Currently Untitled v1.0.0 - Chapter 39 - JuncoSnow (2025)

Chapter Text

Companion:

Water, gentle and meandering, babbled and bobbed, lapping against the shore of a river concealed by generous fog. It was here that a figure stirred atop the soft banks – reeds and grass made space for a picturesque landing on the shoreline that was perfectly nestled inside the dour forest. Within this landing, to be precise, is where the individual, sprawled as they were atop the ground with their thin limbs tossed this way and that, rustled and groaned as though they were coming to from a deep afternoon nap. In a stupor, they peeled their eyelids apart to reveal shockingly bright green eyes; dark triangular brows knitted as these receptors were stung by the colour and light afforded to them.

Up they went to hands and knees, suspending their thin frame like an upright table. Everything seemed unreal to them as they shifted their weight to kneel upon the spot. Surprised, they pressed gloved digits to their freckled face, squeezed their sharp nose, tugged at pointed ears, and pawing at their black tufts of hair, going so far as to lift their sideburns and inspect the inner side where brilliant green locks were hidden. What devilry is this?! they thought as excitement welled within. They lifted a hand to grasp at their chest, delighted to feel neither pain nor discomfort.

Nearly falling over themselves, they rushed to the water’s edge and peered into the clear stream to see their reflection: it was her, of course. It was Teal. She gasped and beamed at herself as giddiness flooded througout her – yet something was not quite to her liking. She paused, still grinning, to inspect her attire. They look like mine, and yet… she was concerned that they had changed somewhat drastically. In shape she wore her favoured habiliments – hat, cloak, vest, skirt, leggings, boots, and gloves – but they had taken on a different tone. Where they had been a brilliant white accented by gold and a blueish green, they were now dyed various shades of red through and through. All that had been unchanged were her white dress shirt, her black leggings, her sharp wand, and the glimmering jade amulet of her bolo tie.

She took a moment to appraise herself, giggling with glee all the while. The change was inexplicable, but Teal didn’t mind. She disliked the colour red because it opposed her natural tones, but the outfit was balanced so nicely with darker and lighter shades of the same lively crimson that she found nothing about it disagreeable. She twirled on the spot in a foolish dance as she laughed and laughed and laughed. She stomped into the water and felt the cool splash against her; she removed her gloves and passed her fingers through the reeds; she took the deepest breath she could ever remember taking and savoured every bit of it; all of it was wonderful.

It was then that Teal spotted a glint upon the shoreline passed where she woke up. Filled with energy, she darted over as soon as she replaced her mitts. She simply couldn’t stop herself from laughing even as she cooed at what she found: there on a rock, just before the path into the forest, was a tiny glass lantern and beside it a familiar round lute. She grabbed the instrument first and appraised it fondly. When she plucked the banjo’s strings, it sang with the exact pitch she remembered. “You’re still in tune, how extraordinary!” she gushed aloud.

Slinging the instrument across her chest as she had done so many times before, Teal hesitated to reach for the lantern. It, of course, was the exact shape and size she recognized, but it lacked the crack and dent of the one she had grown fond of. Hand hovering hesitantly at its handle, she peered at what she knew must be within: a fuzzy moth whose cape like wings effortlessly smouldered and glowed; with each flap a burst of golden embers erupted from its fluttering. Surely, it’s not… It cannot be… she thought as her joy faltered.

She grasped the lantern and cradled it in both hands as she peered inside. The caged moth idly flew about without a care in the world, its generous gleam gently illuminating the surroundings. Teal swallowed and pushed past some form of embarrassment that kept her silent. “I-I do not know if you are Lacrimosa… I suspect you are not, given how we parted,” she spoke with quiet remorse, “All the same, I will say my piece. I’m sorry, my friend. I was horrible to you at every turn and kept you with me against your will – even to call you ‘my friend’ is a delusion. That said, I adored your company from the moment we met. I could never have made it all the way to the bell tower without your steadfast illumination…”

There was more she wished to say, but Teal was unsure how to phrase herself. Instead, she grabbed hold of the lantern’s tiny door and apologized once again, “I’m deeply sorry. I can only hope this act might reconcile my misdeeds.” Without hesitation, she opened the gate and set the insect free. She watched as they darted out immediately and freely flapped upon the air. They danced about this way and that as moths are apt to do. Strangely though, the bug did not fly off across the river as she expected. Instead, it circled her several times. As the light bobbed around her, the weight upon her heart lifted and Teal began to laugh and smile anew. The little flecks of flame now fell without restraint; the liberated insect was able to take its light where it saw fit.

Curiously, it made no effort to depart. In fact, Teal watched as it ascended until it hovered back and forth in front of her face. It seemed so natural for her to reach out a hand towards it, so she did – the insect landed atop her hand as if perching on it like a bird. In that moment, she knew this lantern’s former resident was no mere moth. She brought it closer to inspect its frilly antennae, its round eyes, its peculiar fur, and funny limbs. She was unsure if the insect could ever understand her love for it, but the smile brought about by the little bug's gesture was heartwarming, nonetheless. Sincerely, without a shred of abashedness, Teal asked the moth, “Would you like to come with me, Lacrimosa…?”

Being a moth, it made no reply, but it wiggled an antenna at the very least; that was good enough for Teal. “Let’s get going then, my friend,” she suggested with excitement in her voice, “The Warden will be waiting for us.”

Vagrant:

She had forgotten how breathtaking the scenery was here along the river. Such natural beauty and charm, the thin path leading from the river, the dim light of overcast skies trickling through a canopy, and all of it obscured by a mist that only heightened the wonder of it all. The red Spirit rejoiced in the sights and sounds of it all as they trotted along the winding way. From the crunch beneath their feet, to the gurgle of the broad brook beside, to the quiet scraping sound just ahead, all of it was blissful. “Do you remember who we met first? Er… After you, of course,” Teal asked to Lacrimosa who flapped alongside her.

The pair rounded a turn on the trail and there he was, sitting on the stump precisely where they had last left him. In one hand a small blade and the other a hunk of wood sharpened to a point; he had been whittling his time away. Unknown to the idle man, Teal’s eyes glittered with zeal at the sight of his bent over figure – she couldn’t contain her excitement and shouted down the path, “Vagrant!”

As the old man lifted his head from the shocking interruption, he saw the red cloak bob towards him at a run, waving their arms like a buffoon. He squinted at the funny display and, before he was fully aware of what was transpiring, Teal had assailed his proximity. “Vagrant, Vagrant!” she cheerfully shouted, “Goodness, it has been so long!”

“Er… Beggin’ yer pardon?” the elderly fellow leaned away in apprehension of the unwarranted assault. He eyeballed the foreigner with skepticism – he was so used to folks cautiously floundering along the path that one charging straight towards him had thoroughly defiled his typical strategems.

Teal gasped with feigned indignation. “You have forgotten me! You scoundrel!” she cried, “Have you whittled away your mind too while you sat here all this time?” Confusion was the Vagrant’s only reply as his grey eyes scanned the intruder. There was a glimmer of some recognition on his face, but it was as dim as the skies above.

“I recognize yer pointy hat there, lass, but I’ll be darned if I can puts a name to ya,” he puzzled.

“Here, here, let me give you a hint!” Teal chuckled and beamed, practically wiggling with energy, “I used to wear all white and you startled me terribly when we first met! And…” She swung the instrument at her back around and gave it a playful strum – its twang echoed among the trunks and branches. She gushed, “The banjo! Remember?!”

He snapped his bony fingers again and again as if trying to light a fire with flint and steel. “Yessum, I does! Yer that young lass what strolled through here lookin’ fer the altar down yonder!” he pulled his face into a thoughtful grimace that, due to his many wrinkles, had an almost cartoonish quality; Teal struggled to contain her laughter at the sight. “Miss… Somethin’-er-other… Ferever Guarding? Nah, that ain’t it… Evergarden, that’s the one! Ms. Evergarden!”

Teal's felicity flowed as freely as a fountain, “Yes! Yes, exactly, my good fellow! How lovely of you to recall. ‘Tis I, Ms. Evergarden!” She made a show of a decadent bow towards the elder while her insect assistant wobbled above to shower sparkling embers below. When she rose, she couldn’t help but ply the man with questions, “It has been an age or two since we last spoke! How have you been, kind fellow?”

The Half-Elf’s radiance was infectious, the Vagrant smiled without realizing it. “S’pose it’s been a while, ain’t it?” he affably replied, “Been alright meself, miss.”

In return, Teal blinked several times, “Alright? Just alright? Have you not had any visitors? Have you not seen anything lovely? It has been so very long since we last spoke, has it not?”

“Has it now? S’pose it mighta been a minute,” the elder mused, tapping the sharpened stick against his noggin, “Lessee… Feller moped by; he weren’t one for talkin’. ‘Nother came shortly after, old crow; yammered at me ‘til her face went blue.”

Leaning forward in anticipation, Teal hoped to encourage the stationary man with her kind smile alone – it didn’t work. “Reckon that’s all!” the Vagrant stated with a shrug.

“That is all?!” Teal repeated with jocose outrage, “For shame, Vagrant!”

He looked worried as a child might when scolded, “W-Well that weren’t all, y’see. There were others too, but, y’know, they weren’t so excitin’ and I mighta only said a ‘Hullo’ to ‘em, y’see and…” The old fellow trailed off when he noticed Teal was standing with her fists upon her hips.

“And you saw nothing of note this whole time, I take it?” she squeezed.

The senior averted his eyes from the red wizard’s stare, “W-Weren’t nothin’ worth lookin’ at… Was just me and me whittlin’, miss.”

Teal made a show of groaning and pinching the thin ridge of her nose, “Oh, Vagrant! What things you have missed while you sit and stay stagnant!” The elder was on the verge of a tempered retort, but the Half-Elf cut him off, “In all the time I have been gone, you have tarried exactly where I departed you! Look, my good man, look to your left and to your right. What do you see?”

He skeptically did as they requested, seeing the forest on one side and the river on the other. “Well, I see what I always see… S’just the trees ‘n’ whatnot,” he responded.

With alacrity, Teal was quick to reply, “Yes, precisely, my fellow! Yet what lies beyond them? Do you know?”

“S’pose s’just more of the forest,” the Vagrant guessed.

“But what if it wasn’t?” Teal prodded playfully, “What if just beyond your view was something grand?”

He was quick to dismiss the bothersome youngster, “Grand? Ain’t nuthin’ grander than sittin’ right here!”

“No?” Teal teased with ease, “What about… Your true love? Or a chest full of gold? Or your best friend? Or the most scrumptious meal you have ever had?!”

“A meal?” the elder scrunched up their face, “Here in the woods?”

“Sure!” Teal beamed, “For all you know, there very well might be! My, how good it smells, how lovely it looks, how sweet it tastes! Would you not care for a bite?”

The Vagrant dismissed the foolishness with a puff of air between his loose teeth, “Pssh… Who ever heard'f'a big ol’ meal in the middle of the trees? Ya gone looney, lass! Ain’t no matter anyhow, ain’t nothin’ could taste s’good it’d be worth wand’rin’ around fer.”

“Ah… And how would you know?” the scarlet wanderer asked.

Without a good answer, the old fellow stubbornly huffed, “Jus' do, that’s how.”

Teal snickered and leaned towards the elder, “You are just being ornery now, my good man. Listen to yourself! Why do you deny the potential to enjoy that which you may? Do you not dream of the wonders that await you around every turn and with every step? Do you not crave to experience something wonderful?”

“W-Well I…” the Vagrant looked away, tapping his stick against the stump where he sat, “I’m fine right here. ‘Sides, what'f I don’t like any'a that stuff?”

“Then you simply do not,” Teal’s smile was as warm as the light from Lacrimosa’s wings, “That is how simple it is! You say to yourself, ‘I do not think I care for this one bit!’ and you move on to discover that which you do!” The older fellow’s scoff was a sign of his uncertainty; Teal used this lapse to press her point, “Even then, venerable elder, one might use those dislikes, perhaps cherish them! For when you come across something else, you might think to yourself, ‘Compared to that which I dislike, I find this quite pleasant!’ In this way, all of your experiences become valid – being content with what you have is all well in good, but when you have no point of reference, your contentedness becomes stale and unlovable.”

The Half-Elf shifted directions as they expounded, “Perchance your stump by the river truly is the most splendid place imaginable! But, dear Vagrant, how will you ever know if you do not find other stumps by other rivers? You may find you do not actually love stumps so much but prefer to sit upon boulders and chisel rock, or rest on logs while weaving baskets! There is so much that you are missing by staying here, my friend! Imagine the vistas beyond the hills that you might travel, the honest companions you might encounter, the experiences your senses might unravel!”

She was giggling again, and her enthusiasm was infectious. The senior hesitated to ask, “D’ya really think there might be all that out there…?”

“Of course, of course! You need only search and be open to the possibility of delight!” Teal waxed as she twirled on the spot, “You must meet it there, Vagrant. You must find what you adore, whatever it may be; seek it out, and cherish it. It is not you who waits to delight in the world, it is the world who waits to delight in you.”

Unable to meaningfully respond to such a passionate stanza, the Vagrant sat slack jawed and gawked at the stunning green eyes of the strange red Spirit before him. Teal, face caked with a smile that could melt ice, suddenly suggested, “Here! Close your eyes with me.”

The elder pulled their lips and brows into a defensively puzzled expression, one Teal met with easy laughter. “It is okay! I want to imagine something together with you, that is all!” she assured. The Vagrant rolled their eyes with a small huff but closed their eyes. Teal did too, but they couldn’t see that of course.

“Now…” Teal led with a soothing ease, “Let us imagine the place we wish to see most. It can be anywhere at any season or time. Who might we find there? What might we find there? Maybe it is an exciting discovery… Maybe it is a comforting one.” The Half-Elf allowed a long pause to follow her instructions, but then tacked on, “There… Do you see it?”

“Hrmmm…” grumbled the Vagrant with unease, “I ain’t sure I’m doin’ this right.”

“Just focus a little! Breath in and out and just let your mind wander to where it wants to be,” Teal guided and breathed audibly for the old man, “There… There! Can you see it? I cannot see what you see, of course, but whatever it is you have picture, I am certain that it is lovely.”

Another long silence occurred. It lengthened more and more until the Vagrant found themselves uncomfortable by it. They peeked an eye open, just a tiny sliver and found—“What the?!” he gasped. He was completely alone: the carmine Spirit was gone – vanished. The aged whittler looked left, he looked right, he looked up into the trees, behind himself to the river, and even inspected the ground where he was certain that funny lass had stood. There were no signs of footprints.

Curious and disturbed all at once, the Vagrant leaned forward from his stump to look about the trail. He leaned further and further before, finally, when they were certain there were no spots of red anywhere to be seen, especially not any with funny bugs or silly guitars, the Vagrant turned back. Perplexed by the hallucination, he uttered, “Huh.”

No longer atop the stump, the senior now stood amid the path and scratched his head.

Scoundrel:

“Wow!” Teal gushed when she rediscovered the enormous stone steps that led up that great hill to the temple above. I never noticed how stunning this antiquated stairwell was, she considered as she ogled the thousands of ancient steps flanked by their moss-covered lamps – all of it tucked beneath ancient trees that bent over the area with the effortless grace of a ballerina. Squinting, Teal could even see the summit of the stairs and the hulking wooden archway at its peak.

In her mind, Teal recounted her brief time at the monastery atop the hill. The scenery was picturesque – both dilapidated and stunning in its archaic austerity. She pined to see the old trees and buildings again, but the venture would divert herself from her intended destination. She shrugged to herself and quickly made up her mind, turning to Lacrimosa and proposing, “Shall we?”

As she climbed, she recalled how she had pouted here and attempted to cast a spell or two; such trifles seemed negligible to her now. Teal looked up and about, side to side, and allowed her eyes to take in the surrounding nature. She hadn’t noticed before how stunning the lush canopy overhead was, nor the intricate stonework of the stairs – only now, as she scaled the steps, did she see that carved into every brick was a smattering of ancient symbols. She wondered if they might derive from Elvish since they looked somewhat similar, but she found that her thoughts on this matter were short lived. Standing beneath the grand wooden entrance, Teal and Lacrimosa had already reached the top.

“Aaaah,” Teal sighed contentedly as she fawned over the aged awning’s grain, “That was so easy this time!” She punctuated her observation with a laugh, turning to Lacrimosa who flapped nearby. A sudden but gentle breeze wafted in and caught her robes; Teal spun with it as a carefree Spirit might and chuckled to the gust, “Oh, goodness! This way, is it? Okay, okay, do not be impatient.”

She followed the direction of the wind deeper into the compound, past rickety hovels, thatched rooves, stone decorations laden with lichen, until she came to its centre. Teal’s red boots were obnoxious atop the hard path beneath her feet, but she sauntered forth eying this or that along her way – she was looking for something and found it quite easily as it was not hidden. Amid the courtyard of the temple grounds, before a stone altar of some odd design, they were right where she had left them: the Scoundrel in prayer.

The Half-Elf smirked from afar as her footfalls echoed. They broke into a jog and approached the kneeling figure, coming to a skidding halt just beside them. “Hiya!” Teal chimed with a smug grin.

At first, the Scoundrel sneered at her with hateful eyes, but almost immediately his look turned to one of rude appraisal. He snorted, “Oh. It’s you again.”

“It is me!” Teal giggled, “And it is you; right where I left you!”

“Correct, yes,” the former bandit sighed and returned his gaze to the altar, “You left.”

“I did! Most apt of you to notice,” Teal nodded as she stooped nearby, “I was gone quite a while, was I not?” In response, the crude man simply grunted with indifference – his attempts to ignore her were overt. The Half-Elf in turn felt compelled to laugh at his gruff expression, “Surly as ever, I see. Still in prayer? How is that transpiring for you?”

A twitch of the bald fellow’s brow was the spark of his frustration. “It would be going much better if I weren’t interrupted by dopey little runts!” he shouted.

Teal simply grinned at the remark, “Such colourful language! I shall interpret this to mean things are not favourable.”

“Get lost!” the Scoundrel groaned, “Get lost a second time!”

“Oh, worry not,” Teal rose with a snicker, “I have already done so. Yet I am compelled this time to remark that your prayers are in vain.”

He glowered up to the Half-Elf, “What would you know?”

“Oh, exceedingly little, I admit! All the same, I suspect your efforts are misguided. Prayer alone will not grant you what you seek,” Teal shook her head remorsefully, “Can you not see that you are still reamed by anger? Despite all your words, do you not see how you are mired by guilt?”

“W-Well I—” the man had no time to string an excuse.

Instead, the Spirit lectured on, “Reflect upon the words that you mutter instead of incessantly repeating them. Whomever it is that you pray to can hear you, I can guarantee that, but to elicit their boons, one must meet them part way. Penance cannot be merely sought; it must be given and, as such, must be earned.”

“What…? Who do you think you are?!” scowled the Scoundrel at this aimless prattle.

Smirking once more, Teal waved a gloved hand, “No one important, yet allow me to give an example. Let us imagine a child has done wrong and they apologize for their misdeed. “I’m sorry!” they cry and so they are forgiven out of love. Yet the very next day, they are caught being naughty again. Now when they apologize, are their words not void of meaning? If the child truly seeks forgiveness, they will cease their impish ways, will they not?”

At this the Scoundrel looked puzzled. “Well… I guess the little snot could… Clean up the mess or something,” he suggested.

“That is one way to think of it!” Teal congratulated with a small clap, “Suppose I stand here and confess, “I love you!” Obviously, we have no reason to believe I am honest – the statement comes from no where and has no bearing. We have only met twice, and I have never shown you any affection!”

“Er… Yeah… I see what ya mean,” the Scoundrel turned away to hide his bright face.

“Your prayers are the same,” Teal concluded, “To seek redemption is one thing – a big thing! You have recognized that you wish to change for the better. All the same, you must be the one to do the changing; only then will your prayers be answered. Who or whatever it is that you pray to will assist you as they can, but they cannot simply change you for your prayers alone.”

With her sermon complete, Teal turned toward the monastery beyond, yet she was halted by a plea from behind her. “Wait!” called the Scoundrel, “I-If what you say is right, then what do I do?!”

Spinning on their heels, the Half-Elf affably shrugged, “How might I know? This is your journey, my friend! All I can tell you is that every journey begins with a single step; that step might be a frightening one, but after you take it, you can use the momentum as you see fit.” Not fully content with this, she looked around thoughtfully and suggested, “Perhaps doing a good deed would settle your frustration… This temple is awfully run down, do you not think so? It would be wonderful if someone were to tend to it.”

Moved enough to consider the suggestion carefully, the Scoundrel paused in thought. He scanned from side to side, marking a beat-up barricade at hand, the ratty state of several gardens, a collapsed roof or two – even the altar at which he prayed was caked with dirt and grime. The scarred fellow turned about, and it sank in just how run-down and timeworn the entire compound was. His back was toward the Spirit when he finally accepted, “Guess it is pretty beat up… Any clue if there’s a toolshed or something he—”

Peering over their shoulder, the Scoundrel noticed a distinct lack of red in the vicinity. He spun and searched back and forth frantically, but alas, there was nothing and no one. He placed a hand over his mouth while his expression became stony. His eyes drifted to the altar once more, his brow furrowed, and, of all things, a light gust of wind drifted by. The Scoundrel squinted, recalling what the crimson Spirit had said. “They weren’t…?” they muttered thoughtfully, but ultimately concluded with a shrug, “…Nah.” Having solved that quandary, they shuffled off in search of a broom or a rake.

Saint:

It was with a keen eye and a fresh perspective that Teal traced the trail tactically taken from the main compound to the entrance of the large monastery at its rear. She traipsed casually with her hands folded at the small of her back, allowing her eyes to scan over whatever caught their interest. “I must’ve been quite upset to miss all of this last time,” she confessed to Lacrimosa as they made the short trip.

Up ahead was the structure itself covered with ivy and huddled beneath old branches, but surrounding it were gnarled topiaries among swatches of grass and wildflowers that all grew in harmony. Teal charged by this scene on her previous visit, but now she took it all in carefully from the cat-grass to the cornflowers or the small stone bricks lining what was once the outskirts of this very garden. She imagined what the space must have looked like in its prime when the area was tended to and kept proper; she found that this version with its fresh saplings and scraggly appearance was just as pleasant if not more whimsical.

The travellers, Spirit and Companion, arrived at the temple’s entrance in good time. Here, Teal basked in the architectural splendour of the aged structure whose interlocking wooden joints and careful accents were worthy of as much praise as the intricate veranda and astonishing lattice shutters. As she rose along the low steps that she had wallowed atop in a former life, she fully understood why she had previously wanted to dawdle. The space was exactly like something out of a story; the sort of spot where one would retreat to after decades of service to their lord.

Currently employed by no one – I am technically employed by my school, am I not? That is a questionable thought… I shall have to ponder that later – Teal was free to retire whenever she pleased. However, now was not that time. Maybe later. She reached towards the sliding panels that marked the front entrance of the monastery, but something gave her pause. She looked to the left and remembered tracing the walkway around the building’s perimeter. She then looked to the opposite direction, and, to Lacrimosa, she suggested, “Shall we go right this time? We might see the entire property that way!”

Fain to agree - for they were a mellow fellow - the moth followed along as Teal led the way. This path traced a different route; it appeared to be somewhat longer than the alternative, but it wound its way withal where woods and wicker waited. One might enjoy a view of the surrounding area from this raised veranda were it not for such dense brush surrounding the place. Teal happily imagined loitering at such a place in the springtime and plucking blossoms from a branch as the low deer scares rattled on the breeze.

She spied among the foliage the effigies of a standing pond whose edges were not yet softened and swallowed up by grass. It no longer reflected the leaves above for it had grown murky from the fallen kin of former seasons. In fact, the only reason she was able to identify the feature was because of a worn-out bridge that spanned its banks – the hoar stone arch had been softened considerably by time and now bore patches of moss. Teal found herself leaning on the walkway’s railing and staring at the grounds dreamily, they must have been magical in their peak.

But that was then, and this was now, she told herself as she stood and motioned along at a slow pace. Her footfalls were anything but demure, clacking and clicking atop the lacquered wood, and when she approached the back of the monastery, she did so without hesitation. It was a sharp inhalation of surprise that drew the Half-Elf’s attention to their left: there, staring fondly from the porch, was a picturesque woman lifted straight from a wood block print. Her robes were as stunning as ever but differed from previously.

The Saint, the nun of the monastery, gawked at the crimson form rounding the corner. How her heart had raced from the sound of an oncoming intruder; she thought the roguish fellow from the courtyard had finally decided to do away with her! As her considerations caught up with her and she witnessed Teal’s pleasant grin, she absentmindedly spouted, “The nymph!”

“Yes!” Teal agreed with a chirp. She stood motionless midst the passage while Lacrimosa lighted at her shoulder; the sight was both spectral and haunting as the sanguine Spirit lingered in the beams of dim light trickling through the canopy. They spoke again in a savoury voice, “It has been some time, has it not?”

As the Saint was awed with a hand held aloft in trepidation, she knew not what to say to this apparition from so long ago. The nature of the encounter was utterly inexplicable – the nun had so few visitors that she recounted Teal’s sojourn perfectly. A marked change had taken place to their former guest’s attire, and it thrilled the older woman so much so that she felt compelled to versify her emotions. She recited thus:

“A lone cricket cries.

I hear them through the window,

Of this empty room.

What do they know of the red

Coursing through my restless heart?”

Unflinching, Teal beamed at the unprompted verse. A traditional more form would dictate that she should finish the final two lines, but such a procedure was observed only by those enraptured by the very longing this poem spoke of. Among two old acquaintances, the act of exchanging poetry was in itself meritorious. Without missing a beat, Teal expressed to the stunned Saint:

“I have seen much red.

Ruby charm and crimson pain;

I found both lovely.

Though the crickets cried for me,

I am present all the same.”

“My word, it is thee,” came as a gasp from the Saint who inched towards the Spirit, her intricately patterned silk shifting and sounding as she did.

Teal snickered, “Yes, yes! I told you it was – the ‘nymph’, as you said!”

Not knowing what to say, the nun was frozen in place, her painted lips parted in awe. She had never expected to look upon their guest again. Those that came this way only ever went to the city and never returned. Clumsily, she observed, “What has become of thee? Those cuts…”

At this, Teal passed a finger over the scars on her face: the divot between her eyes and the gash along her cheek. She had thought so little of them, or of those that must hide beneath her vest, that she forgot of her injuries completely. The Saint sighed given the Half-Elf’s silence, “Such are the ways of a constant life of suffering. O’ to be worn and have one’s beauty lessened!”

What a terrible way to call me pretty, Teal bit her tongue. Despite the backhanded compliment, she dwelt on the sincerity of the comment and smiled brightly. “I am changed within and without; yet regardless of their charm, these scars are mine and I am still me,” she voiced.

Showing such little concern for their appearance caught the Saint off guard. She knew not where to guide the conversation, something she was often delighted to do – the traveller’s aloof comment was deceptively weighty. Grasping at threads, the nun attempted to broach the subject of this ‘nymph’s journey, “Did thy travels… Lead thee to what thou sought?”

With shoulders raised, Teal teetered her head back and forth before answering, “Yes and no. They were… Interesting.”

The nun’s eyes sparkled at the potential for a grand narrative. She drew a fan from her sleeve and unfurled it with renewed gusto. “I shall put on tea, and then thou must ply me with details!” she instructed with an air of excitement.

However, the Half-Elf shook their head in response. “Alas, I cannot tarry,” they informed, “I have engagements with another, you see. I came by to visit and see how you are getting on.” The visitor ignored how deflated their host seemed and instead asked a question to the Saint, “Have you made good progress in your efforts to attain enlightenment?”

In a flash, the woman hid herself behind her fan and averted her whetted eyes. “M-My constant reading of the sacred scripture goes as well as ever, of course! Despite my efforts, thou seest that I yet linger among the living… By and by, my lotus shall bloom,” the nun explained to the forest or the building rather than to Teal.

All the same, the lass nodded, adding under her breath, “I had suspected as much.” Before the Saint had the opportunity to protest to whatever she may have heard, Teal was already in speech, “The lotus may sprout a bud, but without proper nourishment and tending it will still wilt upon the stem.”

With a heavy sigh, the Saint hang her head – the connotations were clear. “Women such as us are destined to wilt in this life. Only by the resurrection as a pure being might we have any chance at true enlightenment,” she declared with a forlorn look to the ragged gardens.

Her meditations were interrupted by a piercing scoff. “Psssh!” Teal laughed jocosely, “What a foolish sentiment to believe that one sex might achieve what another cannot.” She waved a hand as if to clear the sexist rot from the air. As she did, she considered how best to address the nun and her obvious pride. Teal offered, “Were you to ask me, which I realize you have not, you are as the flower’s bloom while your doctrine is like a stone: both might be a feature of a garden bed, but the two of you clash.”

The woman’s indignation was evident, but without direction. She lowered her fan and failed to conceal the darkness that spread across her painted scowling face. “The nerve!” she bubbled, “To think that I might not live harmoniously with the scripture is an absurd notion!”

“And yet, here you remain,” Teal bluntly stated with a shrug. In turn, the woman gasped, her face hung with an appalled expression, but she could muster little more. Sensing an opening, the Spirit pressed their point, “I know very little of enlightenment myself, but surely attaining it is done so by more than reading holy tomes alone.”

“B-But the sacred texts would never lead me astray,” came as a weak rebuttal from the waning nun.

“I have nothing against your faith or its teachings,” Teal replied with a chuckle, “But those following them must make an effort to live by their guidance, correct? You have isolated yourself to pray and reflect, and yet…” Teal hadn’t the heart to deliver such a striking blow against the woman – her intentions were not at fault, it was her lifestyle and attitude that held her back. She decided to skirt around the issue instead, as if courting a songbird, “It is funny, in a way, that you share such a point with that Scoundrel at the altar despite lacking any similarities.”

“I am nothing like that ill-mannered barbarian!” the Saint interjected.

Teal raised her hands as if to suppress the flame that roared, smiling all the while. “Of course, of course! Where you are radiant and beyond measure, he is merely a country boor. All the same, dear lady, you and he share a dilemma: you seek what is beyond you but fail to reach for it because it is merely beyond your grasp.”

The elder woman scoffed and gazed into the forest with fiery eyes. “Doth thou insinuate that I am unable to understand the deeper meaning of the holy scripture?” hissed the Saint, “A foolish thing, I must say. I have studied the sacred texts so deeply that I see all of their complexity clearly!”

“I am certain that you do!” Teal allowed her line some slack, “It is a feat for one to not only read, but to reflect and introspect on such lofty teachings. Understanding the deeper connotations of holy works is a task in itself and one that requires attentive devotion.”

Like a stoked flame, Teal witnessed the Saint swell with pride at her blandishments. It was here that the Spirit struck, “However, it aids one little only to know of good words and sound advice. It is obvious to see that you still linger here because you fail to apply your teachings sensibly!”

It was also obvious that the Saint did not do well with criticism; she spun toward the Half-Elf as a twisting bolt of lightning with a glare just as piercing. “How much more sensible than utter isolation can I get?! How much more must I cast off before I am permitted the eternal grace that I deserve?!” she howled like the gale of a storm.

However, as sturdy weathervane might, Teal remained unmoved by the tempest brought upon her. She found herself casually leaning against the nearby railing, taking in the picturesque, if wallowing, garden and the dilapidated, formerly austere, architecture. “I know very little of enlightenment,” she quietly confessed, “Yet even I know that the path towards it is not paved by reciting scriptures and giving up that which one holds dear. Such sacrifices bring about the stones or bricks for construction, but it is the practitioner that must lay the cobble one piece at a time.”

The Spirit’s gaze turned upon the nun, only to find that she looked incredibly distraught with her arms folded before her. The Saint looked as though she was churning Teal’s words in her mind but hated every second of it. Then she quietly admitted, “But that’s hard…”

Teal erupted with laughter, so much so that she bent over the railing as her eyes were dampened with joyful tears. “Of course it will be hard!” she agreed between giggles. Given a moment where she noted the Saint scowling at her, she calmed herself enough to clarify, “Goodness me… If it is enlightenment you seek, my lady, it will be a difficult task – it must be in a sense. You must embody your teachings and apply them everywhere. Everywhere! All the time!”

Squirming beneath her robes, the Saint seemed unsure. Were they faltering in their goals? Was there doubt in their eyes? Teal was only keen on assisting the woman grow in the way she deemed suitable, but some plants need more support than others. “Good Saint,” Teal spoke softly; her words, notes of a bamboo chime, drifted on the air, “The task will not be easy, but it is a noble one because of it - every stone you lay on your path is a worthy endeavour. The direction may shift this way or that, but if it is enlightenment you seek, you must apply your teachings daily in all things you do! Live in such a way that is good; not because it is grand nor because it will make you happy, but simply because it is good. In so doing, you shall find your peace. You shall find your enlightenment.”

With the red Spirit’s cloak billowing on the breeze, the Saint stood stock still, silent and squelched. She wavered between her bodily fear and the hope sprouting within her, unable to utter a suitable rebuttal. A hand clutched the robes at her chest as the words she spoke spilled from between her painted lips, “Yet how might I know what good truly is?”

Teal raised her brows at this. She wasn’t intent on giving advice, she was simply speaking her mind – she wanted the Saint to prosper since seeing her still languish here at the hilltop was unfortunate. At the query, Teal paused and tapped her chin thoughtfully; it was a question that required a careful answer. “Well…” she stumbled along, “Good is almost always situational and balanced by another, yet it need not be so deceptive. Does a creation bring about joy? Does an act beget harmony or love? These are all good things, but not the only measure one might weigh goodness. If you wish to do good deeds or live morally in order to strive towards enlightenment, it must be done without selfish intent. Goodness brings about happiness to many, but it is purer than that; one should do good things purely because they are good.”

Motionless, the Saint nodded vaguely, but admitted with a whisper, “I do not think I understand.”

“Me neither!” Teal snickered and hopped from the railing at which she leaned. She did a carefree spin as the wind caught her cloak, landing to face the nun with a smile. “As I said, I am far from enlightened, but I am currently quite content – that must count for something! Perhaps my rambling will make more sense if you busy yourself…” she trailed off in thought, but suggested excitedly, “Ah, how about you tidy the monastery? If I am not mistaken, the bandit has decided to tend the grounds yonder. I am certain he could use a hand!”

The Saint pressed a fist into the opposing palm with an expression of realization. “Yes!” she agreed with alacrity, “I should help the brute not because the grounds need a lift or because it might make the task lighter, but simply because it is the right thing to do! If we work diligently, we might make this a gorgeous temple of grand splendour!”

“Splendid, splendid!” Teal cheered to mask her concern; she feared the woman had missed the mark somewhat but was loth to criticize her further. Alas, her intentions were in the right place and Teal could not fault her for that.

“Wilt thou not stayest to aid us?” the nun gazed to the Half-Elf with sparkling eyes.

She was met with a kind rejection; Teal shook her head with a soft smile. “Were that I not expected, I would, but I must be going. I wish you all the best,” she admitted with a terse yet respectful bow. Teal held the posture, as if using her low position as a social weight against the Saint.

It worked. The lavish woman squirmed and stammered for she knew not what to say to such a sudden farewell. Obliged to curtsy, the Saint lowered her head and closed her eyes in the conventional manner. “If you must go, then you must go…” she murmured with melancholy, yet raised herself again to intervene, “But I—”

Gone. Just like that. Or were they ever there? The hapless nun was wracked by confusion; it was as if the untamed gardens had spat the nymph out and swallowed them back up. She took a few hesitant steps forward to the corner where their impromptu guest had appeared. Craning her neck, she first peeked, but then scrutinized the length of the veranda. Nothing. She stepped out again and surveyed the forest, the grounds, the branches above, the pond in the distance, but to no avail. The ruby Spirit was faded, if they were ever present to begin with.

Unable to determine if what she had just experienced was real or fictitious, a product of her constant meditations or the longing in her heart, the nun laughed to herself on the veranda. Regardless of the encounter’s origin, she felt renewed and inspired. Carefully returning from whence she came, the woman withdrew to her dwelling in the monastery and began to clean.

Mason:

Teal did not spy the Scoundrel when she charted her return through the temple complex and back down the stairs – it was a relief in some way. She descended the stone steps and reminisced one last time, enjoying a gust of air that danced upon the folds of her garments and locks of black hair. Once at the bottom, she fortified herself by speaking to Lacrimosa, “Alright, enough goofing off. Let’s make our way to the city.”

From there, the pair’s departure from the forest was effortless. The twitter of birds and insects from above and below administered a serene ambience to the hike that made the distance seem trivial. Before they realized it, the edge of the forest faded behind them and the two wound their way through the foggy green hills surrounding the city.

Now noticing only the plodding of her two feet, Teal took to plucking at her banjo as she walked alongside her Companion. She cared not that her precision with the instrument was rudimentary and played regardless of her poor skill; the song was a simple one composed of a melody that accompanied the beat of her stride. It was in this way that the two made good pace, slipping up and down the hills, through the fog, and, unknowingly so, came about the borders of the city.

On approach, Teal gasped at the sight of rooftops cascading in all directions – the city appeared much more naturally as it descended into smaller structures at its edges. This time, she even spied fields and quaint cottages at its extremities; it was as if the city was entirely different from the last time she had approached. Had it always been as wide or so tall? I wonder just how long ago we were here last, she mused. While there were none along the path she followed, she could easily see that the streets and paths of the town were alive with pedestrian traffic.

Two things drew attention away from her inner monologue: the first were the visible towers and trees of the hilltop castle at the city’s centre – Teal had never considered it so imposing before, but from this distance it was clearly a landmark of the locale; the second was the low scaffolding that had been erected just ahead along the path. Teal squinted and, as she expected, atop the beams and walkways was a lone figure next to a smattering of white bricks. She sighed openly as they passed by field and flock on their way to the city’s outer limit, grumbling to Lacrimosa, “This ought to be a hoot.”

When the Half-Elf came within earshot of the worker and their worksite of precarious supports and wooden slats, they inspected the construction effort. A foundation had been laid at the foot of their scaffolding and crude brickwork had been set to denote the shape of an intended structure. Having weaseled herself into the scene out of curiosity, Teal discovered that she was directly below the labourer. “Mason!” she hollered through hands cupped around her mouth. They watched through the gaps between the wood as the worker looked back and forth from his perch; he peered into the distance but couldn’t find the voice’s source.

It was then that the weathered man scratched at the cloth at his head and muttered, “What the devil…? I’m bein’ haunted!”

Below, Teal subdued a cackle. Oh goodness, what an opportunity. I can’t resist! she plotted, barely attempting to oppose her desires. “Yes, Mason, hear me! I am a vengeful spirit – the bloodied demon!” Teal growled from below, trying her best to mimic demonic inflection to add authenticity to her ruse. Lacrimosa, for their part, hopped onto Teal’s shoulder to diminish their ambient glow.

“Spare me! I ain’t done nothin’ wrong! I-I’m just a humble construction worker!” cried the Mason on his planks, searching for the ‘demon’ everywhere but its origin.

“Cease thine impudent struggle!” grumbled Teal, “To look upon me with thy mortal eyes would spell a wretched curse for thee!” At this, the man turned as rigid as the stones aside him – Teal had to cover her mouth to quiet her chortles.

When she calmed herself, she returned to her act, “Good! Now, Mason, hear my cursed words, for they might yet save thee from thy wretched fate.”

“I-I’m listnin’ real close, sir!” stammered the Mason in response.

“Why dost thou toil heedlessly?” the ‘demon’ barked, “Thou buildest a great wall, then tearest it down, only to buildest it back up!”

The elder shook like a leaf where they stood, “W-Well I… Y’see I… Soon as I tore this ol’ wall to bits, folks complained they felt exposed and in danger! I-I weren’t doin’ nothin’ great, y’see… And so I—”

“Decidedest to build it again from scratch!” bellowed the fiend, “Do not lay excuses at my feet, Mason! I have heard thy litany against restlessness. ‘Busy hands never falter,’ is it not so?!”

Even with the distance between the two, Teal could hear the fellow gulp – she couldn’t restrain herself and let out a howl of laughter. She was fortunate that it carried a sinister tone that did not reveal her identity. The Mason, too spooked to reply, kept silent, affording the Spirit the opportunity to expound, “Look at thee, wasting away at frivolous tasks, foolishly working just for work’s sake! If thou art not careful, a demon may come by to pluck those busy hands from off thy wrists!”

