Back to Hell, back to Endore. The third Fëanáro's with this Fannar, teaching him Quenya with a touch of impatience.

Cam waves and gets out of their way.

And he searches his corpus for Thuringwethil in case there is some sort of information on her. Maybe she's registered to vote or something.

She isn't registered to vote.

There are stories about her, and some of them have a location mentioned - an island with an active volcano, just off the eastern coast of this continent. 

All right. He'll go thataway then.

She is on her volcano island, in the form of a cloud of bats. When she sees him coming the cloud of bats flies very rapidly at each other and turns into a person.

"How horror movie aesthetic," he says.

"It took some time to pull off; I was impressed and frustrated that humans had managed it without any magic, and then I learned that they fake the effects in their movies." She pouts. 

"How 'magic' is local magic, anyway, I genuinely can't tell it apart from sufficiently advanced technology."

"As far as I know this world has no magic system; it has us, and we're probably magic; if we run on some substrate that can support the complexity of what we are, I don't know what it is. And it's not in this world, so we're at least indestructible within it."

Well, sort of indestructible. "Well, that's going to make what I came here to ask about less useful."

She extends the wings and lands. "Oh?"

"Found another magic system. With a little hacking it might be able to do generic resurrection."

"They're not dead. They're trapped in a black hole."

"...So if it does teleportation that'll cut it?"

"...might. I don't think you could hurt anything by trying. I'm not sure you can teleport us normally, we're not  made out of atoms..."

"Yeah, or a fairy would do it."

"You realize that when they come back the Valar are going to shut down summoning again, kill your summoner, possibly just restore most of the Elves from a less corrupted backup, and try to get this universe back on the rails?"

"The Valar are not who I want to resurrect."

"In that case go for it."

"What are you made of, if it's not matter, anyway?"

"I mean. Currently I'm made of matter, you can tell because you can see me. I guess you could say that what I really am is the thing telling the matter to take this shape, but it's not detectable by any tech the Elves have invented yet, except by what it's doing, and what it's doing just looks like picking up molecules and moving them around. It's possible we're not even sapient, does that help you sleep at night?"

"...wouldn't you know?" he asks. "If you're sapient?"

"Yeah but you wouldn't."

...whatever. "Do you remember starting to exist?" he asks.

"Yep." She chews on her fingernail. "Thirteen billion years ago, this universe is the same age as yours as far as I can tell."