won’t have to count Ghoul as the seventh member.”

Shiva opens her mouth to give a witty remark about the revolving door that has been the Septem Mortale, but stops abruptly. For the first time, she truly registers what has happened between herself and her Other, having joined together through what appears to be instinct. The potential consequences of this rapidly flash through her/their mind, and they look to Caio with none of the slick confidence she'd had just moments before. 

"Caio, something strange has happened. It's my Other, we've fused somehow. It happened a moment ago and it's ongoing, we're thinking and feeling as one."

She begins making her way out of the room, stopping only when she is close enough to Caio to whisper to him. "I think you should tell him about our Others. I'm going to speak with the Warden, see what he makes of this." 

Returning to the teleportation chamber, Shiva waits for what seems like an opportune moment to disturb the powerful wizard in his workings. 

"Warden Elias, sir? If I could just have a moment of your time, does anything about me seem different when you look at me?"

Elias turns from the slow-turning armillary of glyphs with deliberate grace, crystalline components casting glimmers across his lined features. His expression is contemplative as his bright, rune-reflecting eyes come to rest on the tiefling, before narrowing slightly.

"Yes," the mage confirms. His voice is quiet, but perfectly resonant in the arcane hush of the chamber. "There is something... doubled and yet singular in you now."

The warden steps forwards, his robes whispering over the etched floor, and lifts a hand palm outward and fingers poised. Soft pulses of silvery-blue light shimmer between his fingertips and his brow furrows further.

"Your soul-pattern has shifted. Intertwined, nested… no... merged." The half-elf's tone sharpens slightly, edged with intrigue. "This doesn't bear any of the markers of possession, or domination. It’s coalescence. A harmonic fusion. Was this voluntary?"

The question is spoken quietly, but Elias doesn't wait for an immediate answer, instead beginning to pace slowly around Shiva in a deliberate spiral. He clasps his arms behind his back and murmurs arcane words under his breath. When he completes the circuit, he stops in front of her again.

"You have become a singular gestalt entity. Still Shiva, but not only Shiva. The 'Other' has ceased to be separate. You are... entangled at a metaphysical level, likely anchored through instinctual resonance. Deep emotional congruence can catalyse such things."

The warden looks at the tiefling more closely, his voice growing quiet again, but not unkind.

"Tell me what you felt when it happened. What do you feel now?"

Shiva does her best to remain calm under the warden's intense scrutiny, but concern rapidly expands into anxiety.

"Yes and no, this was voluntary but only in the sense that my Other and I...synced up, for lack of a better word. We've been close since the group's Others arrived, probably the closest of all of us. We speak regularly, share perspectives on things. Slowly, our differences were overshadowed by what we have in common."

Shiva looks at her hands, tensing and relaxing as she searches herself for some manner of difference.

"It was a disorienting sensation. The feeling of our thoughts intertwining, improving upon and sharpening the contributions of the other until eventually we were thinking as one. It was an instant and it was a hour, all at the same time. And now..."

Her internal inspection finds purchase, and the pattern of runes magically etched into azure skin light the space in their golden glow. 

"This feels...right."

In the blink of an eye, Shiva disappears. 

When she reappears several seconds later, she quietly laughs to herself. "What a wondrous thing..."   

Elias doesn't startle when Shiva vanishes, instead, merely raising an eyebrow. His sharp eyes track the empty space where she stood a heartbeat ago and, when she reappears, laughter catching like light in her throat, the warden clasps his hands slowly behind his back, expression caught somewhere between approval and profound interest.

"Fascinating." The word lands like the ringing of a tuning fork and he continues to pace.

"You are no longer merely a host to the 'Other'. Nor a pair in conversation. You are a fusion. A singular, new being forged from two echoes of potentiality."

The half elf tilts his head slightly.

"This is not what I would call stable, or safe, but it is... natural. Natural in a way that transcends the sterile warnings of wizardry."

The golden light from Shiva’s runes reflects in Elias's eyes as he examines her more closely.

"These runes are not simply magical residue. They’re expressing something fundamental. A signature of identity. Tell me, does your Other have a name? Do you still think of them as separate?"

The warden lets the question hang.

"There are very few records of successful fusions between entities of parallel origin," he adds, "Most attempts end in insanity, or annihilation, but you…” the half-elf trails off, then nods slowly. "You stand unfractured. Perhaps even stronger."

After a pause, the mage draws a circle in the air with one finger, invoking a small, floating sigil that spins in place like a gyroscope.