“No, please!” begged the Mason, stuffing their mitts into their armpits, “Not me hands! I need those!”

“That thou dost, Mason!” boomed the fiend, “For this is thy only warning! Thy skill is wasted upon this constant cycle; art thou so blind that thou canst not see? If this wall of thine own is truly what thou wishest to hewn, then let it rise! Should this not be so, then focus thine efforts where thou lovest!”

Here, the simple man paused, “Where I… Lovest?”

Stifling a groan, Teal expected that her archaic speech was lost on the layman, but she maintained character, nonetheless. “FOOL!” she roared, “Direct thyself upon that which thou holdst dear! If idleness be what thou fearest, thou must ride hard to meet it in battle with acts that fill thyself with honest merriment!”

“Y’mean I oughta… Build somethin’ I fancy?” hesitantly asked the Mason.

Teal all but rolled her eyes down below. “Yes, yes!” she called up, “Drudge no longer at pointless tasks intended to keep thyself busy. Seek out a worthy venture and allow its completion to bring about satisfaction!”

Silent for a moment, the elder above in their warn garments pondered before they mumbled, “Y’know, I was thinkin’ of addin’ a lil’ sunroom to me ol’ cottage…”

“A splendid idea!” Teal roared with genuine delight, “Thou hast been warned, Mason! Tarry no longer with oafish tasks, lest I reveal myself in earnest and snatch thine hands from off thine arms. Now go, Mason, go! Mwahahahahah!”

It was accompanied by this sinister laughter, one that faded with each utterance, that Teal made her departure. She walked backward and watched the Mason scramble with their tools; he had already begun to lower his bricks from the scaffolding by way of a small winch. Delighted that the elder had taken the ‘demon’s' guidance to heart, she turned and trotted on into the city’s embrace.

Sentinel:

As the Half-Elf and their Companion entered the city proper, they found themselves in a familiar location just outside a small plaza of stone. Tightly nestled buildings huddled together nearby along winding streets and broad thoroughfares. Teal, gawking as a crimson traveller might, was shocked to discover that so many niceties had gone unnoticed on her previous visit. Flower boxes brightened windows, colourful banners hung from terraces, even the walla of passersby and those surrounding the fountain had a certain jubilant charm to it.

While taking in her surroundings, Teal spied a curiosity: an individual she recognized that had gone completely unmoved like an unused pawn in a game of chess. She stared carelessly across the cobblestone road at the figure lazily leaning on their spear and thought, This one puts statues to shame for how little they move. She considered pressing on and forgoing a chat with the Sentinel at their post, but upon reflection it seemed a petty thing.

Crossing the route, then, Teal skipped towards the former gate keeper with a chipper wave. “Hello, Sentinel!” she shouted on approach – it was a rather boisterous greeting for such a public space, but Teal didn’t care enough to subdue her cheer.

Her zeal, however, caused the guard to spasm; they fumbled with the spear in their hands and almost dropped it to the ground. They spun to the heralding voice and assumed a more diligent persona at once, “Yes, citizen! What is it?! What can I—” With the Spirit nearly beside them though, they squinted and announced their realization, “Oh, it’s you! I remember you – the uh… Wizard! Except now you’re a different colour.”

Teal’s grin nearly spanned the entire gap between her ears as she rejoiced, “You remembered, how lovely! Worry not for my attire; how have you been keeping, my friend? Anything to report?”

Speaking to a familiar face softened the sentry considerably. “Not too much, not too much. Let’s see here… A fellow came by and knocked down the big wall – took him a while. No one told me to change my post though, so I’m just keeping an eye on the park here now. And uh… Had a bit of a row here a while back, but that got sorted out quick.”

“Oh, how thrilling! I thought something around here looked different,” Teal feigned excitement. She had not expected the Sentinel to mention anything, but what they had brought up sounded mundane all the same. I suppose an entire wall disappearing isn’t mundane, perse, but… I already knew about that! she reflected.

As the ward nodded congenially, it dawned on the ruby traveller that they had not spoken of their journey to this bump-in-the-road guard. They had only conversed very briefly, and Teal wondered if regaling them with some of her exploits was even worth it – she considered that a break in their monotonous posting would likely do them some good.

“Say,” the Spirit began with due haste, “Do you recall how you suggested that I visit the market yonder?”

“I remember something of the sort,” murmured the Sentinel as they tapped their chin.

“It turns out that just off the side of the market, down an alley, there is a fortune teller!” Teal raved, attempting to put more enthusiasm behind the statement than she really cared for.

At this, the plaza keeper aahed, “You don’t say!”

“I do say!” Teal laughed before she continued her momentum, “Did you know that there is a university in the same direction? It is massive!” She threw out her arms to emphasize just how large it was.

Cor!” cooed the Sentinel, “A university?! I had no idea! You know… I always wanted to go to a fancy school.”

“It was a lovely place, though I only passed through,” Teal lied, but quickly changed the subject, “Past that is a splendid forest and, at the centre of it, is a breath-taking palace!”

“A palace?!” repeated the guard.

“Well, technically it is a castle given its defensive nature,” Teal clarified.

“Oh,” said the Sentinel, “Still, I had no idea! Right here in the city?”

At this, the Spirit pointed in the direction of the aged keep, “Yes, just that way! It cannot be seen from here due to the buildings, but one can see its towers from outside of town. Did you know there is a train station that way as well?”

The Sentinel was quiet for a moment and blinked at the Half-Elf in confusion. Eventually, they were forced to voice their consternation, “A what station?”

“A train station!” Teal repeated and explained with avid gestures, “I had never heard of a train either. They are these grand machines of metal and fire; they are as a carriage, but without a horse, and their wheels glide atop steel rails that guide their path. You should see how fast they go! NYOOM!”

Teal’s imitation of the machines drew a laugh from the Sentinel, “My, I had no idea so much was here in the city!”

“That stands to reason,” Teal nodded knowingly, “For you only ever see this area here! My friend, you would enjoy yourself so much more if you allowed yourself to see all there is offered to you.”

“Hum,” the Sentinel shuffled uncomfortably, “M-My posting keeps me here and—”

“To the hells with your posting!” Teal admonished and waved a hand as if to shoo the idea away, “What of your personal time? Surely you get leave now and again – do not let such things dictate your life! You would enjoy things so much more if you simply thought for yourself for a change.”

The poor Sentinel bowed their head, imitating a dog who had been scolded. “I’m not very good at thinking,” they sulked. Teal rolled her eyes at this, but such an earnest comment was commendable in a sense.

“Then if it fancies you, apply to the university! Learn to think! Or, at the very least, have a walk up the street and see something new. A fresh perspective will do you wonders!” Teal assured with a warm grin as Lacrimosa swirled nearby.

Hesitating to the point of quavering, the Sentinel was unsure (If one could believe it), “I dunno…”

Teal’s smirk wasn’t lessened in the slightest when she rolled her eyes at the comment. “Come now,” she urged and found a compromise, “How about this? I shall stand here at your post, and you go to that corner yonder and peer about. Surely you can manage that, yes?”

Bashful, but not broken, the lone sentry found enough nerve to nod. They wriggled passed the Half-Elf and shuffled their way beyond the scant buildings between their post and the street corner in close proximity. They looked up, down, around, and even a little silly, but it was apparent by the softening of their worry that they enjoyed the sights and sounds of the plaza and its neighbourhood. There was a strange calm that came with merely being one aspect of a large crowd, one member of a larger society in motion.

Noting a box of flowers at a second story window, one of which was a short red poppy, the Sentinel recalled why they were here in the first place. They turned about to where they left their wizard acquaintance and inquired, “Am I doing this ri—”

It was a trick, apparently – they must have slipped off into the throngs of pedestrians in the plaza. The gateless gatekeeper scanned those in the vicinity but found no signs of such a distinct vermillion hue. Puzzled, they stood against their spear in thought. As thinking did not suit them, however, they were drawn to something down the laneway to their left: just a few doors down was a quaint structure with a painterly charm to it. Above its inviting doorway was a sign thrust out into the avenue that read, “Acorn’s Rest Tavern”

Merchant:

Having slowed to a browsing saunter among the many market stalls and huts, Teal allowed herself a moment to peruse the extensive wares on display. Hawkers called and customers haggled for their daily needs; food and produce were plentiful, but there were also bits and baubles of various quality strewn among the many vendors. Some sold brocades of silk or linen, others had jewellery, some flogged artistic creations or wooden carvings, and one such stall sold nothing but ‘Sound Advice’. Teal found the display of goods enchanting but was struck by the lack of floral arrangements. That foolish Florist would have their crafts sold here in mere moments, she weighed.

Carving their way like water through a stream, the Spirit and their Companion manoeuvred themselves through the browsing crowds without resistance. They stopped to ogle a colourful stand selling baked goods that, in Teal’s starved opinion, were masterfully made. Loaves of sourdough and rye, tarts filled with fresh fruit or custard, rolls and buns with their tantalizing buttery sheen, sugary delights like doughnuts and cookies, all of it beckoned to her grumbling middle. Alas, she indulged her eyes alone. In all this time, I never did come upon any money, she sighed.

The thought brought about a new consideration, and with haste the red traveller shifted their way further into the market. Teal need only follow her nose toward the scent of ripe fruit and fresh vegetables, and soon enough she came upon the stall which she hunted. While she was already informed of the display and the miser who owned it, she allowed herself a brief moment to revel in the spectacle of pristine produce. She wondered to herself, in fact, if the display had even been touched or moved since she last saw it – it all seemed so immaculate.

Ignoring the allure of the nectarines at the far end of the tables, Teal brought her focus upon the vendor in their ornate robes. They were, as she had expected, ignoring every facet of their business while indulging in the banal act of counting their coins. The Half-Elf heard the Merchant mutter with each successive clink of coin; they were no longer in short stacks but towered to a height at the extremes of the marketeer’s reach. “…Ten-thousand six-hundred twenty-two …Ten-thousand six-hundred twenty-three …Ten-thousand six-hundred twenty-four …Ten-thousand six-hundred twenty-five…” counted the accountant.

Perhaps encouraged by her Feie ancestry or merely by some childish, antagonistic desire, Teal developed a devilish grin as she stood and watched the vendor take inventory. She waited politely for some time, listening to the droning increase in numerals – she thought she might have better luck this time given that she was clad in a frightening ruby tone, but service, let alone acknowledgement, never came to her. Foregoing her previous shouting and banjo strumming, she adopted a different tactic this time around, waiting for a pause in the Merchant’s tally before cooly uttering, “…Two-million one-hundred eleven-thousand seven-hundred forty-four.”

“…Ten-thousand six-hundred twenty-eight…”

“Seven-thousand eighty-nine,” Teal added.

“…Ten-thousand six-hundred twenty-nine…”

Teal chimed like a marimba played in staccato, “Sixty-three. Four. Eight-hundred two. Ninety-one.”

“…Ten-thousand eight-hundred ninety—” the Merchant bit their tongue, their anger bubbled, and they wheeled to meet the now cackling imp plaguing their monetary assessment, “Cut that out!”

Finally having been noticed, Teal beamed and stuck out her tongue at the vendor, “Bleeeeeh!”

At this, the marketeer gasped and thrust a finger toward the interrupting interloper. “You!” they cried.

“Me!” Teal gleefully responded.

“You’re that bothersome beggar! Shoo! Begone at once! Some of us are trying to work,” rebuked the Merchant with venomous intonation.

The Half-Elf simply laughed at their scornful comments; their petty interpretations were ineffective at best. “How thrilled I am to be recalled so swiftly! I see that you are doing well in kind, by some means beyond merely trading fruit,” they teased.

At this, the Merchant grumbled something unintelligible while looking sheepish – they caught their footing quickly though, and, hawker that they were, descended on the visitor. “Have you come to your senses and decided to sell me that glittering trinket around your neck?” they catechized, “My previous offer still stands, beggar.”

“Cents?” Teal cooed, “Nay, I have no cents. Do you not recall? My pockets are as empty as they were previously! Thankfully, my head is full of reason, and I know that selling my cherished memento would be folly even for all the nectarines in the world.”

“Pah!” dismissed the Merchant with a wave of their hand, “You will never get far in life with that attitude – such trifles will keep you from making sagacious business decisions! And with unwise sentiment in the world of affluence, you are liable to be in the red!”

To this the Spirit lifted their arms and gazed upon their flowing cloak. Likewise, they peered past their dishevelled black bangs to the cap atop their head. “I do believe I am already in the red,” Teal stated as she twisted and observed herself. She lowered her appendages to a casual level and informed the vendor, “Despite that and my ‘unwise sentiment’, I find myself quite content. I am unsure if I could say the same for you, Merchant, among your stacks of gold.”

Their brow twitched and the stall’s owner stamped a foot impatiently. “How dare you!” they barked, “I am by far the happiest individual in this entire market!”

“Are you really?” Teal leaned forward with a wiry grin and her hands clasped behind her back, “You do not seem very happy, Merchant. In fact, you seem exceptionally lonely – one might say miserable, but I shall not. Tell me, where are all of your customers?”

“Lonely?! M-Miserable?!” the Merchant glowed red with abashed frustration, “You fastidious little mongrel! My business is none of your business!”

“It just seems queer, is all, that you have all this money, and it seems as though you have not sold a single thing since last we met…” the Half-Elf tapped their sharp chin in a feigned gesture of thought; they were purely intent on annoying the Merchant.

A guilty fury flashed across the vendor’s visage as they stamped and fumed. “Why you—” they yelled, but the little table at which they had counted their gold wobbled from the flailing. Teal witnessed it teeter and suddenly – Crash! – it and the towers of coin tumbled to the ground. Following the table’s distinctive din, the golden disks clanged and clattered as they spilled this way and that, rolling, bouncing, spinning, and wobbling as coins are apt to do.

Aghast with a kind of cheap horror, the Merchant grasped their own head in a panic. “My coins!” they cried as their precious metal was flung about the market willy nilly. Almost instantly, the crowd of market goers, previously aloof to the discussion between the pair, but drawn by the unforgettable racket, descended on the money. As a flock of sparrows might peck at a smattering of seeds, the ravenous pedestrians and fellow marketeers plucked up the gold pieces one by one, often jostling against one another to hoover up the cash as quickly as they could.

Teal, meanwhile, stood aside and watched the cartoonish avarice unfold – it took an untold degree of fortitude for her to not laugh at the comeuppance, but she remained patient and morally grounded despite the look of wicked satisfaction on her face. She cupped her hands around her lips and called to the greedy dealer, “Worry not, good Merchant, such trifles will keep you from making prudent decisions in life! These shiny circles are a cold obsession that will never fill you with warmth or make your heart flutter; they will only obscure that which you truly care about.”

The look of confusion mixed with intensifying outrage on the peddler’s face left the Spirit at an impasse. To leave the poor peddler in this state would be something of a felicitous end to their meeting, their unbecoming greed deserved some condemnation, but even so, such a finale would leave the Merchant with only bitterness in their heart. Even they didn’t deserve such a fate.

Reacting then, the crimson wizard looked to the Merchant glaring at them from across the way – they, in turn, beheld the wizard's kind smile. Teal, who stood out in her bright red among the drab tones of the masses, casually pushed her way into the mob of swarming bodies grasping and groping at the coins strewn about the boulevard. She snatched up a coin, held it aloft, and shouted amid the throng of scavengers, “Let us give thanks to the wonderful soul responsible for this kind and generous donation! Thank you, Merchant!”

At first, the vendor was irate and on the cusp of flinging imprecations upon the foul fiend, but they were halted with their mouth agape by an elderly woman whose palms were filled with coins. “Blessings upon you! Thank you so much!” she cried with tears in her wrinkled eyes.

She wept joyfully as she waddled off, leaving the Merchant with little more to say than, “Erm…”

Another of the crowd accosted the trader with thanks, their arms brimming with gold, “I cannot thank you enough! My family will be able to eat for weeks because you!”

Speechless, the Merchant vaguely waved a hand towards them as they toddled off. Immediately after, more of the flock of coin catchers cheered with thanks as they stuffed their pockets and purses – there was so much gold that, despite the shuffling mass of bodies, no one being could horde it all. Most were content to take enough for themselves and then be on their merry way.

As more and more came by to pluck a piece or two or several from the great stash of gold, they each gave thanks to the Merchant for their contribution. By degrees, they softened to the gratitude and soon enough began to reply in earnest. “You’re quite welcome,” they replied to a small family. “Don’t mention it,” they smiled to a limping fellow. “Enjoy yourselves! Have a great day!” they waved to a passing couple. “Ah, you’re welcome, you’re welcome!” they shook hands with the butcher just a few stalls over. With each remark the Merchant’s face shifted from expressing muddled anguish to that of genuine benevolence – their grin glittered with far more lustre than their golden tokens.

At one point, Teal watched as a youngster attempted to use the gold to buy an apple from the Merchant’s own stall. They laughed and laughed at the gesture; it was wonderful to witness such genuine mirth and the Spirit found themselves beaming as well. The Merchant took the coin and gave the child not just one apple, but an entire basket of them before waving goodbye.

The throng thinned along with the gold stashed here and yon. The Merchant gleefully saw folks off with merry gestures of good tidings and warm words. As they did, they scanned the street for that distinctive hue of ruby; neither left nor right, up nor down, afore nor abaft, could they find a sign of them. There was a chance that the table had just fallen on its own.

Oracle:

Previously, it had gone unnoticed, understandably so given the circumstances at the time, how much charm there was to these back-alley streets. Now able to traipse at her leisure, gliding along unbothered by what might come next, Teal soaked up the homely architecture that loomed around her and Lacrimosa. Urban design, such as these discreet dwellings, lent itself to strict adherence of consistent elements, but still there remained the pockets of living error: a misplaced brick, a jutting stone, a lopsided beam, the amateurish application of stucco, a crooked window or door, an abundance of mortar in one spot evened by the meagre application in another.

There was beauty in such things – they lent the various façades and buildings an appeal that, with their age, evoked a comfortable urbanity rather than being altogether run down or shoddy. This aesthetic was magnified by the efforts of the locale’s denizens. Potted flowers or ivy made light of imperfections, using them as trellises or masking them altogether; murals used botched patch jobs as texture for their canvases; from broken tiles and shingles burst blooms of brave buds – weeds to most, but not to Teal. The elements combined to foster a picturesque community with a charm all its own; one distinct from that which adjoined the bustling paths, kept neat and tidy to preserve the neighbourhood’s face.

A promenade such as this one lent perspective to the wayward Spirit. It was so easy to get lost when I was barrelling around like a fool; it’s no wonder I failed to notice the quaint niceties here, Teal simmered as she sauntered. She had once considered the city to be somewhat dank and foreboding, but it was realistically just another place to live. It was an unfamiliar place for her, a far cry from her home among her Elvish kin, but all the same it was one where people from all walks of life went about their days. Even if they were different beings living different lives, they were all beings through and through.

Plodding in this way among her meditations, Teal traced her previous route by the vague hints afforded to her. A pothole here, a broken pane next, a splotch of graffiti there, then a patch of chicory where she had abruptly turned left; she was amazed at how much she recalled. Deeply distracted comparing the city to that from her childhood though, it wasn’t until her Companion took to hovering about her face that she noticed that she had arrived at the odd courtyard in the depths of the back streets.

Looking past the flickering embers, the Half-Elf grinned at the sight: a large tent with a mystical aura. They hadn’t noticed before, likely because they had sprinted right into it, how the yurt possessed an outward design of stars and cryptic symbols – they recognized some of them from their studies in Chronoplasy. Most of them were the signs of constellations or sigils used for scrying.

“Thank you, Lacrimosa,” Teal expressed with a polite bow. She had come to believe the that the insect understood her far more deeply than she had once thought. She hoped that her efforts to reciprocate their kindness were apparent, but knowing for certain was far from transparent. Regardless, she took a pause to appreciate the moth’s willingness to accompany her this far – on their own volition this time.

Bracing herself, Teal took in a deep gulp of air before she pushed aside the curtain of the canopy’s entrance. She charged in with gusto and found the Oracle with their back towards her. How fortunate! she thought as she flanked them before they realized an intruder was upon in their midst. Teal grabbed them by the shoulders, ensnared them in a spin, and had them seated at their table in one perfect prance. The Oracle babbled nonsense in fright, but the Spirit took no heed as they, instead, rummaged among the shelves at the hind of the hut.

“Please! I keep my coins on the third shelf in a small box! Don’t hurt me!” quavered the Oracle from their chair.

“Oh goodness, I have no need for such things,” Teal chirped merrily, “I am searching for something entirely—Ahah!”

The scarlet Spirit trotted the table’s circumference with the object they sought and sat down opposite the Oracle – it was precisely as they had been on their previous meeting. The Oracle watched in fright as the strange being acted so comfortable in their realm, witnessed them shuffle thin slips diligently among their digits, and began to wonder who this busybody was. It dawned on them quickly when they noted the black gloves atop their hands and spied the Spirit’s freckled face. They chimed, “Wait… I know you!”

“Yes! We met before,” Teal paused to look up with a smile, “Your readings were very accurate by the way – aside from the heroic fish scaling a mountain, that was absurd. I shall spare you the details; frankly, I do not entirely understand them, but I was intending to repay your efforts with an attempt of my own!”

Unable to parse the information fully, the Oracle gawked at the Half-Elf as they arrayed the long cards in their palm this way and that. “Th-Those are my—” the fortune teller attempted to interject, but they were interrupted by their guest suddenly flipping a card from the deck face-up atop the clothed table. The pair stared at what the small illustration had revealed to them – one depicting an armoured warrior, sword aloft, glittering amid crepuscular rays.

“Ah! The Hero, inverted!” Teal cooed with delight while the diviner dwelled in consternation, “Not a fantastic start, but quite telling! You are presently wracked with self-doubt and lacking any real security or stability in your life. Perhaps you doubt the skills passed down to you through generations! Maybe you have been stewing over something you thought you had control over, but is, in fact, out of your grasp…”

Without giving the host a chance to respond, Teal made a spectacle of reaching for the deck to retrieve a second card. Wiggling her fingers, she palmed the stack across the table and unfurled them in an arc from right to left. The Oracle watched in awe as an index finger traced the cards and then gasped when a tiny glowing moth fluttered out from beneath her cloak! It buzzed about this way and that before hovering neatly above one of the cards. Teal grinned at her accomplice, “Oh, this one? Very well. Thank you, my friend.”

Gently removing Lacrimosa’s selection, the Spirit flipped it over with alacrity. It landed perfectly next to the first, revealing a six-legged creature with large luminous wings outstretched all around it. “Oh!” Teal laughed to herself, causing the poor fortune teller further confusion, “It is the Companion, of course! What a lovely coincidence – ah, but it is inverted as well, how unlucky! Something in your life is without harmony, Oracle. You have been struck off balance by some misfortune. Hrmm… Perhaps it was a point of professional pride?”

There was no reply, only the sign of an anxious gulp from the robed mystic at their seat – this was Teal’s cue to advance. She collected the cards into a stack once more, brought them into her palms, and twisted them together; her bright green eyes shone as they locked with those of the Oracle. In the next instant, she held her hands aloft to reveal that the cards had disappeared. Her host’s jaw dropped, and, with a gentle tug, she revealed nothing was concealed down her loose sleeves. Teal smirked as she clapped her hands together suddenly; she peeled them apart as slowly as she could to reveal a singular card atop her left palm. She brought the hand to her lips and applied a small puff of air which sent the card flying; it spun as it descended, landing face up beside to its two siblings.

Peering with unbridled excitement, the pair witnessed a small scene split in half diagonally along the design. One half showed a great bastion in construction by skilled labourers, the other depicted a similar fortification besieged by invaders possessing fire and humongous mallets – it was the latter which faced upright. “An interesting final card: the Vandal!” Teal broke the silence enthusiastically, “You have experienced some kind of sudden upheaval… If I had to guess, it is related to the other cards! Let me see… Since our last visit, you have yet to have a suitable reading! This has led to you doubting your capabilities and now you worry that your craft may be for naught. If I project this farther, I might surmise that your business is in ruin! Your belongings will be repossessed before long and your lineage as an Oracle will come crashing down upon you!”

Her tirade complete, the red menace jabbed an accusatory finger towards their client. The Oracle was wan amid the accusation and here, at its climax, they threw up their arms and wailed, “It’s true! All of it is true! I’m a failure! A sham! A fraud! My life has been filled with ill omens, and I am doomed to bring ruin and misfortune on my bloodline!”

The poor soul wept into their arms as they crumpled forward on the table, slouching in their chair. Teal, across, was astonished at the outburst, but rebounded immediately with a fit of giggles that cut the tension in the air like a myriad of popping bubbles. “Oh my goodness!” she howled with laughter, “Do not be so woeful, Oracle! I made the whole thing up!”

Jarring as the experience had been, the Oracle never expected it to culminate in laughter. They lifted themselves in their confusion and meekly sputtered, “B-B-But… It was all so accurate… You really made it up?!”

Teal nodded pleasantly with a smile that bunched up the freckles at her cheeks. “Yep! Every word! It was pretty good though, right?” she teased.

At this, the seer sighed away most of the tension that had built within them the past few moments. “Y-Yes,” they answered, “It was quite the performance.”

“The funny thing about predicting the future,” Teal calmed herself as she leaned back in her chair, “Is that it is a mystery. Always! Even if one might peer into it slightly, it is unlikely one can grasp the entirety of the possibilities between the then and the now – far too many branches at every moment.”

“B-Branches…?” the Oracle quizzed but was met with only a dismissive wave.

“What I am trying to say, my friend, is that there is no sense in trying to predict what might occur in your future – or anyone’s future for that matter – with absolute clarity,” Teal reasoned, “Was my reading of your future true and accurate? Maybe… That is up to your perception. Regardless, I bet it gave you pause, right? I bet now you are considering how you might move forward, are you not?”

They fearfully sat upright as a board. “A-Are you a mind reader as well…?” the prophet quietly asked.

Again, Teal tittered, but shook her head from side to side. “Not without the proper spell, no!” she revealed as she stood. She removed her cap for a moment, grasped at something perched atop her dome, and set it down near the Oracle – the remainder of their deck of Illumination Cards. “Instead of fussing about achieving a perfect reading, you might find your predictions more useful in guiding or counselling your patrons towards more fulfilling lives,” she advised, “In this way, you might discover one for yourself as well.”

The words sank in as the Oracle observed the mystical return of their cards. It was as if they were dreaming for how quickly and stupendously the past few moments had flown by. Stunned and stupefied, they knew not what to say or how to react. It was only when they somewhat digested the Spirit’s spiel that they looked up to find their tent completely empty. There was no disturbance among the thin plumes of smoke from their incense, there was no flap of the curtain at the yurt’s door; they wondered if the whole encounter had been some kind of prophetic vision. In a stupor, they sat and stared at the deck of cards before them, eyes idle upon intricate illustrations. At the top of the stack, face up opposed to all the others, lay a single card: the Castaway inverted.

Terpsichorean:

It was prudent that Teal retrace her steps along the path she strode before. She must reach the university so that she might reach the city’s keep so that she might once again find the train station so that she might, by some means, reach the Sage’s abode and then beyond. There were other ways of achieving this, more efficient ways from her current place to where she desired to be, but none of them appealed to her quite the same. If she were keen on going quickly, she would have simply asked a passerby in the market for directions to the train station. It was, in her opinion, much more satisfying to follow her former path.

Alas, this time the now crimson wizard possessed a drive that was stronger than ever. There would be no melancholic lingering on their potholed memories – they had done that quite enough for their liking. They need not do so quickly nor directly, but it was prudent in their eyes to strive forth at their own pace in their present state. However that state may be.

Humming along in this way, turning here and there, Teal found the city’s alleys to be remarkable now that she wasn’t fretting every second of her journey. She bid good day to elders gossiping at their stoops, admired a stunning mosaic plastered against the back wall of an ancient home, played hopscotch with a group of youngsters, and even stopped to pet a cat who was gregarious enough to make a new friend. It was a nightmare getting its fur out of her gloves, but she had experience with such things.

At one point while she gawked at a group of sparrows bustling amid an overgrown shrub, Teal spied a curious figure along the path ahead of her. They twisted and spun, they bustled and lunged, but most importantly they danced in a feverish frenzy. It was, of course, the Terpsichorean – Teal hoped there was only one perpetually undulating ballerina in the city, at least. Have they been dancing all this time? she wondered briefly, debating if taking a tango might be appropriate. Unfortunately, it seemed as though she had no other choice; the dancing dolt obscured the only path between her and her next objective.

Accompanied by a resigned sigh, the red Spirit charged headlong into the fray – there was little to oppose the frontal assault. Surely, if they had intended, they might bowl the frolicking fool off their feet, but instead they came upon their quarry at a moment of vulnerability. As the dancer completed a pirouette, it was already too late for them to notice the shifting tide of crimson descending upon them. They were snatched in an instant, hand in hand with the bold Half-Elf as they brought them into an energetic trotting waltz.

Before they might register this assailant, Teal led not only the dance, but the conversation. “I beg your pardon, but may I cut in?” she questioned, already flowing into the first turn of the dance. Lacrimosa kept pace with their own jittery dance as the pair moved along.

Still dancing and therefore as content as always, the Terpsichorean had no objections to the waltz. They heard a gentle tune hummed by their new partner and, upon a brief inspection, recognized the lightweight frame of a previous acquaintance. “Ah,” they breathed, “It’s you again! You are more… Red than I recall.”

In return, Teal simply nodded with a grin, shaking the wide brim of her hat as she guided the dancer from their choke point further along the alley’s path. “At the next count, we release, spin, bow, and then rejoin. Understood?” she instructed curtly, expecting the groovester to understand. Not waiting for a reply, Teal proceeded through the movements. As expected, the pair departed in a single twist, faced one another with a small bow from the hip, before meeting again following a rotation in the opposite direction.

She continued in this way, pulling the Terpsichorean along in a jaunty promenade. “Very good!” she congratulated, but shifted topics along with her step, “By the by, how have you been keeping?”

“Oh!” bubbled the shifter casually, “Good. Good! Always dancing, always good.”

At this, Teal tutted quite immodestly. “Only good?” she criticized, “That does not sound so enthusiastic; I thought you felt a little stiff… Your dancing must be getting stale because that is all that you do!” She punctuated her comment amid a quaint flurry of movement in which she spun the Terpsichorean away from herself and she landed in a stunning posture.

Alternatively, the former waltzing partner balanced themselves uneasily. “Stale…?” they slurred in disbelief. Turning, they witnessed Teal whimsically jittering alongside a miniature glowing insect – the Terpsichorean felt somewhat left out. For the first time in what might have been forever, they took pause and looked thoughtful, asking, “What do you mean ‘stale’?”

Immersed in watching Lacrimosa fly in a spiral upwards, Teal was too busy beaming at the bug to respond. She did, however, a moment later, and kindly clarified, “You seem tired or do not have your heart in it as you did last we met, that is all. Were you not having fun?”

Shocked at such a notion, the prancer struggled to piece together a response. “I-I… Of course I had fun! You are… You dance very well!” they stammered, “I just… I… Hrmm…” They lifted a hand to their mouth and tapped a foot thoughtfully. The brusque evaluation had completely thrown them for a loop.

“I enjoyed myself immensely, you know. Someone very special to me taught me how to waltz…” Teal confessed, glowing as she tugged at her locks and looked aside, “But then, I seldom partake in dance – especially not the unrestrained styles you employ.”

“You’re saying that you are… Not stale!” guessed the Terpsichorean with a snap of their fingers.

To this, Teal laughed so hard that she bent over – the dancer appeared wounded, but the broad smile across the Half-Elf’s face kept them from expressing any ill-humour. “Yes! You might say so,” the Spirit admitted once they caught their breath, “When we last danced, it was fun! I have not done so since and this time it was very fun as well.”

She then skipped closer to the Terpsichorean and pulled them into another posture, wrapping her black silk gloves around their hands. “Come, come! I will explain. Listen,” she crooned as the two met for a slow spin – it was a folk style of waltz comprised of easy back and forth movements like the tide upon the shore. The intimacy of the moment held the dancer’s tongue.

“When one eats too many sweets, they become sick,” Teal chirred, “When one stares at a blank wall, their eyes grow weary. A lovely melody on repeat turns into grating noise and even one’s favourite scent is lost when it is always present.” She sighed here and looked the Terpsichorean in the eyes; they blushed as she calmly expounded, “When we overindulge in things, even the things we love the most, we lose ourselves to their charms and can no longer enjoy them. Spoiling oneself with constant entertainment is essentially the same thing as always being bored, is it not?”

When she spoke again, it was softly, “I do not intend to tell you to cease dancing, it is evident you love it, but might I encourage you to attempt some new activities? Even very boring things would lend a new spark of joy to your shuffling.” Following this, Teal hummed another tune as the pair swayed – it was one she was very fond of. She knew what she was doing was immodest, but she was, perhaps, somewhat lost reliving a fragment of her cherished memories.

Completely at the Half-Elf’s mercy, the Terpsichorean struggled to piece together a response. How could they deny such an entreaty that was both heartfelt and logical? They were silent as they spun with the red figure again and again. Only after a thorough lapse in conversation did they finally suggest, “I could try sitting and doing nothing for as long as I can. I bet I would be really bad at it, but that would make it all the sweeter to dance and play right after!”

Ripped from her reverie and sputtering with poorly contained mirth, Teal laughed with delight. “What a horrible idea! I love it!” she cackled, “Perhaps incorporate other things, but this will be a start… Now, are you ready?”

The slow sway was still ongoing – the dancer had no idea what their slim partner referred to. “Ready to… Sit?” they squeaked, peering down at the beaming face before them.

“No, for this!” Teal snickered an instant before she grasped the Terpsichorean and twirled them away from her with gusto. Like a top, they spun on their nimble toes – it was liberating, but the force used was excessive. They turned and turned and turned and turned before slowly coming to a halt. Wracked by dizziness, they struggled not only to stand, but also to see; their world had gone blurry.

Steadying themselves on a nearby wall, they regained their faculties by degrees; being used to such motion it did not take long. All the same, they were shocked to see there was no sign of their crimson lancer anywhere - they had cut in, after all. Up the alley and back down, there was no suggestion that the sanguine Spirit had ever been present at all.

Dandy:

Forging ahead through the thin streets of the city’s sprawl was ultimately a breeze and Teal came upon the road which she remembered to be something of a landmark on her journey. Just as it had been before, the wide avenue was packed with pedestrians and traffic of all sorts travelling every which way giving heed to the Mogul’s Den amidst it all. As she stopped to wonder why this street in particular was packed, choosing to imagine it to be some kind of absurd racetrack, she noticed that it was quite built up as a pedestrian parkway.

Not quite a park, at the centre of the avenue was ample greenspace built up with flowers and hearty trees. These gardens, constructed from dark brick, were flanked on either side with wooden benches; most of these went unoccupied as everyone who passed was in a terrible hurry to get nowhere. Overhanging these vignettes of pedestrian delight were square poles of oak constructed to resemble the letter T; attached to their arms were lanterns that, upon squinting, Teal could tell were thankfully not filled with shining moths.

Her intentions for breaking through the endless crowd were faceted, but when it came down to it, Teal didn’t dodge the onslaught of bodies for any of the reasons she thought she might. She melded into the stream in the direction she wished to take. Just before the Mogul’s crude ‘shop’ she spied someone slumped atop one of the benches – it was the cut of their tall hat that drew her attention. She waded closer and, upon freeing herself from the horde, discovered it to be a fellow bedecked in bespoke bedding. Sighing, it dawned on her immediately: it was the Dandy.

Something was amiss though. He was slumped forward with elbows at his knees and chin upon his hands – the clear body language of one who is despondent. Even at the best of times, Teal would ideally refrain from engaging with one who had proven themselves to be as sleazy as this dude, but he appeared to be genuinely dejected for one reason or another. Teal could think of a few good ones. Perhaps this too was one of his ploys, an attempt to seem pitiable and in need of comfort. Those obsessed with carnal pleasures would seek them out by any means.

One thing stood out as flawed, however: Teal had yet to be noticed. Here she stood in brilliant crimson frock and the Dandy failed to even stir. A man such as this was either quick to return to form or to defer to mockery – bygones were never bygones with his sort. His state then was serious, or he was seriously forcing himself to ignore her. Regardless of his intent, Teal felt compelled to pester the man to some capacity. Should he prove as ignoble and lascivious as previously, she would simply depart at once.

The red Spirit wheeled themselves beside the decadent fellow and, being mindful of her instrument, sat herself down; even while sulking his silken suit was debonair - perhaps moreso since it was not tarnished by his perverse intentions. It was only then that the Dandy took note of the additional presence haunting him. Taken aback at first, Teal witnessed the man’s eyes narrow as they had when he took his leave. “Oh, it is you,” he hissed, “Le champignon vénéneux avec un soupçon d’esprit!”

There was little available for Teal to do in kind except titter at the oddly apt insult. “Ah, and it is you!” she chirped with unrequested pleasantness. She tilted her head as part of the act she was fostering, “I was unsure at first… I admit, I do not remember you very well; it was only by your attire that I recognized you! Would it trouble you to get me in touch with your tailor?”

Her chaffing had touched a nerve as the Dandy flared his nostrils and knitted his brows. “Why you… Go away! Sortez!” he spouted, grasping his walking stick and giving it a theatrical wave, “Vous puez et ressemblez aux choux rouges!”

“Me? Rouge?” Teal feigned ignorance, “It is you who is red with fury!” This only irritated the less than gentle man further, so Teal raised her hands in a defensive gesture immediately. “Goodness, becalm thyself,” she urged with a genial laugh, “I am merely admitting to your good taste. Your suit strikes a fine balance between outward expression and refinement while retaining clear indication of personal style. Your boutonnière, for example, is a white carnation, yes? Those are symbolic of true love, primarily a woman’s… Were I to chance a guess, it is either meant to express your desire to happen upon true love, or... it was a gift from your mother!”

“I-I…” the Dandy reeled back from the commentary. He had raised a finger to object but found it drooping alongside his fizzling aggression. “Perhaps it was both,” he admitted with a forced indifference while adjusting the accessory in question. The Half-Elf had suspected as much.

Having caught the decadent delinquent off guard, the Spirit pressed their advantage now that the fellow’s defences had been lowered. “You must understand how difficult it might be for one to remember you when all you do is concern yourself with… Well, yourself. If you took an interest in those you spoke to, you may find they are more willing to think kindly of you,” they amicably averred, allowing their point to sink in just enough before they added, “For example, you never even asked for my name before you tried to court me.”

As if they had been struck by a rock, the Dandy looked completely stupefied. His lips bobbed while he floundered, but there was no excuse he might conceive of to deflect from his blunder. When he did speak, it was a guilty query, “And… Wh-What is your name, mademoiselle?”

Teal forced herself to divert her laughter, holding in all but a charming chuckle. She held out a hand towards the Dandy and replied, “In Common, it is Miss Evergarden.”

“I am Monsieur Poirier, enchanté,” the suave savant nodded with a quick grasp of the Half-Elf’s black glove with his white.

Smiling, Teal gazed out towards the ocean of bodies swirling about the avenue. The current was visually mesmerizing. She considered where such bodies might be headed, what their individual goals and pains were – it was an intoxicating thought. As she allowed herself to slip into something of a hypnotized state, she found herself speaking at length. “I do not wish to advocate against self-love, Monsieur, but in many cases it does well to apply it in small measure. To treat oneself, to be confident, is all very well and good, but when applied too liberally it leads to arrogance, vanity, and conceit. It ultimately becomes a waste of energy – energy better spent loving outwardly instead,” she waxed, “How might I say this… A peacock with splendid plumage knows only how to mate; it spreads its feathers proudly, it squawks and dances, it reproduces. Yet does it know anything of love?”

Silently, the Dandy pondered this assertion and if it held any merit. He knew little of peacocks, but he wondered if a bird might feel love. He supposed that it might feel attachment to its mate or its family, but it likely did not care which mate it took, only that it did so. He found such an approach deplorable and hoped that he was wrong; that the peacock grew and preened its plumage not merely to attract a mate, but to impress its true love.

When he returned to the present, the Dandy became aware that the dainty red mushroom aside him had decided to fill the silence he had left. “It is, in my opinion, by loving outwardly – applying kindness, patience, compassion, empathy, and a bit of courage – that one might discover more of love in all its beautiful forms,” they prattled poetically, “By doing so and eschewing pomposity, by taking a true and honest interest in fostering worthwhile connections with those around us, might we find love. Not just love in its romantic state, but in all of its meanings - there are ever so many ways to love, you know.”

