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“Yes, I recall a scripture which described it as a certain inaudible song that, once heard, one cannot help but keep noticing…” Yao trailed off, curiously picking up the key’s pieces with either hand, the pipe sticking to the corner of her mouth in a gravity-defying manner. “It is a typical post-mortem extraction strain fracture. The voidkey is still mostly intact - you could implant it, and it might function as-is, albeit to a fraction of its original specifications. That unfortunately means the bloodline lock is also mostly intact. The lock doesn’t appear to be particularly profound. I will be able to subvert it, perhaps even maintain the functionality and merely alter it to recognize you as the rightful host. The craftsmanship speaks of a highly skilled craftsman purposely working to a lower standard than he is used to. Nonetheless, it is still better than anything you can readily find on the open market.”

Yao put the key’s pieces back down, leaning back in her seat.

“I will contact you with any relevant information once I have had the time to carry out the necessary rites. While the key is relevant, I suspect it is the less important of the two, seeing as you left the other matter for second,” Yao said, glancing down at Krahe’s split-open forearm.

Giving a nod of affirmation, Krahe continued her effort to extract the human charcoal piece from storage. Slowly, painstakingly, a black tendril lifted it out of her forearm-maw and placed it right next to her arm. The moment it was out, Krahe snapped the maw shut and began purging, letting out a deep sigh of relief. For reasons that escaped her, this time the purge remnants manifested as a scentless smoke, spilling out of her mouth and nose without ceasing for the whole duration of the purge. Human charcoal was truly infernally impractical to store in Kenoma storage, taking up many times more space than its actual physical mass. The same phenomenon applied to other magical items, but human charcoal was the most extreme example she had encountered by far.

Yao remained silent as she tilted her head back and forth, inspecting the human charcoal. It was as if she was trying to judge whether it would be safe to even touch it, or perhaps waiting for Krahe to explain what it was.

“It’s an anathema radiation source, but not actively hazardous. I won’t say any more until you inspect it for yourself,” said Krahe.

Reaching out with her left hand, several papers split off from Yao’s arm and wrapped around the chunk, bringing it closer to her. She silently inspected it for a few moments, subjecting it to four separate talisman-based tests. Twice, the paper’s patterns changed color, and twice more, it burned on contact with the stone. The first time was instant, like flash paper, and the second slowly blackened the paper as if the charcoal piece was just a hot ember. After contemplating for a further minute, Yao simply asked, “Are you yourself aware of what this is?”

“Yes,” Krahe confirmed. “I’ll make this simpler for the both of us. I will not reveal how much I know—and from what perspective that information comes—until you do the same. I believe we can both benefit from an exchange of knowledge.”

After a few more moments of contemplation, Yao took the chunk in hand and began speaking.

“This is… Well, there is no direct equivalent word that comes to mind.”

“Charcoal?” Krahe suggested. It looked like charcoal, so she wasn’t giving up much by suggesting that word.

With a nod, Yao continued: “It is charcoal made from a human, body and soul both. In Tiengenzhen, this is the waste , or perhaps more accurately, the side product of the Onyx-black Puppet Hall’s human refinement arts. Even this waste is considered immensely valuable to all artifact cultivators, as it is the cheapest fuel for certain artifacts and tools. Its value is such that inferior versions of the Onyx-black Puppet Hall’s rites that are only capable of producing this have spread throughout the land. The strongest battle puppets devour a hundred convicts’ worth of this in a day of operation, but they are still used by the mortal kingdoms because the number of lives they save far surpasses the price. Even so, it is—”

Turning the chunk in her hand, Yao’s expression shifted from one of consideration to disgust, and she placed it back on the table.

“Wretched. Human refinement is, by its very nature. The victim’s suffering is part of the process. It simply does not work without it. I believe the Onyx-black Puppet Hall’s method is called the Five Torments Blast Furnace Refinement. It involves a specially constructed furnace chamber that deprives the victim of all senses, keeps them alive, and allows for the introduction of hallucinogenic poisons throughout the process. Only reincarnation ends the victim’s suffering, despite the rumors of the uneducated that claim the victim’s soul is imprisoned in the coal. That is my understanding of this substance, its origins, and its uses. Now, I believe, it would be your turn.”

Digesting the information, Krahe started with an easy one. “This Onyx-black Puppet Hall. Are they related to the Thousand Puppets Hall?”

“I am surprised that you are aware of them. Yes, they are related. The Onyx-black Puppet Hall was formed by a group of demonic artifact cultivators who left the Thousand Puppet Hall rather than let themselves be judged for their crimes. I must ask, if you do not mind, how do you know of the Thousand Puppets Hall?”

“I have met a man with strange-looking arms, looked into the matter, and learned that one of them was of Tiengenzhen origin. Not much else, unfortunately. Now, regarding what I know of this stone…”

Krahe went on to recount some of her knowledge regarding human charcoal and the Human Charcoal Cults, taking care not to stray or to go too deep, so that the knowledge she shared would not surpass what Yao had shared, or otherwise reveal what she wanted to keep concealed. The talisman mistress gradually became more visibly interested, particularly at the mention of the Human Charcoal Cults.

