"So this is where you've been hiding," Sarn surveyed the closet-sized office. The desk and both chairs were occupied by a large assortment of necromantic relics, while a heavily locked box labeled "Soul Prison" occupied the far corner. A bookshelf claimed most of the left wall, stuffed with molding genealogical records and dusty texts of local history, the paper yellowed with age. "Never figured you for a desk job."

"Not many grow old in our profession," Tara shrugged. "I wanted the chance to try."

Sarn snorted. "You're going soft. You used to be fearless."

"Still am." Tara gave him a stern look, her golden eyes still sparkling in the dim light of the office, before twisting her lips in amusement. "Been looking for an assistant. Could put your name in."

"You know that's not my style." Sarn picked up one of the reagents from the well stocked alchemical cabinet by the door, absent mindedly studying the viscous oil within. He glanced at the label. Fireflower. The cabinet was impeccably organized, a beacon of order in the otherwise haphazardly cluttered room. "I won't be your housekeeper."

"Suit yourself," Tara folded her arms across her chest. "But I still need you for this job."

"Going soft," Sarn teased. He had missed working with Tara. Tough as nails and as sharp as they came, the jobs where they teamed together had always been some of the best. When she got this job on retainer he'd been happy for her, but there was no way he was going to let her know that. He'd lost his favorite partner that day. "The Tara I knew never needed help. What ghost scared you enough to come running to me?"

"It's not fear." Tara's voice remained level, her stance unaltered. "This job's... different. I get the impression her violence was only for attention. She scared a lot of people, yeah. But she was careful not to hurt anyone, and she stopped as soon as I opened a dialog. That's not lost soul behavior."

Sarn's brow wrinkled. "Then why do you need my help? Seems a simple job to me. Grief Walker could probably take it from here, even." He gently returned the fireflower oil to the cabinet before retrieving a new vial, this one containing crushed greenleaf according to its label. He spun it in his hands, watching the dried leaves adjust and resettle.

"I offered. She refused. It's just... I'm not afraid of her, but maybe you should be." Tara's voice betrayed concern. "She asked for you specifically. Says you two have business to settle..." She leaned back, resting her weight on the edge of the desk. "Does the name 'Narik Tolliver' mean anything to you?"

Sarn felt the blood drain from his face, the alchemical vial slipping from his hands. He heard the glass shatter, shards and dried leaves scattering from the impact. Tara's concern echoed in his ears, a lifetime away.

He had never forgotten Narik, his first real job at a ghost hunter, and how terribly he had botched it. He had hoped to forget, but somehow he'd always known this day would come for him. Someday he knew he would have to pay for the sins of his arrogance, all those decades ago.

Today was not going to be a good day.

∼∼∼

"So. You did come." Jyssa Tolliver's voice dripped with contempt. "I can smell the rot inside your soul."

Sarn couldn't see her, even as he scanned every spiritual frequency with his Necromancy, but he didn't need to. Her face was as familiar to him as her voice, seared into his memories all those many decades ago, replayed in his dreams every night.

"I came alone. There's no need to hurt anyone else." He stepped into the clearing, hands held purposely by his side in what he hoped was a non threatening stance. Tara had tried to accompany him, but he had convinced her to remain behind. He'd claimed he was worried Jyssa might become angry if he didn't meet her alone as she requested, but truth be told he didn't want to risk Tara getting hurt. She wanted to outlive this job and he was going to do everything he could to make that happen.

And that meant she couldn't be here tonight. She couldn't be here to try to stop him.

"I haven't hurt anyone yet." Jyssa's voice dripped icicles down his back. "You're the only monster here."

"I know an apology won't make things right. Nothing can undo what I did. I was arrogant. Stupid. Thought I knew everything." Sarn closed his eyes, reliving the moment again. "For what it's worth, not a day has gone by that I haven't regretted it."

"That won't bring him back to me." Jyssa was close now. His hairs stood on end as her voice drew close to his ear. "That won't give him the eternity he deserved."

"I know." Sarn's voice was a whisper. He felt Jyssa's touch tighten around his throat.

"My boy never hurt anyone." Her voice simmered, cracking.

"I was hunting an executed criminal. He'd somehow escaped the soul trap meant to catch him when he died, and... Everyone was looking for him. Hunter teams from across the continent. I thought it would be my big break. My chance to prove I had what it took."

"But you didn't find a criminal. You found my son. My beautiful Narik." The grip on his throat grew tighter.

"I didn't think. I was hunting for a ghost, and I saw a ghost, and I didn't think it could be anyone else." Sarn fell to his knees, tears carving tracks down his face, rough from the years and the nightmares. "And I cast my spell."

"But it wasn't a soul trap, was it?"

"No. No, it wasn't."

"You Soulsundered my innocent boy!" Jyssa released his neck, and suddenly he could feel her fury burn across every inch of his skin. "Taken from me too soon in life, and then you took him from me forever in death! You destroyed his chance of a real life beyond the Veil!" Her voice broke then, and he felt the touch of a thousand ghostly tears filling his mind. "And you took away any chance that I could ever see him whole again. My beautiful boy."

"I can't undo what I did." Sarn fought to retain his composure, to keep his eyes shut and his voice even. "I can't fix his soul. I can't put the pieces back together. I can't give him what I took away." He raised his head to look towards where he felt Jyssa's presence, opening his eyes to find her ghostly snarl directly in front of his face. "I wish I could."

"I don't care for your wishes." Her eyes bore into his own soul.

"I know. I can't give you what you want the most." His gaze faltered. "But I can give you the closure you need." He closed his eyes and inhaled, fisting his hands by his side before squaring his shoulders and once more meeting her gaze with his own. "As I see it, either I trap your soul for daring to want justice, adding more unforgivable sins to my nightmares... Or I let you do what you need to do to me so you can pass beyond the Veil."

Jyssa drew back in surprise. "You're not going to try to sunder my soul, too?"

Sarn shook his head. "I caused your family enough pain already. Just..." He swallowed. "Promise me you'll move on, after. There's nothing else to hold you here."

The response was immediate. "Deal."

Closing his eyes, Sarn carefully unclasped his protective tyrellium shielded cloak, lowered his Necromantic defenses, and accepted his eternal fate.