It was a lot to be told by a little red bird, but the Dandy had no rebuttal – no smart reply, no charming turn of phrase, no colourful insult, no suave inveiglement. He reflected that perhaps this is why he had never before shared the seat of one of these benches or why he never walked aside another along the busy path nor anywhere else. As he did so, as he ruminated, he bowed his head to inspect the fine pattern adorning his green vest.

By happenstance, he lifted himself as the crimson Spirit was on the verge of disappearing into the crowd nearby. He had not heard them rise, nor seen them pass, but he spied the unmistakable garments about to vanish just like that. “Attendez! Wait!” the Dandy called, causing a scene.

Teal turned and her ruby cloak billowed beneath the pinch of the strap of her banjo. At the same moment, Lacrimosa fluttered around the back of her head beneath the brim of her cap, illuminating her in a mystical light. From the bench, rising from the seat, the debonaire dude gaped at the dreamy transient moment. Eventually, he found his words and insisted, “Would you not stay, petit cardinal, and teach me more of love?”

Their plea came from the heart and Teal could tell they wanted to know more, to learn more and to grow. Alas, she had places to be - her love pulled her onward. Her bitter smile somehow exuded warmth as she slowly sashayed back to the Dandy. The man was bright and grew brighter, mimicing the scarlet Spirit's attire when they advised, "Close your eyes a moment and I will teach you something of love."

Squirming and quavering, the decadent fellow knew not how to react to such an audacious demand. Had they woo'd this fairweather fowl with their earnest conversation? Removing his tophat, he closed his eyes and patiently waited. With one sense muted, he heard the distinct clack of the young lass' approach. One step, another; soon he was certain she must be standing right before him. His jaw tightened with anxiety, awaiting the fateful moment. He heard Teal's voice as an intimate whisper when she revealed, "I am betrothed to another."

Fatally pierced, the Dandy's eyes shot open. Alas, looking down afore themselves, there was nothing save the interlocking bricks at their polished feet. They spun about in a hysterical search as if a cat chasing their tail. Along the route, near the benches, in the trees, or among the bodies gliding along in a rush, the Dandy could not spy the Spirit anywhere. Gripping their walking stick in tight hands, they wondered to whom it was they had spoke.

Mogul:

The shack, for no other word would be more apposite to describe the eyesore which sprouted from the middle of the road like a tenacious dandelion (Although to liken the dandelion to an eyesore is subjectively foul), was exactly how Teal had left it. That is to say that it was just as cluttered, just as stuffed with illicit deeds, and just as overwhelmingly stagnant with debauchery.

While cleaning her boots promptly upon entering, she tried to gauge if there were more ore less deeds and documents atop the lengthy shelves that ran the entirety of the supposed store. It was difficult to discern at a glance; she considered rifling through the stacks out of morbid curiosity, just to see what kind of foolish things the business proprietor had hacked together. She silently prayed for those who had been swindled by their poorly disguised extortion.

It was foolish of me to leave that way, was a thought that kept whizzing through the Half-Elf’s mind. They had departed the Dandy by meshing herself into the flow of pedestrians as if they had somewhere else to go. Truth be told, the dinky dwelling of the Mogul was almost right next to where they had conversed with the loveless lad. Leaving only to go next door felt incredibly awkward, so Teal had taken a very circuitous route to reach the building. She went up almost the entirety of the busy avenue, peeking at trees, buildings, passersby, and whatever else might catch he eye before scooting across to return on the opposite side. The walk was pleasant, she wasn’t really in a rush, but being here at her destination, she felt tinged by an irrational shame.

Now that she was present, she was aware of how tense she was. She had been dreading this encounter since she had resolved to retrace her route. The frustration she experienced with the maniacal Mogul was not something she wished to relive, as thankful as she was to have the opportunity to do so. She had already dealt with others who had brought grief upon her in her former travels, she had just spoke with one of them not five minutes prior, but none of them had rankled her in quite a personal way as the Mogul had. Speaking with them with her newfound clarity would be a test of sorts – perhaps a quiz, moreso. Confronting them would be a true test. I will get there in due time, she digested.

The only way on however, as often is the case, was forward. Teal feared her steps would cause the old floorboards to creak and groan as she approached, but her step was light and steady. Knowing this quelled the quivering in her heart as she pressed on. Striding to the rear of the building with something akin to confidence, she expected to find the Mogul exactly where she had left them. She got the impression from their brief meeting that the Mogul was the sedentary sort, existing as the soul of their establishment – their work was their livelihood. Such a tragic thing!

In the alcove at the rear of the building, past the skads of sheets, forms, and pages vaguely organized in some form of madness, there was no sign of the trader. Only an impenetrable fortress composed of certificates was visible. It was as if the Mason had snuck in and played a cheeky joke on the shop’s owner while they were away. The imagined scene was delightful, but as Teal sighed, she feared she knew the reality of the situation at hand.

Ding!

The Half-Elf swatted the brass bell on the counter before them with far less enthusiasm than they had once long ago. The distinctive peal was as bright as ever, but she feared its repercussions as she awaited the inevitable reaction to the chime.

“Yes?” came a thin and muffled voice from somewhere nearby.

Teal’s head drooped to the side and her eyes lidded with exasperation as she stifled a groan. They’re behind the wall of papers, she realized in agony. Already in an undesirable place attempting to parley with an undesirable being, Teal resolved not to put up with any more than she had to. She looked to Lacrimosa apologetically as she informed them, “This will be annoying. Please bear with me.” Afterwards she raised her hand once more and—

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“H-Hey! Stop that!” uttered the concealed voice from beyond the veil of sheets.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

“Knock it off! I—” there came a subdued clatter amid hushed curses and fretting.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Grumbling intensified, and among them could be heard the faint shuffling of papers.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Before Teal could launch herself into an absolute blitz of bell bopping bother, she witnessed something of a brick or slab of pages shift and slide inward from the paper barrier. Within the recess formed was a face possessing squinty, accusative eyes. With a gap now created, the voice was free to accost the bell’s assailant. “What do you want?!” they demanded.

“Oh, dear me! Please, accept my most humble of apologies! I was unaware of anyone present nearby; I assumed the staff were occupied elsewhere,” Teal lied liltingly. Her sardonic smile came off as one of merciful affability to which the Mogul could muster little more than an unintelligible grumble of acceptance.

Her quarry off balance, Teal struck with a disarming question, “Do you remember me?”

The pair of eyes inside the wall of deeds thinned further at the Half-Elf, appraising their red garments, odd features, dark hair, and scars. “No,” answered the Mogul flatly, “Do you owe me money for a deed I possess?”

Expecting such a comment, yet not able to believe it truly transpired, the Spirit sputtered and brayed with harsh laughter – the eyes beyond the wall darkened at such frivolity at their expense. “Goodness!” Teal gushed, pushing tears from her eyes, “Me owe you money? Even if such was the case, I would not relinquish a single coin, you hound!”

Gasping and choking with offence, the Mogul reeled within their fortress. “How dare you!” they bellowed, “I am running a legitimate business, and you enter spouting such nonsense?” Despite their aggravated form, the trader made no effort to move nor expand the petite opening which their face filled.

Teal made no effort to disguise her extensive eye roll – her entire body was involved in the process as she crossed her arms and shifted her weight. “I have seen mice run loftier enterprises than this,” she scoffed, working herself into a riled state, “Listen here:

How much would it cost

When the land is of loss,

And just to survive

I beg food from some boss?

How much shall I owe

When the rivers are choked?

Must I grovel and barter

Just to wet my parched throat?

How much gold will appease

Those that auction and tease,

Who now harvest and bottle

The clean air that I breathe?

And what must be paid

For the thoughts that I weigh

To those beasts that insist,

“Oh, we own those in spades!”?”

Why her tirade had flowed into the realm of poetry, Teal couldn’t be certain. It just happened that way; she was seized by the moment. It was a passionate outcry against the injustice of it all, against the virulent and heinous ideology of constant vacuous ownership, the ignorance or flat-out rejection of an altruistic life unless provoked by some imbalanced recompense. Her words had sprung from her heart, or at least they weren’t some manifestation of careful preparation, and thus felt to her exceedingly spirited and apt in decrying the Mogul’s scheming ways.

Alas, when the Half-Elf gazed upon the dealer with some bit of pride, they were reminded why one’s ego should often remain in check. From their eyes alone, which - given the circumstances - were a large section of that which they could see, they sensed that the Mogul possessed a singular and blank expression denoting perhaps confusion, but quite likely the rarer state of absent nothingness behind one’s face. “I don’t get it,” they stated in a flat tone that mimicked their flat expression.

Flatlining, the crimson Spirit nearly collapsed under the weight of such easy rejection. In their mind’s eye, they were at the focus of a great tragedy; centre stage amid a gleaming spotlight they leaned back, threw their hands to their face, and wailed in agony. Their passion pulverized; their wit wasted; their energy eviscerated; their soul smashed, and for what? You heartless swine! they raged internally, You oaf! You felon! You churl!

Outwardly however, Teal clicked her tongue as she pinched the thin bridge of her nose and screwed her eyes shut in disbelief. “Āi yā,” she sighed, bringing her hands before her mouth while she reconsidered her approach. Lacrimosa, in their part, hung about the aggrieved Half-Elf as if trying to soothe them. It was evident to Teal that her eloquence was wasted on this one – she would have to explain in a manner that they would better understand. Removing her hands to reveal a cheap, satiric smile, Teal gently rejoined, “Allow me to elucidate. Imagine for a moment, if you can, that I was a tyrant that swept into this land and seized control. In this scenario I—"

“How?” peeped the Mogul from their hole.

In a display of restraint, the Spirit silently grimaced and pressed their eyes shut. “A very big army,” they grumbled.

“Oh,” was all that came as a reply.

“Enormous, actually. We domesticated tigers for our assault and employed a wyvern to aid our cause. We were going to scale the walls with cloud ladders, but some fool dismantled the defences just before we arrived,” Teal doubled down on her bit.

“How frightful!” gulped the Mogul.

“Yes yes, it was a very gruesome siege, but I digress. I am the leader of this army which has come to dominate the land and now I rule as a maniacal despot!” Teal weaved her tale, getting into character by brandishing a fist with her other hand at her hips.

“And then what…?” wondered the tycoon aloud.

Whether or not they asked, the Half-Elf was prepared to tell them – and they did, “Then we seize control of all that we desire. First, we take the food; the grain, the produce, the meat, and whatever is in the stores or can be snatched from the masses belongs to us now. Why? Because we say so – we have the power, and we say what goes. We must maintain power though, and so the food is nicely distributed to those most useful to us. Those who are expendable, the commoners who labour to grow and make the food, they are only given just enough to live by.”

“That makes sense,” the vendor acquiesced, “Some will suffer, but with an army you can do as you please.”

“How perceptive!” Teal snidely congratulated, “Yet with the peopled cowed, my forces exert greater dominance. Next, we seize the water—”

“The water?” balked the Mogul.

“Yes, the water,” the vicious despot restated with casual cruelty, “For drinking or for washing, none may use the water without our consent. The wells shall be ours, the rivers and lakes too, even the very rain and humidity – all of it will be under strict management because it is ours. Those of poor stock will be given just enough water to live and not a drop more. Even crops and plants will be strictly watered according to our ideals.”

Squirming in their fort, the shopkeeper fussed, “That seems like a lot to manage, but if one is able to survive…”

Proceeding unheeded, the Spirit’s description flowed, “Ravenous for power, eager to opress, we endeavour to plunder the air itself!”

“The AIR?!” gasped the Mogul.

“We shall enclose the city in a sealed dome to control the air! If something, anything in our realm, wishes to breath – no – wishes to exist, then it does so by our accord. We shall bottle and distribute clean air, produce it by our own means to keep the filthy lungs of the lower life-forms from breathing the good air. Only that which we deem fit to even exist in our now literal sphere is at our mercy!” Teal cackled in her part as the dreadful dictator.

She didn’t let up either, instead she strode toward the counter with a sharp glare and a fearsome gait. Her footfalls maliciously echoed about the quiet room and as she smiled toothsomely, she leaned against the surface where the bell lay. “Once our dominion is certain,” she hissed while Lacrimosa illuminated her in a sinister light, “Once we control the harvest and application of the bare essentials of life, then we shall turn our attention towards even more cynical wealth. What could be left to consume though? Ah, of course! Those nasty little things that swim inside the minds of all beings!”

“Wh-What are you talking about?!” squeaked the deed distributor, cowering away from their viewport.

“Thoughts!” Teal roared, “Their thoughts! Their ideas! Their opinions! The very processes that make one able to function! We shall link machines to each citizen and tax their thoughts accordingly - every idle fancy, every plan, every perception will incur a monetary penalty!. We have the power, after all! We say what goes!! Us!! From these paltry things, the pitiful and powerless will make us profitable and prosperous!!”

Papers rustled and twitched at the outskirts of the Mogul’s fortress; it looked as though the structure might cave in on itself. Meekly, they whispered, “Y-You’re a monster…”

At this, Teal’s lips curled into a spiteful grin, but as she lowered her head to obscure her face by the wide brim of her vermillion lid, she stepped back a pace. When she revealed her visage once again, standing upright, her expression was that of her previous cheerful self. “Yes, such extortion is exceedingly monstrous,” she chirped, adjusting the cuffs of her shirt, “I am very glad that you agree.”

The already stagnant parlour was fit to burst from the thoughtful silence permeating from the Mogul’s alcove. Cogs were turning in their mind; the repulsion they felt towards this hypothetical state was genuine, but it was just a thought experiment, right? What they were doing was different. Deeds provided the rightful ownership over things! They weren’t using a big army to threaten people and they hadn’t written deeds for all of the food.

Despite this, their mouth felt slimy as if their tongue were coated in the scum of a still pond. The Mogul thought some more and considered how miserable it would be to live in the tyrant’s city. The frustration and humiliation of having their basic needs restricted from them because of trifling this reason or that. Maybe the tyrant simply didn’t like the shape of their nose and suddenly they were suffocating because their air ration had been stripped. It was a terrible fate and the consideration of it alone made the deed dealer shudder.

Coming to in a sense, as they had been unmoving in consternation for long, they purposefully peered through the opening of their paper palace. The Mogul had expected to see the peculiar scarlet Spirit standing right where they had been, but they - well - weren't. The proprietor focused, searching the chamber from their vantage, but they were alone among the countless stacks of documents lining the numerous shelves and containers. The Mogul may be outwardly ignorant, but they were familiar with the noises of their shop – of the creaky floorboards and tinny chime at the door. It appeared, however, that the visitor had silently left and to this the shop’s owner could do little more than shrug in stunned confusion. Maybe they had imagined the whole encounter.

If such was the case, their imagination was a very skilled actor.

Poet:

Following Lacrimosa may not have been the most prudent choice Teal had made, but it made for an amusing excursion. She knew which direction the university campus was from the frenetic freeway, but she felt as though a change of pace was in order. What better way to mix things up then to turn to her Companion and decree, “Take point, Lacrimosa! I am at your whim.”

The insect was, as one might expect, non-responsive. Yet as the wandering wizard waited willingly, they witnessed the warm wispy wings of one wiggling wayfarer wave westward. Teal was certain this route was not the correct way, but she shrugged and followed the flaming moth regardless. It wasn’t as though she was in a hurry, after all. What would happen if she didn’t make it to her meeting in good time? Would she die again? W-Would I…? Teal hadn’t considered this. She supposed it was possible, but she would rather not end up in that state a third time.

Deciding instead to compartmentalize this irrational fear, Teal followed Lacrimosa with due diligence. The insect’s flight was frantic and spasmodic, but their pace was quite comfortable for her to keep up with; she wondered if her friend flew this way intentionally.

Left, then straight at a pair of intersections, right, left again, another right – Teal soon found herself winding through a decadent neighbourhood. She recognized the familiar stylings of the homes and manors as those she had travelled through previously. None stood out as being identical to those she had spied on her past trip; she brought to mind the dark wooden front door inside an archway or the dark lattice windows. All the same, the area bore the same unmistakable pomp that only old and likely refurbished residences surrounding a place of academia might evoke.

At one point, Lacrimosa drifted through a quaint park, leading Teal past a children’s playground, near an open area of greenspace, past a lush grove, and aside an area strewn with old picnic tables flanked by great old trees. Amused by the circuitous route, the Half-Elf silently wondered what possessed the moth come here. They conisdered absentmindedly if the air here was nicer for the little insect, or maybe they were hoping to find some flowers to quaff from.

Amid her musings, Teal had failed to realize what lay just beyond the park. In fact, it wasn’t until Lacrimosa guided her across another street and around the corner did the oblivious oaf take note of where they were: on the sidewalk at the outskirts of the university’s front entrance. The ember bug fluttered in circles around the gobsmacked git as if to signal the pair’s arrival before they sat themselves at the brim of Teal’s chapeau.

Teal’s eyes wavered back and forth as she took in the vista that was undoubtedly the university’s visage. Some of its aspects like the archways and pillars stood out as conjuring familiarity, but there was altogether a superior grandeur here than anywhere else on the grounds she had witnessed beforehand. Had the two gone by here on their exit towards the castle? She wracked her brain attempting to recall the location, but all she remembered was departing from the campus in something of a dither. This section of the school was clearly the oldest and most splendid of the academy – it was obvious that it stood as the school’s front entrance, but she had no memory of walking through it.

Amazed, she pondered how the little bug had brought her to this spot of all places. She had not expressed a desire to travel here directly, but this is the exact place she wished to be – almost too exact. Teal expected to retrace her route and stumble upon the entrance to whichever wing she had been let into. Now that I think of it, she considered, I’m almost certain this trip was much faster than last time.

Unfortunately though, her contemplation on the matter was closed by the birth of a clamorous voice from amid the sprawling field and tall trees comprising the university’s plaza – nearby a herald happily harangued:

“Succotash moustache.

Iron clash; blood dashed!

With a splash, I am passed.

Blast…”

Shoulders and torso visibly sagging, Teal knew it could be none other than that infamous Poet of yore. As a matter of fact, if she shifted her vision slightly and cast it upon a court just aside the large columns and statures of the front entrance, she could see the very soul the voice belonged to. There they were atop their crate, spouting their poetry for all to hear – or for none to hear, more accurately. Not a soul lingered in the vicinity. The ingress and yard were teeming with bustling life, but any being forced to skirt past the prattling Poet did so at a prompt pace. Undeterred in the slightest, their ‘poems’ flowed freely.

Before the versifying virtuoso vied anew, the spirited Half-Elf and their winged Companion drew upon them. They were unsure if they might have the pleasure of going unnoticed, or at the very least unrecognized, but this was not a luxury they were afforded. One single glimpse at the outline of their being was enough to draw the Poet’s ire. Just as the pair came within range, a glint from the lyricist’s eyes denoting a glare combined with a vicious sneer to announce their displeasure. “Oh, great, it’s you again,” they jeered.

“Shockingly, yes,” Teal stated with candid amazement as she peered at her palms.

High atop their crate, the public professor made no attempt at hospitality, instead denoting, “Are you here to ridicule me anew? You’ve dyed your ridiculous garbs too, I see. What is this, your Red Period?”

A twitch of perplexity struck at Teal’s back, causing her shoulders to tense up and teeth to gnash – some kind of fusion between embarrassment and confusion: a cringe. “I do not think that is something one should pose to woman they are not familiar with,” she answered wearily, “Furthermore, I owe you no explanation for my wardrobe. Just as you owe me none for your inane prattle.”

“Inane pra—” the Poet floundered, “I’ll have you know this ‘prattle’ is the very foundation upon which my countless masterpieces of poetic eloquence shall be built!”

“This is your foundation?” Teal mocked, raising her sharp brows with worn disbelief, “Any structure built atop such rickety foundation is sure to crumble.”

“Th-Then I’ll rebuild! Again and again!” steamed the Poet, “Until my great tower of poetry looms over all else!”

It wasn’t their ambition that drew a lengthy sigh from Teal’s lips, it was how stubborn and obtuse they were. When one is convinced that their methods are true – or, at the very least, that they are indeed theirs – it becomes easy to shut out all else as false. Constantly spouting gibberish is no way to craft a poem, Teal reasoned, Even abstraction requires skill and application.

“Why this obsession with height and glory?” Teal inquired, side-stepping the issue for now.

Her question drew another scowl from the Poet as they patronized, “How else might one be remembered? If I’m merely good, I’ll be lucky to receive a sad line about my life. ‘They were a poet and then they died.’ But if I’m truly great, the best for a time, if I leave behind legendary lines! I’ll be studied in classrooms, have exams dissecting my style, be revered across cultures!”

Spying the glimmer of some sad sentiment beyond the lyricist’s eye, Teal withdrew again into thought. She recognized the belief, empathized with it. Our frail attempts to grasp at something akin to immortality can be so repugnant. What good is a legacy anyway? Death comes in so many forms – the failings of one’s body, the departure of one’s soul. It is inevitable, even for the Elves. Yet we do not fear the loss of life, we do not fear death, nearly as much as we fear being forgotten. Perhaps being forgotten is what it means to truly die.

She had, at one point, wanted to be a great wizard – she craved the recognition of being a master of magic, wanted to dazzle and inspire the world with mind-boggling arcane prowess. After all she had been through however, Teal was less than certain of her ambitions. Should one pass two graves, one grand and one humble, and reflect upon the lives of the two entombed, what shall they think? Regardless of the two lives that were lived, however long those lives were, they were lived. Is that not enough? Is there not beauty in that alone? Teal found she had no good answer to her ruminating questions. If nothing else, as silent tears welled at the edges of her eyes, she was grateful to have her present opportunity. She cherished the chance to have her heart full of love again.

“O’ lofty tower,

How deep is your foundation,

And hewn by what stone?

Time alone did not erect

The monument I behold,”

Teal somewhat unintentionally found the words slipping from her lips. She was swept up in her emotions and allowed her passion to bubble up in such an unrestrained, if filtered, manner. She realized immediately how crude and simple the verse must have been given the baffled expression on the Poet’s face. The words were a decoction of her feelings though, and she would not apologize for her outburst even if it was unprovoked. She decided to harden herself instead – this would be the Poet’s test.

“Back with your clever metre and strict form,” the wordsmith jeered, “What is that jargon even supposed to mean? What tower? The school?”

It was a disappointed scoff that the Half-Elf uttered at the futile interrogation. They shook their head sadly as their shoulders bobbed with external indifference. “You are learned, are you not? You sculpt verse, craft lyrics, then recite them for the masses. I am tired of explaining my lines – figure it out yourself,” Teal snarled, “If you are unwilling, if you cannot even see your own faults, then perhaps you are no Poet. You are just a machine that makes noises that happen to rhyme.”

Atop their crate, the Poet made a jabbing motion to retaliate, but the venom of Teal’s remark sunk in part way through. They opened their mouth as if to shout a rejoinder, but only an uncertain choking sound was emitted. They lowered their arm and turned thoughtful, weighing their opponent’s commentary. The upstart had all but challenged their credentials and merit as a tailor of terms – only by accepting their petty game could they thwart the red menace in earnest.

However, the longer they paused in reflection, the quieter they grew. They drew inward and found their shoes to be of some solace to stare at. The motifs and their connections bounced around in their head like warren of spritely rabbits. There was something there, of course, some interpretation, but they struggled to crack open the meaning of the scarlet Spirit’s sonnet. They lifted their head and gaze to accost the visitor, to ply them with questions and find the truth, but they found they were alone in the courtyard. It was just them standing on their wooden crate. As the Poet scanned the yard, they found there wasn’t any red at all to be seen.

Perhaps they would never find the true meaning of the Spirit’s poem – if it even had one.

Bard:

Buildings live curious lives. They are born into a fully conceived form and then age until they become so dilapidated that they crumble, or they are brought down to make new space. Sometimes additions are made, features are added, wings are removed, maintenance or restoration is done, but like all things the building inevitably meets an end.

Teal pondered the life of the university as she plodded through its magnificent and aged interior. A grand structure such as this, one that stirred an ancient aesthetic preserved through the ages, was one that required the greatest care to maintain. Its many artisanal flourishes, displays of affluence, cultural embellishments, and venerable iconography stood as a testament to another era. Perhaps not a better era, but one in which there was enough care and plenty to indulge in not only the overall appearance of a structure, but how it felt to exist within its core.

Wouldn’t it be odd if the university remembered me? Teal considered. The ramifications of such a thing, that buildings possessed an outlook on their occupants, was slightly distressing. She put such a terror out of her mind at once and immersed herself in the many visual details to behold instead. The campus reminded her of Tabula Rasa in a way – parts of it. It projected an austere and regal authority to its design with its thick wooden pilasters and neat wainscotting. It was a much more rigid aesthetic compared to her academy’s more whimsical elements that intertwined wood and stone with decadent wallpapers, lavish millwork, polished metal, and luxurious frescos and mosaics.

Stopping to admire one of the countless landscape paintings adorning the panelled walls – this one was a seascape, to be precise, depicting a galley near the coast among turbulent water – Teal caught sight of a brightly coloured figure lingering in a niche down the hallway. As nosy as always, she crept closer. Owing to her attire, doing so proved difficult; the barren state of the corridor combined with the impeccably polished floorboards made her stand out both visually and auditorily. All the same, she approached until, leaning forward, she could appraise the lonesome individual. The alcove was built as a bench at which they sat, leaning against a wall with a sullen expression. They held in their lap a most decadent and peculiar stringed instrument.

“This is a far cry from the fountain in the peristyle,” Teal chirped, announcing her presence.

The lutist recognized the meddler at once, despite their off-colour attire. Making an effort to sit up and appear less miserable, they held their instrument close as they inspected the freckled face beneath the broad cap – it had inherited a pair of distinct scars since they had last met. “Oh, you’re the literature student with the odd lute,” the Bard jabbered, “Long time no see!”

With a fresh and friendly smile, Teal brought herself into the open as Lacrimosa fluttered to her shoulder. “Has it been a so long?” she teased, “My apologies. I was caught up with this and that. You know how it is!” There was an improper sense of alleviation that came with making light of her past exploits. A sense of ease was applied when joking about them, but not respecting the impact they had left her feeling conflicted.

“It’s quite easy to lose track of time. It feels as though we were just chatting in the courtyard, but it kind of feels like a lifetime ago too,” waxed the Bard, their voice tinged with a hint of dismal mourning. The Half-Elf had no desire to weigh in on how apt their commentary was; what was in the past was in the past and could be dwelled on later.

For now, at least, she would enjoy the present. As the musician spoke, Teal walked across the cozy nook and gestured to the seat beside them. “May I?” she inquired and, after receiving a nod of approval, claimed the site. The bench was cushioned and made for a much more comfortable spot than the edge of a fountain, but the hallway the pair reclined within was drearily lit. Regardless, Teal had set herself down and promptly removed the banjo from her back.

It had been a while since she had played it, but the instrument felt light and natural in her lap. She tuned it absently, she had developed an ear for how the strings ought to sound, before strumming an opening chord. As its notes resounded, she slowly plucked a tune atop the strings. It was no virtuoso’s concerto by any means, but the simple song was soothing. Combining a dawdling pace, a sauntering rhythm, a wandering bass, and just enough intricacy to make the piece stirring, it educed all the charm of a secret chorus played just out of sight – perhaps from a porch around the corner or a room down a hall. Part of its mystique was that it might never be heard again. It was a song of the moment, and it, too, was fleeting.

Expressing something akin to admiration and pride, the Bard listened with a grin on their face. “You’ve improved tremendously,” they praised, “Were you to study some theory, you’d be off and running!”

Teal laughed off the compliment warmly; she enjoyed how playing music stimulated a different part of herself as if she were drawing out something buried within her without the need to use words. “I am merely… Playing with the notes, in a sense,” she deflected, “I once had a wonderful mentor show me the basics.” She flashed a coquettish grin and the Bard smiled sheepishly in return.

Shortly after, the small performance closed on a note that harmoniously pulled the entire tune together. The pair sat in silence, allowing a moment or two to crawl along in respect for the piece, each taking the time to reflect on whatever the melody had stirred within them. Teal was eager to critique her playing though, and soon asked the lutist, “What did you think?”

“Oh! Uh…” the musician was caught off guard by the sudden inquiry – they were still lost in thought, perhaps. “I-It was nice!” they quickly stuttered, “It was quaint and simple in an honest way. It reminded me of… Not quite my home, but a home – somewhere safe and comfortable.”

Such candid commentary caused Teal to beam, her legs were swinging outward all the while and the effect made her appear quite childish; she didn’t mind. She pulled the banjo close, and her expression shifted effortlessly to one of calm contemplation. “It pales in comparison to the old classics, but I enjoyed it as well,” she stated.

Raising their brows, the Bard responded in repetition, “’The old classics’? What do you mean?”

“You mentioned them, did you not? The work of the old masters, the great musical pieces of yore,” Teal spoke into the air as she leaned back against the bench, “They are classics for a reason. They are timeless and wonderful, they stir within us things that no other music can, and for that we should never forget them.”

“That’s true,” agreed the Bard sadly, “The music that has made it to us from the past is because of its merit.”

Sighing, Teal appeared to grow morose, if not more serious, “And yet, how did it come about? I wonder how many of the songs we cherish were once nothing more than scant bars played in private. I wonder how many works have been lost to time. It took bold risks and experimentation to craft the works we look upon so fondly. If the old masters only repeated what came before them, we would not have their work at present and culture would stagnate.”

The Bard looked on, shocked and flummoxed by the sudden academic evaluation. “I-I suppose that makes sense,” they flubbed.

“Perhaps one who experiments too much will not be remembered fondly by history – their work might be too frightening or too disjointed in their time to garner recognition. Still, I think such pursuits are meritorious in their efforts to bring about innovation. Such things are likely to pay off in time, whereas one who simply retreads the safe and catchy melodies of the past will never truly flourish,” Teal expounded at length. Her eyes were lidded, and she was staring at the neck of her banjo, admiring its wood grain. She wasn’t sure why she was saying what she was, she was entranced; it felt as if it were the right thing to do and the right time to do it.

“I suppose what I am trying to say,” she clarified with a soft chuckle, “Is that I think the old masters you are so fond of – the classics that we know now – exist because the musicians of note in their day found a perfect balance in their craft. They took what they knew in their time and played it in their own special way, leaving behind a legacy that we, in the present, might indulge in.”

Nodding slowly and unsurely, the Bard allowed the Half-Elf’s point of view settle in their mind. “Perhaps you’re right,” they quietly admitted, “Maybe I should take more risks with my music. Even if it doesn’t do well or sound great, it will be beneficial in its own way.” They smiled and added, “You know… I had an idea recently for a song about wandering minstrel who plays a peculiar guitar, that might be worth experimenting on!”

Unabashedly, Teal laughed at the suggestion without the slightest hint of spite. “It would be a noble pursuit, but I would recommend some creative alterations so that the piece is less overt,” she chortled, “Nevertheless, I think it would be lovely to hear your special way of playing it.”

Eyes sparkling with inspiration as they flushed, the lutist beamed from ear to ear. No longer bent over against the lute in their lap, they held it before them proudly. They gazed upon the crafted instrument with a renew appreciation. This was their lute, and it would be the very instrument they use to craft music that rivalled that of the old masters. No, the instrument itself mattered little, it was their fresh perspective and boundless passion for music that would drive them to create stirring works intent on inspiring untold souls – just as they had been by the songs they held dear. It wasn't about emulating those vintage virtuosos, nor was becoming 'great' a desire, somewhere inside of them the Bard knew that what they genuinely wanted was to produce wonderful music for their love of the craft. They did not crave a legacy, but only wanted to inspire those to love music as they did.

Returning to the ruby Spirit in hopes of thanking them, the Bard was met with an unfortunate surprise: they were gone. The musician rose at once, rushed forth, and peered down the lonely corridor in both directions. It was completely empty. They slumped against a wall in confusion, reflecting on the impossible conversation. If the literature student really had appeared, why had they neither seen nor heard them depart? Amid their reflections, the Bard grew despondent and then aggrieved. They groaned aloud, grew bright with regret or shame, and slammed a fist into the nearby wall, cursing, “Ack! You dolt! You forgot again!”

They hadn’t asked for the Spirit’s name.

Academic and Architect:

Carousing as she had been, Teal reflected that the campus was so impossibly enormous that she could not remember much of her route through the site. It was as if the school were a quilt stitched together from the various wings that thrust this way and that. She, at one point, stumbled upon a gallery overlooking a terrace, turned down a corridor flanked by lecture halls and labs, then wound up in a lobby of sorts adjoining a conference hall. It was only after she floundered here for some time, admiring a particularly lovely seating area surrounded by potted plants near a Palladian window, that she found a connecting catwalk that led to yet another wing of the endless university.

“I’m beginning to think that I’m lost, Lacrimosa,” Teal jested, fully aware that she was lost from the very beginning. She counted herself lucky that she was so effortlessly amused by architecture and design, but even she had to admit that the constant bombardment of stately atmosphere was growing tiresome.

The Half-Elf’s mind wandered amid the stagnant moments and an idea came to mind that they voiced to their Companion. “I don’t suppose you remember where the cafeteria was, do you? Perhaps we could help ourselves before pressing on,” Teal suggested. Lacrimosa, who had been flying behind at a pace or two, flapped over and landed themselves on her left epaulette – they made no effort to lead the way. Sighing loudly in a childish fuss, Teal knew this to mean ‘no’. Perhaps if they had smelled what Teal had smelled, they would long to reunite with the dining hall as well.

Incidentally, there came a clamour from up ahead. Teal quickened her stride as she entered this new branch of the academy. It was populated, strangely enough, although those that lingered did so quietly and discreetly. A pair off to the side of this hall, evidently the source of the din, failed to follow suit – they were engaged in a heated row. Their aggressive exchange, somewhere between a debate and debacle, had already caused several of the chamber’s occupants to shoot loathsome glares in their direction. Curious as ever, Teal wished to know what all the fuss was about and carefully approached within earshot.

“You are missing the point!” yelled one in a haughty tone, “Manifesting your whims without any prior knowledge is bound to yield fruitless undertakings! It is by the curation of wisdom through the medium of written word that one can rightly understand this world.”

“Bah!” retorted the other, voice full of gravel, “What good is knowledge if it is not applied?! You can read all that is written, but some things you will never understand until you do them. Application with one’s two hands, practical knowledge, that is where one will find fulfillment!”

Hidden behind the post of a corner, Teal concealed her cackling – this was no mere argument, these two were going at it.

“What would you know of knowledge and fulfillment, you old fool?!” jabbed the first with no acuity, “You are no more than a boor tinkering away at schemes that have no basis on prior knowledge! If you had read even a pamphlet on engineering, you would know how idiotic your machine was from the start!”

“I will not take flack from the likes of you!” raved the accused, “When was the last time you used your hands for something other than turning pages?! You are little more than a pumped-up know-it-all who wastes their time reading rather than doing! I bet the only way you remember to eat and sleep is by reading it on a to-do list!”

Rounding the corner, Teal reluctantly revealed herself. Striding toward the pair, she put a wedge between them by unsubtly remarking, “Goodness! Such decorum in this refined academy is far from becoming, do you not think so? I was under the impression this was a space where debate was kept civil to promote the flourishing of ideas!”

She had successfully pulled their attention away from one another, and as she neared, both were evidently confused by the arrival of this third wheel. Embodying a convivial air, Teal smiled to each and nodded, adding in a gentle tone, “Unless of course one is merely preaching a doctrine of hate – there is nothing to debate with such abhorrent pests and their insidious slander.”

Flummoxed as they were, the two quarrellers gawked at this new arrival. They peered to one another in a silent truce, hoping the other might shed light on the situation. When it became clear that neither recognized the meddler, the Spirit made no attempt to diffuse the intensity of their rolling eyes. I wasn’t annoying enough with these two, it seems, they reflected.

Turning to her left, Teal gave another friendly smile to the ‘know-it-all’. She inquired, “How has your reading gone? Have you read every book in the library yet?”

“Er…” the Academic froze on the spot, “Not exactly every book yet, no.”

“Ah,” Teal frowned as though she were truly invested in their toilsome labour, “Did you ever come cross a book regarding the bell tower?”

Something clicked and the bookworm’s eyes flashed with realization – they became aloof and regained their bravado immediately. “As I told you before,” they flaunted, “Your made-up tower is less than fiction for it has no texts to its name!”

Scoffing obnoxiously, Teal then turned to the ‘old fool’ and gave her pleasantries, “And how has your machine come along? Are you away from your office because you have grown bored?”

Muttering something or other about it “being in development”, the Architect turned red, twisted their face into a sneer, and avoided any further eye contact. Teal expected as much.

“My, you two are quite the pair!” she laughed, pressing a hand to her brow in something of exasperation, “Both of you are so obsessed with your dogmatic pursuits that you are blind to that which does not serve you.”

Simultaneously, the two motioned to rebut this comment, but Teal silenced them both with a swish of her hand. “Do not lay upon me peeving excuses. Has either of you relaxed recently? Hm? Lounged? Reclined? Introspected in silence? Done anything besides toil at their mindless pursuit?”

Whether they were caught off guard or shepherded by sheepish silence, neither made an effort to retort. Teal simply sighed and glowered as she admonished the troublemakers, “Has it ever occurred to you that you are so focused upon your goals of wisdom and efficiency that you no longer recognize them as mere facets of a greater whole? Has either of you realized that your insufferable embodiment of such tenants has made you quite unbearable?”

It seemed to dawn on the duo that they were perhaps not the only ones present in the chamber. Although Teal had brought the conversation down to a more respectable tone, the glaring eyes and prying ears of those loosely populating the chamber were still present. How many had retreated when they had arrived, yelling and carrying on? Why was it that so few approached to converse? Why did they have so few friends? Did they have friends? And why was it that now, amid their argument, that this stranger from yore suddenly appeared to reprimand them both?

These questions and more churned in each mind respectively. Teal, however, pressed her advantage seeing as the pesky pair were pliant. She first addressed the Architect, “Have you ever tinkered with something just for fun? Or crafted a toy whose only function is to make noise or bring joy?”

“For fun?!” the mechanic hissed.

“And you,” she faced the Academic, “When was the last time you read a story just for pleasure, hm? Fiction? A novel? A children’s book? Maybe then you might learn some good morals – if nothing else you might pick up some better manners.”

“A children’s book?!” the scholar snorted.

“There is something to be said of attaining a fresh perspective. You may think such notions are ludicrous, but how might one find brilliance if they remain where the light does not shine?” the Half-Elf quickly rejoined – they were growing tired of the combined stubbornness present. Regardless, they attached, “There is more to life than striving toward some parochial notion of perfection – you might find that sometimes doing things because they are delightful leads to a more fulfilling existence!”

Neither the Academic nor the Architect knew quite how to respond to being blatantly told they were boring. The pair once again looked to one another seeking answers from their so-called peer, but all they discovered was that each mirrored the other in baffled expression.

It was the Architect who broke the silence. “They are clearly talking about you, book brain! When are you going to put away your scrolls and make something for a change?! You must have some good ideas from all those stupid tomes you read!”

“Me?!” the Academic gasped, “They were talking about you, gear head! You are the one who should pick up a book instead of your asinine tools! It would do you well to have some sense in your head for once!”

Nearly butting heads, the duo spun toward the third. Desperate to discover which of them it was to whom they referred, the two rapidly deflated when they found no one present. The crimson Spirit who had stood just beside them had evaporated. The ghostly revelation sent chills down the spine of both the elder and younger who gawked in disbelief at the vacancy nearby. Surely one of the bystanders would testify to their presence, but all of them now seemed content and preoccupied with their own little assignments.

Unsure what to make of the experience, even if it was just a shared fever dream, the two stood in reflective silence. It was only broken when the Architect looked to the Academic and asked, “Do you… Want to go get a drink?”

Aide and Monarch:

As if the building were sick of them, Teal and Lacrimosa found themselves exiting the structure by happenstance. She had thrown open a wide door expecting it to adjoin another sprawling wing of the campus, but it opened instead to a short stone stoop. From there, a simple path dotted with leafy bushes stretched out away from the university. First gazing across the yard at the gardens nestled away near old trees, Teal wondered if departing from such a vantage was wise. Distantly, however, past grand looking villas and through tall ancient trees, she thought she spied a familiar curtain wall.