"This changes the nature of your presence. You may now resonate on multiple dimensional strata simultaneously. A unique state," Elias notes, fixing Shiva with a solemn look, "and that makes you something… rare. Be careful, Shiva," he adds, gently. "Such changes will not go unnoticed by allies or enemies. For now, revel in the wonder of it. You’ve stepped into the unknown and come through it whole. That is no small feat."

"What is this about?" Iskander's tone flipped as soon as the Tiefling left, almost snapping at the Shadow Elf. "It was not unreasonable for me to think she wanted to start a civil war but Shivala was so patronising about it, and then she played music over the information you said it was important for me to share. Now she has left part way through. If your team do not want me here, should I just walk?"  

"Look, we do not need to trust each other fully but if your team cannot work with me perhaps we would be better pursuing our goals separately"

Caio’s expression is one of utter exasperation as Shiva speaks of fusing with her Other, managing to get out a “What?” before she whispers to him and leaves. Fingers find the bridge of his nose to pinch as he lets out a groan and moves to sink into a chair.

”Please allow me to apologize for Shivala’s…” it’s hard for him to boil down just one aspect of the strange interaction she’d just had with their newest ally. “For Shivala. What she lacks in tact she makes up for with her blade, and her blood. If she wore sleeves her big beating heart would be pinned to one. As for what she said about her ‘Other’, well… to make a long and confusing story short, some of us have become connected to echoes of ourselves from an alternate reality. We don’t know exactly how or why, and in my opinion it’s the least of our problems right now. Shiva has become particularly close to hers.” He shrugs, “I guess now she is even closer? I really don’t know, and so long as it doesn’t make her even more difficult to handle, I can’t say I care.” Caio leans forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees and fingers interlacing. He fixes Iskander with his obsidian eyes, brooding but earnest.

”We need a guide. I still do not believe it was happenstance that you crossed my path. Please, stay, help us. We will help you protect your country from Clarissa, I swear it.” 

“So many oaths today.” his Other chimes into his head

”Quiet. Shiva may have fused with her Other but I’ve always been quite fond of exorcism.”

His passenger relents, though Caio can feel the Other’s capricious smirk.

Shiva does her best to digest the flood of information, considering all that it could entail for both the near and far flung future. 

"Shivala Ki-Tanra. That's her name. She..."

Shiva searches within herself for Ki-Tanra's voice. What greets her is not absence, as one would find in discovering the negative space left behind by loss. That which she comes upon is her own sense of self, instinctually drawing upon newfound memories and comprehensions. Awareness of new skills come with the experiences that forged them, echoing through the channels of her mind. 

A youth spent navigating a hateful world, always looking out from the deer blind of a loving family determined to protect her. With patience and practice, the scared child becomes a confident and skilled woman, wielding magic and wits with equal force. A woman capable of turning the tables, putting the world she once feared on the backfoot.

Then, an emotion. A quiet, creeping sentiment that underscores the life of money, travelling, and passionate flings. 

Loneliness. 

The exchange that follows could not be called a conversation by any mortal measure, for Shiva communes with all that is/was her Other. It is communication as the root systems of trees know it, the labyrinthine complexity of whale song meeting its intended recipient. The question is the answer, and she understands that her Other wants this. That she had little to return to in her own world, and adores the companionship she found in being joined with this version of her from another world. That, if she were to give her life to improve the life of another, this would be a good way to do it. 

Shiva looks into the Warden's eyes, a calm smile of resignation on her face. "She wanted this. Wants this. We're one, now. I can still feel myself, my own thoughts and feelings. And I can see new angles to situations and conversations. She's informing my world now too, giving her input instantly. This will take some getting use to. Thank you for the information, Warden. I'll be sure to be careful." 

The memory of a human face, of a human Shivala, comes into her mind. With a wave of her arm, the runes glow once more as magic vibrates in the air around her. Her prominent blue horns gently recede into her skull, as her skin tone shifts to an olive shade, entirely quotidian. The sapphire of her hair darkens to a solid black as the black in her eyes recede to the pupil, while the iris becomes a warm brown. 

"This is how she walked through her world. It wasn't safe for tieflings. Just like ours. Except it had things like airplanes, food coloring, cellphones. Gods, I hope someone figures out cellphones in our lifetime."    

Iskander just stares blankly for a moment. Then another. Eventually he speaks and the hot bite of irritation has been replaced with the weariness of a man who has found himself swept up in currents he doesn't understand.  

"This was easier when I was just wondering if you were thieves who shared an enemy with me." He replies. He cocks an eye at Caio. "Please tell me that you are aware of how far-fetched this sounds? Anyone hearing this would question whether you were mad, and you seem to be suggesting that Shivala's is making her more unstable." His pitch raises with the last statement, seeking confirmation of his understanding.