“You would not happen to know when these cults were active, would you?” Yao asked.

“At least a century, starting in the late 4120s. Presumably earlier, but I don’t know enough to make any guesses.”

A smirk took hold on Yao’s face.

“What a curious coincidence. An acquaintance of mine made off with copies of the Onyx-black Puppet Hall’s ritual scrolls only thirteen years prior to that time, and vanished from Tiengenzhen in… Oh, I think it was 4112. But he would’ve left inheritances. That bastard was not the sort to put all his eggs in one basket. Perhaps the church was just very thorough.”

“And perhaps they still take such great care specifically to curtail cases like Sorayah. Even what she found was enough to sow the seeds of a serious issue for the city, given how well they paid me for rooting her out,” Krahe said.

Knowledge of Sorayah and the fact Krahe had dealt with her was a minor detail. It was convenient to use as a framing device for how she had obtained human charcoal and knowledge of it, and she hadn’t spoken so much as a word regarding the Hexkey or the Anthrocite Hand.

Nonetheless, this game was still frustrating. After some further circular conversation, Krahe decided to just ask the question outright: “Considering everything, do you think human charcoal would be of any use to either of us?”

“No,” Yao said without hesitation, shaking her head. “It’s too volatile for ink or any other artifact crafting. Its only use is as fuel for artifacts and certain demonic rituals, of which I know a few, but none would be useful. There is a good reason it is considered a borderline waste product. The energy output by its burning is far too unstable to use in the manner I desire, and besides sheer burst output, your own natural abilities are superior to the burning of human charcoal. Its greater counterpart, however, is another matter.”

“What if I happen to come upon it?” Krahe asked, allowing her tone of voice and expression to make it clear she had anthrocite or knew where to find it. “You wouldn’t happen to know and be willing to share methods of distinguishing it from the chaff and making use of it?”

“That depends on the quantity, quality, and use case. I do not own any written texts, but I am certain I could aid in preparing and performing any channeling rituals.”

Krahe weighed her options. There was the chance that the Hexkey’s evolution would turn out not so useful, and either way, Yao was still one of a vanishingly small minority with reason to not screw her over and the skills to craft a higher-order voidkey. If she kept this course, she would eventually have to disclose the Hexkey’s existence to Yao regardless.

“Alright, fine, enough games,” Krahe huffed, deciding to just spill everything about the Hexkey. As it was, both it and the anthrocite hand were completely useless to her. “To start with, I know the superior counterpart to human charcoal under the name ‘anthrocite.’ Secondly, I found what I believe to be an inheritance from the Human Charcoal Cults. The first part is a cursed voidkey that promises it will evolve at some ill-defined point, claiming that it will ‘evolve once Anthrocite Transmutation reaches 100%.’ It currently sits at around 66%. The second part is a full hand made of anthrocite, found in a purposely poorly sealed box disguised as a book. It was locked with a holeless lock that demanded painstakingly precise anathema manipulation to open. The box also contained a message that directly stated the hand should somehow be sufficient to ‘finish’ the cursed voidkey.”

“I see why you would be cautious about disclosing this to anyone you do not fully trust,” Yao acknowledged. “Do you know the nature of the curse, or is the voidkey warded against appraisal?”

Krahe had no qualms about explaining the nature of the Flame’s Collapse Hexkey, since there was no reason to withhold this information after what she had already disclosed. The mistress listened with interest, concluding, “It’s clearly intended to hook a prospective disciple and encourage commitment. I would not be surprised if there was at least one more link in the chain that could somehow override the Hexkey. Did you bring either the key or the anthrocite hand? While I cannot be certain until I’ve examined both relics, I believe I may be able to aid you in completing the Hexkey.”

She turned, glancing out the window. Despite the ground-level windows not facing the open street, the battle in the sky still reached them in the form of occasional flashes of light and moving shadows on the surrounding buildings.

“And if we are to carry out such a rite, it would be best to do it tonight, if at all possible. We are not likely to receive such a convenient cover for some time,” Yao added.

“You expect the process to create a large energy signature, and you think that the battle will be a sufficient distraction,” Krahe stated.

Turning back to face her again, Yao nodded. “In more ways than one. The protections I already have in place, combined with the protections I will create for the rite, will do most of the work, but I am not an anathema specialist.”

She got up and walked to the window, leaning on its edge. Outside was a narrow alleyway, with the walls and roof of the next building over being plastered in talismans, included as part of Yao’s defensive perimeter. A shimmering wall of scrolling symbols rose from the wall of the building across the alley, becoming visible when Yao came into its vicinity. Staring up at the sky, face lit by intermittent flashes from above, she continued to speak.