Ah, that must be the castle! Teal excitedly assumed. This realization came with a twisting caveat that caused the young wizard to squint at the moth fluttering at her side. She was certain this time that they had retraced very little of their last stroll through the academy – she wasn’t following Lacrimosa around this time either. Yet somehow, Teal sensed that the little firebug was to blame for their serendipitous egress. “You must possess a very uncanny sense of direction, my friend,” she chaffed, “Tell me, which way is north?” Lacrimosa spun in a couple of circles before darting away from the Spirit in the direction of the castle wall. Unable to validate if said direction was north or if the moth was merely eager to progress, Teal chased after.

Once past the mansions and villas populating the incline which surrounded the keep, Teal felt well within her right to dawdle and admire the park encircling its circumference. The trees were ancient and gnarled, tall and diverging, rife with lush leaves, and crowded with critters. More than once, she stopped to spy on scurrying squirrels, flitting finches, bumbling beetles, prospering posies, and mousy mycelia. She remembered enjoying the promenade she took through here the last time, but recalled it was dimmed by her lethargy. Why do I feel so full of energy now? she wondered. She concluded it was best not to consider that too deeply right now and raised her gaze to indulge in the picturesque canopy above instead – the grey light shimmered through the leaves as it flowed down in streams below.

Unexpectedly, the Half-Elf and their escort arrived at a memorable gate; this is where they had formerly entered. It felt like a quick jaunt between here and the campus. Teal wondered if her fatigue had really done so much to skew her perception of time. Regardless, she turned to assess the grand stone portal, expecting to be able to waltz in as easily as she had last time. Once again though, she was thrown off balance to see that the area was staffed with stationed guards and sentries on patrol. Some occupied doorways or gatehouses while others were above surveying from towers or parapet walkways.

Such a pair at the top of the nearby landing eyeballed the vermillion Spirit from beneath their decadent helmets. “Move along,” came a deep voice echoing from within a set of metal armour.

Peering up at the sentinel and across to their partner stationed at the opposite side of the entrance, Teal kindly stated her intention. “I have business here,” she called.

“What’d they say?” drawled the second sentry to the first.

“Shut up a sec,” the first shushed before shouting back to the stranger, “You what?”

Thinking her previous utterance to be most adequate, Teal made another attempt at increased volume and clarity. “I. HAVE. BUSINESS. HERE,” she yelled through the makeshift megaphone of her hands.

“Reckon they’s got business here,” clarified the second guard.

“Oh, yeah, wow, thanks, I hadn’t—” the first groaned a deep sigh beneath their suit and returned to the guest, “Very well! Rise and speak with the porter!”

It wasn’t the most welcoming invitation she had received, but it was far from the least either. She skipped up the stairs while voices mingled, too focused on her step to register what the guards were bickering about now. When at the summit, the pair of keepers leered at the strange, cloaked wanderer made only odder by the shining speck following them around. Here, however, the portcullis was in a lowered state, barring her advancement. Beyond it stood a ragged and bent individual who greeted the new arrival by gawking at them gracelessly.

“G-Good day,” Teal squawked through the heavy iron bars, equally unassailable as the one to whom she spoke.

“State your business,” wheezed the one Teal could only assume to be the porter.

“Yes, ahem,” the Half-Elf cleared her throat, speaking with more authority, “Please notify the Monarch of my arrival.”

There was no delay between the end of her request and the eruption of the porter’s uproarious laughter; they were joined by similar guffaws and snickers by the pair of guards nearby. Teal had expected such a reaction, but felt her face resemble the hue of her garments all the same. She stood impassively as the porter heckled, “Just go notify Their Grace right away, eh! What are you, the minstrel meant to play at today’s council?”

“And what if I am?” Teal asked cooly.

The broad, wrinkly smile across the porter’s face disappeared at once, “Er… Are you?”

Teal shrugged, “No. All the same, I would appreciate that you give word to the Monarch – I do not intend to return here once I depart.”

With a sneer, the porter waved a hand dismissively, “Pah! Shove off, you vagabond.”

“While I am no dignitary,” Teal began her earnest plea, “I suspect the Monarch will be displeased to hear if you turn me away. It shall not take much effort for you to send them word, shall it? Simply inform them that the one who mistook them for a statue in their garden has paid a visit.”

Watching as the gatekeeper mouthed the phrase, “in their garden” incredulously, Teal heard them scoff loudly before turning toward the keep. Her eyes followed their shape as they traced the path to the castle until they disappeared out of view. She peeled herself from the portcullis and stepped away, ogling the trees and park nearby. This is awkward, she fretted as her position between the two guards became less and less easy to ignore.

“Did the porter mention a council?” Teal offered as small talk to the sentries.

“None of your concern,” stamped the guard to her left.

“Aw, don’t be that way,” retorted that on her right, “Ain’t nothin’ worth fussin’, jus’a buncha nobles gabbin’ ‘bout 'realpolitik' ‘n whatnot.”

“How can you put the council meeting so lightly?!” griped the first sentinel.

“Shoot,” cooed the other guard, “’M sure it’d be duller thana rusty axe in there. We’s gotta better view out here anyhow, ain’tcha think?”

They had addressed the question to Teal who stood flabbergasted amid their bickering. How have I ended up in this comedy skit? she reflected worrisomely. The question was cordial enough though, and mannerly she replied, “Oh yes, certainly. The old park here is a treat - both for one's eyes and for one's feet.”

Thankfully for the Half-Elf, for they sensed one - if not both - of the guards were keen on teasing her rhyme, the air echoed with the sound of galloping hooves, thus distracting all three of them. Shocked, they peered past the portcullis to witness a rider approaching on horseback; they carried the porter as well. As the horse slowed, the gatekeeper descended with a disgruntled expression and departed to the gatehouse. Soon after, loud chains rattled nearby, and the iron gate was raised before Teal’s eyes.

Hesitating, she stood at the threshold and refused to budge – the porter reappeared only to squint at her and spitefully inform, “You’re to head to the keep. Their Grace will speak to you briefly.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, Teal entered through the gate. It was foolish of me to expect no persons present merely because I slipped in last time. I should really—

“Hop on. I’ll give ya a lift,” a voice blasted her thoughts to smithereens. Stunned, she gawked at the gauntlet reaching towards her. It took her far too long to piece together that the rider sent to deposit the porter at their post was offering her a ride directly to the Monarch. She stammered up at them, caught not only in this moment, but the many brought back of the times she had rode home with her sister. The shape of the rider’s armour somewhat resembled Azure’s and the height of the horse that of Fēng.

“Have you ever ridden?” inquired the rider softly, snapping Teal from her reverie.

“I uhm… Yes, I have a few times,” she cautiously reached her hand towards the rider’s outstretched palm. The offer was made so earnestly that she couldn’t muster the courage to refuse. It was not the bobbing of the horse that she found unpleasant; it was the idea of being close to – touching – this stranger.

When her hand nervously clasped theirs, she felt herself almost effortlessly plucked up onto the horse – she was thankful she knew enough to swing her leg over the beast’s hind and straddle it. As her crimson cloak billowed behind her and her banjo bounced against her back, the rider peered over their shoulder and asked, “Y’all good?”

Frazzled, and out of her comfort zone, Teal’s innards squirmed. Why am I being so childish about this?! she fretted. She had enough wherewithal to stammer, “J-Just one moment!” as she feigned the act of adjusting herself – she spied Lacrimosa and watched as they perched atop her shoulder. Confident she wasn’t forgetting something, she awkwardly gripped the rider at the shoulders and signalled, “Okay.”

Having walked nearly everywhere since she had arrived, Teal was amazed by the speed at which the horse strode. After the rider turned their steed about, the quartet shot off at a dazzling pace towards the central fortress. Personally, Teal was hoping to hold her breath until the horse stopped moving in a futile act to not be present – to not feel herself bobbing against the lancer whom she was forced into such close proximity. Alas, as her state was unavoidable, she tried to busy her mind by watching the outer court and its inhabitants as they streaked by. Here and there were familiar structures, living spaces, and workshops formerly vacant, but now bustling with life – comparing now to her past probing made for a jarring affair.

In mere moments, the team came upon the gardens adorning the keep’s entrance – they seemed more vibrant and tasteful as if they had been recently tended and pruned. Effortlessly, the rider slowed their equine to a trot. Teal seized the opportunity to fixate herself upon the blooms used as borders along the nearby beds: Armeria, commonly called Sea Thrift. Doing so caused her to completely ignore the two figures stood at the landing of the stairs which led to the imposing front entrance of the castle.

Only when the rider uttered a gentle, “Woah,” and brought their mount to a halt, did Teal realize the gravity of the situation. She anxiously eyed the resplendent robes of those who awaited her arrival, the decadent cut and luxurious accents of fur and gold. Her insides churned with apprehension and doubt when she spied the magnificent crown resting at the Monarch’s peak. What am I doing?! was her first contemplation, followed by, I’m in no position to be cordially summoning royalty!

She tried to maintain an aura of cool indifference while the rider assisted her in dismounting the horse, but, already on edge, grasping their hand a second time caused her to grow so flustered that she nearly slipped upon her landing. Teal balanced herself though and turned to face the party awaiting her. Desperate to mask her embarrassment, she immediately launched into a formal introduction. “Greetings Your Grace! I am most humbled by your gracious offer to grant me audience without due procedure,” she bellowed with a deep bow. Marking the Aide a step behind the Monarch, she awkwardly tacked on, “Likewise to your… M-Most trusted and valuable counsellor!”

This is so stupid, Teal panicked behind her glimmering exterior, I should just leave. Why did I say I needed to speak to them? I don’t even know what I want to say! Amid her inner frustrations, the Monarch stepped forth to accept her introduction with a courteous smile. “’Tis a pleasure to behold thy presence once more, my young ward,” they greeted, but deftly shifted tone, “What is it that is so pressing as to cause ye to beseech me to parley?”

“O-Oh! Yes!” the Half-Elf stammered, unnerved by the audience surrounding them and the Monarch – they had hoped for a more private engagement. “Y-You see, it is terribly important that I tell you that… W-Well, the thing is—“

“You realize Their Grace was in the midst of an arrangement, correct?” the Aide interjected amid Teal’s floundering, “I pray you did not arrive intending to simply partake in idle chit-chat.”

Finding her nerve after it had been struck by the Aide’s unsought commentary, Teal quickly retorted, “Forgive me for not anticipating your illustrious company in my colloquy with the Monarch! Tell me, how do you suggest I strike such a socially stifling situation?”

Leery from the sudden jolt, the advisor grew silent for all but a moment before they dismissively answered, “Clearly it is best to follow one’s heart in such circumstances.”

“Goodness, you are a piece of work,” Teal groaned as she tipped the broad brim of her cap back. Perturbed and emotionally stirred, she jabbed a finger towards the Aide and lambasted them, “Are you really such a sycophant that you do not think for yourself? Sometimes good advice opposes the views of those who wish to hear it – the best comes from a place of patience and clarity. Instead of flapping your head up and down while encouraging vapid decisions, you might try considering how issues impact your counselee, yourself, or the realm at large! Feie guide you, you could even employ some empathy and tact before you respond!”

For a moment it was difficult to say if Teal’s garments were the reddest hue of all things nearby. The Aide was humbled into silence from the visitor’s inexplicable reproach – the callout was sudden and scathing. Throughout the exchange, the Monarch had remained impassive, but they could no longer contain themselves and burst out laughing. From behind, Teal thought she heard restrained chuckling as well. “I feared this day would be teeming with drudgery as all these meetings are,” the sovereign boomed with mirth, “But lo, young one, thy tongue is just as sharp as the rest of ye!”

They calmed by degrees as the Aide’s chagrin shifted to reflective indignance. Teal was loth to join in the laughter, but seeing the Monarch enjoy themselves brought unrestricted joy to her face regardless. The ruler regained their tranquility and, turning to their charge, asked her evenly, “Now, young one, speak freely. Why is it that ye have returned?” There was a pause, but they appended, “Were the trains unsuitable?”

“T-The trains were… Gripping,” Teal evaded, “That aside, my motive for this dialogue is due to my deliberations on the quandary we spoke of while within the castle’s curtilage.” The raised brow of the Monarch was enough of a signal for the Spirit to commence their evaluation, “I am no politician, but I know enough of court intrigue to loathe the constant jockeying of power that mortals often vie for. Is there a need for royalty and courts? Do folks require a leader or merely leadership? Such debates are beyond my scope – there is a case to be made to do away with such things entirely. I digress however, for some find themselves in such positions whether they desire to be there or not. I believe good leadership then comes from a place of genuine compassion – from desiring those in your care to flourish, find happiness, and live comfortably. A good ruler is one who is benevolent and realizes they are but a servant for those in their flock.”

“Decisions and policy that effect so many will never be easy to make, but they must be done so decisively and with consideration for all,” Teal turned to the Aide with a smile as she spoke, “Yet with careful and sagacious guidance, that which regards all aspects holistically and not phlegmatically, such things will surely be trifles for a kind and honest leader.”

As a fire brings comfort to weary folk who surround it, so to did the Monarch’s pure felicity create a warmth that radiated from themselves. Awed by the young wizard’s thoughtful commentary, they knew not how to react, but they attempted to regardless out of conduct. “’Tis moving of ye to extend thy consideration to my nominal concerns during thy travels,” they acknowledged with beaming delight, “What you say is true – if not, it is laudable in all ways!”

In the same vein, the ruler’s expression shifted to one of grimacing annoying, “Blast! If only it were that this council were not so pressing!”

“This is true, Your Grace, we ought to return at once; the nobles are already ornery,” urged the Aide from aside.

“Ah!” gasped the Monarch, snapping their fingers, “Ye might stay for a spell, young one! There is ample room within the guest suites yet for one more dignitary. What say you?”

It was difficult to turn down the Monarch with their eyes glimmering so earnestly – even the Aide’s sneer had faded. All the same, Teal insisted, “It is an honour, but I must sadly decline. Were I in any other position, I would linger, but alas, I should be moving on.” She added with a sly grin, “I need to board the next train, after all.”

Such a decisive rejection from the Half-Elf left the small party stunned. Yet amid the following silence, the Aide approached the Monarch and piped up, “Your Grace, might we not do our fervent guest here a kindness and offer them an expeditious trip to the station?”

Overcome by inspiration, the Monarch nearly sparkled as they cheered, “Brilliant idea!” The pair quickly motioned to the rider who had lingered nearby. “Sirrah,” beckoned the Monarch in a stately address, “Might thou beest so good as to transport our young charge to the train station with all due haste?”

Striding forth atop their mount, the rider pressed a hand to their chest and proudly proclaimed, “Your Grace, I am at your command!”

All three then turned to share the good news with the caller, but the trio were astonished to discover there was no one there – they faced only the empty garden on one side and the grand staircase on the other. With their backs turned for just a moment, the scarlet Spirit had vanished.

In a bout of uncharacteristic distress, the Monarch stumbled forward searching frantically for the transient. “Wh-What happened?! Where have they gone to?!” they wallowed, turning to the rider and Aide for insight.

Approaching with a professional ease, the Monarch’s counsellor placed a hand upon their shoulder. With a kind expression, they offered, “Your Grace, I am certain our guest will do just fine on their own – surely they would have requested our assistance were they in need of it.” Seeing the stately sovereign sag, the Aide kindly encouraged, “Come now, the council awaits you, Your Grace. They require your good judgment in order to... Guide them towards benevolence.”

Rising with renewed fervour and practically glowing with motivation, the Monarch nodded. There were no longer clouds of doubt upon their brow; instead, they radiated with the very essence of their domain. “Aye,” they concurred, “Lead the way.”

Attendant and Guard:

The trek between the castle and the train station was a long one, but since there was no wall barring a direct passage between the two points, it was marginally quicker. Teal remembered the route better than most as it was one of the few times she had been given concise directions. Still, her meanderings through the city were as such – she allowed herself ample time to browse, linger at picturesque scenes of tranquil urban life, and pluck at her banjo. As her and Lacrimosa descended to the outskirts of the city, she appreciated how the town’s compact outer design loosened, giving way to cottages and petite farmsteads. She thought idly that if she had to live anywhere in the city, it would be here at its quite edges.

Allowing her Companion to take point – Teal wasn’t lost, she just didn’t want to completely retrace her route (and risk being struck by another stone from above) – is largely why the trip was more expedient. Had Teal had her way, the pair would have bumbled their way around and met another gaggle of strange folk. Foregoing that though, the golden insect and their follower came upon the train station by a more direct route; by crossing a broad bridge that leapt over several metal tracks and turning left, they found the train depot a short jaunt ahead. It was only as they approached that Teal wondered why they had heard no locomotives whizzing by. She worried that the trains were not running anymore.

It was a pleasant trip overall, but Teal found herself pining for the wildflowers that speckled the lane along her previous indirect path. She had not lingered in the city nearly as long as she had last time, but she was struck by a forlorn sense that she did not meet the Mason on her departure. She rubbed the scarred divot along the bridge of her nose as she reflected, wondering where the elder was right now. She pondered too on what her mother would think of her scars, how irate her father would be that she had brought defects to her Elvish features, how proud Azure would be of her grizzled wounds, and how Indigo would simply call her an idiot and think nothing of the blemishes.

Amid her abstractions, Teal dragged her heels and failed to notice how near to the station her and Lacrimosa had come. It was only when the murmur of bustling life, the sound of people working or gossiping, struck her pointed ears that she came to and realized her surroundings. She was shocked to find the station populated; it was not altogether busy, but seats were occupied with future commuters and workers bustled hither thither engaged in their various tasks. Some were busied with maintenance of tracks, others stood near a stationary engine inspecting its carriage and intricate components, others still lingered about and chatted with co-workers in an attempt to look busy, but all in all the energy of the terminal was livelier than she had known it.

Rising to the platform by way of a stairwell, Teal took in the anticipatory buzz and began to feel excited. Acknowledging the fact that others were nearby, she addressed Lacrimosa in a hushed voice, “It’ll be delightful to ride the train properly this time – I’m very glad you’re coming with me, my friend. Although… I hope I don’t need to purchase you a ticket as well. Surely, we can share a seat.” Teal was unsure if the moth’s frantic fluttering indicated a shared enthusiasm or if it was an attempt to communicate that they desired to sit alone.

Barring this, Teal scanned the depot as her mind whirred anxiously; she was taking a gamble in coming here. She hadn’t made it far enough along her trip to know where the next stop was along the train’s route, all she had to go on was that she heard one from the hills while approaching the Sage’s. She was placing a lot of faith in the hope that the next stop would allow her to bypass becoming lost in that heinous forest once more.

It was while scanning, however, that the Half-Elf spied a pair of associates. They were situated near the ticket office; one leaned against a wall facing the bureau’s open window gabbing freely, the other sat inside at their post surrounded by gadgets, levers, buttons, and gizmos. By chance, Teal recognized the distant rumbling of an oncoming train. “You had best take cover, Lacrimosa,” she urged, gripping her red cap and cloak as she braced for the rush – the moth took heed and tucked itself beneath her hat’s brim.

Accompanied by a familiar roar leaving all else mute, a gale of force which tugged and turned at cloth, an industrial din that could not wholly be replicated by beast, and the resounding silence needed to recover from such an unrelenting turmoil the train surged past with its iconic bravado. Wise to the ways of this wicked wonder, Teal in her fortification turned her eyes in a furtive squint upon the ticket office; she was correct in her assumption that the one sat within was the Attendant. There was no mistaking such deft and mechanical motion among their various apparatus before and after the train whizzed through the station.

It was the other, however, upon which Teal kept her gaze. Even as her posture eased and Lacrimosa timidly took flight once more, she stared across the station at the Attendant’s company. They had braced instinctively and rather casually at the train’s passing, merely pressing down their cap and bowing their head. As they raised themselves though, they made a comment to their co-worker within the tollhouse and the pair laughed carelessly. Even with their broad ears, the Half-Elf could not make out their conversation from such a distance. They could, however, easily recognize the face of one who had overtly wronged them. Teal seethed silently as she recalled how this one opposite the Attendant had shoved her from a train just as easily as they cajoled.

The situation was a sticky one, and Teal turned inward to reflect as she scuttled out of sight against a nearby wall. She would need a ticket to board the train properly this time and to do so would require her chatting with the Attendant. They, whom she had no qualms with, were not the problem; the issue lied with their company. She feared that she may not stay her emotions in the vicinity of such a reprobate – just thinking about what the Guard did to her boiled her blood in ways she had not felt since her school days.

Would she be able to keep her manners in check in the vicinity of this debaucherous delinquent? What would she say to someone so cruel? Could she draw the Guard away by some arcane distraction? Such were Teal’s concerns as she rallied herself to action; there was no better solution than meeting the awkward situation head on. She rounded the corner, walked towards the ticket counter and, while doing so, frantically weighed what woven words worked wonderfully with one wicked weasel. That is to say, she reflected that she had previously possessed some good words of encouragement for those she had reengaged along her journey, but she was presently drawing a blank. What could I possibly say to someone who thinks it’s okay to toss folks from a train? Teal ruminated.

Drawing near the ticket counter, the wizard kept their head bent enough to obscure their face by means of their hat’s wide rim. The chatter shared by both voices hushed when the Half-Elf brusquely burst through social barriers and approached the open window to address its teller. Though she was clad from tip to toe in a bold burgundy, Teal tried to act demure and not draw attention to herself as she stooped to speak to the Attendant. “Good day. Is the west-bound train due to depart presently?” she inquired with good grace.

Here the concierge, taken aback by the sudden introduction of a third party, erred in their functions. Their mouth opened to respond to the perspective passenger but made no attempts to close nor conjure an utterance – their eyes scanned the blot of red before them instead. Jumping at the opportunity, the second associate, who now stood aside the customer and was largely blocked off from the social dynamic, answered in their colleague’s stead. “Train’s leaving in about twenty minutes. They’re just tuning her up now,” the Guard cordially explained, hoping that by doing so they might re-enter the conversation.

“I believe I asked the conductor here,” Teal snapped with all the tenderness of a harsh winter, yet warmed herself to avoid sounding too gruff, “But thank you.” She spoke without turning or acknowledging the Guard, instead reaching a glove beneath her cloak and taking from the inner pocket of her vest a single gold coin. This she placed atop the counter between her and the Attendant while requesting, “One ticket, please.”

The Attendant hesitantly reached for the coin; there was nothing noteworthy about it, but they squinted up at the peculiar buyer. Depositing the cash in a box beneath their workstation, the ticket master deftly snatched a card from a nearby spool. It was while they scribbled upon it with a pen that they interrogated the Spirit opposite them, “Haven’t I seen you here before? You look… Familiar.”

Grasping the ticket once it was offered to her, Teal nodded tersely and smiled for good measure. “I was here once, yes. We talked briefly,” she casually remarked – she held no ill-will toward the Attendant and tried to mask the tension overwhelming her, “Do you not remember? You told me all about—”

Having only been able to see fractions of features obscured by this meddler’s cap, it had taken the Guard some time and awkward leaning to discern this supposed acquainted individual. However, when they spied the dark locks, the dazzling green, the sharkish profile, and a smattering of freckles, their memory was directly jogged. In one bustling motion, they stumbled back and impolitely thrust a finger towards the cloaked commuter, yelling, “You’re the one who—”

“Who you pushed from a train, yes,” Teal stabbed – her neck twisted suddenly as her ire fell upon the Guard, unintentionally crushing her ticket in the fist she had balled. Effortlessly, her features shifted from restrained wrath to one presenting a sickeningly sardonic grin. “By the by, how have you been?” she cooed, “Tossed anyone else off a cliff lately?” The Half-Elf’s barbed reveal left the Guard horrified, wan, and mute – in fact, one might say they looked as though they had seen a ghost.

Exhibiting something akin to a sigh and a snort, Teal returned to the Attendant seated across from her. They had been gawking at their coworker and as she noticed their frazzled expression, she met it with soft features and a gentle grin, “I hope you shall overlook that interruption. As I was saying, we partook in fascinating conversation. Do you not recall?”

The frantic shaking of the Attendant’s head was their first sign of communication, yet they found their words by some means – be it the visitor’s delicate demeanour or otherwise – and responded, “Y-You’ll have to forgive me. There is so much going on here – the trains, the boardings, the arrivals, the maintenance – I very seldom distinguish one commuter from the next!”

The nervous chuckle the ticket vendor emitted was made even more anxious by the crimson Spirit’s effortless countenance of both confusion and dissatisfaction. They made a show of smoothing out their crumpled ticket atop the counter separating them and the Attendant – they viciously side-eyed the Guard as they did, emitting a quiet, “Ah…” of dejected understanding. They simultaneously stashed their ticket beneath their red vest and spoke, both actions disturbed Lacrimosa into a dart about their shoulders. “You really are careless, you know,” Teal teased, “I wager you spend too much time obsessed with your work – you are living too quickly! You ought to value the slow moments in your life a little more. Perhaps if you did so, you might better recollect the destinations of the various routes – or your clientele.”

Teal’s scathing report drew no rebuttal from the Attendant. They drew inward and resembled a timid sheep while they suddenly flipped switches, twisted knobs, and pressed a button at their workstation. The four of them, and the silence betwixt, were buffeted by the oncoming rush accompanying a steaming locomotive in passing; even little Lacrimosa found a safe perch among the folds of their large friend’s cloak. As normalcy returned, Teal suddenly slammed a fist onto the counter beneath the open window. “Do not try to sneak off, you cur!” she squawked, stepping towards the Guard. They were snared mid-stride as they attempted to vacate the premise and they too suddenly grew sheep like and docile.

Flipping again to a genial attitude, Teal practically leaned into the ticket office. “Do you know I think what you need?” she smiled coyly.

“Uhm,” floundered the Attendant. They did not know what this bombastic busybody believed. They hoped whatever they needed did not involve their gloved fist.

“I think you need a vacation!” Teal suggested with a dreaminess in her voice.

“A vacation…?” repeated the Attendant. Even the word to them seemed foreign.

“Yes, yes!” Teal nodded eagerly and laughed, “You need some time away from your cramped and dingy office, your overbearing gizmos and whirrings.” She appeared thoughtful for a moment as she sought ideas that might make an enjoyable excursion. “Ah! Perhaps a trip aboard a train!” she gushed, “You could see some of the locations on this very line!

“I could… Take the train?” there was a momentary lapse in the Attendant’s professional appearance. For a moment, stars flashed in their eyes.

“Sure!” the Half-Elf giggled enthusiastically, “In any case, were you to slow down and enjoy the things around you instead of just letting them pass you by, I think it would do you a world of good.”

It took from the time Teal departed the Attendant, who was evidently lost in their present fancies, to until she whirled toward the Guard for her smile to twist into a stern frown. Were one nearby, they likely heard the unfortunate associate swallow a wad of anxiety. They were frozen with fear as the Half-Elf stomped closer and bore down on them. Incidentally, Teal had to stand on the tips of her toes to appear even vaguely threatening to the Guard – the effect was successful.

Said Guard leaned away and whimpered as Teal thrust an accusing finger at them, her pointy nose was nearly pressed against them. “There are many wretched utterances I wish to bequeath to you, you loathsome laggard,” Teal growled, the flame within her barely kept in check, “However, I choose to stay my tongue. On the contrary, I hope – for your sake most of all – I pray that one day something stupendously wonderful blesses your life, bringing about such a deep and reverent introspection that you realize just how vile and rotten your actions were. There will come a time when your life is so utterly illuminated by a force so devastatingly lovely that your eyes shall be opened to how wretched your behaviour has been. Then, and only then, after you have searched high and low for a thing so magnificent and once you are able to reflect on your misdeeds, shall you ever truly flourish – until then, however, you are naught more than a stinking weed.”

As if to punctuate her fervour, a chime sounded alerting the Attendant to another oncoming locomotive. Hastily, they snapped themselves from their reverie and applied their function. In the next moment, a third train streaked by with an incredible din; horns blared, the air was churned, but in its passing there came, as there always did, a juxtaposed quiet.

In this quiet, however, the Guard and Attendant were alone – save the commuters waiting at those benches scattered across the station. The pair blinked at one another in a stupor. Had there not been a fiery wad of red here not a moment prior? Did they not buy a ticket and chew the both of them out? It was as if the passing train had whisked them away – a foolish notion even for a lunatic. Despite the improbability of it all, the Guard and Attendant were certain the young traveller simply disappeared. Silently, the two wracked their brains for an explanation as to where the salient sanguine Spirit sped off to.

Old Black Train:

Peace and quiet accompanied the sense of relief that washed over Teal as she sat aboard, not abroad, the dark speeding locomotive. Despite some qualms regarding the exchange of finance for proof that one might be entitled to ride such an effortless mode of transportation, she was at ease knowing that she would be able to remain seated for the duration of her journey – the part that could be traversed on rails, that is. To know that she was safe amid the soothing rattle of the train’s interior was one thing, to be relatively comfortable atop the floral fabric of her berth was another, to have her mind at ease for the first time in what might as well have been forever was a third, but to know she was making good progress toward her goal tied it all together in a bow.

Teal had the unprecedented luck to catch a train during a lull in service; this is what she told herself anyway. The carriage she occupied was sparsely populated and exceedingly peaceful – she had secured an arrangement of seats to herself, this time not out of need to efface herself. Able to sprawl, she laid her cloak across her lap, placed her cap atop her knees, and set her instrument in the seat beside her. Her eyes traced Lacrimosa as they crawled among the folds of her garments, she wordlessly hoped the bug was as comfortable as she was. Allowing her Companion an interlude of independence, they were a grown bug after all, she turned her gaze outward beyond the window at her side and leaned against its sill. She glanced at her reflection, at the shaggy state of her bangs, when she pressed her forehead against the window - she was still there.

The blurry view beyond the pane was intoxicating in a way. The way the flowers and fields nearest the tracks were little more than patches and smears of colour while that which was far crawled along in the distance made every glance through the glass seem as though a painting. Something to be stared at for a brief time and bring about some sense of a scene or locale. Paradoxically, perhaps, the flowing stream of landscapes evoked both a dreamy wonder and a guilty longing in the Half-Elf. She had considered simply walking all the way to the Sage’s once again, this was her initial plan in fact, but events had played out somewhat differently.

Sitting here now, gazing on the rolling hills, the stunning greenery, the full foliage, the hamlets and hovels, made her wish that she was passing by on foot and soaking in every detail of their existence. She felt as though something integral was missing when blazing through aboard a vehicle; even travel by carriage would allow one to dwell on the atmosphere adequately. Is it worth the price of convenience? Teal wistfully contemplated, Surely for cargo the efficiency in travel feeds into exponential gains, but it feels like something is lost when commuting like this. I wonder if the pleasure of a comfortable journey outweighs the experience absent in more leisurely traversal. I guess it must if—

"Ticket, please,” punctured a voice from beside her. Teal flinched from the sudden intrusion – her blood raced for half of a second as she spun to meet the youthful guide collecting tickets.

“Oh, of course!” Teal chuckled when she calmed in the next half-second. Realizing it was not the Guard who accosted her previously, she reached into her vest to reveal her somewhat wrinkled pass and presented it thusly. “I apologize – I was daydreaming and did not hear you approach,” she admitted, though she was unsure why.

Seizing the note, analyzing it, and returning it to Teal, the collector smiled courteously. “Not a problem. It’s a quiet ride today,” they commented, but suddenly raised their brows, “Woah! Crazy ears!”

Teal was unsure what to make of such a sudden appraisal of her lobes, but she felt them droop – the downside of having her hat off was that her pointed ears were quite apparent. She diffused her tension with an awkward laugh as she explained, “A little, yes! I am a Half-Elf.”

Half an Elf?” the uniformed associate scoffed, “Ha! Good one.” They walked off promptly, and Teal heard them exit the carriage; the rush of chuffing, the wind, and the clatter of the doors stung at something inside of her. She was, however, too taken back by the odd observations to dig into her feelings too deeply. Were they accusing me of not being a Half-Elf? Maybe they thought I was wearing some kind of costume.

It was while she gazed at her clearly crimson clothes that she reflected on such a possibility. Her mind seamlessly shifted course to the true cause of the comment: her Elvish genes. This stirred within her wistful thoughts of home and of her family. She might, if everything went according to plan, be able to see them once more; never again would she take a moment among those she cherished for granted. She pined to be with Azure, to see her again in her handsome armour, to hear her snide commentary and effortless wit. When she saw her younger sister next, she would ask for a ride atop her horse and beg her to show off some forms with her yănyuèdāo. She would listen to Azure’s stories of her time spent at the front, of her many experiences fighting off monsters and hordes of fiends.

What of her mother then? Teal would dote on her and cook for her and never allow another day of misery as long as her mother lived. She would devote herself to assisting her mother in every facet, even if it drew her ire for being too overbearing. She wouldn’t mind – it was only a testament of her filial love towards the one who birthed her. It was now that Teal was aware she had lost her mother’s stories of her homeland that she pined to hear them all, even the ones she had recited a hundred times.

And what of her father? Arrogant and scheming though he was, surely Teal could be a more understanding daughter. Despite their difference in views, he had given so much to ensure her opportunities in life thus far. Would be so painful to take an interest in his daily life? To be more kind and wait on him when he needed? Would it not please him to be gentler with Lady Larimar and her daughter Jade? She would certainly not go so far as to relinquish her independence to the man, his plans to wed her for familial gain were putrid, but she might still exist in harmony as his daughter.

Sweet Indigo and Miss Marl deserved greater kindness too. After departing for school, Teal knew she was guilty of allowing herself to drift away from their company – she attributed this as to why her youngest sister spent more time with their Elvish relations as they got older. Teal knew her mother and Miss Marl talked quite often, being the only two humans present at the manor; it would be good of her to spend more time conversing with Indigo’s mother on one of her visits. When she returned, Teal would insist on purchasing as many tomes and scrolls for Indigo as she could afford. It would take considerable effort to ingratiate herself into Indigo’s life once more, but as her elder sister she owed it to her to repair the neglected bridge between them.

Likewise, would it be so disastrous to take a renewed interest in her Elvish relations? Teal had always been so focused on her studies and her small realm of interest that she paid little attention to her elder sisters and their mothers. It would be more prudent and compassionate to allow her love to flow freely to her distant relations as well – she knew her Elvish grandparents poorly and likewise her aunts, uncles, and cousins. She had fallen out of contact with her mother’s parents as well. How were Skarn and Flint getting along in their old cottage? she dreamed, What of uncle Gneiss and his son… Teal was stunned at her folly, she couldn’t remember her cousin’s first name. Worse yet, he was about the same age as her.

Desperate to recall her relation’s birth name, she knew it started with the same letter their father’s, she was suddenly cast out of her ruminations by an outside factor: this time the tittering of a couple sitting in a booth diagonally from her. Teal worried at first that they were laughing at her or the absurd interaction she just had, but when she looked over, she saw the pair were evidently in their own world. One rested their head on the others shoulder while they chatted in hushed voices; their eyes flickered between one another and out to the landscape skimming by.

Averting her gaze before she was caught staring, Teal found herself grinning. Perhaps it was merely from seeing others enjoy themselves, or perhaps it was brought about by the feelings welling up inside her. Might I ever ride a train with Caspian? she dreamed. To sit beside him again, to hear his gentle voice crooning about something idiotic he had read, to travel somewhere picturesque alongside him, to watch his piercing blue eyes scan the horizon from his seat, it all sounded romantic. There was only one problem: she had never seen a train before arriving here.

Taking this into account, she dreamed of other scenarios. In one they shared a palanquin across her hometown; it was autumn and she showed him all of her favourite spots; she held his paws while leading him to the local shrine and then they would stop for snacks on their way home; in the evening, they would watch the moon by the water. In another they travelled by carriage to the seaside; there they spent the day enjoying one another’s company among the sand and water – she was always amazed that Caspian loved to swim; in the evening they would trek to a nearby coastal village and cajole with the locals, maybe even have a little too much to drink. Teal’s heart fluttered amid her daydreams. In all honestly, she would be thrilled to simply see his face again. More than that, she wanted the chance to confess her feelings for him earnestly.

It was among these frayed thoughts that others tethered in their place. Teal wondered if she would go back to school if she had the chance. I really ought to graduate and become an accredited wizard, she considered, but at this point it seemed somewhat fruitless. Would she finish that fateful assignment given to her by her superiors? She had such a thin lead on what she was searching for when she died that this too had a pointless air to it. What of those she travelled with? She hardly knew them, and she assumed they had been fine after her calamitous exit, yet she vaguely hoped that the sorcerer who watched her die was doing well. What will I do when I’m back then? she weighed, What will I do if I get back? What will I do if I cannot get back…?

Finding herself descending a disparaging dip, spiralling into future speculations that brought about a gummy worrisome feeling, Teal screwed her eyes shut. “I don’t want to think about this anymore,” she quietly groaned to Lacrimosa. The moth wiggled its antennae at Teal, and Teal blinked at the moth. “What about you, my friend?” she hummed, “What will you do in the future?” Her Companion had no answer, but leisurely scuttled along the fabric of her cloak – Teal had not considered that Lacrimosa might be eating said fabric until now, but she saw no holes among it or her hat’s surface. It must be nice to be a moth, Teal imagined, I bet chewing on cloth is satisfying. Given her hunger, Teal thought the idea sounded alright, moth or not.

Eschewing the opportunity to gnaw on her cloak, she instead gazed once more beyond the pane aside herself. The lush greenery, forests, and fields had given way to rocky slopes, rugged foliage, and undulating hills – she knew by the shifting ecotones that this is where she wanted to be. The valleys and peaks were familiar, as were the shape of the trees. Growing uneasy, she was beholden to the train’s whims as to whether a station or stop was nearby. She had heard the locomotive’s mournful cry on her trek through the hills, but that was all she had to go on that it might stop vaguely near the Sage’s.

It was all out of her hands, but what was in her hands, somewhat, was her more immediate future. The facts of her current projection weighed on her, pressing on her shoulders as stress often does to the anxious. Discomfort, and quite likely more than just that, awaited her if she pushed onward, but it’s what she had to do. It’s what she wanted to do. As she stared from the window, she hypothesized her various meetings and planned hypothetical scenarios in her mind. The road ahead was an unpleasant one and she would have to hike all the way to that forlorn bell tower once more.

It was strange to her, however; mingling with her sense of dread was a certain excitement. She recognized this sensation from her school days in those moments when she stood upon the precipice of unlocking arcane secrets or from her brief time adventuring in lands completely foreign to her. With her newfound fortitude, she would meet whatever came at her, even if they were bound to be quite daunting tasks. She ran through a quasi-checklist of what remained of her journey: keep her promise to the Knight; politely turn down the Sage’s offer; meet with the Warden. She dared not confide in even Lacrimosa, but against her better judgment, Teal soundlessly pined to meet them again.

Her cogitations were pierced by a shrill whistle beyond the train’s exterior. Brought to by the sudden noise, Teal noted how the vehicle had begun to slow – they were no longer bustling along through the hillside wilderness but crawling amid the outermost vestiges of civilization. Farms and quaint industry peppered the wobbling landscape; cottages, hovels, and distance manors filled the gaps; at one point the old train quietly snaked through a charming little hamlet. Slower and slower it crept along as the view from the window grew less natural and more urbane.

It was this combined with the careful shuffling of her fellow passengers that tipped Teal off. She heard a family nearby double checking that their baggage was in order and spied the couple across from her gathering their belongings as well. Following suit, Teal donned her scarlet headdress, her mantle, and secured her banjo – she didn’t know where exactly she was, but by the looks it was the outskirts of another city. Offering another shrill cry, the train lurched to a halt at what could only be a station. Steam filled the air, and Teal’s heart swelled with motivation. Doors rattled open, voices called to disembark, passengers chattered among their groups, and Lacrimosa in tow, Teal rose to meet her future.

Scout:

Descending the thin stairwell as she disembarked the train, Teal emitted a graceful, “Thank you,” to the worker assisting passengers to alight. The chaos and turbulence of this far-flung station was amplified by her own disorientation. All the same, Teal strode forth and ingrained herself amid the bustling crowds dispersing from the depot; she took care not to pummel those surrounding her as she slung her banjo across her back. When she happened upon what she assumed to be the station’s hub, there was an office of sorts next to something of a café, the addled Half-Elf strolled aside to better acclimatize herself to this fresh locale.

A dense and tall city towered nearby; the station was, as the previous stop had been, at the outskirts of the borough. The urban centre itself was tiered and every level of its design ascended the hill on which it was founded. At its core was a stark structure that projected both power and inspiration; it was as though the entire city cascaded from this austere mass. From this distance Teal could make out very few details, yet despite this it was apparent that denizens nearest the axis enjoyed great prosperity. Their properties grand, well spaced, and separated by sparkling treetops. Toward the town’s bottom abodes were densely packed and sported ruddy shingles and earthen tones.

Averting her appraisal, Teal scanned the opposite direction. Steep sprawling hills surrounded the area, their pitch and height increased significantly as one peered westward. Coniferous forests and dense brush rolled along the fluctuating terrain. When juxtaposed with the domain she had departed from, the tough flora here made the foggy forests along the riverside seem soft and idyllic. In fact, at a distant point Teal noted how densely a patch of trees grew as it ambled across a great swathe of land. It raised in her a similar sinister quality to that shore she had twice inhabited. She cautiously weighed to herself, I wonder if that’s the same forest I travelled through… If so, then I might—

“—costs how much?!” thundered a voice from around the corner from where Teal dwelled; she winced at the altercation brewing at hand. Her ears perked up, quite literally, as she listened to the simmering conversation. A separate voice mumbled some attempt at placating whoever had turned their nose up at the price of something or other – given her location Teal assumed it must be the train’s fare. The voice which disrupted her thoughts carried on in a quieter, more pleading tone; it was too quiet to make out any words, but Teal recognized the unmistakable tone of one attempting to haggle.

Sympathy welled within her, but there was little she might do for this poor soul. Were I to intervene, I would likely escalate the situation. It’s not as though I can buy them a ticket, Teal contemplated. During her thoughts however, Lacrimosa began to fly about her person as if expecting her to shift. Teal sighed at the bug, “We ought to stay out of it.” In response, the moth fluttered in a circle right in front of her. Squinting, Teal furrowed her brow and frigidly whispered, “You think I’m going to go over anyway!” She suddenly gasped, “You’re calling me nosy, you little louse!” Having apparently made their point, Lacrimosa took the initiative to flitter ahead on their own. Teal watched as they rounded the corner, wadded her fists as she grumbled, and followed suit. She had planned on investigating whether or not her Companion egged her on.

What Teal found when she trailed Lacrimosa was not at all what she expected – not entirely that is. The office and departure board were exactly what she expected, the local attendant at odds with a customer is what she expected too, but what she hadn’t anticipated was to whom they bickered. It was the Scout of all people. To Teal’s perspective, they seemed so out of place here that they might as well have been a shark floundering through the terminal – if a shark had legs, that is (a ridiculous notion through and through). Regardless, having come this far Teal was fain to approach and force herself into this likely petty situation.

Catching the Scout in the midst of an exasperated groan, the Half-Elf sidled into a socially adequate distance. Spying the clearly annoyed expression of the poor worker at the ticket counter, Teal was quick to immerse herself into the altercation. “Excuse me,” her voice was pleasant, but sharp and clear, “Is something the matter? I had intended to purchase passage from here.”

“Don’t bother,” huffed the Scout, turning upon this straggler. Their convivial demeanour brought on and soured by soon to be shared woe, “At these prices you’re better off walking. A whole gold piece just to get to the next station! It’s robbery!”

“Ah,” Teal feigned a sigh of resignation, “That is quite an exorbitant price. Surely a trek to the next city would be nothing for one as experienced as you.” She caught the eye of the attendant and smiled coyly; she wasn’t sure if they noticed her intended meaning, but all the same they seemed relieved to not have to speak to the Scout any longer.

“It wouldn’t be so bad, but it would—” the Scout paused and reflected on the oddly familiar comment, “Do I know you?”

“You really have forgotten me,” the Half-Elf chortled, “That is just like you.” Their teasing grin gave way to an explanation, “We met once in a forest quite a way from here – I ran into you.”

Rubbing their face with a palm, the ranger wore a guilty countenance as they wracked their memory. “You ran into me in a forest?” they mumbled in repetition.

“Yes, yes,” Teal insisted, “I wore white then – it is a long story. You gave me directions to find the path to the Sage’s.”

“Oh yeah!” hurriedly nodded the Scout, “You kind of tripped out of the brush. Good times, good times… Anyway—”

Impatient as ever, the explorer made a motion to turn back toward the woeful worker at the counter. Acting quickly, Teal caught their attention once more with a forward comment, “I have a favour to ask of you.”

Poised to pounce on the operator before them, the Scout’s frozen posture resembled a skilful portrait which captured one in the middle of an action. Breaking this posture though, they slowly rounded back upon the Half-Elf. “A favour…?” they vaguely inquired, leering at the bold request.

“It seems as though you are not proceeding where you had intended. Without proper funding, you shall have a rough time trying to board a train. Trust me,” Teal reasoned with a shrug to mask her poor experience. She spied the Scout’s defeated expression and plied herself further, “Given your propensity to propel presently, I thought it keen to inquire if you might guide me once more to the abode of that old Sage.”

The adventurer’s unwillingness was immediate. “What an awful idea. I just came from that way,” they whined, “Why would I want to go where I’ve already been? That’s boring!”

Teal snickered at the childish rebuttal. “I had expected you to say as much,” she admitted, “Yet it does not seem as though you are making much progress otherwise, are you?” The query stung the Scout into submission. Teal pressed her advantage, “Consider it this way: even though the area shall be the same, the route will be entirely mirrored. We will certainly not take an exact route as you had either. What if you missed an integral part along the way? Or what if there is a stunning scene only visible while travelling in the other direction? It shall be an entirely new perspective!”

“I… Uh…” stumbled the Scout. They pressed their eyes shut to think – steam might as well have poured from their ears and Teal got the impression this one was not prone to giving things extended consideration.

“Such an act would assist me greatly,” Teal gave one last plea and sweetened the deal, “Plus, there is something along the way that I am ardent in showing you. I do not know if you shall like it, but…” She applied just enough humility and coyness to give the offer a mystique.

Grumbling as they had done earlier, the Scout finally relented. “Fine, fine! Whatever it is had better be cool though,” they declared as they adjusted the equipment they carried on their back. Eager to set off immediately, the voyager strode past the Half-Elf at a brisk pace. “Let’s hurry up and get going,” they ordered.

Making room for them as they passed and turning to trail, Teal caught the eye of the sheepish ticket vendor – perhaps they were ogling her crimson cloak. As Lacrimosa flapped by, hoping to encourage her to keep pace, Teal beamed at the worker and gave a small wave. They returned the gesture and sighed, glad to have been spared the belittling commentary often flung at service workers. Looking up and expecting to see the strange Spirit departing the station, or at the very least hear them walk off, they were surprised to find that they had seemingly dissolved.

Artist:

Turning for what must have been at least the hundredth time since they departed, the Scout barked at their follower, “You’re going too slow! We’ll be a lifetime if you don’t stop dawdling!” Their words of encouragement, heated as they were, had little effect in stirring the pokey Half-Elf. Teal was exceedingly content to amble at her own pace; she admired the little sprouts flanking the pathway, gawked at the ominous overcast skies above, surveyed the horizon beyond, revelled in the majestic firs and pines, and most importantly plucked at her banjo in time with her leisurely pace. By all accounts she was enjoying herself immensely – her guide, however, was not. “Let’s! Go! C’mon!” the Scout combined cheering and begging with the flourish of an arm in a windmill motion.

Inevitably, Teal caught up with her lead and stood nearby while producing a harmonic ending note on her instrument. Raising the wide red brim of her cap, she grinned up at the raring rover and quite calmly extolled, “Were you to ease your pace and indulge in our surroundings, you would find your temper cooled.”

“If you increased your pace and kept up, I wouldn’t grow so impatient!” snipped the Scout after an indignant mix of a sigh and a groan. Huffing and stomping, they carried on their way – once again praying that the fool behind would move with any rapidity. They were already ahead by a breadth before Teal had even taken her first step. As such, they failed to hear her taunting snicker nor the next simple phrase of the tune she strummed.

When they had walked for another length, passing into a dense thicket of conifers and birch, Teal sensed another flurry of fussing forming by way of the Scouts intense trudging. Unbothered, but interested in mollifying the obvious frustration of her escort, Teal called out ahead of her, “For one so resolute in seeing some hitherto unknown spectacle, you do very little looking at what you pass by.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” answered the Scout with a sneer, barely halting as they checked over their shoulder at the distant pursuer.

Distracted by a distant chickadee bobbing between branches, the scarlet Spirit first responded by rolling their eyes. Next, they expressed, “You are much like the trains that blast off hither thither – though were you to board one I can already see you sat within, your leg bobbing anxiously.”

Stalling in their storming, the voyager paused to consider the meaning behind this obscure statement. They didn’t stall very long, however, and quickly wheeled upon the Half-Elf, “And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

Teal paid no attention to the temperamental traveller she had coerced into her accompaniment; she was sure that keeping their company would ultimately bear fruit. Presently, she stared beyond the temperamental Scout, agog with awe and wonder. She effortlessly side stepped her guide, sliding her banjo away in the same movement, as she trailed along the path past them.

Here, before the route turned sharply to the left, was a sparse copse of aged spruce and pine dusted with shrubs and brush. There was a gap at its centre through which one had the most splendid view of the rolling valley below – the hill they were located on dropped suddenly as an escarpment and the lower terrain beyond flowed freely into a deep nadir. At its core ran a brook, bobbing, bending, and briskly bisecting balmy banks and beds. As she neared the porthole to this vista, Teal heard flocks of ducks flying in the distance and the titter of songbirds scampering away from her approach. The sky was still dour and grey, moreso on the horizon, but nonetheless the sprawling vale and its lush growth seemed to dimly sparkle in the light.

Shifting to inspect the foreground, for the branches of the dogwood nearby appeared to be in bloom, Teal was startled by an upright alien object far closer than she anticipated. She leapt from it with a start, almost tumbling into the sumacs at her other side, only to realize it was nothing to be afraid of at all. In fact, it was a curious addition to the scene. One that even the Scout made comment on as they strolled over. “That’s a funny thing,” they remarked, “What is it?”

It was more prudent for Teal to first take stock of her Companion and vestments after her flailing – both were in order, and neither were harmed. When she adjusted her cap, she parted her lips to elucidate her stormy travel partner, but was beat to the punch by a raspy, ethereal voice. “It’s an easel,” it droned from nearby, “And a canvas. A blank one.”

One typically expected a body to be present when a voice was heard, or at least know the whereabouts of the body emitting said voice. Neither the Scout nor the Spirit were aware of such a thing and so they gawked at each other skeptically. After scanning close by with no signs of life, the rover finally piped up, “W-Was that a… Ghost?”

Knowing a thing or two about spirits, Teal made an exasperated sidelong glance. “Not quite,” she huffed as she rounded the thicket and approached its other side. She recognized the wispy, drawn-out sighs from the last time she spoke with the obvious owner of the painting equipment. Parting some branches, she spied the voice’s origin sprawled out on a wide log as if it were a bench or a bed. It was the Artist laying on their back with a splotchy rag draped across their face; their lavish equipment tossed about the area. As the Scout tailed, Teal strode up to the corpse-like painter and briskly snatched the cloth at their head. “There you are,” she chirped, peering down at them.

Making no effort to reply, the Scout did so in the Artist’s stead. “This is boring,” they complained from the path, “Let’s leave this fop to their nap.”

Teal made it abundantly clear that she was ignoring her guide by addressing the supine painter directly. “Allow me a guess,” she lilted, “You have stumbled upon a magnificent scene, but, alas, with your tools at the ready you have shrivelled up at the damnable pressure of it all.”

“More or less,” heaved the Artist, their dull gaze outward at the canopy above rather than towards the Half-Elf to whom they spoke. “I would only ruin it by trying to capture its majesty,” they grieved.

“Ugh!” groaned the Scout beyond, “If you are going to speak to them, at least have an interesting conversation! I’m so bored!”

Ears twitching from restrained frustration, the red Spirit calmly turned to the uncouth adventurer and politely urged, “Might I suggest you look yonder and gaze upon the scene of which we parley? Do so until you find yourself repulsed and then keep staring anyway.” The addition of a saccharine grin to their request sent the Scout huffing off back to the natural observatory.

Dealing with one annoyance allowed them to tackle the other presently. Somewhat exasperated to find the Artist in the exact situation as last time, she opened with the obvious, “Your canvas will forever remain only a canvas until you administer a single stroke.”

“That goes without saying,” mumbled the creator, unwilling to rise.

“Even if that first stroke is uneven or crude, it’s still a stroke of the brush,” Teal illustrated, “Best of all, it is a mark made by you, the Artist. This first splash of colour will carry you forth depending on how you let it. Then, after many happy accidents, you might find that you have a masterpiece on your hands!”

“That’s just how painting works,” griped the Artist, slinging an arm across their face as their rag had been confiscated, “And not the part that worries me. What if what I paint is bad? Worse, what if no one likes it? What if it’s all just a waste of time…? I should have become a carpenter. At least then my work would have practical merit.”

An audible tut announced the Half-Elf’s bother and, exasperated, they set about gathering up some of the Artist’s materials nearby – as they did, they muttered, “What a nuisance you are.” A palette, a few brushes, some tubes of paint, Teal required little to prove her point. She bound beyond the grove’s core and returned to the Artist’s easel. The Scout gave her a weary glance, clearly disapproving of her antics.

Regardless of their guide’s interpretation, Teal set about her clueless craft. She carefully applied globs of colour to the painter’s plate and dabbed them to the blank canvas. Her approach was simple and blithe, often allowing paint to smear together freely, lifting or curving her strokes abruptly, stippling and stabbing in great blotches, or applying smudges with flourishes. She experimented with the various brushes she grabbed, indulging in their textures. Meanwhile, she mixed colours with abandon – why not mix red and green to create a sickly brown? At one point she encouraged Lacrimosa to suggest colours and where to apply them.

All the while, Teal preached her thoughts to the tucked away Artist. “You will never create something that pleases everyone,” she confessed, “Maybe you manage to make something so magnificent that the world over loves it, but you yourself find no beauty in it. Does either case mean you should give up doing what you love?” She paused to apply a few spots of yellow to her creation before skipping along, “Recognition is great, but if what you love is to create or design then the process itself is what is admirable – it is lovely because you are the one doing it. To the Hells with trying to master beauty or appease a critic. What good will that do if you are in misery while doing it, or, worse yet, if a thing brings you such woeful anxiety that you simply do not attempt it?”

Stepping back from the canvas, the Half-Elf bedecked in Alizarin Crimson cocked their head to one side and tilted it to the other. “Come see!” she shouted, “I think I am finished!”

Standing nearby and eager to look elsewhere, the Scout merely shuffled over to inspect the work. They burst into a fit of raucous laughter at once and exclaimed, “That is your painting?!”

In good spirits, Teal laughed along – the voyager’s mean tone could do nothing to sour the levity of her earnest attempt. “I have never painted before, be kind to me!” she playfully demanded.

It was impossible for one to ignore such frivolity for very long, and so the Artist inevitably rose from their slump to inspect the goings on. They joined the trio amid their chaffing and gazed at Teal’s production as if it were hung at a gallery. They stared for some time before they eventually realized that the chattering of the wanderers had hushed as if in respect or confusion of their silent appraisal. Anxiously, the painter turned to defend their appreciation, “I-It’s very… Quaint! Simple, but there’s something of an impressionist flair to your haphazard style.”

Towards the murals centre was a smattering of bright, warm tones along what was evidently meant to be the horizon of Teal’s crude landscape. Although roughly depicted, it was evident that the overcast clouds in her piece were parting in a golden shimmer. The Artist gestured at this area and carefully inquired, “Is this… A sunset?”

Teal beamed at the question and responded at once. “You noticed!” she gushed with a chuckle, “I thought it would look prettier that way.”

“I thought it was meant to be a lemon in the clouds,” admitted the Scout from beyond. Teal spun to berate them for being so callous, but the Artist paid no heed to their disagreements. They ogled the painting – it was childish, poorly composed, and lacked so much skill that it couldn’t help but be endearing. There was something about it, some carefree quality, that beckoned to them and made their eyes sparkle with inspiration.

“I think I love it,” the illustrator stated. Before either the Half-Elf or the Scout could respond with abject confusion, the Artist drew upon Teal. “Can I have it?!” they begged.

“Erm,” Teal blinked, and then chuckled, “Sure! I cannot take it with me – it will likely be an eyesore on your walls.” The response of sheer felicity on the Artist’s face was enough for Teal to know that they would get more from her shoddy work than she ever would. With any luck, it would encourage them to let go of their inhibitions and create just as freely.

Full of mirth, the visionary twirled toward their easel to further regard the spontaneous composition. Their eyes traced the patches of vibrant hues, the muddy splotches, the odd squiggles, and the unrefined shapes as they said aloud, “Your use of colour is truly fascinating! See here, where you’ve clearly defined the dense forest yonder, there’s a curious red wisp among the trees!” They sighed and looked from the painting to the vista past the thicket again and again; only after some time did the Artist realize they never received a reply. All was quiet.

They turned and found themselves alone. Furrowing their brow, they called out, “Hello? Hello?” Alas, they were only met by their echo. They searched nearby for those that had roused them but found no sign of the ruby Spirit nor their guide. Antipodally, they discovered among the spot where they had laid was all of their equipment precisely where they had left it. Unable to explain the predicament, the Artist scratched their head; all that remained of the supposed encounter was an innocent painting left atop their easel.

Florist:

Since departing the escarpment and travelling downhill, Teal had noted a tranquil quietude developing along her trek. The Scout, ahead, had become laconic as they led the way – their complaints had eased significantly once the trio had subconsciously settled on a pace that neither forced the Half-Elf to hurry nor roused the hiker’s impatience. No longer dawdling perse, Teal was still free to enjoy herself; she absentmindedly plucked at the strings of her banjo or made quiet chitchat with Lacrimosa.

Such idle touring made quick work of the distance needed to travel, and before the Spirit was truly aware of their surroundings, they noted the abundance of hulking trees encompassing the path – the travellers were well within the dark forest preceding the Sage’s tower. How did we get here without me noticing? Teal wondered, but concluded, Perhaps because I followed a well worn route this time. These woods seem substantially less foreboding when I’m not lost in them.

It was then that Teal found herself mulling over various worries that bubbled to the forefront of her mind. At first, she feared that she may inadvertently slip into another episode of mania – this would be about the same place that her exhaustion and paranoia began to wear down her psyche. Considering this though gave way to other reflections. I don’t really feel hungry, Teal curiously remarked to herself, Nor do I feel particularly ragged. She wanted to eat and rest of course, quite desperately in fact, but she had no gnawing pain or delirium to weigh down her dogged advance. Perhaps it was because she knew where she was headed this time, or maybe because she was more driven to reach her destination.

Whatever the reason, the young wizard allowed their imagination to wander seeing as the Scout did not fancy a confab. If she were not in need of their guidance from the city, Teal would rather hike along with many others in their stead – were she not inclined to bring them along further, she would have departed them now that she knew her relative position. She envisioned travelling with another and instantly she fantasized of walking along with Caspian. He always led great excursions, Teal reminisced, He loved to take little detours and wander off trail if he spotted something interesting… Unlike this toad ahead of me.

Before she had the chance to linger on wistful memories involving her beau chasing a frog and discovering a patch of wild blackberries via a comical fall into them, Teal was removed from her reverie by a landmark brought to her attention by Lacrimosa’s careful glow. She had utterly failed to observe the trio’s advance around the last turn or their ascent following a diversion around a massive tree. They were descending now and distantly, amid a curious clearing in the dark canopy above, was an unmistakable cottage that looked as though it were plucked from a children’s tale. Barely stopping herself from gushing her thoughts aloud, Teal was thrilled at the sight. The Florist’s! Finally!

The Spirit feigned a yawn and a made a spectacle of stretching, appearing spent and weary. “Ah, goodness, I am woefully fatigued,” they noisomely complained, “Let us rest a moment, my friend! Surely you must be worn as well.”

“A rest?” the Scout grumbled up ahead with unrestrained disgust, “But that’ll slow us down.”

Teal trotted forward to catch the rushing rambler; matching their pace required distinct and thoughtful effort. The ordeal made it difficult for Teal to inveigle, but she tried regardless. “Come now, my friend,” she cooed, “Do not put on a brave face; everyone needs to rest now and again. Trust me, the body appreciates such acts of kindness! Listen, there is a lovely cottage yonder – I stopped here previously. It is a wondrous little spot to repose.”

The Scout squinted at the cabin in question, the trio drew upon it with each successive step. They frowned across at the Half-Elf struggling to keep up and opined “This place? I’ve already been here… I think. I’ve definitely walked past it and it wasn’t altogether terrific.”

Thankfully they had turned away from her and therefore missed Teal’s displeased sigh and deadpan expression. The first interesting thing we’ve seen in an age, and they’re indisposed to stopping, she grieved. Outwardly though, she was much more gracious and rejoined, “If you had stopped, you likely would recall. This is not the sort of spot one forgets so easily – here, allow me to show you!”

Herding their guide from the path as they groaned and argued, Teal ushered the trio to the thin walkway connecting the forest path to the Florist’s shack. Ignoring an entreaty to press on at once, Teal motioned to the verdant verdure surrounding the modest house. “Look, look,” she ordered, “Do you see the lilies in the pond yonder? Their pastel petals are on full display! Is the contrast between that gentle hue and the vibrance of their anthers is brilliant. Look at how they accent the dark waters. Ah, and see there? We are not the only ones to enjoy them – do you spy the frogs atop the pads and at the ponds shore?”

“Erm… Well yes, I see them,” the Scout confessed, peering pondward.

Before they had much time to dwell on the sight, Teal thrust a finger toward the garden beds proper. “And there, see? The greenery is so lush and full! Even that which is not in bloom looks so healthy and brimming with life,” she waxed, “Is it not lovely how much colour there is? The irises look like silken robes and the poppies are little dancers on the breeze!”

“Yes, they are rather… Colourful,” agreed the Scout tersely.

At this point, Teal’s enthusiasm had grown to the point where she dragged the Scout through the garden by the arm. She gasped all at once, “Oh, and look! I missed this before – it is yarrow! Are its little bundles not precious? And down here, see? I think these are the brightest forget-me-nots I have ever laid eyes on and—Ah! Down here! These violas and phlox look as though they might make a bed for royalty!” She stooped to admire the ground covers; in doing so a passerby might have mistook her for a big burgundy bloom.

The Scout was unsure how to respond to the odd red Spirit’s imaginative remarks. Perhaps their imagery was not the most evocative to the straightforward rover, but they could not object to the praise of this garden’s excellent condition.

Enraptured, Teal’s grin mimicked the brightness of the hues that surrounded her. She watched as Lacrimosa flittered about with other insects, laying atop leaves, perching on petals, or knocking back nectar. “Listen too,” she paused and closed her eyes as if urging the Scout to follow suit, “Do you hear it? The bees frolicking, the frogs croaking, the wind among the stems and in the weathervane on the roof, the trill of nearby birds.” Teal paused to soak it all in, quietly hoping her guide would do the same. Whether or not they did was of no concern to her right now. “Is it not marvellous to be surrounded by so much life?” she quietly whispered.

Sensing that the Scout had lowered their defences, be they distracted or engrossed in the splendour that Teal attempted to impress upon them, the Half-Elf abused the explorer’s lax state to further their own agenda. Hearing no qualms or rebuttals to their eccentric descriptions, they pounced by suddenly grasping at the voyager’s arm and pulling them towards the painterly cottage. “Anyway, let us go inside,” Teal brusquely insisted. Thoroughly caught unawares, their guide floundered and sputtered – before they realized what was going on the young wizard had flung open the wreath laden front door and shoved them within.

Once past the screeching threshold, the Scout was beholden to the Florist’s modest storefront. Wreaths hung from displays, bouquets sprouted from vases, arrangements trailed along garlands and trellises, and dried posies dotted a northern wall where light was the dimmest. Teal had already launched into a speech regarding one collection’s usage of blues and whites among rich greenery when the Florist entered from a chamber behind their workspace; they practically jumped when they noticed the pair scanning their wares. Moreso, they disturbed by the sight of a familiar blossom in an unfamiliar hue.

“Oh!” Teal cut her spiel short and grinned at the proprietor. As she and the Scout acknowledged the new entry, Teal was quick to snicker and comment, “You are still here, Florist! How extraordinary!”

Immediately, they squirmed. “Y-Yes. Of course I am here. Why would I not be?” they innocently inquired.

Teal made no answer, she simply waved a hand back and forth to excuse her ill-aimed humour. She stepped out from beyond the displays and approached the Florist’s counter with the ease of one intent on convivial activities. “It is good that you are,” she nodded, leaning against the surface, “For I was very excited to introduce you to my guide!” Teal made a point to enunciate clearly, as if to summon the Scout from some surprise hiding spot.

Shuffling forward, the Scout appeared wary, “This is why you brought me—”

“We travelled a great distance from the city in the hills!” Teal exclaimed, “Quite an arduous task, but since we are headed in this direction, I thought it sagacious to tarry at your excellent establishment.”

“A city? Way out there? How harrowing!” the Florist quivered.

“It’s a pretty nice place actually,” chimed the Scout, “I didn’t stay long, but there was this cute spot at the station that served great schnitzel!” Teal did not interrupt, but suddenly regretted not investigating the café at said station.

“A station? …For trains?” the bloom brawler quizzed, but paused, “Wait, who is this? And weren’t you wearing white last—”

Choosing her cue blindly, the previously pale wizard jabbed in. “This is my guide! They are escorting me to the Sage’s tower – I have business to attend to, you see, and—” Teal caught herself rambling excitedly, “Ah, never mind that, I brought them here to regale you with tales from the great world beyond! My friend here is exceedingly well travelled, are you not?”

As she turned to her chaperon, prompting them by way of placing them on the spot, the Scout grew bright and apprehensive. “Oh! Yeah! Of course. I’ve been all over! Over here, over there. Y’know. Everywhere. I guess,” the addled adventurer averred in this alien aspect. Thinking this satisfactory, they were distraught when met by the flat and utterly disappointed expressions of their audience – even Lacrimosa sat without fidgeting on Teal’s epaulette.

Experienced in regaining lost ground, the Scout quickly rebounded and offered, “Ah, hm, let’s see… To the west of here – I think it was west – at the opposite side of the mountains anyway, there are a series of waterfalls that cascade into one another! It was quite stunning.”

“You have been across the mountains?!” Teal blurted out.

The Scout simply nodded, explaining, “Yes! I crossed through them to get here. They’re very cold at the peaks.”

“You climbed to the peaks…?” curiously prodded the Florist.

“Oh yes! Well, I think so,” explained the Scout, “I was hiking through and stopped to look around. Not sure if it was a peak precisely… You can see everything from so high up!”

The shop owner went quiet with wonder at the possibility of such an awesome and sublime view. The Spirit though, suddenly realizing how ignorant they had been to think that there was nothing beyond the mountains aside the bell tower in the valley, was keen to keep their guide talking. “What were you doing that led you to the mountains?”

“Following a river! Erm… I think that’s what I was doing; I walked beside a river for a long time,” the rover rubbed their chin in thought, “There was a huge bridge at one point, big and old and stone. Let’s see here… What else? I passed through a little village nearby – cute little cobbled streets.”

“There are villages beyond the mountains?” gasped the Florist as if there being anything beyond the mountains was an impossible feat. With a sidelong glance, Teal witnessed the sparkle of something in the staid steward’s imagination.

As she did, she noted the genuine enthusiasm developing on the Scout’s visage. “Yeah! Loads of them. I had stopped to ask about a room to rest, but there were no inns. Strange, huh?” they chuckled, “So I thought nothing of it and just kept walking!”

“And why were you in the village?” eagerly pressed the Florist.

“Ah… I was looking for the sea! At least… I was looking for it at some point. I don’t actually remember how I got to that village,” the voyager confessed.

“There is a sea?!” both Teal and the Florist bellowed in unison.

Playfully, the Scout frowned at the both of them and chaffed, “Of course there is a sea! Did you think it was just mountains to the west forever and ever?” Neither of them was willing to answer.

Following a brief pause then, Teal leaned toward the local gardener and asked, “You seem quite invested in my guide’s tales, wispy though they are. I thought you had no desire you leave your heavenly garden.”

Their averted glance away from the Half-Elf spoke volumes. They were quick to stitch together an excuse by means of, “It is not that I would not leave… Just that there is so much to take care of here and so much to worry about there.”

Teal nodded as if accepting the paltry reason. She then turned to the Scout and quizzed them, “Do you recall what we saw outside the cottage? And on our way here?”

Their eyes scanned the ceiling of the cabin as if they were searching through the attic of their brain for clues. “Ah…” they sighed, “We left the station, and you insisted on dawdling while we followed the path. You played that twiddly thing on your back and that silly light that follows you around bobbed up and down. And then… Oh! We found that layabout at the hillside! You got snippy with me and made me stare through the trees at the lowlands and the stream. After that we got to the forest here… Lots of trees. Next, we found the cottage and you told me to look at all the flowers and the pond and the frogs and the little weathervane on the roof!”

The Half-Elf’s grin was thin and mischievous. “It seems you can learn to appreciate things, my friend,” she chirped. Teal proceeded to tap her fingers along the counter separating her and the Florist as she announced, “The two of you are a curious bunch: one wants to travel, but never finds a destination; the other wants to stay put, but dreams of greener pastures. Ah, if only there was some way to combine your foibles into one solution…”

Both gawked at the young wizard incredulously. Was this some kind of joke? Were they being pranked? Either felt as though there were more to this scenario than they were aware of, as if they had gnawed upon a line only to be snared by a lure. The red puppet-master, in turn, was eager to spring their trap upon their prey. “Fortunately for you,” Teal nodded knowingly, “I have had significant time to think about such things. Are you ready? Hear is my idea… You two should become cartographers together!” The gawking only intensified, and Teal was forced to translate, “You should make a map.”

“A map?” huffed the Scout, “I’ve never needed a map before!”

“And I arrange flowers, not landmarks,” sighed the Florist.

Raising her gloves in as if to quell the backlash, Teal attempted to rationalize her concept. “Do not be so rash. It is a lot to ask, but I think it could work like this: my guide here will do much of the leg work by exploring around and taking careful notes and calculations of the area; while you, dear Florist, will host them in your cabin,” she explained, but was met with skeptical expressions.

She charged on, “In this way, your shop shall act as a ‘home base’ for the Scout’s exploring. By giving them something to apply their adventures to, they will be much more astute and appreciative in their observations.” Teal gestured to the Scout with a grin, “You can begin with the nearby area and spread outward bit by bit as you travel – this way you will not always be treading old ground.”

“And in turn,” Teal reapproached the Florist, “You will be able to remain in your garden if you choose. When the Scout returns, they can tell you all about what they’ve seen as you two put together your map. Should the fancy strike you to roam with them, you will have an excellent guide who is well versed in the local surroundings, no?”

There was an air of trepidation as the pair digested the suggestion. Teal was quite proud of her scheming and ignored the subtle sting in her mind that this sort of thing was exactly what her father excelled at. The silence was too prolonged for her liking though, and when she peeked out from her confident aura, she noticed the two were still indecisive. Forced to apply a bit more pressure, Teal sighed, “To think, there are so many curious spots that remain undiscovered and undocumented! If only an intrepid explorer were capable of scouring the land for such things. Ah, not to mention that a map of such splendour and magnitude would need to be produced, and more importantly sold, in a professional environment. I am certain that many would flock from far and wide for such an insightful piece of information.”

“We could start with Birch Hill up the road,” suggested the Florist, meekly adding, “There’s that great gnarled tree near the bend in the path too.”

“Or there might be something undiscovered within the forest!” exclaimed the Scout. They rubbed their chin and considered, “Maybe it would be better to jot down the perimetre of the forest first…”

“Oh! We could document the local flora as we go and make notes of what wildflowers grow where,” gushed the Florist.

The Scout chuckled, “Flowers will not help a map much, but it is a fun idea! Suppose we included good spots for foraging – that would come in handy for those living off the land as they travel!”

This went on for some time; the pair enthusiastically traded ideas and postulated ways to physically create a map. What scale would it be at? How would it look? How would they gather accurate information and apply it? Their suggestions often spiralled into the realm of fantasy with either party spinning wild tales of what they might discover in the forest and beyond. The spectacle was one performed by many children in their youth when they weave wild ideas for the future with a close friend. The two were passionate about their possible endeavour and had the energy to carry it out. They may stumble along the way, but they would persevere, right?

After what may as well have been hours of brainstorming, the pair descended from the stars back to reality. Both were eager to thank the one who had brought them together for their project, but they noted that it was only now just the two of them within the Florist’s store. Confused, the Scout searched high and low outside in the garden and the Florist within their cabin – they couldn’t find the vermillion Spirit anywhere. The two reconvened to share in their perplexity. How had they missed the wizard’s departure? They both agreed it would have been impossible for them to leave discreetly given the state of the entrance. All the same, it seemed as though they had simply disappeared.

Having spent a good while leading the Spirit from the station, the Scout was now baffled by their follower’s absence. “They wanted me to take them to the Sage’s further ahead,” they explained to the Florist, oddly remorseful, “I wonder if they went on without me… It was strange though, you know, it often felt as though I was walking alone.”

After a pause, the Florist joked, “Maybe you were!” The two shared a laugh at the absurdity.

Mother and Child:

“I could have sworn this is where it was,” Teal mumbled to her Companion after completing a bend along the trail. She was peering past the trunks and branches, the bushes and brambles, in hopes of discovering some bygone artifact. Reluctant to scour the dense forest properly, and, moreover, loth to ascend the nearby hill among the overlapping foliage, she could only browse from the outskirts along the path. Unable to find what she sought, Teal sighed and adjusted her hat with a shrug. Outwardly, she resigned herself to Lacrimosa, “I guess not.” Inwardly though, she determined, Circles on chains and blood stains wouldn’t vanish so quickly. Unless… A tingle ran up her spine and she was quick to assume the reality she saw was merely another facet of her former madness.

Coming to terms with the present, the pair ascended the hill nearby in a hush. Teal had wanted to strum her banjo, but as she drew ever closer to the Sage’s residence, she found that an odd sensation tottering within her. The Half-Elf had largely put the future out of their mind until now, but with each step they drew closer to their goal – ideally, to the end of this harrowing journey. Doing so, however, meant surmounting the many obstacles that yet awaited her.

If she had to describe the feeling festering within her, Teal would describe it as ‘torment’. More than mere anxiety, trepidation, nervousness, or worry, her future was one that had to be met even if what she would face would be uncomfortable, frightful, agonizing, or even lethal. Strolling up the large hill further and further, Teal wallowed in notions she had previously considered as well. What if I die again…? She had no answer and she doubted she ever would until it happened. She could not explain her present situation better than she could her past or future ones. All that mattered, in her mind, was that she was here now, and she was going to do whatever it took to get home. To return to those she loved. She was not simply wracked with dread, but was engrossed by yearning as well.

Allowing one final huff, one that confidently announced the successful ascension of the loosely forested incline, the carmine Spirit came to the summit as Lacrimosa fluttered about. They scoffed at the insect and bantered, “Do not mock me; I carried you most of the way up here!”

It was amid their playful repartée that Teal’s awareness was drawn to a pair at the far end of the pinnacle; as if they hadn’t moved since her departure, there sat the Mother and Child atop their picnic blanket. Caution tempered Teal’s outgoing excitement. They’re still here? she considered, No, no, certainly they left and came back… But what are the chances I found them at the same hill a second time?!

Teal approached during her ponderings; if nothing else, she could inquire directly as to their current and former whereabouts. Nearing, she heard the parent and their offspring chatting in low, casual voices. It seemed as though they were neither happy nor joking, but there was no animosity to the situation. In all likelihood, they simply made commentary in the airy way that family excels at.

When she reached the plot, admiring the neat birch tree nearby, the pair’s adorable basket, and the smattering of crockery laid out, Teal was first met by the Mother’s mean initial reaction; her incredulous sneer was one of stunned suspicion. Her expression melded immediately into one of vague confusion before finally deciding to stick with pleasant relief. “Oh, it’s you again,” she breathed. Her and the Child stared up at the arrival – she was quick to add, “I didn’t hear you coming this time.”

“Ah,” Teal restrained her laughter, but not her grin, “I knew what to expect this time.”

“What happened to your clothes?” interrogated the Child.

The Mother was quick to apply various wordless admonishments, but Teal merely chuckled, “I would be lying if I said that I knew. What do you think? Does red suit me?” She twisted herself back and forth, allowing the cloak to billow this way and that.

The display drew no comment from the Child who likely knew not what pleasantries to apply. In their stead, the Mother replied, “It’s nice! Though somehow bolder than the white… How have you been, traveller?”

It wasn’t a question that Teal was expecting, nor one that she knew how to answer. Her gentle expression persisted as she answered, “Oh, uhm… Fine! Just fine.” She shifted the conversation at once, “Tell me, have you been here all this time?”

Subduing a snort, the Mother explained, “Oh, no! No, no. It must kinda seem like we’ve been here this whole time to you. It’s just coincidence we happened to be on another picnic while you were passing.”

Teal was shocked at the serendipity of it all. The moment of sonder made her reflect on the many things the pair must have done after she had left – in a fantasy she imagined what all the small family had been up to. Had they gone home? Where exactly was their home? Were there others waiting for them there? Did the Child go to school or were they home-schooled? Did the Mother work? What did they eat for dinner? Eschewing her frantic daydreaming though, she rejoined instead, “How fortunate that I stumbled by when I did then! How long has it been?”

The Mother blinked up at the Half-Elf. “How long…?” she repeated.

“Yes, since we last met,” Teal clarified.

“Uhm…” the Mother hummed. She turned and looked down to the Child for support, but the Child looked up at her with an identically blank expression (Well, half identical). Forced to confess, she bobbed her shoulders at Teal, “I’m not sure, actually. A week maybe?”

“A week?” Teal parroted.

“Maybe,” restated the Mother.

The Child was silent.

Teal was then silent.

The Mother was silent as well.

Lacrimosa was silent too, for the record.

After a pause, Teal piped up, “May I sit with you a moment?” With a nod and a gesture, the Mother assented, the pair scooted to make room, and Teal knelt next to them. “Truthfully, I desired to share with you both a small story – it is one that my father once told me,” she offered, making herself comfortable on the quilted blanket. The parent and their offspring once again consented although much more vaguely for the request was somewhat outlandish. Lacrimosa carefully fussed onto Teal’s shoulder awaiting her tale as well. Beaming as the Half-Elf was, flashing the sharp teeth indicative of their Feie lineage, they recited a translation:

“In the age of the first Elves, we call this the Mythic Era, there was a great hero. They lived at a time of peace following a terrible war; to celebrate the peace the hero planted three fruit trees in their garden. Let us say they were nectarine trees! The hero tended to their courtyard diligently, and after a time the trees were mature.

The first tree laboured tirelessly to produce blossoms of unrivalled resplendence; its petals were vibrant and the air around it was sweet. Some say their blooms resembled precious jewels! When it bore fruit however, it refused to allow any of its nectarines fall to the ground – it clung to them stubbornly. All it yielded simply withered on the branches and, thinking the tree had become old and sickly, the hero chopped this tree down.

The second tree was careless. It bloomed nicely enough, but at the first sign of a chill it dropped its petals downward. This tree bore fruit as well, yet they were misshapen and sour. As none were appetizing to eat, the tree let their nectarines fall and rot on the ground; this filled the air with the scent of decay. Thinking the second tree had aged and grown ill as well, the hero chopped it down too.

There was, of course, the third tree. It cared for its blossoms as best as it could, but when the time came its petals caught the wind and were scattered on the breeze – the hero admired how gracefully they danced through the air. The fruit produced thereafter grew modestly; they were neither too large nor too small. Only when the nectarines were at their ripest, when the flavours were rich and delicate, would they depart from the tree and tumble to the ground. The fruit it bore was delicious and the hero treasured it greatly – so much so that they styled their entire garden with this tree at its centre!

Within the new garden, the hero buried the core of one of the third tree’s nectarines beside it. In time, the seed took root, matured, and become a lovely sapling beneath the branches of its forebear. Inevitably, the third tree lived a full life, growing old and venerable. The hero had spent countless hours admiring its nature, but, when it came time, they too chopped down this tree. With its wood, they fashioned great pillars for their manor so that they and their descendants might admire its contribution well beyonds its lifetime.

In its place amid the garden, the young seedling flourished. It grew tall and matured into a tree just as capable as its predecessor. Although its shape was unique, Its blossoms were just as, if not more, brilliant and its nectarines just as, if not more, delicious.”