“At best, assuming you contribute your expertise, I would estimate that at least one-tenth of the ritual’s waste energy will leak into the environment. The arcane winds stirred up by tonight’s heavenly battle will suffice to sweep it away, and the battle itself will provide us with plausible deniability. I do not expect individuals of that level to disclose their trump cards to dispel accusations of anathema usage, given the fact that anathema seems to be regarded as a force that can only be safely wielded by high-level practitioners. Perhaps one of the participants made use of an anathemic technique in desperation. It would make perfect sense for one of them to use it, perhaps the red one…”

Yao became drawn into her own words, a sense of melancholy, nostalgia even, creeping into her speech.

“I must admit that I am curious. How does that display compare to your own experiences?” Krahe asked. It was, indeed, somewhat familiar to her. She had seen power-armored superhumans soaring through the sky on jets of plasma, firing off rays of death and hypersonic slugs, forming wings made of nanomachines for protection. Krahe had seen it, but despite a degree of familiarity, it was still different and new in some ways.

“Feels the same as looking at the stars here. Familiar, but different,” the talisman mistress croaked, taking another drag from her pipe. It was a perfect description for how Krahe felt about it, too. She watched in silence. Krahe walked up to the window and hopped up on the ledge, sitting down with her legs hanging out. It was wide enough to still leave about a meter of empty space between the two of them. Without a thought, Krahe conjured an arrha cigarette and joined Yao in smoking. The smoke mixed together into a medicinal, incense-like compound, and a cloud formed around them as it dissipated slower than new smoke was added.

The talisman mistress spoke up again some ten minutes later. “They want someone in the city to see them fight, yet they also fear the consequences of causing collateral damage. I was observing them before you arrived; even with my impaired senses, I noticed six instances where an opening was not taken advantage of out of fear it might strike a building. At my peak, I would have mocked them for not having the person above the city lord in their pockets, or for not being able to quickly set up precautions so that an all-out battle would not ever threaten the city, even as close to its perimeter as this.”

They watched for a few more minutes before Krahe eventually brought out the Hexkey and set it down on the windowsill between them. After sparing a brief glance, Yao took it in hand and stepped back from the window, turning away from it. Resting her pipe in the corner of her mouth, she brought the key to her left eye and pulled back the talisman plastered over its socket. An ominous, invasive sensation filled the room as a floodlight of eldritch darkness emanated from her eye, with shimmering wisps of indescribable color whirling in the blackness.

As quickly as it had begun, it ceased. With a sound somewhere between a wheezing inhalation, the scraping of glass, and the creak of a bone being slowly bent to breaking, the unlight was drawn back into Yao’s left eye socket, once more sealed away.

“It certainly matches your description, for better or worse. I cannot predict what form it will take upon its evolution, but I shall gain a deeper understanding given some time to examine it more thoroughly,” Yao said. She turned to Krahe, who had by now hopped down from the window. “Have you brought the hand as well?”

Krahe shook her head. “It would have left a trail.”

“And you did not wish to bring both items, just in case,” Yao added the quiet part, walking over to the table. She set the Hexkey upon it and brought out six talisman papers. “How large is the container?”

She conjured the book closest in size, stating, “Same height, slightly wider, two and a half times as thick. The internal volume suffices to fit a man’s severed hand in a loosely curled-up position without much free space.”

Manipulating the papers in mid-air, Yao added several more, going well beyond what was needed to cover the whole thing. Then, she arranged them in mid-air and got to work. Grinding a red ink stick into a small puddle of scarlet liquid with a few meticulous motions, Yao pulled droplets into the air and, using mere gestures, manipulated them into forming complex symbols upon the paper. She turned the talismans into indistinguishable copies of one another, with complex patterns that exuded a powerful, pure meaning. Krahe’s instincts warned her to avoid getting them on herself; they would likely cripple her ability to dissipate Isotope and expel Anathema in any form, even if temporarily.

With a wave of her hand, Yao collected the papers into a bundle and set them on the side of the table where Krahe had sat.

“I would ask that you bring the hand,” she said. “I would like to keep the Hexkey in the meanwhile so that I may examine it, but I shall not stop you if you wish to take it with you for safety.”

Krahe suppressed the part of her which intensely distrusted the unsettlingly familiar stranger that Yao was and simply took the papers while leaving the Hexkey where it stood.

She left Yao’s home without a word, with the talisman mistress turning her attention to examining the relic in greater depth. Yao wasn’t at all offended or put off by her guest’s behavior; they had interacted a grand total of once before now, and even then, Yao had offered up admittance of her position in relation to Krahe as a token to buy some trust. Despite it being the purest truth, Yao had assessed Krahe’s character, and she was not surprised that it had curried her only a tentative level of trust. It would take substantive shows of trustworthiness from both sides before they truly had confidence in one another. Building rapport was, in fact, Yao’s main reason to suggest hunting a soulbeast for materials. Such an outing would be the most expedient way to increase trust and bond with her new, fate-ordained allies.

Even still, in the here and now, Krahe showed more trust than Yao had expected. She nearly did a double take when the anathemist took off and she realized the Hexkey was still there, on the table. Yao made her way upstairs, where she took to carrying out a deeper, more conventional examination of this voidkey, forgoing the use of her Left Eye in favor of the skills she had developed over centuries prior.