At this juncture, her tale completely woven, Teal took to silence and reflection. A breeze tumbled by to fumble the leaves above, to bend the boughs of trees, to rustle hair, and crinkle along clothing’s creases. The quartet, each for their own reasons, respected the brief utterance of serenity. Teal could never be certain if the message of the little story, her interpretation of it as she remembered it told to her, resonated with her audience. All the same, she had told it.

The first one bold enough, or in this case carefree enough, to break the quiet was the Child. “Do Elves live forever?” they wondered.

“Not quite,” Teal was brought back to the present by the query, “They live much longer than Humans though… And nectarine trees.”

The Child twisted their face into something of a confused frown, “How come?”

To the Half-Elf, this was an odd question; that’s just how it was for their kin. There was an answer, of course, so they attempted to simplify it for the youngster. “Elves are of the Feie, you see,” they explained. Before the tot had time to pry, they added, “The Feie are sort of… Magic. They are quirks of the arcane forces of the universe. In Elvish culture, we attribute the creation of Elves to the spilling of wine at a Feie festival.”

“Another story?!” gasped the Child, agog with anticipation.

Hurriedly though, the Mother cut in amid her gentle laughter. “Don’t pester the girl, my dear,” she chided, grasping her Child’s shoulders. Then she calmly turned to Teal, “The story was sweet, but to be honest, we were just about to pack up and go home when you showed up… Maybe you’d like to come with us? Another story over tea and biscuits might be nice.”

By way of blushing at the impromptu offer, Teal added to her already red exterior. She hadn’t expected to win over the pair with her mean tale and her mind spun fantastical visions of the quaint cottage in the forest where the Mother and Child must reside. It stung to see the Child’s expression of excitement fade to disappointment as Teal revealed, “Ah, I am afraid I must decline, thank you. Though I wish to indulge, I shall depart as well…”

The Mother found this curious; she assumed the traveller had been on a circuit of sorts since they approached from the same direction as last time. “Where are you headed?” she pried, perhaps overstepping her position as an acquaintance.

Teal was unbothered, she simply smiled and replied, “With any luck, home as well.” There was another quiet moment – this time it was less serene and one preceding sombre separation. The skies were dark overhead; the wind, it seemed, carried something baleful. She was the first to stir, to accept the reality for what it was, and rose to her feet. Habitually dusting off her cloak and garments, Teal peered to the pair as they rose in turn. In an instance of rash vivacity, she offered, “Before I withdraw, would you care to see something?” Coming to trust the peculiar passerby, the pair agreed with a nod and Teal led them a pace or two from their blanket.

All in attendance, Teal reached beneath her cloak and retrieved the dagger at her belt; she ignored the apprehensive look of the Mother and the one of awe of the Child. She closed her eyes and stood at the ready, focusing and feeling the energy of the world around her. It was thin, but it was there all the same. As if a symphony conductor, Teal waved her wand in one gloved hand while the other mirrored its movement. First, they flicked outward, then they swished upward, and finally they came down together with a whoosh. Meanwhile, she quietly uttered, “Zhĕng lǐ.”

Compelled by forces unseen, the wicker picnic basket suddenly flew open. The nearby cups, plates, and containers rose from the ground; floating through the air as if caught by the wind, they deposited themselves within the crate one by one, neatly and methodically placing themselves exactly as they were packed. As this occurred, the blanket under it all slid from beneath the display. Aside, it casually flicked itself free of crumbs and began to fold itself up – its corners met again and again until its mass was overlapped into thirds for easy transportation.

The spectacle had the Mother and Child transfixed. Their chins collectively drooped to the ground as they watched the ghostly display; with a mere roll of their wrist, the stranger had caused their picnic to autonomously and ephemerally stow itself away for them to carry off. Neither was able to wretch their eyes from the exhibition, nor did they want to. Not long after though, the basket landed back in place with a subdued clatter within and the blanket, now professionally pressed, placed itself atop.

They couldn’t believe it. They were utterly astounded. The pair looked to one another first, as if witnessing the other’s amazed expression abolished their doubts regarding the possibility of their shared reality. Their silence only confirmed that each was correct in what they had just beheld and, quickly, they drew upon the traveller, eager to pester them with excited questions.

Much like their passion, however, the wizard they sought had vanished. As amazement twisted itself into befuddled confusion, the Mother and Child searched in vain for the ruby Spirit. All that was left of them, in a sense, was the magically packed picnic.

Knight, Pilgrim, and Sage:

“I’m fine, Lacrimosa, I’m fine,” Teal insisted as she stumbled aside for the second time since departing the hilltop. The moth had been floating about her face since they left, its little embers falling as golden specks of snow to the Half-Elf. They mollified their Companion by admitting, “I hadn’t expected such a simple spell to be so taxing, that’s all.” No longer harangued by the insect who had placed themselves at the brim of her cap, Teal discreetly sniffled again and again as she walked; she could feel a drop of blood trying to escape her nose.

Putting that aside, Teal marched onward through the remainder of the forest. She was silent after her commentary with the moth on her hat, but this allowed her some moments of respite as she followed the path to her destination. She paused to watch a gaggle of finches chirp among their ranks, she stopped to appraise a swatch of wildflowers along the side of the road – chickweed and speedwell by the delicate white and blue blooms respectively, and appreciated how the trail swung back and forth among the great conifers surrounding her. She wondered briefly if this is where she had fainted on her last attempt through the woods. Maybe she was still being watched by some unknown force; if they were watching, they would witness her stride forth confidently regardless of her present ailment.

In this way, the duo found the trees thinning ahead of them. The sky and landscape became visible through the trunks and boughs peppering the immediate horizon and, soon enough, gave way to the hilly sprawling lowlands that Teal recognized. At the edge of the forest she gazed out, eyes tracing the curvature of the rolling hills. She thought back to the vista near the Artist and wondered if it was all part of the same geographical area, if these sweeping valleys somehow adjoined those she had passed. She imagined the brook swirling between the many divots in the uneven landscape until depositing themselves in some hidden lake.

The Loch… Teal remembered, I never did pass by the loch that the Pilgrim mentioned. She wasn’t keen to dwell on why she hadn’t passed it, but the connection was so deep that she inadvertently recalled the reason: they were responsible. She would see them soon enough, maybe, but for now Teal shook her head to return to reality. Doing so, she tore her view from the picturesque terrain and proceeded to egress the forest proper. This also had the unfortunate effect of displacing Lacrimosa who bobbed about frantically before the Half-Elf. “O-Oh, sorry. I forgot you were up there,” they apologized.

Not more than a dozen steps after, the Half-Elf noticed a glint along the path in the distance – one near a gathering of large rocks and scant trees at the roadside. They recognized the location immediately, even from this angle and distance, as the spot where she had met the Knight – where she had become conscious in their presence, that is. She knew the place well because she had considered staying there forever. Assuming the shine in the distance to be the Knight’s armour, her pace quickened with excitement toward their stony recess.

As Teal neared though, her enthusiasm waned and chilled; fright crept in like a cold gust and smothered her zeal which caused her heart to sink. She stopped at once point to assess from afar, only for her fears to be correct: the Knight was not perched atop their boulder as she had left them, they were sprawled out on the ground. Worse yet, they were stationary - less than that, perhaps. It was here that Teal hastened toward the rocks; not as fast as she could, but at that unusual half run used exclusively by one unsure if danger is imminent.

Her fears were realized when she drew close to the figure; details sharpened, and it was apparent that the Knight was slumped across the dirt. Their armoured appendages were limp at their sides, but Teal could see no signs of damage to the body. Rushing near, too hesitant to call out before approaching, she scanned the area for blood or evidence of a skirmish – there were no arrows nor signs of arcane abuse. Additionally, the mercenary’s armaments were close at hand. How those boulders began to resemble harrowing gravestones at that lonesome roadside.

Certain that an ambush was not to blame, Teal knelt beside the Knight to inspect their fallen saviour. As she was about to press her shaking hands against the carcass, she gasped and withdrew herself. Along the corpse, growing from beneath it, were tendrils and leaves so thin that Teal hadn’t noticed them at first blush. They wrapped and twisted themselves into every pocket and crevice of the Knight’s armour, slowly making their way from that which lay against the soil to its opposite side. If she watched closely, she could see the flora creeping, creaking, crawling its way along, growing denser by the moment.

Although Teal was baffled, instinct took over and she began to claw and tear at the miniature vines. “No, no. I promised, please,” she muttered fearfully as sense came to her mind. She pulled the knife from her belt and, as if removing seams from cloth, started to carefully cut the plant’s stems at their base. The process was arduous and finicky, the difficulty of which was compounded by her trembling hands, but Teal saw to it all the same. She paid it no heed, but she was somewhat disgusted by how the vines seemed to wither and disintegrate to ash when she sliced them – she tossed what was in her grasp away immediately or simply let it return whence it came. Teal engrossed herself so intensely in that time that she didn't recognize the low rumbling from beyond the remote hilltops.

“Come on…” she found herself whispering hopelessly, freeing the body bit by bit. Lacrimosa, in their part, fluttered about as if attempting to keep morale high. At one juncture though, unsure if the pathetic process was potentially pointless, Teal sat up and caught herself puffing; she knew that if she wasn’t careful, she might begin to cry. It was in this quiet moment that she heard something nearly inaudible that spurred her on: a light but undeniable breathing originating from within the Knight’s metal helmet. “Knight?!” she yelped, leaning over them.

Other strange, almost compelled, exclamations escaped the Half-Elf as they pried at the weeds that knotted themselves about the fallen Knight. “It is okay,” Teal found herself cooing over and over separated by remarks such as, “Do not die,” or vapid questions like, “Can you hear me?” In this way, she freed their legs and had begun their arms when, having dislodged their gauntlet covered hands, she spied something clutched in their grasp. She tore away the tendrils intertwining the Knight’s fingers to discover that, even in this state, they still clung to the indigo she had given them. Teal started to sputter, hardly able to contain her sobs. She passed a sleeve across her eyes and resumed her task of prying free the Knight’s torso. “Please do not die, please. I promised you. Please,” she quietly begged.

She was unsure if the Knight was truly on the verge of death, but their comatose state was anything but reassuring. Regardless, something poured from Teal as she toiled – she was certain the Knight could not hear her, but all the same it tipped from her heart. “I-I know it can be dreary and hopeless. The weight of it all, the constant weariness is crushing, but you must not give up,” she softly cried, “I gave up once and... And became less than nothing. I-I felt so empty that all of the cosmos would not account for a drop within me. We may never grow to be anything in the infinite universe, but that does not mean that we should not live. Please, you must cling to hope. Remember what it is that you are passionate for, what you love most of all…”

There was more she wanted to preach, more that wanted to bubble out along with her tears, but she succeeded in damaging the plant enough for it to wither fully and relinquish the Knight. Frantically tucking her wand away, Teal pushed the figure over onto their back and shook them from their shoulders. “Knight?!” she squawked, “Good Knight?!” No answer. She leaned in toward their covered visage, turning an ear towards it. Faintly, barely, they were still breathing.

Teal’s fretting coagulated as she pressed her hands into her black locks. What do I do?! spiralled through her frazzled mind. She knew the theoretical application of magic needed to revitalize the Knight, but she had never practised the healing arts of Bioplasy – a mistake could be disastrous. Worse yet, it would cost her energy that she may not be able to conjure; casting spells here seemed more demanding than elsewhere. She was certain that she wouldn’t be able to carry the Knight, even without their belongings. Biting down on her lip, Teal weighed her options. She would have to act quickly lest the devilish vine ensnared the Knight again. Worse yet, another heavenly rumble swelled - droplets decended discreetly at first, tapping distinctly against Teal's hat and the Knight's armour. In the span of a few seconds, it began to rain.

It was a lot farther to the Sage’s abode from the edge of the forest than Teal recalled. She supposed the large patches of trail that she forgot were due to the exhausted delirium she experienced them in previously. She let out a huff, one brought on by the warmth of her exertion and by the simmering of her thoughts, as she strolled along. Following the thin pathway to its next stop was her only recourse at present.

The whole thing was disastrously foolish – Teal was glad to be among the isolated wilderness for such an embarrassing performance. With few other options available to her, she was forced to bring the Knight along to the Sage’s. Ideally, they would be able to sort the Knight out, but at the very least it would be a safe place for the veteran to rest in peace. Unable to physically carry the Knight however, it was necessary for the wizard to apply their craft. This is why the fighter’s body now clumsily hovered above the ground, trailing behind the hiking Half-Elf by a few paces. Levitating the entire body would be far too strenuous for them though, and so, thinking creatively, Teal focused her spell upon the battler’s breastplate instead. This was far more effective than carrying the entire load, but it had the awkward effect of causing the Knight’s limbs to limply dangle from their core.

The load still weighed on the carmine Spirit, and they caught themselves tipping to the side; it had not been the first wobble since they started off. It didn’t help that they had to carry the Knight’s shield and spear in her hands. Catching the misstep and balancing herself, Teal silently persevered, ignoring the obvious first signs of arcane fatigue. She noted the soft splash of her boots as she balanced and, with another sigh, paused to catch her breath.

She looked out from beneath the large brim of her chapeau. Visibility was poor amid the rolling hills, especially as they grew and temperatures shrank - fog rolled about the space amid the mist. Scanning the horizon though, she recognized a faint silhouette as the Sage’s imposing tower not too far off. Teal quietly weighed the success of her venture given the distance and her current fatigue. While doing so, she looked to the opposite direction, past the lumpy kames and hills. It was about here she heard the train on her previous journey. She knew now that the town where she met the Scout must be somewhere out beyond the valleys. I wonder where those trains go from there, she considered. She would allow her thoughts to trail no further.

Rain tapped against the Knight’s steel coating. Normally Teal would enjoy such a sonnet, but she was too preoccupied ignoring the sting in her arms to concentrate on much else – the warrior’s equipment, among other things, were taking its toll on the Half-Elf. They were once more required to sniff back a stream of blood trickling from their nostrils. One such droplet escaped its origin and pooled along Teal’s lips, causing her to pause and cuss. “Blast,” she sharply sighed, instinctively licking her lips clean – she regretted this.

The metallic taste filled her mouth and brought to mind the last time she had tasted her own blood. She didn’t want to dwell on the memory, but as she stood, panting softly, she could still feel its lingering effects on her person. She hadn’t checked, she was afraid to, but evidenced by the small marks left on her face – the gash between her eyes and the cut along her cheek – she knew she must bear a pair of scars on her torso. Awful and mangled gashes that tingled in unison while she struggled not to ruminate. What if I inherit a third…

Unable to find a suitable means of wiping her face clean, Teal was required to allow the blood along her face to darken and dry where it was while she kept its kin at bay. It was in this resignation that, by means of the shifting haze, Teal realized how near the Sage’s tower she had drawn. There stood the structure past the next hill.

Her destination at hand, her spirits lifted considerably. “Almost there, Lacrimosa,” she breathed as she resumed her task. She added, jokingly, “It would be great if you would help, you know.” To this, the moth leapt from the epaulette at her shoulder and descended upon the shield in her grasp. Teal watched as her Companion clung to its side and flapped their wings fruitlessly. She burst into laughter as she walked.

Coming upon the length of trail which snaked toward the Sage’s residence, Teal admired the peculiar shape of the building; the mists and fog added an air of mystique making it seem as if its many uneven outcroppings and features might move on their own into different places at any moment. Teal marched closer and closer, ignoring her present woes, to the floral enclosure which marked the entrance of the estate. When she spied it through the murk, she was shocked to not only see someone outdoors, but two individuals no less.

This was both fortuitous and concerning. Teal discerned at once that the being within the courtyard must be the Sage as they were seated and tucked beneath an eerily raised umbrella. The other took her a moment to recall, but as she scanned the unique shape of their tall, pointed, lid, she knew it once it must be the Pilgrim. The crimson Spirit knew not why the two were engaged in a colloquy; were they not engaged in their weighty predicament they likely would not interrupt. Alas, it was pertinent to do so.

It must have looked very strange from the perspective of the pair exchanging pleasantries. As a matter of fact, the Sage, on the cusp of prattling to a particularly provocative problem posed by the Pilgrim, audibly gasped at the oddity approaching: emerging from the dense fog just a stone’s throw away was a familiar silhouette accompanied by a ghastly figure bobbing through the air behind them. Following their the elder's eyes, the Pilgrim swung about as well and uttered a baffled, “Oh goodness,” at the oncoming anomaly.

There was a teeter to Teal’s step as she neared, her sense of sight was becoming dull and the world about her grew blurry. She forced herself to sound cheery as she drew closer to the pair, but could only produce a soggy, “Hello.”

Utterly baffled by the far too casual introduction, both the Sage and Pilgrim choked.

“It is you!” breathed the Sage.

“You!” heaved the Pilgrim.

Teal sighed as she completed the final steps needed to enter a proper conversational distance. Speaking evenly to mask her condition, she addressed them both, “Not just me, I am afraid. I—”

“You know them?!” exclaimed the pair in unison, gawking at one another. They both shook their heads, returned to ogling the Half-Elf, and, in chorus, demanded, “I thought you went to the tower!”

“I-I… Well… I-I did, you see, and—” Teal’s head, like a struggling motor, chugged along in spurts as her words stumbled out, “That is not important. I— M-My friend here is in poor condition. I fear they may be close to death, and I do not have—”

“You levitated them all the way here, you fool!” grumbled the Sage, twisting their seat toward the new arrival, “Give them here. Quickly, before you hurt yourself!” Teal gave an abashed nod as she dispelled her charm – it took the Sage all but a wave of their wrinkled hands to take the Knight from her levitation. They guided the body over the low barrier surrounding their property, doing so in a careful and dignified manner in which all of their limbs were supported. With an inkling of past authority, urged, “Follow me inside. Give the Half-Elf a hand, they are likely fatigued.”

Witnessing not only an armoured floating corpse, but the exchange of its ownership between two beings they hardly knew gave the Pilgrim quite a start. They blinked at the elder as they were effortlessly wheeled to the grand entrance of their home, the strange body in tow. They blinked at the Half-Elf stood across them too – the intent of Sage’s command was obvious since they knew of Teal’s heritage from their first encounter. Unsure of what to say or do, the Pilgrim stood and gaped for a moment; it was clear that the pale Half-Elf, their ears drooping from exhaustion, was swaying uneasily from side to side.

“H-Here, you can lean on me and I’ll—” the Pilgrim’s offer was cut short by a shake of Teal’s head.

“Thank you, but I can walk. I would be grateful if you would take these, however,” she bowed and spoke with a weak voice, lifting the shield and spear toward the Pilgrim. With some hesitation, they clasped the equipment, appraising it idly; both the weapon and protector were sturdier than they visually appeared.

Insisting that Teal go first, the collection of dawdlers collectively made their way into the foyer of the Sage’s apartments. The space was well lit by the time of the Pilgrim’s arrival and the Knight had been draped atop a fine divan at the far end of the room. The Sage loomed over the armoured body muttering to themselves; nearby, chairs were adjusted, decanters and glasses atop platters floated by, décor was dusted and tidied in a rush, and the space near the divan was rapidly converted in a welcoming seating area.

In her intoxicated reverie of weakness, Teal scanned the room. While her vision was bleary and seemed to be out of sync with her various faculties, she remembered her previous visit to this space was less illuminating. Was I just as ragged then? Surely, I was worse off… she considered to herself. She had largely spaced out and was admiring the various embellishments of the room now that she could take them in properly: the unifying motif of the lavish furnishings; the delicate shade of the wallpaper’s pattern and how it accented the dark millwork along the same surface; the brass chandelier above with its crystal embellishments that, planned or no, meshed seamlessly with the platter on which a shapeless servant carried several glasses of water.

She gawked at the plate and slowly blinked – it had been brought right before her pointed nose and all she did was stare at it. The overcast light mingling with the glow of magical sconces twinkling through the container and the shifting of the liquid caused the sparkles to dance. Dancing, light, twinkling, shifting… Many thoughts collided in the Spirit’s addled mind. It was here they dreamt of Caspian; they remembered the dream’s source now, but knew it was not the time to dwell upon it. Their memory shifted as they admired the miniature light show – they recalled a blaze she had seen once not so long ago. The most brilliant one she had ever seen. Something’s twisting in my chest, from within my fear I wrest. To seek them out upon my quest; I should, I must, it would be best.

From aside her, the stirring of the Pilgrim noisily placing their burden near the divan tore her from her polluted state. Teal started with something of a spasm and fumbled with the glasses inelegantly before mumbling some words of thanks to whomever delivered it. She ingratiated herself among the present, holding the chalice of water at her chest. As she looked around the room, taking in the other beings surrounding her, she whispered discreetly to Lacrimosa, “If you would like a drink, help yourself to mine before I quaff it in one gulp.” She noted the bug scuttling along her sleeve while she inspected the state of things: the Sage was hovering their luminous hands above the Knight, they appeared deeply focused; the Pilgrim, on the other hand, had taken a seat and looked on with visible concern.

The platter of water interrupted them as well though, and, turning nervously to look up at the levitating offering, they raised their hands. “A-Ah, no thanks,” they squeaked and awkwardly tacked on, “I must fast while on my pilgrimage.” Teal found the notion off-putting, not wholly because she was struggling to stay within the present moment, but because, to her, the only good fast was a breakfast.

She sauntered across the room when the floating plate took leave; the Pilgrim looked at her with fearful eyes and Teal worried her uneven stumbling across the parlour came off more as an intimidating strut. Worse yet, she stood there a moment staring down past her nose at the chair bound wayfarer as she waited for her faculties to line up properly. The way she loosely held a chalice in her mitts may have conveyed a desire to toss its contents at the Pilgrim in some petty display of scorn. It was due to all these signs and their own unease at the present predicament that the Pilgrim simply looked up to her and uttered, “Um.”

Forcing her eyes to focus required a long, slow blink. When she did finally line herself up, Teal spoke laconically, only emphasizing her apparent malice. “Why is it that you fast?” she inquired, her voice hoarse and dry.

The Pilgrim squirmed in their seat and fumbled their palms back and forth. “I-I uh…” they muttered, “I guess I find it helps me find clarity, in a way. If I don’t need to think of food or drink on my journey, then I can focus on the destination.”

That sounds ridiculous, Teal judged, but then reflected, I suppose I made it to the same destination though… Sort of. Her gaze shifted to her glass, and she watched Lacrimosa wiggle at its rim. She couldn’t tell if they were just sitting there or if they were drinking – it was hard to tell with insects, but the intent seemed to be one of sipping. Was that a proboscis or just a twitch of their leg? It was difficult to tell. She had to stop herself from laughing aloud as her deranged mind conjured, I guess for a bug, it’s topple or tipple.

Watching the Half-Elf and their crazed grin only made the Pilgrim more uneasy. When the scarlet Spirit cordially asked, “Are you only just passing by after we first met?” the religious rover could only gawk with a slack jaw.

Floundering for the right words, or any for that matter, the Pilgrim only managed to spew out an ill-placed and nervous chuckle – Teal didn’t even flinch at the awkward utterance. “G-Goodness, no,” they finally managed to braid together a thought, “It’s sort of the opposite, to be frank. I was headed back toward the bell tower – this is a new pilgrimage for me!”

This struck Teal as incredibly odd, but she presently lacked the fortitude to process exactly why it caused her to squint and churned her innards. She was aware of how tactless she had been, how awful her speechcraft was currently, but when she felt as sluggish as she did, she couldn’t muster the compassion to care all that much – she was different when she was drained, or maybe it was one of her more obscured facets. She tried her best to express an interest in the Pilgrim’s situation though; she really was keen to hear their explanation. Alas, all she breathed was a conversational, “Oh?” in hopes of spurring them on.

It worked well enough. The hiking herald felt compelled to clarify themselves. “After we parted ways, I went home – it was a long walk from where we met. It always is,” they explained. Teal grew anxious, a weight developed inside her, but all she did was nod and hum to indicate that she was listening. The Pilgrim proceeded, “I stayed there for some time, but eventually I heard the haunting toll of the distant bell and... I tried to shake off my malaise; it was futile. It always goes this way though. Inevitably, I knew I must depart – so I gathered my things and did. How long ago was that…? I-I actually have no idea! Haha! …It’s funny though, I guess I wasn’t all that far ahead of you. Normally I walk by this big tower and just stare at it. I never knew anyone really lived here until today when I saw the elder outside in the garden. We had just been chatting for a while when you wandered over.”

Watching Lacrimosa fly from the cup, Teal noticed that her hands were shaking. She wondered when it was that she had started holding her breath and why she was unable to pry her gaze from the clear jittering water within the crystal crucible. Somehow noticing the way the Pilgrim’s gaze lowered to spy her trembling made her realize that now was not the time nor place to dwell on what bothered her. As a way to dispel herself from her paralysis, Teal suddenly raised the glass to her lips and chugged the entirety of its contents in one go – it hadn’t been the first time she drank so voraciously. The Pilgrim merely gawped at the display of bravado. Was this another layer to the Half-Elf’s intimidation?

It wasn’t, even if there was still blood on her face, but the effect the gulp brought on was the desired one. Teal relished the cool sensation of the water flowing into her as if she were a barren field and the drink a week of rain after a drought. It was a lifeline from the moment of frailty, but not exactly the boost she needed to overcome her lassitude. She brought the back of her glove to her chin to wipe away a drop of water and, while doing so, returned her aloof gaze down at the Pilgrim next to her – they all but audibly peeped in fright. Possessing sufficient wherewithal to converse, Teal finally asked something that had been on her mind, “I take it you still have not found the clarity you seek?”

Silence gripped the stupefied Pilgrim; they had not anticipated such a forward question. Their eyes became downcast, and their body mimicked by slumping in their chair. They answered after a moment of quiet where all that could be heard in the foyer was the dull thrum of the Sage’s casting, “No… I haven’t.”

“I suspect it may have something to do with where you are searching,” the Half-Elf spoke with an evenness that betrayed her appearance – or perhaps it was a steeliness that was amplified by her worn expression. They shifted the glass to loosely hold it in both hands in front of themselves while they watched the Sage perform their ritual across the salon. They couldn’t quite identify the spell in question, it was an old kind of magic that she had only studied in tomes, but she recognized enough of its components to tell that it was a vague form of Bioplasy – spells which manipulate life.

“Wh-What do you mean by that?” the Pilgrim asked, interrupting Teal’s observations.

Her eyes didn’t shift, but her focus did. She quietly reasoned, “I have no objections to faith, but if clarity is what you seek then you must journey within yourself instead of going on these grand pilgrimages.”

Sighing, the journeyer removed their pointed cap and set it on their lap. “You make it sound as if I don’t think or pray on my lengthy commute,” they responded.

“On the contrary,” Teal coldly retorted, “I would guess your mind is quite turbid. If I were to ask, ‘What do you love?’, ‘What is it that you enjoy doing most?’, or ‘What makes you happy?’ could you answer me with confidence?” Teal noted the Sage’s palm raise, the dim magic emanating from them faded, but the Knight did not stir. The elder did not turn, however, they kept their back to the trio behind them – they were focused elsewhere.

Ignorant of this for good reason, the Pilgrim blundered their reply. They could think of nothing, especially at present, that would satisfy any of the red Spirit’s queries. Teal used this to her advantage and, turning to the seated hiker, smiled at them gently. “I do not mean to be hurtful, but sometimes these realizations are not pleasant. When we last met, I was as lost as you feel right now,” she explained, “It is okay not to have the answers to big questions like this at present, but it is a sign that one must engage in deeper introspection – to delve until they find a passion they can cling to earnestly.”

She had muted the poor Pilgrim who looked as though they were a schoolkid being scolded. Teal’s intentions were in the right place, but she was struggling to compliment her advice with her usual gregarious demeanour. She shifted tactics slightly. “May I make a suggestion?” she proposed. She received no verbal response, but the pouting Pilgrim looked up to her expectingly. “It is clear that you are fascinated by the bell tower; you seem to be the curious sort. I cannot fault you on either front for I am guilty of both as well. You also appear to adore the environs around this area too – you told me you had a dream to build a cabin out here.”

“I did, yeah…” the Pilgrim recalled.

Teal forced a grin - one that was soft and full of pain - before she finally got to the gist of her ramblings, “You should stay here with the Sage. I know that sounds insane, but I know for a fact they are seeking an apprentice. They, too, are very intrigued by the bell tower – they have researched it extensively. In fact, I am certain they would find your knowledge of the tower and its vicinity invaluable.”

Their eyes went wide before darting to the old wizard’s back. “A-An apprentice? Me?!” the Pilgrim whispered incredulously.

“You would work well together – you share common interests,” Teal shrugged with a smirk, “The Sage is keen on gathering intel on the tower and sending an expedition to research it thoroughly.”

“B-But I don’t know magic…” they confessed.

This brought some much-needed mirth to Teal’s soul. The arcane was intimidating for many, but available to all. “Just as anyone can study and learn to draw, anyone can study and learn to cast – it is one of the best parts of wizardry,” she professed with genuine admiration, “Do not get so caught up on prestige and lineage; the arcane is indifferent to its wielder… For the most part.”

“It is just a suggestion,” the Half-Elf was quick to add, “Think on it for a time. I wish to speak to the Sage for a moment.”

She paid the Pilgrim no mind as they descended into themselves to consider what they had been told. Teal, in her part, placed her glass on an end table near the divan when she approached the Sage and their patient. She looked down at the motionless figure sprawled on the seat; it was impossible to see any difference in their vitality past the protective shell of their armour. Even kneeling close, she could barely hear the Knight breathing. “Are they going to…?” Teal asked the Sage – she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Live?” the Sage punctuated with a kind smile, “I believe so. A cleric would do better, but, fortunately for our friend here, I am well versed in all fields of magic.”

Nodding slowly, the haggard Half-Elf expressed something akin to worry, though it was diffused by their pallor. They parted their lips, caught amid interest and restraint, but ultimately asked, “You performed a healing spell, correct…?”

“A keen eye you have, young one!” the elder enthused, spinning themselves to face their ward, “Just enough to revitalize the stray you brought in. A broad yet thorough study is best for practitioners such as us.”

“Yes, certainly,” Teal breathed a vapid reply. She was still surprised that the Sage cast such a spell so flippantly. Here of all places, one need not worry of the ramifications of such a thing. It’s not as though an auditor will be enforcing regulations, she weighed. She stared at the wizard as they wheeled themselves closer – there was an odd familiarity to them now, but Teal couldn’t quite place it. Unable to fathom where the notion stemmed from, she simply chalked it up to exhaustion.

In a low voice, the Sage requested, “Would you allow me a private colloquy aside here, young one?” They passed the Spirit and rolled to the other side of the foyer, closer to the entrance. Teal looked back to the Pilgrim who was in visible consternation and the Knight lying supine on the divan. When she caught up with the Sage, they were quick to press her in a low voice, “I see you have regained something of yourself.”

“I-I uhm…” Teal twisted her fingers together – it was a weighty comment, and she was convinced the Sage knew as much. Compelled to offer something as means of response, she revealed, “A lot has happened to me since we last met.”

“It is quite evident! I never did care for red wizards, you know. Always so bombastic and keen on destruction,” the Sage jested. The crimson Spirit tried their best to laugh but was too wrapped up in their anxieties to appreciate any attempt at humour. Sensing this, the elder investigated further, “Your ability to weave the arcane has returned – this is fortunate.”

“It is as you said, one’s capacity to conjure here is diminished greatly,” Teal replied with a crestfallen air, “All the same, I am thrilled to have my skills return to me.”

The Sage agreed with an understanding air, but they became somewhat rigid when they scolded their junior, “What you did, levitating this fallen transient, was incredibly fatuous. It is obvious just by looking at you how taxing it must have been… Given the circumstance, I assume that there was little alternative.”

Why does it feel like I’m being lectured by a teacher? “I-I found them near the forest on my approach,” Teal sheepishly revealed, “They were covered in some… Blight – I had to tear it away from them.” Her eyes drifted downward and she surrendered, “I did not know what else to do…”

With a hand raised as if to cast the issue aside, the Sage’s gentle aura returned. “It was very brave of you, young one, to do as you did knowing what you do,” they commended, “Even with my faculties, I do not know if I could, nor would, have been so benevolent.” Teal said nothing, not expecting to be complimented, and in the interim the Sage sighed. They grieved, “To know you are quite heroic makes your conversation with our other guest even more unfortunate.”

Feeling as though an icy gust brushed past her, Teal went rigid and considered, Of course they heard you talking to the Pilgrim, you idiot, they were sitting right there! The ice tingled through her, and she fidgeted by passing her fingers along the strap of her banjo. “I hope that my suggestion was not too forward,” she meekly replied, averting her gaze from the senior.

“When I first saw you approach through the fog, my heart leapt thinking that you were returning from the tower to embrace my offer to you,” the Sage admitted, their voice full of regret, “However, I take that this is not the case.”

Teal couldn’t stall forever, especially with her perspective tutor grilling her as they were. “I am returning from the bell tower, in a sense,” she sighed, or rather the weight of her reticence pushed the air from her in a great heave, “But… How might I put it sensibly? Were I not certain that my fate lies beyond the bell tower, I would happily stay here to learn from your vast wisdom… And yet—”

“Yet you must press on,” the Sage finished her sentence. When Teal met their eyes again their wrinkled face was full of understanding, but the bittersweet smile of theirs betrayed an inner turmoil. They pushed past it regardless, and, too, continued their conversation, “Despite what you may think, I am happy for you. Your choice saddens me, but when I look at you, I see that keeping you here would be like caging a bird.”

My little bird, purred through Teal’s mind – now wasn’t the time to lag on such things.

Thankfully, the Sage prattled on as if sweep away the refusal with conversation, “You have been to the tower then? Do tell me about it—Or perhaps I should ask your replacement?”

Still pale, Teal brightened up considerably at the wizard’s commentary. “I am certain they know the route to the site better than any,” Teal confessed enthusiastically, putting in a good word for the Pilgrim, “I might tell you of the tower’s more intimate details, but, I admit, I was in something of a stupor on my journey there.” Saying it thusly felt incredibly reductive; she was so delirious then that she could not presently separate reality from fiction.

“Is this true?” the Sage called from across the parlour, turning to where the Pilgrim sat – as if the bubble surrounding them had been burst, they jolted to their feet at the address. With the Spirit following, the elder wheeled themselves back to the makeshift triage to converse more amicably and, addressing the Pilgrim once again, asked, “Have you been to the great bell tower as often as this one professes?”

“I’ve been quite a few times, but I wouldn’t say ‘often’,” the Pilgrim acknowledged, standing at attention as if being assessed.

Simply nodding, the senior digested these new circumstances quietly; there was no need to rush things in their mind. To their perspective student they quizzed, “Have you any prior experience with magic? Or, more pertinently, have you any desire to learn its intricacies?”

“I-I admit, before today I had never seen magic in use,” the spiritual traveller shifted nervously, “Your floating umbrella had me curious, but I certainly hadn’t expected to see a warrior carried along like they were riding a bubble!”

“Yes, our protégée’s approach was rather unorthodox, but it was effective,” the Sage glanced at Teal who had taken the opportunity to space out rather obviously. She was watching Lacrimosa do laps around her head. As not to be rude, the elder made no remark, but addressed the Pilgrim once again, “Whether or not you are keen to learn, you and I might be able to eke out some potential with the arcane arts. Only if you are willing, of course. Otherwise, your information regarding the bell tower would be most invaluable to me and I would be honoured to interview you at length. But first…”

The Sage spun towards the woozy Half-Elf with sharpened intent; the Pilgrim followed suit, sensing a shift in the discussion. “Might you be willing to elucidate us with your furtive knowledge, young one?” the old mage pressed Teal, “I believe I speak for all of us when I say we are most interested in what lurks within the tower.”

“Erm,” Teal stuttered and returned, rather unwillingly, to the present. She gazed upon the eager faces of the Sage and Pilgrim before her; her eyes, too, darted across to the Knight sprawled as they were. “Right, of course,” she gave a sharp nod, yet beneath her cloak she wadded her hands into fists and released them again and again. Her chest was constrained, and everything about her felt heavy all of a sudden. It was as if her clothes were soaked through or the banjo at her back made of solid iron; worst of all, there was a burning sting from the ring on her left pinkie finger.

“There was… Uhm…” she struggled, unable to rationalize why it was suddenly so difficult to speak. The words were in her, spiralling about in a frenzy, but they were all too timid to emerge. She shook beneath her cloak and wondered, How is it that I have forgotten about my ring until now? I promised myself to him and then I—What if they’ve all forgotten me too? Azure and Indigo and… What if… A-And I have to go back and—

“Are you alright, young one?” croaked the Sage with concern.

“Y-Yes! Yes. I apologize. I am just… Struggling to focus,” Teal mollified the pair with an easy grin to convey her embarrassment. It was just a mask. She wasn’t abashed, she was scared, but her veil would have to do for now. She stole herself by clasping her hands behind her back to hide her trembling. She spoke with clarity, but one that lacked her usual enthusiasm, “As I said, I eventually arrived at the tower – which is to say that I found myself at its perimetre.”

She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, but spoke on unfettered, “Its entrance alone is daunting – the fog is dense as though it emanates from the very centre of the space. The only way to the tower itself, or the cathedral it is attached to, is through a nearly endless maze of towering hedges. One must be careful, however, for they are… Uncanny, almost unnatural, and full of jagged thorns.” Teal recalled the metallic spikes jutting from the branches, and reflecting on her past scenario added, “I am not certain, but I have good reason to believe they can be neither razed nor ravaged.”

“Y-You… Went into the maze then?” asked the Pilgrim in a fearful whisper.

“Yes, I—” Teals hands twitched behind her; she was suddenly awash a conflicted shame, “I-I did. There is no other way to approach the tower for the labyrinth surrounds it on all sides. The fog and ever sprawling paths make it easy to fall into delirium. Yet by… Good fortune, I eventually discovered the exit.”

It was the Sage who encouraged the Half-Elf to continue, “That is where you found the tower.”

“The maze is arduous, but at its core are the cathedral and bell tower, yes. And then…” Teal sighed and was forced to deal with the memories of her awful experience earlier than anticipated. She quietly considered at this lapse in her speech, How might I inform while omitting my gruesome account? They need not know of my struggles, perse, only of the dangers that lurk ahead. She tried her best to strike a balance, “Then within is a single large chamber – it, too, is eerie and beautiful. I shall spare you its details, for what concerns one here is the danger that lurks at the room’s core.”

Those listening went silent and their countenance grew dark and cold. Teal had not meant to pause – it was one that made the quiet even more sinister – but she struggled to find a way to aptly define the Warden. “A guardian of sorts awaits,” the Half-Elf started, “I cannot say if it is mortal, be it beast or being, but it is… I-It is…” Deadly. Teal shuddered in air as the ghost of her impalement passed through her – the ache pierced her chest as if the massive spear were still lodged within her. Before the pair grew concerned at the Spirit’s cessation, they quickly diverted their warning, “It is giant and wields an impenetrable shield alongside a lance that could sunder the heavens in twain. I have never seen something move so fast and strike with such ferocity…” Except for maybe Azure, Teal’s mind wandered.

None of the group were keen to speak following the Half-Elf’s assessment. Implications of their knowledge only spun more implications, and no one was willing to confess or pry into them. It was with her last bit of wisdom that Teal finally dispelled the hush, “It protects something. I do not know quite how to define it, but it is activated by the same device that sounds the bell high above. I need to go and… I have t-to… So that I can…”

How would she possibly put into words what she had seen or what she had accomplished with the Hero - what she had done to the Hero? There was only the slightest suggestion of that ominous river’s potential, its vague, antipodal connection to the force which brought beings to this strange land, but it was the only hope Teal had. No matter how thin, no matter how frayed, no matter how pointless, Teal would cling to it and hold on for dear life. It’s what was at stake, after all.

Attempting to comfort the disturbed youth, the Sage piped up, “Young one, you—”

“I vill go,” coughed a raspy echo from beyond the conversation. The four others in the chamber jumped in unison at the unpredicted intrusion, but collectively turned to the Knight at the sofa nearby. They were hunched forward on their knees where they sat, a noticeable teeter from side to side gave away their instability. “I vill go mit sie,” they repeated with a gruesome sternness.

It appeared their patient required a bit of bedside manner, so the Sage turned themselves to approach the Knight. “You are not in a state to go anywhere, my armoured friend,” they advised, “You should not be up and about, let alone sitting – please, rest.”

Ignoring the plea outright, the Knight stubbornly shifted forward, striving to raise themselves to their feet by sheer force of will. They clattered and swayed half raised, and the Pilgrim lurched forward with arms out as if to catch the hulking warrior if need be. They were speechless and their visor obscured their face, but all present knew that they were struggling. Alas, weighed down by exhaustion, the Knight fell back into place on the divan – thump.

Before the Sage could scold the stubborn stoic further, Teal glided past their wheelchair with a quick and effortless stride – the pair she left behind to approach the Knight were shocked to see her move with such intent. Stranger still was how the Half-Elf knelt near the haggard soldier. They clasped the Knight’s left hand in theirs and, peering up, spoke in a hushed voice, “You are alive!”

The veteran did not return Teal’s gaze until a moment later, a sign of their disoriented state. When they did, they witnessed the girl’s grim expression, one mixing relief with worry; her smile was sincere if not grim, but her eyes sparkled with the dew of a fresh morning. She did not urge the Knight to speak, which it seemed it took an age for them to do so. When they did. they only replied, “…Ja.”

As Lacrimosa caught up to the red Spirit, fluttering to their shoulder, they softly interrogated the fallen veteran, “Do you remember what happened?” When the Knight was silent, Teal changed tactics, “H-How did you fall? You were not attacked, were you?”

“Nein…” murmured the Knight. It was obvious that they were reluctant to convey their experience, but the Half-Elf applied their patience and waited. Feeling the concerned squeeze of hands upon their gauntlets, the Knight was fain to yield, “I sit und I rest. Mein Kopf ist voll, aber… I am zinking.”

“S-Sinking?!” Teal interjected.

“Nein! Nein…” the Knight shook their metallic head and sighed, “Aber… Vielleicht.” They raised their other hand to tap at the skullcap of their helmet, “Zinking, ja? Ponder.”

“Oh,” the Half-Elf sheepishly acknowledged, “Y-You were thinking then?”

“I ponder, ja. Zu viel. I zink über die Kleine Blume und meine Familie. Über den Glockenturm – ze lonesome bell, und dann…” they muttered and struggled to stitch together their sentences. Already aware that the warrior’s Common was strange, Teal extended all the grace she could to the ragged soul. They continued, “Dann meine Augen wurden sch—my eyes vere tired. Mein Körper war kalt… Cold, Fräulein, brr! Überall cold…”

As the Knight revealed more of what befell them, their already ragged voice descended to little more than a breathy whisper; Teal was unsure if this was intentional, but she doubted the others in the room could hear the hollow voice beyond its mask. “I vas mit Herr Stein und… Ich schlief ein—I sleep, plötzlich. I fall from Herr Stein und… mit den Borden zusammenstoße. Knall! Ja?,” they made a gesture where a fist descended into the opposite palm, “Aber… Ist mir egal. No matter, no matter. Die Ruhephase ist so süß, Fräulein. Ich wollte das Ende nicht finden. Ze zleep ist so gut… Mein Kopf ist nicht so voll.”

The little story had Teal captivated. She only understood half of it, but her own experience translated the parts she could not understand by ear. How long did they lay before I arrived? How long before the vines crept in? How long was I gone…? She was glad to not have the chance to ruminate, she needed to focus to hear the Knight’s quiet addition, “Ich träume, ja? Have ze… dream. Long, long, dream. I have zuch long zleep, dass… Ich zu einem Hügel wurde. I am ze hill. I am… zufrieden. Ist mir egal. Aber, einen rote Blüte sprießt auf mir und sie weinte und weinte… Zey cry und weep bis mein Herz kommt zurück.”

All the Half-Elf could do was sadly smile – the Knight’s speech made little sense to her pointed ears. Perhaps, though, from the intonation, from the pauses and breaks, from the weariness on their voice or the slight hint that they withheld some deep emotion out of pride or fear, Teal understood what they meant more deeply than she had any right to. After all, she had delved far deeper than the Knight had. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to be the one crying and weeping, nor how the warrior would have heard her pleas in their unconscious state, but all the same she knew there was something to this dream of theirs that struck her profoundly.

Eventually, the Knight stated with a familiar sternness, “Und dass is vhy I vill go viss you to ze—”

“No.”

“N-Nein…?” they breathed and deflated; their heart sank as the Half-Elf shook their head.

Tears welled up in Teal’s eyes as she stared past the Knight’s visor to whatever soul lay beyond. Her smile was broad and brilliant, and as she dabbed at her eyes with her black gloves, she averred with a softness that rivalled silk or worn linen, “Do not be so foolish, my friend. You cannot accompany me – you must not.”

“Aber I—”

“Do not quarrel with me, good Knight,” Teal reproached in such a velvety manner that the fighter complied at once. She hummed on dreamily afterwards, “You kept the flower I gave you… All this time you waited for me to return... Or was it that you did not want to move on? Regardless, you held on. How long was I gone for? What lengths of time spanned the distance between you and me? I can only imagine how lonely you were…”

Her eyes sparkled as she waxed further – she knew she was being emotional and romantic, but she didn’t care, “While I was… Gone, I often wondered of those I love and how they might be waiting for me too. Did they sit on rocks or by windows staring wistfully into the distance hoping that I might return? Did they cook by fires and see my face within the flames? Could they smell my scent upon my belongings, and did it bring them sorrow to know I was not there - that my scent would fade along with their memory of me? Were there tears or did they mourn for me silently? Those who are await you, do you not wish to find them again? I know you have rested long enough, but you must not take your mission to find the lonesome bell lightly. If you wish to succeed, you must be ready.”

After a pause, a rigid nod was all she received. Teal was unsure if her lengthy spiel influenced them or if it was lost in translation. “You held on to our promise, right? I kept it, did I not?” Teal pressed and the Knight offered another slow nod, “I cannot take you directly to the tower, but I have given you a means to succeed. The Pilgrim and Sage here will be much better guides than I could ever be.”

“…Aber was wenn—"

“Hush,” Teal cooed, “As you clung to my promise, cling now to hope. Hold it as tightly as you can and do not allow it to slip from your grasp.”

“Hoffnung…” the Knight whispered in repetition.

“I must tell you two things before I retire, my friend,” Teal smiled sadly and squeezed the Knight’s hand, “The first is that I remember everything now. I see all those I loved as clearly as if I just departed them. Be it a trick of the bell or otherwise, I remember – let this fuel your hope, good Knight. My final word to you is this: I promise you will find the tower. Okay? I promise.”

As she said this, she carved out the sweetest smile she could for the armoured rehabilitant and poured all the sincerity that she could into the vow. As if finally giving in to her demands, the Knight released the young wizard’s grasp and shifted as if readying to lie down. They mumbled drowsily, “Ja, Fräulein… Dein Wort ist gut… Okay…”

Teal watched the beleaguered battler sprawl out once more, but this time with the air and ease of comfort. She rose to her feet as Lacrimosa danced about her and, following one last smirk, turned from the now sleeping Knight. She faced the Sage and Pilgrim who had drawn near, they both expressed a deep concern, but Teal eased them by raising her hands calmly. “They are asleep, do not worry,” she soothed, “Please take care of them though.”

“Of course, young one, of course,” agreed the Sage.

“Have you two discussed your future excursion yet?” Teal quickly shifted the topic away from the Knight and looked from the Pilgrim to the Sage, “Should you not be planning?”

“I-I uhm…” the Pilgrim squawked.

“They are right,” agreed the Sage, wheeling over to their new potential apprentice, “We must begin our discussion at once! First, we need to sort out the tower’s location – we shall need to make a map, however crude it might be, to guide us.”

“I-I can give you as thorough a description as I can!” the Pilgrim piped up, “I do not know the exact distance, but I know many details of the trek there.”

The Sage nodded excitedly, “Good! We will also need to plan for the trip itself and what to do of the maze and whatever lurks within the tower… Or did you say it was a cathedral—”

Upon expanding their social sphere to engage one other, both the Pilgrim and Sage discovered that there were only three bodies present within the foyer. The pair looked about in shock, but the scarlet Spirit was nowhere in sight. They searched frantically nearby – the Pilgrim even ran outside while the Sage called out, “Young one! Where have you gone?!” Accompanied by the old wizard’s many spectres, they searched the entire premises to no avail.

When they reconvened around the Knight, they were despondent and confused. How had the Half-Elf disappeared in such a small moment? How had they departed without opening the door? While the idea lingered on both their minds, neither wished to admit it. The Pilgrim voiced their concerns first, “Maybe they were never here.” The Sage opened their mouth to reprimand their fresh student, but carefully closed it once more – they could not explain the vanishing act either.

The Knight, however, simply snored with an indigo clutched in their grasp.

Wanderer:

Afterimage notwithstanding, Teal admired the pretty jig that Lacrimosa performed by circling her head as she trudged through the vacant lowlands. The pounding in her head had subsided substantially since egressing the Sage’s home, but the grogginess brought on by her exertion failed to disperse. In a way, it made the final leg of her journey all that easier as she was in no state to dwell on her past nor fear her future.

Aware this time of thinning foliage and rougher terrain, the Half-Elf admired her surroundings with far more attention than her previous commute. The flora here was swarthy and rugged; there were very few trees left save the conifers that clung to cliffsides, but hardy bushes, patches of thistle, low wildflowers, and off-green grass flourished all around. Looking out, the hills had grown robust as they undulated effortlessly into one another. It was as if the rolling waves of some former ocean had been locked in time and turned to stone. Teal understood the Pilgrim’s sentiments more acutely now – one could let their heart dwell here with ease. She hoped they would build their cottage in the highlands some day.

She spoke seldomly to Lacrimosa in that time, though the pang of guilt for her quietude did sting at her a little. The bug didn’t seem to mind and Teal, who seldom found company who was as comfortable as her as sitting in silence near another, was charmed by the moth’s aversion to conversation. It was nice to just watch them flit about and appreciate the miniature sparks that drifted from their wings. She compared the insect to a similarly sized Feieling and concluded that their company might be lacking. Fairies, as Teal knew them to be called in Common, seldom shut their traps and were often quite crass or threatening. Not to mention they had a tendency to make off with young ones.

That aside, Teal returned to the present in her discombobulated way. She had realized that she had walked with nary a turn for some distance now. As she looked around, it dawned on her that this was near where she met the Pilgrim – it settled on her just after that the reason for this was because she had been hurdling through this space. She chuckled, recalling the incident. What would running from a hallucination do anyway? she chided herself. Her smile faded as she recalled the line of deformed elves, she was glad she could not remember any of their faces very clearly.

Coming to the bend at the end of the send (Er… Of the trail, sorry), Teal was eager to inspect the area. She surveyed and scoured, even leaving the confines of the path for a few moments, but to no avail. She discerned no evident marks or scuffs from where she had struck the hard ground. Rubbing the shoulder where she had made impact, she wondered why this was the case. Maybe I didn’t fall as roughly or slide as far as I thought, she considered, My cloak was stained on that side quite badly though… It was a miracle my banjo didn’t snap – and poor Lacrimosa…

A chill ran up the length of her neck as the Spirit silently meditated – she ignored it and focused herself on inspecting the ground. Someone was nearby. Someone was exceedingly close to her. Someone possessed elongated elegant features. This someone was not who Teal wanted to see, and as such, she paid them no heed. Instead, she mused on the delicate blooms at her feet; speckles of blue and purple crept this way and that, no doubt the work of Charlie and Veronica.

Regardless of how Teal felt about flowers, the spectral Elf next to her haunted her vicinity with dour presence. It stared at her with its ghastly features: its eyeless sockets, its pale skin, its ancient garbs. Teal knew them all well and had no interest in reviewing them. Is that a yellow violet? Goodness how delightful, is what churned through her mind as she squatted to gaze upon the flowers instead.

Unprovoked, however, the Elf began an aria, chanting lines now burned into Teal’s mind forever,

“Turn and go at once.

Leave. You never learn.

You poor half-bred dunce.

Leave. Do not return.”

Emitting a sigh, Teal reluctantly stood. She refused to afford her visitor a singular glance as she dusted off her crimson clothes, turned to follow the path up the hillside, and left with a dismissive, “Zhùkŏu.”

By committing to a commute, Spirit and Companion traversed the sublime ecotone at their leisure. Lacrimosa, when needed, took shelter at their friend’s shoulder as the deluge had not yet let up. For her part, Teal hiked along unburdened by grievances – her mind had much to chew on and her body plenty to keep it engaged. It had gone largely unregistered in her last commute just how steep and sprawling the terrain of this area was. She was quietly thankful that whoever had chartered this path was keen on avoiding more expedient routes that cut through the peaks surrounding her.

It was along this route, as the softened mountains touched the shifting sheet of pall above that the marching Half-Elf recalled the break she took somewhere among these rises and valleys. I could stop again to rest, but… they considered the impact such a disruption would have. One benefit of such a large swathe separating her point of departure and arrival was that it gave them ample time to recover their faculties; Teal found that, despite her constant movement, her head had largely cleared. Furthermore, she noted how curious it was that she did not feel as fatigued as she did last time.

She settled on stopping her step for a spell. Just to absorb my surroundings, she told herself. Not quite sighing, she exhaled deeply as her green eyes gazed out, etching the contour of the horizon into her mind. Within said mind, however, stirred her many present cogitations. I was playing my banjo then – I wonder if I’ve improved at all. Then I sat and thought of him. I was so upset that all I could remember his fur and now… Somehow, by subconscious instinct, Teal raised her hand and looked at the silken palm. She pulled her fingers into a ball and released them – once, twice… Can I still feel at all?

It was impossible for Teal to describe how she felt in that moment while she watched her own fist clench and fade. The longer she stood motionless, the more it all coalesced inside her: her thoughts, her worries, her doubts, her desires, her future, her past. The sensation inadvertently reminded her of her own insignificance; a jolt of degrassé that brought to mind the haunting chime of these sonorous summits. Oddly enough, she still held onto the reverie fondly somewhere in her heart. To lose oneself here among this ancient range, a place of sublime depth without equal, would be an experience to treasure from one’s life and into the next.

Taking it all in was a difficult feat, but the Spirit tried their best to savour the misty vales and shrouded slopes. They decided, as they did, to hold onto the breathtaking view by means of a singular snapshot in their mind. They may never – and, ideally, would never – return to see these pillowy peaks again. Recalling the gentle hum that called to her on her bygone trek, Teal imprinted the sight of the gentle slopes upon her soul. The cascading heaps of land dissipating into the distance, losing themselves in layer after layer of fog, slowly dyeing themselves a tint of blue that can only be described as wondrously forlorn – this would be what she took with her.

As she tore herself from the scene, Teal too tore herself from the dour thoughts that spun about her; now was not the time for introspection. Now was the present, and it demanded that she keep walking. Sagaciously then, the Half-Elf did just that and continued on their way. Here and there they snuck a furtive peak at the ever-flowing geography about them, but they promised themselves they would no longer dwell nor dawdle.

By doing so, and largely by accident, the sauntering Spirit spied the sequestered spire slinking inside the silvery scenery. It was only a glimpse, a mere flash of the needle through a gap in the fog, but it was enough to bring a waver to her chest. She swallowed in an attempt to steel her nerves, and quietly breathed to Lacrimosa, “We’re nearly there.” They had a way to go, of course, but to see that which she crawled toward, even distantly, was evidence of their perseverance.

Something weighed on the young wizard though; their shoulders sagged from the heft of a present dilemma. Teal knew she feared what awaited her within the tower itself, but what truly gave her pause was her uncertainty of what she might run into before it. There was another she could speak with one last time, a being whom the very thought of which made her insides quiver. She knew to seek them out would be folly, any clever advisor would rule it so, yet something tugged at her that she couldn’t explain. I think I have to see them again, she reflected and sadly accepted, …I think I miss them.

The mist grew thick as the pair entered the wide valley surrounding the bell tower. Teal quietly admired how the range seemed to split in both directions around the space. Moreso, she regarded the mist as it lightened – it, too, existed between forms and was neither rain nor sleet, merely a thin veil of wisps descending from above. The path drove on, and the Half-Elf followed. With each step they took, the tension and anxiety were exacerbated. At any point they might hear the music that would herald the coming of that which they both coveted and loathed.

Yet, as they passed along, they listened. There was nothing. They walked deeper into the valley, tracing the winding road with wary step all the while. They listened again; their peaked ears keen for any sound. All they heard, or thought they heard, was the tender patter of the rain upon their chapeu or the grass and verdure at hand. As one who must sit and wait for a physician for some operation, Teal slid along at a snail’s pace while her stomach twisted into (very empty) knots. She could handle the atmosphere no longer, and stopped in her tracks to call out, “Wanderer?!”

The only answer she was afforded was that of her echo rebounding about the veil which smothered everything in the vicinity. Teal pressed a fist against her lips and soon found her teeth unintentionally digging into her knuckle – she was under the impression that the Wanderer accosted all who entered the vale, but perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps their meeting was as astronomically improbable as any other, and yet something was bothering her. She was concerned despite knowing she ought not to be. It felt as though a part of her was still tied to that manic being, be they baneful or benign, but if they were attached by the red thread of fate then why did they not answer? Why did Teal not sense them? Furthermore, why did she care? It would be so easy to continue on and walk to her goal.

“Wanderer!?” Teal yelled.

There came no answer.

“WANDERER?!” Teal bellowed with her hands cupped around her mouth.

There came no answer. Why would there?

Teal stood alone, wadding her fists, and snivelled. Why are you crying, you idiot? she chided herself. So what if they’re gone, they were crazy anyway. Just… Move on. It would be the easiest thing for her to take one step, then another, and do just that. She could leave this spot and charge headlong into whatever fate had in store for her within the cursed bell tower. Fate… Fate…? she remembered her enigmatic conversation with the Wanderer so long ago and, in doing so, cemented her sentiments. If every moment spawned another branch of her life, then she wanted this branch to be the one where she said goodbye to the Wanderer – or at the very least, tried to.

Smearing the tears from her eyes with one of her fists, Teal yanked the banjo from her back and cradled it before her. She hesitated with a glove above the strings while she reconsidered, This is so stupid. Unsure of what to play that might garner that writhing demon’s heed, Teal plucked the first thing that came to mind: the opening line of the waltz that she and Caspian had danced to all those years ago. Once, she had assumed the tune to merely be part of her dreams, but now she knew for certain that it was one of her most beloved songs. The metallic twang of her banjo sounded out as if intent to fill the valley with its heartbroken call, but as it travelled it, too, was inevitably devoured by the dense fog. Teal strained her ears to listen for anything, her hands trembling with anticipation against the banjo as she held it close.

On the cusp of despondence, as tears again welled at the edges of her eyes, as her nose began to sting with sorrow, Teal heard it ever so faintly on the air: the distinctive crow of pressurized air squawking out an answer. It was the next passage of the waltz played with such a delicate grace that Teal gasped, recognizing it immediately as that which played when she was suddenly transported to the bell tower’s perimetre. The sound was so faint, so ghostly, that the carmine Spirit faltered. They knew not if it was a trick of their desperation of if they had indeed heard the line.

There was only one thing to do in such a scenario: Teal played the following segment of the sweet song as well as she could remember it. She lacked the wherewithal and the skill to masterfully recreate the melody note for note, but her rendition captured the wistful essence of the magical piece. At the completion of her section, and surely this time, she heard that haunting tone swell from somewhere, perhaps everywhere, in the distance. She grinned from ear to ear as the melody swayed, but her heart sank as it suddenly halted at the end of the first verse. There was silence, haunting silence, and at once, in a dither, the anxious Half-Elf hollered, “WANDERER?!”

“Yes?” came a piercing cluck from behind the red Spirit.

Teal spun with alacrity to face the voice, sending Lacrimosa flying and her cloak billowing. It was them, just as she remembered; bizarre shawl and cap and the frightening, shifting, mask they kept for a face. She was taken aback by how dark and menacing their form truly was, especially now that she had the Warden as a reference to compare them to. When she noticed the indescribably nebulous quality of shifting colours that composed the ‘black’ that was the Wanderer’s body, she was struck by an odd wave of gratitude – it was distinct from the void that comprised the guardian within the bell tower.

There came something akin to a sharp inhale as she turned though. As she ogled in silence the Wanderer bobbing effortlessly before her, Teal was caught off by their almost malicious grin – she had forgot how sickening their mask became when they smiled so. Then came their voice, that bizarre combination of avian trills that cackled in unison, as they chortled with delight, “Krhrhrhrhreehe… It’s you.”

Teal was exceptionally thrilled to see Wanderer again, but immediately recalled why she had been wracked by indecision – their voice alone, their intonation, brought about an unworldly sense of insignificance, of some inexplicable jubilant sickness. Struggling against her instinct to run in fear from the apparent aberration, the Half-Elf gripped their instrument tightly and forced herself to be convivial. “I-It is me! You remembered,” she stammered, “…It is good to see you again.”

The murky apparition teetered in place playfully and were silent amid their feral giggling. Teal found this strange and especially distressing; she had not, until now, seen the dark effigy depict silence or thoughtfulness. Eventually, and before Teal could become truly concerned, they chatted, “Yes… Yes, yes! Kreehahahaha! It IS good. It is good to see you. Krrraaahahahaha! And yet, and yet… So curious!”

Why do they keep saying ‘you’ like that…? Teal fretted silently. Before she could part her lips and respond, she remembered something – but it was too late.

“KaHAW! Have no fear and worry not! Be at ease; untie thy knot!” the jittering ink spot snickered, “Might I not speak to you as I please? Kreheheheheheheeee… Especially since, despite it all, you are here again.”

“I-I am, yes,” Teal admitted quietly, as if admitting to herself, too, that she was doing something moronic. She squirmed and looked away abashedly, “I wanted to see you one last time before I… Move on.”

“Oh, oh!” the Wanderer shifted through the mist at ease. There was an air of intrigue to their movements as if they were trying to inspect the sanguine Spirit, but all the while they tapped the keys of their concertina to churn out an ambient tune. “This one missed me, did they? Krrrreeeehehehe! Or maybe maybe… It is pity you bring?”

Growing flushed, Teal knew not how to react to their monster’s chaffing. “N-No! Not pity… Yet…” she murmured indecisively. Why had she stopped to call out the Wanderer? Why did she feel compelled to converse before heading to the tower? Was it merely out of principle? To check a box on her to-do list? Was she stalling before something she knew might very well be quantumly fatal? Perhaps it was something more than that, something too complex for words that Teal had no answer for; she didn’t know why she was here and yet she was. Part of her, at least, wanted to be kind to the Wanderer for reasons she could neither express nor explain. Part of her needed to know that she could still love beyond her hatred.

Amid the girl’s ruminations though, the Wanderer emitted a throaty chuckle as they spoke, “Funny how you must ‘move on’… You, you! KraHAHAW! Ms. Teal! So curious to me that you are here at all!”

“As curious as it is that I bothered to seek you out…?” the Half-Elf hit their beat on cue – she was aware the Wanderer knew her thoughts, why bother trying to hide them?

To this, the shifting menace clamped their instrument together. The loud honk obscured something of a restrained puff of air from their mask, as if they were unprepared for the biting comment. The raucous laughter that followed was, Teal thought, one of genuine mirth for a change, “KAWHAWHAWHAWHAW!! You scamp! Oh, yes, you scallywag! What merriment you have brought! But does she know, yes, is she keen, on what this one might wrought?”

They twirled in the air and leaned in close to the Half-Elf; far too close for comfort as their beaming mask nearly pressed against her sharp nose. Teal had leaned away as best she could without tipping over backwards. Her heart raced as the thing effortlessly neared, she winced somewhat, but despite it all, part of her knew that she was far too trivial for the crazed beast to waste their energy on harming. Instead, they chatted and giggled, floating backwards from their frightened quarry, “Kreehehehehe! They have some clue! Or rather… They have no clue, which is even worse, no? Krrrraahahahah! You are a VERY curious one, Ms. Teal!”

“Wh-Why do you keep saying that…?” Teal fumbled for conversation as her digits fumbled with her banjo. She tried, in vain, to recall the flood of images, sounds, experiences, and senses brought on by clasping the Wanderer’s hand – she briefly wondered what else this bête noire might be capable of.

Of course, they chortled before they answered. They performed a cheeky little jig as well, spinning from side to side as if a leaf on a breeze. “I mean no harm; I bring no dread! Shoo, begone, what plagues your head! Listen, listen… Krreeeehrmrhmhmhm… It is not that we are meeting again that is curious, it is how!”

Teal scrunched up her face in confusion. “H-How?” she repeated.

The Half-Elf’s expressions, comparatively bountiful from their previous meeting, seemed to bring some form of delight to the Wanderer. Or had they always laughed this much? Teal considered. Regardless, and apparently choosing to ignore the red wizard’s thoughts, the dark mass replied, “Yes, yes! How! Kreeehehehehe… You see, yes, yes, few are there who meet me once; fewer still do twice. Never have I met a soul so fierce beyond their life!”

“B-Beyond their life…?” Teal parroted again, looking sidelong thoughtfully. There was nothing to look at save the dense fog, but she needed to avert herself from the Wanderer’s hollow gaze as a swimmer might need to come up for air. She returned to seek clarification, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Her stomach churned from the ominous smirk that was the Wanderer’s visage – even their eyes, should one call them that, bowed with devious delight. “Krehehehe… Could tell you, yes… Or could set things straight!” they slowly removed their palms from the accordion in their grasp. It floated eerily as they raised their hands – flecks of light lifted from their shifting digits as they did. Teal recognized their inexplicable magic at once and recalled the brilliant orb that they had once spawned. She was fearful in that moment, and yet, she didn’t show it.

“Although… What fun is there in such a fate?! Kreeehahahahahaha!!” the Wanderer slipped their hands just as effortlessly into their instrument and swirled on the air amid an echoing of laughter that surrounded the pair – Teal loathed when they conjured such ethereal sounds with such ease. They returned a moment later to address the patient Half-Elf, “How best to say? How best to tell? Shall I show you with a spell?”

“You could just… Say it. To me,” Teal remarked, almost pleadingly. It was difficult to keep up with the enigmatic entity.

It was the first time she had seen the Wanderer frown and she felt guilty for causing it. “No fun, no fun! Alas, ‘tis done,” the nefarious nebulous lowered themselves to the ground, as if taking their next statement very seriously. They looked up to Teal and informed her, “You died, correct? Impaled, no less. A second time – again, again – much blood there was and much distress! Is that not how it happened?”

They had reached out and pinched the Spirit’s crimson cloak, testing the fabric. Teal yanked the cape from their mitts and scowled at them with incredulous fear. “H-How did you know that?! Were you… D-Did you watch me die…?” her tone was callous.

Gravel filled laughter trickled from the Wanderer’s throat – if they had one. They were smiling again when they explained, “Be not crude, my friend, Ms. Teal! Your account lacks sense; your logic, no zeal! Krrrrahahahahah! I need not see to know what I know. Or, perhaps have already seen, already been told.”

Teal didn’t quite understand, but her ire had been deflated. She simply let the oddity babble, “Yes, yes, yes! No need to see, no need to peer. I already saw, was already near! I saw this one and that and another yet too. I witnessed them all, but this one is new… Krhrm! KrhrmrmHAHAHAHAHA! How was it done? How, Ms. Teal, how?! Tell me your tricks! Share them, please! Now!”

“I-I do not understand, my… f-friend,” tumbled from Teal’s mouth, “Tell you what? I-I… Are you insinuating that you knew I was about to perish…?”

“That branch there? Yes, yes! Came to an end. Came to a… point! KRAHAHAHAHAHAHAW!!” they joked, but their laughter came to an immediate end when the monster noticed Teal’s icy glare, “A-Ah! Too soon, too soon to jest! The pain it feels still at its chest. Forgive me, Ms. Teal, I shall give it a rest! Kreeheheheheh!”

She scoffed at the twisting tyrant. As she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, however, she found forgiveness somewhere within her – it seemed prudent to accept an apology that need not be given from something so twisted. The sigh was not from annoyance though, it was due to deliberation on her part. “Why did you do nothing if you knew I was going to die?” she finally asked.

“Could not! Would not! Krreeehahah! Not in that branch, at least!” the Wanderer hauntingly lilted, “Do you not recall? There was another branch which moved my being! I accompanied that Teal, but—Oh! Krahahaha!! Of course, you would not remember that branch!”

“M-Mine was… The branch that was destined to die in the bell tower then…?” Teal stuttered as a chill ran down her spine.

“Not quite! Not so! …Partially right, although,” giggled the shifting blight. They emitted a combination of squeaks from their accordion that, somehow, perfectly depicted Teal’s confused disappointment, “Krehehehehe! It was not ordained, was not decreed! When we departed there was, for thee, countless opportunity! And yet, and yet, so sad, so true! That Castaway was proven the Fool. All their choices were in vain; upon those tiles their blood doth stain! Or… Stain-ed, rather, for you are here while I gab and blather! KraHAHAW!! Now, now! How? How?!”

“I-I do not… I do not understand! If it was not destiny, then…” Teal glowered in thought. She should’ve known speaking to the manic imp would lead to confusion – she regretted that this time she lacked the exhaustion to mask her obvious headache. She tried to entwine together some kind of logic, “Do you mean to say that I was just… Unlucky?”

“Krrrmhmhmhmhm… Luck? My word, how shall I pluck this stuck duck?” the Wanderer wiggled menacingly, “All too simple, too concise! Though any more, your mind, like ice... Would melt! Krahahaha! Think of it this way, my dear Ms. Teal. You can only know the you that you know, but many more, through time, do flow! Many already have perished, are dead, but others yet have pressed on ahead! Like a game where one must choose a path, yours so happened to end with a bath!”

A bloodbath?! Teal despised their morbid wordplay, and yet, she was enamoured by it. She paused to mull over what she had been told. Upon reflecting, she recalled her choice to push the Hero instead of climbing into the boat alongside them. Had that branch flourished? Was there another branch that fought the Warden? Had they won? Had they, too, perished just as she? The Half-Elf shivered to consider the countless instances of herself that she would never know.

And yet, something dawned on her then – something she felt she must address. “I-Is this why… You were startled to see me…?” she asked in a hush.

Immediately, a sickening smile slid across the fiend’s mask. “This one is still so clever… So very VERY clever, yes! I remember why I liked this one! Krahahahahahah!!” they danced and teased, but came to a rest to reply with surprising earnestness, “How shall I put it? How can I say? Either Teals move or else they are slain. But you here are different, not all the same!”

“Feie beyond, what is that supposed to mean?!” Teal flared in a fearful confusion. She attempted to find reason by spewing it out loud, “Are you telling me that I am either forsaken to die here unless I find some way to leave from this place?!”

“Kaaahahahaha!!” the Wanderer spun. It was as if each of the Half-Elf’s emotions were a delicious morsel to feast on – a kind of diabolical amuse bouche, “Not you! Not you! The other yous! The other Teals, yes? When I see you and all of your branches, I see the many, many that have come here… The one I aided, the one I ignored, the one I burdened with thousands of chores, they are all right there in time and space! All in their order, all in their place. Some of them die, some of them live… But you, from the bunch, oh, how you have slid! KrrrrHAWHAWHAW!!”

The words rattled about inside of Teal; a sentiment condensed into a rock that banged about within a Half-Elf shaped container. As a rock, it sat and weighed upon the poor girl’s stomach. It sat and spun, twisting up her organs like noodles around a fork. Her mouth opened to speak, but nothing emerged – her ghastly state drew another eruption of merriment from that whom she spoke. Out of spite, perhaps, out of a perturbed fear she probed, “I have… Slid? What nonsense are you expounding now? Are you insinuating that… T-That my branch has… Slipped from the rest?”

“Yes! Yes! But no, no! Krahahahahaha!!” the maniac danced and swung, that which composed them shifted in opposition. Teal found it difficult to maintain her awareness of the Wanderer when they grew too excited – as if they, themselves, struggled to keep their form in check. Returning to their point with a cheerful sting of music, they corrected the vermillion Spirit, “The branch has not slipped, and nor does it stray! KRABOOM! It has formed and it plots its own way! KRAHAWHAWHAHAW!! Oh, how it crawls! Oh, how it slithers! Burst from the Everything to cause quite a dither! KRAHAH KRAHAHAH!! TWSISTING AND BENDING, EXISTING AND RENDING, CONSISTING OF CHAOS, MY JOY IS UNENDING!!” Their voice had become a sonic odyssey of inexplicable tonality – a multitude of what Teal could only take in as sounds that mimicked voices, felt in her ears like voices, screamed and howled in bliss. It was as though the being themselves was too effervescent to maintain a singular aspect.

“P-Please, Wanderer, speak plainly to me. With all of your jargon, I hardly can see—” Teal gasped and covered her mouth amid a cacophonous roar of laughter that ruptured from the mist as the inky imp frolicked around. She was flushed with embarrassment but proceeded no further as to not antagonize the Wanderer or lead them astray.

Amid a plethora of unhinged chortles and snorts, the Wanderer regained a grip on themselves – at least, that’s how Teal perceived it. The crazed creature’s vibrations eased as if a force had gripped their form to steady it. There was a focus to their speech, a strain almost, as they clarified to the worried Half-Elf, “Listen, then, listen! Krehrm... Kreheheherhrhrmmm!! And then tell me how – you broke all the rules of this space in the now!”

Teal felt a prick of guilt inside her, a needle stabbing at her heart. She squinted and refuted, “I-I did nothing of the sort…”

“Krrrraahahahahaha! You did! You did! You know what is true! Ms. Teal, you sly fox, just what did you do?” the masked monstrosity accused. They shifted again, sprawled out on the air, their tune then grew lazy without any care (Oh, bother).

They made not a peep, but just stared at the girl – their silence was grating, and Teal wanted to hurl. With her lips both still covered, she pondered and thought, “Of what which you speak, I-I truly know not…”

The Wanderer paddled through the haze with ease, they swam while they played and circled the clueless Spirit. Something akin to pity warbled from their mask, “So sweet! So cute! She has not a clue! KraHAHA!! Allow me a pause to explain it to you.” Darting then within her vision, the shifting serpent stood along the path just before Teal. They removed their hands from their instrument, but it floated where they left it and continued to utter an ambient song. The Wanderer, however, seemed suspiciously upright and rigid as they mused, “At the end of your branch, you died! Yes, you did! Yet all that was fated you have gone and undid! Krehehehehehe!! It is delightful, a treat is it not? You have taken the rules and have tied them in knots! In this place and this time, when the Warden is through, it casts one aside like droplets of dew! KRAWHAW! Or the river, they take, and restart anew…”

The river, pierced Teal’s boggled mind as it returned to those glittering shores. She gabbed excitedly and anxiously, “Th-The river… I-It really does bring people… Back?”

A devilish grin sprang upon the Wanderer’s already eerie mask as they revealed, “Yes and no! Who can know? From this land its banks doth flow! All aboard are free to go! Krehehehehehehe!! And yet, and yet, not for you. Yes, my sweet? Ms. Teal, my dear! You were slain! Impaled! Yet, I fear…”

Unconsciously, Teal dug her fangs into her lip; her breathing faltered too as she shuttered in air. A hand raised to rest at her chest where she felt the unfathomable phantom sting – she knew the scar beneath her robes must be a hideous one. “Wh-What do you fear, Wanderer” she asked so quietly she could barely hear herself emit the words.

They smiled at her as pleasantly as always, “Have I misspoken? Have I not said? My dove, oh, Ms. Teal! You are supposed to be dead! KRAHAHAHA!! But here you are! Present instead! Chittering chattering while losing your head! Now then, please, explain to me how! Where have you found this new unfettered bough?!”

There was something condemning in their hideous voice – or voices, rather. Teal felt smaller than a child being chastised by an adult; the Wanderer exhibited kindness and wrath all at once and it only made the young wizard all the more fearful. They squirmed and fumbled with their fingers as they confessed, “I-I do not know, Wanderer… Please believe me, I just… I wanted to live. I-I want to live again so, so badly that… Th-That I… I do not know how it happened.”

Teal pushed a bead from her eye with the cuff of her now red shirt, but she tightened her hands into fists at her sides as she concluded, “I deserve to live. N-Not because I am inherently special or good or worthy… But because I love all that which comes with life, and I wish more than anything to experience it again! I want to appreciate my loved ones and take in all that is rich and rotten in equal amounts and cherish them all. I-I do not ask you to understand my pitiful mortal desires, but please do not fault me for what has happened…”

For the first time since she had summoned the Wanderer – if that was, in fact, what she had done – there was dullness on the air. There was no movement from the fiend, nor was there music from their concertina. The pair stood idly, facing one another, as a tumult swelled within the anxious Half-Elf; Lacrimosa was silent as well, but that goes without saying. Teal feared that were she to explain herself poorly, the Wanderer, so far beyond her as she assumed they were, might snuff out this branch she had cultivated for herself. Deserving or not, she was at the mercy of the countless whims that come with life.

Interestingly, the Wanderer turned to retrieve their instrument from the air. Upon spinning back to Teal, they extended their arms and the accordion by proxy. Then, with a violent slam and a great honking din, they crushed it between their hands. Teal jumped and reeled back in fright, raising her arms as if to protect herself against debris. There was no need; the concertina disappeared not with any carnage, but in a cloud of light and energy. In its place, as the Wanderer peacefully parted their palms, Teal witnessed, by way of a peeking glance, a singular white fabric bobbing in place. Without a word, the nebulous nightmare extended their hands towards the crimson Spirit in offering.

Teal saw then that the floating cloth was a handkerchief of white. It possessed a plain lace at its border, but as it shifted in place the girl’s eyes widened in awe. The material shimmered with iridescent beauty whenever it moved, and it exhibited both colours and lights that Teal had only witnessed once before – spawned from the same deranged devilry. They boggled her mind and stirred her soul. She was so enraptured that she felt time stand still; the world beyond the sphere surrounding her, Lacrimosa, and the Wanderer, may have existed, it may not have, either way it didn’t seem to matter very much right now. She might be dreaming again, for all her limited perception could fathom. Regardless if time was or was not frozen, she herself was paralyzed by reverence.

When the Wanderer spoke to comfort her, or perhaps to draw her attention, it was without mania or malice, but with a warmth that Teal had never expected from the ever-shifting mote of energy. Beneath their broad cap, the mask had lost its uncanny quality and resembled something of a master’s hewn statue; the eyes were lifted and their smile kind. Had this bird always looked so sweet? They crooned, and a cosmic choir coordinated in concert, “Be not afraid and cast aside doubt; this life is your own within and without. Dab at your tears with gift in my hand. A mortal like you cannot understand the excitement I feel for something so grand. Your branch now flows forth with each moment present, and you I shall watch to follow your went.”

Possessed by something beyond her – no, it was something within her – Teal purposefully raised her arm and reached for the phenomenal handkerchief. She wasn’t sobbing, but tears freely poured from her eyes from the astounding display of colour, light, and emotion. As she grasped the cloth in her black gloves and brought its supple texture to her eyes, the Wanderer quietly reassured, “Live as you must, live as you do, for I cannot wait to delight in you.”

The moment that trailed was short lived, but comprised of such deep serenity that it washed over the young wizard like a cleansing wave of reassurance. Her face now dry and vision clear, Teal watched the Wanderer summon their instrument from the ether. They began to play a light and whimsical song and when they next spoke, their voices were tinged with frightening ravens once more, “For now though, Ms. Teal, I distract you no longer. I have so much to see and places to wander! Kraha! Krahahahah!!”

“I shall not keep you then,” Teal nodded sadly, clutching the brilliant fabric in her hand. Carefully, she placed the banjo where it had been at her back, but in doing so a miserable feeling consumed her. She couldn’t bring herself to raise the brim of her hat or to look at the Wanderer. She stared, perplexed by her own unease, at her boots, the ground, the trail at her feet, anything that wasn’t what loomed before her. Forcing an utterance from herself in time, she breached part of what bothered her, “Thank you… For speaking to me one last time before I go.”

She clung to the handkerchief and shifted uncomfortably, unable to make sense of the swirling emotions seething within her. The quiet following her acknowledgement weighed on her and festered until she was forced to raise her eyes to the Wanderer. They bobbed in place as they often did, their quiet tune filling the air with an eerie frivolity, but as the Half-Elf locked eyes with them. They smirked, their face puckered up, “Kreehehe… Krmrmrmhehehehe!!” Teal was uncertain, it seemed to her that they were trying not to laugh, but eventually they keeled over and cackled “KRAHAHAHAHAH!! All of this time! All in this place! Forgive me, Ms. Teal! There is blood on your face!”

Jolted, Teal burned so brightly from humiliation that her aspect quickly matched the rest of her outfit. From head to toe, the poor girl was flush with crimson. “WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?!” she cried as she furiously wiped the strip of blood from beneath her nose. Meanwhile, the conniving cryptid hooted and howled with uproarious laughter. The scarlet Spirit pouted at first, but with the Wanderer rolling about with such felicity, they couldn’t help themselves from caving in and snickering as well.

When they had calmed enough for Teal to know they were listening, Teal peacefully remarked, “I do not think I shall ever be able to understand who or what you are, but I vow to live my life as well as I am able.” She went silent then, her expression hardened, and so, too, did the cackling creature eventually understand the severity of the moment. They listened attentively as the Half-Elf solemnly added, “When I do depart for good though… When my life comes to a close, I will return here again if I can. A-And then… Maybe then I will take your hand… Willingly this time. So that neither of us must go on being so lonely.”

Silence didn’t suit the Wanderer, so when Teal’s lament was met by it, she was almost overwhelmed by the bewitching being’s lack of response. Her eyes flicked here and there uncomfortably, until she was finally able to look at the fiend’s ghastly mask. She was uncertain, but her heart skipped when she thought she saw a glint in the sockets they had for eyes. It was just following this that the Wanderer patiently nodded and softly expressed, “Alright. Very well and okay, dear Ms. Teal. I will wait for you then, for my heart you shall steal.”

Their blushing never entirely subsided from the cruel observation – it still swirled about the Half-Elf’s freckled cheeks. They wriggled uncomfortably with the cloth still in hand. There was something within her that Teal could not explain and her mind burned and crackled as she mutely attempted to find reason to her state. Where they had expressed quondam resolve, the sanguine Spirit was incapacitated by indecision. Was their goodbye not apt? Had they forgotten an aspect of their plea? Did they crave to hear another of the Wanderer’s songs? Was her curiosity of the beast’s true nature getting the better of her? Communication often has many potholes.

Yet, something tugged at Teal. A strong urge to do something that she felt was beyond foolish, beyond rational at all. Shaking somewhat, she nervously stepped toward the Wanderer while removing her hat. As she motioned to hold onto it alongside the handkerchief in her palms, she could hear the dirt crunch beneath her tentative steps. The Wanderer, perhaps too perplexed to act, simply floated where they were. Teal cautiously approached until she stood right in front of them; she gazed down at the nebulous nugget who met her green eyes with their ambiguous voids.

She knew better than to dwell on her own confusion – the Wanderer knew exactly how she felt anyway. In a sense, it was reassuring to her that they had not moved despite knowing explicitly the immeasurable quantity of thoughts and feelings buzzing through her. Teal stood there half a moment and awkwardly stared; she hoped doing so might dissuade herself from what she was about to do. It didn’t. This was her branch and hers alone.

Teal bent down slightly and leaned herself forward, pushing the eerie entity’s hat aside as she did. She closed her eyes then and, against the will of the mounting fear within her, pressed her lips to the Wanderer’s forehead.

She would never be quite certain of how it felt to kiss the fiend, if the sensation against her mouth was cold and smooth as she thought it might be, it would forever be too bizarre to properly express, even internally. What she was certain of though, what she could rationalize, was that when she opened her eyes after what felt like millennia, only she and Lacrimosa were present. They were isolated within the boundless valley and the fog that surrounded them. In the distance, however, if they strained their ears and focused far beyond, the carmine Spirit was certain that they heard sinister laughter amid a haunting melody.

They affixed their hat back in place and, making strides along the path that lay before them, smiled and laughed too.

Warden:

“By the Feie,” Teal whispered aloud in awe as she and Lacrimosa slowly hiked around the enormous lake surrounding the tower jutting from its core. Something about the dreadful way the fog swirled from its low banks or the way its black water portrayed stillness like a glass sheet amid the expansive valley gave the feature its haunting charm. Combined, then, with the notion that the Wanderer had previously given her bypass to much of this area lent it an all the more sinister air. In a sense, she felt her presence was a defilement of the lake’s sublime quality. Where the mountains had enchanted her with their siren song, the wide loch beckoned to her threateningly.

It calmed the Half-Elf immensely to watch her Companion flit about before her in such a carefree manner. With their light as a guide through the dense mist, the wizard’s mind was free to wander through foolish things. They considered how deep the pond, with its many rocky islets, really was or what untold things might hide beneath its surface. Perhaps this is where that walking shark crossing the mountains is from, she teased herself (Such a thing could never exist, of course).

She dreamed, maybe rather ridiculously, of swimming within the inky pool. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to be immersed by water, to swim in more plain terms, that she was nostalgic for the sensation. This brought about a sting of longing though, as she remembered, Caspian loves to swim… Azure too, but that’s less of an oddity for her. Teal dwelled on the strangeness of seeing, for the first time, a Māorén dive so willingly into water. She considered that it was ignorant of her, racist even, to have assumed all of Caspian’s kind were averse to being wet. That being said, she snickered to herself recalling the sight of his sopping fur – it always took hours for it to regain its fluffy regal lushness.

Marching along in this way, with memories ebbing through her just as the shallow waves along the lake’s shore, Teal rounded its edge; the trail snaked its way right along its confines for a time. Yet in the distance, past the rain and the fog, Teal knew the tower loomed, growing ever taller with each step she took. No longer content to stay upon the horizon, it was right there. She wavered when she caught its ire. Inside, she knew she wasn’t ready, but here she was regardless. Here she was on her lonely branch, cut off from the rest of time because of her own obstinate desire to live. Although she had just departed them sadly, Teal scrunched the opal handkerchief in her fist; she missed the Wanderer.

Approaching the menacing obelisk of her imminent future, the Spirit stalled before the path twisted away from the basin’s pining banks. She stared out across the water bleakly, her eyes trailing the shifting veil that bobbed above its ebb and flow. Does Caspian remember swimming together? Does Azure? Does Indigo recall how furious she was at me that summer I pushed her into the western pond? She dragged me in as well and pummeled me among the lilies. Then we… It was an odd time to reminisce – especially on such weightless things, but what else was one to do when one feared approaching what very well might be one’s doom?

It was then that Teal considered the ripples of the water’s placid surface and how the overcast light dimly danced upon them. She remembered awakening by the river so long ago – she had seen her reflection then and felt such a rush of exuberance. The Half-Elf shifted a foot towards those wayward shores but stopped themselves. Fear stopped them. What if the banks are malicious? Or what if what I see is… Not as it once was? they glumly considered. It would be so easy to do, and yet Teal faltered. There would come a time and a place for reflection, but now, here at the precipice of such a terrifying endeavour, was not such a good time. Shifting back, Teal returned to follow Lacrimosa on toward the tower at the loch’s core.

Removing her banjo from her back felt like a natural act given her frazzled state of mind; she needed something to distract herself as she traipsed, lest she succumb to her apprehension. Teal and her Companion plodded ever closer to the tower in this way. The sonorous clang of the banjo’s strings rang out effortlessly and rebounded off the endless mist, reverberating in a sorrowful peal. Teal knew not what she played, but something of the song, if it was a tune at all, was reminiscent of a doleful dirge that purged her heart of woe and worry. In one sense, it was what she needed to cross this final threshold, the distance between her and the tower, but it was, and she knew it was, a terrible omen for her to willingly wield such a depressing ode. She thought of the Wanderer, of all they spoke and that which they didn’t, as she marched to the end of the line – all the while, her lonesome promenade heralded her imminent arrival.

As notes came to a close and faded on the shrouded ether, Teal reluctantly tucked her banjo away one last time; her hands had started to shake too much to play anyway. She trudged along to where the path ended and came upon the bleak stone staircase she remembered vividly. Here, she paused and raised her eyes as Lacrimosa flew near and perched at her shoulder. In a moment of improbable uncanniness, Teal noticed that she was standing precisely where the Wanderer had deposited her on her last attempt at conquering the bell tower. The lamps with their glowing contents lit the surroundings, the broad steps descended into the maze beyond, and the tower, obscured though it was, hung just out of reach.

Teal smiled at the odd circumstances she found herself in, she laughed. This is so stupid, she mocked. Then she went silent. She was silent for a long while as she stood, unmoving, yet vibrating with fear. For some reason, she was unclear herself, she turned to peer behind her. Teal gazed out beyond the loch, across the wide valley, saw the shifting peaks, and watched the endless pall above it all. Tears swirled at the edges of her eyes, her heart beat fast and wildly, yet she was quiet and indecisive. She thought of nothing, but she felt such a multitude of overbearing emotions that all she was capable of was to tether herself to the present. She was here now, the past was beyond her, and the future forever waiting.

Snapping herself form paralysis, she focused on the lamps placed along the staircase ahead of her and Lacrimosa – within each of the bulbous lanterns was a plethora of flaming moths. The Spirit quietly extended a hand towards the bug at her shoulder, allowing them to scuttle onto their fingers freely. They raised the insect to a conversational level and mulled over the cruelty of their Companion’s former entrapment. Teal opened her lips to speak but tripped along the way; she couldn’t bring herself to say what she knew she needed to. She scanned the insect’s delicate wings, their quant antennae, and the cape like quality of their fuzzy thorax. Teal sighed then and found her nerve.

“You should go, my friend,” she bitterly whispered, “I do not know if I shall… I-I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Lacrimosa was silent, as moths are, and did not stir.

“You need not stay for my sake, Lacrimosa. Please, you have helped me more than enough and… A-And I thank you, dearly, but we must part ways,” Teal was stifling back her sobs now.

Lacrimosa was silent, though, and did not stir.

Teal, too, was silent before she choked on her tears, “Y-You should… You are free and I… I am…” What could she possible say to such a stubborn bug? It cemented within her just how unprepared she was for what she needed to do, but despite it all she was still here. She was still here and Lacrimosa, her Companion who she now firmly believed was more than just a moth, was with her. “W-Well… O-Okay…” she sniffled and smeared the droplets from her eyes and freckled face, “Okay.”

With that, she returned the moth to the epaulette on which they had sat. She gazed one last time at the haunting lamps around her, and, despite knowing that she should conserve her energy, she removed the sharp wand from her hip. She held the carved grip firmly in her glove and stepped forward. With her arms raised, she focused herself on the lanterns illuminating the entrance of the wretched maze.; she extended herself outwards to the faint arcane energy swirling about and centred her capacity on the glass of the prisons dotting the staircase at mirrored intervals. Straining herself, she found what she sought, and suddenly pulled her hands together in a snapping flourish. Teal announced, “Bìanzhì!” and the panes of the lamps writhed, contorted, bubbled, then disintegrated into thin plumes of sand which streamed to the ground.

The Half-Elf watched, glitter in her green eyes, as the moths contained within the decorated cages sprung forth, scattered, and embraced their liberty. The sky, for all of a moment, was a brilliant flow of light; embers trickled from every pair of wings and twinkled in the mist. The glow of the falling embers danced about the air, refracted by the sleet, before slowly fading, and becoming one with the endless stillness. Almost as soon as it happened, the transient display was finished; the flittering swarm dispersed this way and that leaving Teal and Lacrimosa utterly and completely alone. Despite that though, despite her present headache, Teal’s gentle smile retained the flock’s former radiance.

Setting aside the sloshing sensation inside her mind, perhaps having found confidence from the luminous display, Teal slowly strode up to the labyrinth lowering nearby. “Now then,” the wizard uttered in a resolute tone as they followed the stone descent, “What to do about you?” It was disturbing, even though it was in line with Teal’s expectations, to see how utterly undisturbed the maze was from her last visit. There was no way for her to compare the then and now on a level worth any measure, but she was certain the hedges of the trap’s design were identical to those she witnessed previously. She considered leaning in to inspect the leaves and needle-like thorns in a spot she thought she might have been last time, but it would do little to solve her present dilemma.

What Teal did do, contrary to her desires, was lean into the maze – this took some courage as she feared it might snap shut behind her if she did. From her vantage, she looked to her left and scanned the ground along the route. “Blast,” she cursed quietly; the millet from before was gone. It was a long shot, but were it still present it would aid her immensely. Teal sighed to herself as she recalled what the Hero had confessed to her when they found the tower. Even if the trail were still present, it would not get me all the way there, she weighed, But part way sure sounds a lot better than none of the way.

Though she had been dreading this moment and the one proceeding it severely, her thoughts on the matter had not been entirely idly. Banking on the millet trail being present, given its already meagre nature, was never a sound option. Teal had long since reconciled that she would need to take one of two alternatives: traverse the maze on foot or use her magic to conquer the boundary.

Both had advantages and disadvantages. Were she to walk, she would conserve her arcane energy and thus be more prepared to face the Warden when she discovered the tower. That was a big ‘if’, however. She remembered the maze vividly, which is to say that she remembered how much discomfort and paranoia it brought her. She could be lost in there for ages before she found the exit – and then what? After all that wandering around, she would be exhausted and just as tired as if she used her magic. Only by sheer dumb luck, something she was clearly not in possession of, would she tackle the maze and come out unmarred by fatigue.

The other option was more expedient, more direct, but far more taxing. Teal would need to confront the Warden almost immediately after making her way to the cathedral’s entrance – doing so mired by the effects of arcane exertion would be as idiotic as running a marathon before a duel. Taking this route, however, was less risky overall; it was a certainty that she could make it to the tower if she played her cards right. Additionally, if she took a thoughtful approach to overcoming the labyrinth then she might mitigate the damage done by using magic to achieve her goal.

But how best to go about it? Teal mulled.

There was the obvious: raze the maze. Burn it to the ground. Cinders are easier to traverse than thistles, after all. Teal envisioned the portentous labyrinth ablaze in her mind and shrank away from the idea at once. Her reasoning, her aversion to this idea, was layered though. For starters, the notion of destroying a natural feature for her own gain coiled something inside her; it felt despotic and cruel. To destroy a thing because it is in one’s way was barbaric and against her love of nature. Even if the maze was a construct of some uncanny manifestation, it still didn’t warrant dismantling it – for all she knew, someone may have made, or even planted, the whole thing.

The other, and more limiting, reason was simply because Teal was quite bad at wielding fire. On a good day, I can light a campfire if I focus really hard, Teal weighed with a hand thoughtfully placed over her mouth. Thermoplasy was far and away her weakest area of expertise, but what of the other realms of study?

She focused herself on problem solving instead, a wizard’s greatest asset. Thinking creatively was, as a point of fact, one of Teal’s cherished aspects of casting. Every hindrance, every obstacle, could be rendered down into a problem and magic, in all of its form, had the potential to be its solutions. Of course, ‘problems’ such as “What is beauty?” were inherently subjective, falling within one’s purview of philosophy, and couldn’t be ‘solved’ to begin with. However, were one to use magic to manipulate one’s perception of beauty, or to alter a thing to align with one’s established bias of beauty—

Another obvious solution that came to mind was teleportation. Teal hummed as the obvious drawback came to mind: she could not see the point at which she might teleport to. Transferring an entire being, consciousness and all, was not only incredibly difficult, but required intense focus on the spot on which projection was intended. Were one to have a location in space memorized in such detail they could conjure it in their mind’s eye, they may be able to teleport there at will. At least, that is what my Cosmoplasy teachers would say, Teal huffed. She had only been at the entrance once, and she was in a stupor at that time to boot.

Suppose I were to teleport myself into the air above the entrance to the tower and then slow my descent, the Half-Elf considered, but tutted sharply in disagreement, That would require too spells, the first of which I’m not even certain I could manage without losing a limb or twoWhat about a portal?

This was a fresh idea for the Spirit, but it soon fell flat too. A portal would require her to distort space in such a way that she might proceed from one point to another unscathed, but that would require her to open a portal somewhere that she could not see. If her focus was off, she might open the other end of the portal right in the middle of the maze. She would then have to waste another spell to get herself out – and then she might get the exit wrong again since she wasn’t very familiar with this region. Portals always made me sick anyway, she judged and set the idea aside. If she was going to do this, it would need to be with a singular attempt.

That largely ruled Chronoplasy out. Manipulating time would do her no good as combating the cryptic corridors at a faster or slower pace would simply mean she’d be twice as exhausted should she find the exit. I might seek guidance in other forms, Teal weighed, Suppose I scry and predict a suitable path for myself from the outcomes ahead of me. Her head, already clouded, was boggled by the idea of how many potential paths she might take within the sinister maze. What if I… Projected myself into the past to relive my attempt at the maze with the Hero? Teal shuddered immediately at the thought – not only was time travel incredibly dangerous, essentially impossible, it was well beyond her skill.

Her mind trailed along with no good suggestions. It was in this time that Teal recalled her trick with the Knight. Levitation, that’s right, she mused. It would be possible for her to levitate herself up and over the labyrinth entirely, but doing so would be incredibly intensive. Ontoplasy, the altering of matter, was relatively easy with little things, but the energy required to float or change an object grew exponentially with its size and weight. She had managed to bob the Knight along by their breastplate, but she had no such sturdy implement to carry herself in. Levitating her entire mass would be too demanding, even for just a short stint. It was at this moment that the wizard pined for a good broom.

I could… Nay, that would be ridiculous, she opened and closed an idea expediently. Teal wondered if she might apply a form of Aesthoplasy upon herself. If she could numb herself to pain for a while, she might be able to brute force her way through the maze – literally through. She could walk forward and push the branches out of her way while ignoring the terrible cuts and gashes. But you would still have cuts and gashes, you dolt, she silently chided herself for even considering something so outrageous. Furthermore, she doubted if she could even push past the dense growth that formed the maze’s walls. She was, in most physical senses, quite a weakling.

However, the abstraction linked itself to another possibility despite its drawbacks. I could… I mean, I guess… Teal bit her lip as she simmered on the consideration, If I were to shift the maze around me, theoretically I could just walk in a straight line to the tower. Such a procedure would be incredibly challenging, and Teal knew as much. She would need to focus not only vigilantly, but acutely on the very fibres that manifested the maze’s foliage. Would she have the energy to traverse the distance and maintain the spell’s demands?

A shiver trailed the Half-Elf’s back as they silently opposed the fresh idea. It was, without a doubt, her best option – her other reflections felt more like betting on poor odds. She knew she could manipulate the hedges, but not for how long and to what degree. This is not wholly what stalled the wizard though. There was another aspect to consider: if the hedges were, in fact, plants, then that meant they were living; if they were living then a spell of this nature was technically Bioplasy, not merely Ontoplasy. Such an act would be illegal, but, at once, Teal thought back to the Sage’s healing spell and her consideration then. Her worries lightened. Unless the Warden itself was an auditor, she had little to be concerned about. Even if they were, it was the last of her concerns regarding the gigantic guardian.

With a sigh meant to relieve her burdens, Teal steeled her resolve, but the breath did little to bring her peace. Her arms were trembling, and she could already feel an anxious whirlpool developing in her stomach. You need to focus Teal, okay? Just focus and… Well… she cut her own thoughts short, refusing to mentally admit how much she struggled at this type of casting - how much she struggled with most casting. In her right hand she held aloft her wand, that fine blade of steel, the heirloom of her Elvish blood, and in her other she channeled herself into the thin wisps of arcane energy nearby. It took several deep breaths, both to calm her nerves and to rightly grasp the elusive magic currents, but Teal finally felt herself attune to the forces about her. “Be still, Lacrimosa,” she politely commanded as she began her spell.

In one long inhale, Teal slowly raised her arms to her sides. As she allowed the air to seep into her lungs, so too did she permit the arcane energy to flow through her freely. At the height of her breath, she paused to concentrate while her arms drifted higher. She envisioned the hedges of the maze bending to her will, forming to the shape in her imagination. She focused her mental state on the building blocks of the maze, its core components: leaves and stems gave way to thin fibres composed of interlocking cells built from the chemical reaction of molecules formed by the bonds of atomic particles of which, they themselves, were constituted from finer and finer matter.

Teal felt it, she grasped at it in her mind, that which was the object she wished to manipulate and the spaces between it all that was not. In one moment, still holding her breath, she wavered and felt the magic from her grasp slipping. She thought of the Wanderer; she missed them as she missed all others that she loved. Yet in the next moment, she remembered their memento to her, that shimmering cloth now stashed in her vest. In that instant she remembered their depiction of Everything and Nothing, she remembered all those she loved, and conjured their faces and the memories associated with them to her mind. In one spark she grasped a fleck of understanding. The Everything and the Nothing. That which is and that which isn’t. Always existing at all points in constant, eternal, balance. Inspired, she clawed at the arcane aura around her and clung to it.

Hands moved with a forceful swish, wand and all, into a wad at the Spirit’s chest. They closed their eyes and loudly called out to focus their intention, “Luòcháo!” and a great radiance of light emanated from their fists. From this light, or likely because of it and its mystic intent, a rush of energy pulsated with Teal at its axis. The fog about the wizard gave way to their force first, leaving them in a spherical pocket of unfettered air. The mist, too, gave way as it was spun and hurled away from the arcane energy. As the Half-Elf’s intent deepened, eventually the hedges before her and around her rippled and churned; their leaves bent and thrashed, the stems bowed and ebbed, the needles squirmed among the bunch, and inevitably, the plants in their entirety were compelled to shift by the Spirit’s will.

The first part was easiest. Now Teal must extend herself beyond the first layer of thorns and thistle, pull and push them into shape, maintain them thusly, and then replace them where they belong – all while operating her own locomotion. She winced slightly as she took her first step, already she could feel a sharpness at the sides of her mind: the pressure of channelling magic. Breathing through the sensation was a caster’s most basic technique – wizardry was all an application of the mind, after all. Focus, Teal. Focus, she repeated in her mind as she extended herself beyond the confines of her shell. She could feel the hedges about her, the soil at their roots, the points of their needles, the veins about their leaves, and even the life coursing through their branches. It was mesmerizing and vile all at once and for a moment Teal considered that this must be how doctors and healers must feel.

She gasped then, her errant thought brought a lapse of immersion, and, with it, the light from her spell shuddered; a shifting warble spread out from her causing the sphere about her to falter. Her fists clenched at her wand as she centred herself again with haste. Please, Teal! Focus for Feie’s sake! she chastised. With even breaths, she brought herself back. With a few more, she took another step and started to lift the first layer of the maze from its bearings. The crack of roots torn from dirt and the rustling of leaves accompanied the display as Teal hoisted the looming plants over and around herself – she wove an archway just tall and wide enough for one Half-Elf, and even a stowaway, to pass through with visual ease.

It was far from easy though. Teal passed beneath the archway slowly, taking cautious, even steps as to not disrupt her attention. All the while, her head already swam with disorientation; thousands of distractions bombarded her, and a thousand more worries joined in. She bit her lip silently and teetered on the razor’s edge of success and failure. Without allowing the consideration to manifest, she tried to let it simply pass through her. She might fail, she might be wasting her time, she might have bitten off more than she could chew, she might have to shamefully return to the Sage, she might be trapped here, she might never return home.

I might never return home.

Another ripple erupted from the sphere of magic swirling about her. Instead of a steady current of energy, the maze’s walls shifted and twisted as if a storm were lurching by from down the mountains. Teal felt herself slipping out of focus as her doubt consumed her, but as one who is tripping intuitively, perhaps miraculously, finds their footing, she grasped onto that which she knew she must. She thought of all that was at stake, all that she had to lose, all that she had to gain, and all that she craved.

Her brow furrowed then as concentration deepened alongside resolve. She thought of her family, her distant Evlish blood, her relations of law, her father and mother, and her many half-sisters. Mama, Papa, Azure, Indigo, please wait for me, her mind resonated. As she freed her intent, allowing it to manifest, it all fell inward upon a singular point of fixation. Teal became a conduit for that wispy, ethereal arcane, allowing it to effortlessly wash over and through her, before willing it upon her desire.

Her light swelled and the ease of which Teal contorted the hedges increased by degrees. As her purpose flourished, the plants of the maze slowly shifted together as one singular mass. Caspian, I will find you. I promise, she cemented within herself, taking one step and then another. Slowly and surely, the red Spirit waded forward. As they did, the walls of the labyrinth churned, rising and crashing like great waves as they hoisted themselves into identical arches allowing the visitor unrestrained entrance.

Here, at the height of her meditations, Teal sealed herself against her fears and trepidations. She could do this; she must do this. Because I deserve to live, she prayed in repetition as a litany to herself in silence, coagulating her dream, her vision, her quest, into a mote within her heart. The light from her hands flared out in a nova bringing along with it the energy of her spell. It rippled through the space with intensity, sending her vermillion cloak thrashing – Lacrimosa clung to Teal’s epaulette. No longer did each segment of the maze bend to her will one after another, but a corridor of identical archways born from the uncanny hedges was formed. It was as though an invisible tunnel had been placed between the crimson Spirit and their destination, one manifested by their sheer will to exist.

Teal opened her eyes then, her triangular brows bowed in a stern expression of determination. Every fibre of her being was focused, not just on her spell and the manipulated shape of the labyrinth around her, but on her goals – her loved ones – awaiting her. She cared not for what she expected at the end of this passage of foliage, she would not fear the Warden; she would meet it with the same overwhelming tenacity that fuelled her now.

One step, and then another; her waltz through the concourse was steadfast and even. In a daze of courage which kept the heaviness of her spell sealed away for now, Teal swept through the maze, marching from its entrance directly into the parcel of greenery surrounding the foreboding tower. It revealed itself to her as she approached, the haze giving way to her vigor, and glowered down to at the speck below. Only when the Half-Elf set foot within the open area, having cleared the last row of thorns and leaves by several paces, did they, with a deep exhale of weariness, separate their hands. The light, the power, the magic, all dissipated in an instant as Teal concluded her spell; the plants carefully returned to their natural positions, the murk shifted to fill the vacuum left behind, the air resumed its still silence, and all became as it had been.

The only difference now was that Teal stood here at the entrance to the tower rather than at the entrance to the maze surrounding it. The twin doors that frowned down at her, metallic monsters with their carved intricacies, were the last barrier she needed to cross before meeting the Warden. As the dust settled – literally – so, too, did Teal’s burst of bravery. She sensed the ooze of exhaustion filling her mind with sludge. Her sight had become blurry, and she found herself screwing her eyes shut as if to clear them of debris. There was a dullness in her ears; she recalled it vividly, that grating ringing. She noticed a fresh stream from her nose and, as she removed the Wanderer’s cloth from her vest to dab at the blood, she felt a tightness in her chest.

KOFF KOFF! Lacrimosa was on the scene as Teal sputtered into the handkerchief. KOFF! She spied a glowing buzz in the fuzz of what was – alarm bubbled in her realizing she had caused her Companion distress. “I’m fine, Lacrimosa,” Teal weakly assured with an even weaker smile, “I’m - KOFF - fine.” The bug was not placated and hovered at hand, but she largely ignored them for now. In the shifting state of their mind, the Half-Elf cleaned their face free of discharge and curiously peered at the fabric they used to stymie the red flow. They blinked, again and again in bewilderment as the red splotches and smears vanished as if absorbed into the material. What was left was the unsoiled surface of the iridescent weave.

Were Teal in any other state, she would find this effect mesmerizing. She wanted to study the Wanderer’s gift and discover its secrets. What cursed material is this made from? Trailed through her mind. It was efficiently replaced by a wave of longing and Teal forced herself to stand upright to catch her breath. A part of her went out to the places she had been, the things she had seen, to the people she had met, to the journey she made – not once, but twice. She prayed in that moment that all those she met, even those she didn’t like, were able to find happiness, true happiness, in some wholesome form.

Clutching at the small towel in her gloves, digging her digits into its delicate fabric, Teal’s mind came upon the final of these visits – to the one whom she had most recently spoken. She still could not rightly explain nor reason her fascination for the Wanderer, but she had meant, wholeheartedly, what she had said to them before the two parted ways. Their gorgeous shawl, their eerie mask, their oversized hat, their delightful music, Teal missed it all. In a way, with their memento here in her grasp, it was as if a part of them were still with her. She knew that even if they weren’t present, they were still here in some cosmic aspect only understandable to them. And yet… She still pined for their support.

We’ll meet again too, my friend. I promise, Teal swore to herself.

At this juncture, the only barrier left for the Half-Elf to break down was the twin titanic doors guarding the entrance of the bell tower. Beyond them existed the tower’s core, that immense inner sanctum that housed both her greatest present desire and her greatest present fear. Teal knew not in what state the Warden awaited her, it might have sensed her by now and be waiting just beyond the doors to impale her a second time, but she knew she would likely have to do battle against them. If she might get past them, however, if she could ring the tower’s bell and spark the conjuration of that dazzling river of light, she might earn her route home. It was a gamble; she knew this too – the river might lead to any number of inexplicable places. The Wanderer had only stated that it brought people back; they did not say how. Still, she had to try if there was even the faintest hope of it bringing her home.

Considering this, Teal fretted over the fight she was likely to endure with the Warden. While ruminating, she extended a hand toward Lacrimosa as to calm their jittering. They landed on her glove and scurried about anxiously. Teal didn’t want to fight; she never wanted to fight. Not only was she useless in a physical engagement, branded ‘an absolute pushover’ by Azure at a tender age, she loathed the very idea of bringing about pain to another. The Warden had wronged her, of course – about as wrong as any could do to another – and Teal would need to assure her trek to the lever and embarkment into the river craft go uninterrupted. Even with this reasoning, her stomach wriggled into knots at the thought of striking the feral protector.

I might rest here a minute to regain my strength before I reveal myself, the Spirit considered. It wasn’t a bad plan, their mind was rather addled after all, but the longer they stalled, the more restless they grew. Dread, that foul thing, peeked at them from over the horizon of her present courage. Teal feared that if she lingered too long, she might lose her nerve – and nerves, ideally ones of steel, were what she needed most right now. If she shied away from her present, the past would be a waste, and the future she craved of might never come to fruition. Her condition wasn’t favourable, but she knew it wouldn’t be the moment she decided to use magic to bypass the maze. She breathed in and out slowly, composing herself as best she could. She focused one last time on all that she loved, all that she needed to do, and approached the metal doors.

“If I am struck down, Lacrimosa,” Teal’s voice trembled only slightly, “I beg of you to abandon me. For me to perish knowing you will not savour your freedom would be worse than any death. You deserve to live too, my friend.”

They didn’t respond, but they didn’t need to. By the time Teal had already pressed her palms against the enormous hunk of steel blockading the entrance, Lacrimosa found their way to her shoulder. She pushed, forcing her weight against the construct, and digging her boots into the ground. The opening gave much easier than she expected yet pushing the door open required all of her capactiy. Bit by bit, the dim light from outside flooded in and revealed a path for the Half-Elf to follow.

She paused here at the threshold, immersed in a liminal space of inaction. Before her spanned the cathedral’s expansive inner chamber exactly as she remembered it. Except, not all of it. Where is the moss and lichen? Where are the trees and vines? rambled through Teal’s mind as she gazed; the massive room was nearly as pristine as she had left it. Were she in a better state, she may have noticed the layer of dust and cobwebs about the place, but she was distracted by something else: the crystal candles lining the walls closest to the doorway suddenly activated. The light that beamed from them was both familiar and sinister. As she registered their brilliance, the next set blinked to life and then the next. Teal tutted; she had wanted to take a cautious approach, but how could she deny herself the chance to make an entrance?

“WARDEN!” Teal bellowed as loudly as she could, barrelling arrogantly into the nave while her cloak billowed after.

Light after light burst to life by the pair before the zealous scarlet Spirit. They were shaking all over, but they didn’t allow that to deter them as they marched toward the short stairwell leading to the crossing. They had already spied the gigantic guard ahead; it was hard to miss. It stood as a statue in the centre of the space, pike and shield at rest before them. Teal could discern no detail of its countenance which made the sight all the more frightening. If she had not known the Warden to be able to move, she might mistake it for some ancient, derelict, automaton.

Alas, its inaction subsided as soon as Teal neared the ascent – she paused at its peak, chilled to her core, as the defender’s sharp ‘eyes’ burst open. Stiffly, it shifted, and Teal thought she heard its armour creak and groan while it latched onto its spear and hoisted its shield aloft. She stared at it, unblinking despite the intermittent clarity of her vision. It locked its gaze with hers and changed its posture at once; its spear was ready to strike, but it moved no further. Of all things at that time, Teal noticed how flecks of dust sparkled on the air as they swirled about – she was little more than a disturbance to this sacred place.

“Behold that I exist such that I am, Warden of the Tower,” it spoke with the same powerful reverberance as last time. More aware, at least somewhat, of her faculties, Teal weighed the utterance against the Wanderer a second time. She sneered sightly, finding the choir of the Warden’s ‘voice’ to be an ersatz imitation of the Wanderer’s twisted chanting. Its warning continued, “You trespass here and risk expulsion by force – return from whence you came, and—”

“SILENCE,” Teal boomed, boldly striding down the steps before her.

“You killed me!” she raged at one step.

“I want my life back!” she roared at another.

“And I intend to ring that damned bell!” she concluded, unsure where she had drawn such bravado. Teal didn’t care – it felt right. Standing there at the base of the stairs, her brows furrowed in a scowl that masked her depleted state. The Warden, from their central position, stood impassively. The only sign of movement was from the twin lights upon its face which thinned almost indistinguishably at this bombastic intrusion. Teal would not be cowed by their aura and remained just as still, allowing the tension between them to increase to a boil. Within, however, her heart raced with panic – every aspect of her screamed for her to flee.

It took the unison and courage of every part of her not to do so, nor even flinch, as the Warden spontaneously careened toward her. Teal forgot the unsettling speed at which it moved, but all the same she knew she had to stand her ground – she must prove herself at this moment lest her plans crumble to dust. Like lightning, the tower’s twisted protecter bounded to the intruder, pike raised to strike – in less than three strides, it bore down upon the Half-Elf. All the while, Teal discreetly lifted her right hand amid the folds of her robe to the haft of her wand.

And yet, with that same uncanny precision used to propel, the Warden stalled well within striking distance of the red Spirit. It glowered down at the tuft of red which had disturbed its meditations, and Teal, in turn, raised her gaze to sneer upward at the hulking mass. Her piercing green eyes, the only parts of her which weren’t bedecked in crimson, shone out like stars in this staring contest. She had not been close to the Warden for long enough to gauge its height before but was amazed by its enormity. In an exceedingly fleeting moment, she compared its form to Caspian, the only other giant she had allowed so close.

Her thoughts were dammed. The Warden broke the quietude with their thunderous utterance, “You defile these sacred grounds, but raise not arms against me. Pray, why is it that you shy from battle?”

“I do not intend to fight you, Warden, unless I must!” Teal rejoined with equal sternness, yet her voice was singular and small compared to the guardian’s, “I am no fighter and were I to challenge you, I would surely end up impaled upon your spear a second time! Nay, I am intent on speaking with you openly.” Teal hadn’t expected to make it past her first sentence before being set upon. Her hand rested on the knife beneath her cloak; she softened her features and amicably attached, “Might we parley?”

Its armaments lowered, but it was clearly still on guard. Teal took this as a small victory – it was much less harrowing to stand before something at attention rather than something intending to puncture. When the Warden addressed her though, it was with the same ominous chorus, “Share your words freely; they shall not aid you here. Repent and retreat, for if it is the bell you seek, then I am compelled to slay.”

Teal freely squinted at the tower’s keeper; she felt her ear twitch out of annoyance. “You demand we confab, but assure me that my words will fall on deaf ears,” she growled, “Will you not hear my plea? Are you so twisted that you will not humour me?”

“You are not the first to attempt to conquer this place by way of flattery and silvery barbs,” informed the emotionless Warden, “My position is thus: I must slay all who seek to abuse this holy space. Only those who bring about my destruction are permitted to ring the tower’s bell and, thereby, claim retribution.”

This raises more questions than I have time to ask, Teal silently remarked. Upon the air, though, she surveyed, “I take it there is no hope of requesting you simply allow me to pass then?” In response, the Warden swung its animalistic head from side to side; Teal thought she heard chimes as its antlers shifted. The Half-Elf’s confidence waned as she shuffled and peered about the room. “Wh-What if I ask you really nicely?” she offered, gawking back at the giant.

To this gaffe, the Warden thrust the tip of its weapon toward the hapless wizard. The point stopped less than an arm’s length away – Teal refused to recoil. “Mortal, what right do you have above all others who have entered this domain to pass unopposed? What glory to do herald that might match the bell’s sonnet? What brilliance do you manifest which could equal the river’s glow? Why should I spare you when I have felled others indiscriminately?” they roared. Each question was like another layer of force pressing down upon the Half-Elf.

Balanced, ridiculously though she was, between fear and faith, boldness and weakness, Teal considered her response from among a million different approaches. Of all things, she settled on honesty. “You should not,” she sadly confessed, “I am meagre, foolish, vain, stubborn… I am unfilial and impious. I am a glutton and a snob too. I am nosy and meddlesome beyond my capabilities. I sleep at my leisure and spend far too long in the bath or shower. I talk too much… I listen little… I grow envious about petty things…” The more imperfections she listed, the longer the list of them developed.

“I squandered a lot of my life being an idiot,” she admitted, but in doing so, found her silver lining, “Yet is it not natural to be fallible? To live is to waste and err and make mistakes, and by doing so we grow, do we not?”

Beneath her cloak, Teal’s fists were balled and shivering. Her face, though, depicted a melancholic contentedness as she looked to the Warden with a bright smile and misty eyes. “Since we last met, I have had ample time to realize that I am all of this and more; I am that which I am. There was so much in my life that I did not do, so much that I cannot even comprehend its limitless potential, but that which I did do was wholly and completely mine… A-And I adored every moment of it!”

The emotions inside her were spinning about, frolicking in a sense, and she allowed herself to babble, “From the times I got caught rifling through my sisters’ robes, to the moments I spent cooking with the kitchen staff, or when I snuck up on Azure at her mother’s grave only to hear her humming sadly… Or the many MANY failures of my academic life! I-I blew up the Alchemy lab not once, but twice! And the nights I spent with Caspian gazing at the stars! The poems I spun with Indigo! The spats I had with Father! The festival nights spent amongst my family!”

She recalled other, less impactful things in a moment of idyllic longing, “…The view from my bedroom overlooking the central garden… The quaint little village I always passed through on my journey to school… The smell of lilacs in the spring… The way Mama and Azure glared the same way when I made a bad joke… The feeling of the first snowfall on my skin… The taste of fresh nectarines…”

“Th-They might not have all been great memories, Warden!” Teal, ever the flair for theatrics, sent her cloak waving with a flourish as she pressed a hand to her chest, “I might not have been great! Or even good compared to those who have passed! But those moments, that life, was MY life!”

Her shining green eyes had become spouts for the tears she could no longer hold back as she cried, “It was MY LIFE, Warden, and it is worth all of the effort I have put into getting here not once, but TWICE – dying not once, but TWICE! It was mine, it was taken from me, and I shall do whatever it takes to get it back.”

Here, Teal glared at the tower’s protector, and from her eyes erupted a defiant fury she didn’t know she possessed. Something had started inside her, ignited in a sense: a fearsome passion to live. She channelled her willful intent as a pointed threatening aura as she called out, “I will not fight you Warden, not unless provoked. By the will of all those I love, all that I love, I promise you this: if you smite me down, I will return just as I have! I shall tread from that river to this tower a million times and then again if that is what it takes to convince you to allow me passage. You will grow sick of the sight and the smell my blood as it coats your halls; you will grow weary from my cloying entreaties; you will tire of my pathetic attempts to best you; you will mangle my body in ways you knew not possible. Yet still, shambling Corpse that I become, I will return!”

Jabbing a finger up at the Warden, Teal spat her final words, “If you are as eternal as I believe you to be, Warden, I shall become such a hideously persistent blight on your existence that you will wish you were not.”

Save for the palpitations of her agitated heart, Teal heard nothing in the silence that filled the void left by her diatribe. She stood motionless amid her accusatory point, glaring up at the one who opposed her. It, in turn, stood motionless as the statue it was and glared right back. Teal could feel the tension, the friction, festering in the atmosphere between herself and the Warden; for a moment she worried she had gone too far in her dun. Not that she didn’t mean every word of it, but, as one who has already died twice, she wasn’t entirely keen on dying a third time.

Her confidence was nearly vitrified when the Warden unexpectedly slackened their stance and, of all things, snorted. Teal was baffled by the onset of laughter that bubbled from the ominous giant which, just fractions of a moment ago, had its spear aimed at her head. It was unsettling to hear mirth emit from such a thing when its bestial head possessed no mouth – the white slits it had for eyes though were arched in delight. “You would condemn us both to damnation for the sake of such a thin hope?” the Warden guffawed, “Your tenacity is most commendable, mortal!”

Amid the thing’s chuckles, the Half-Elf lowered their guard as well. Hesitantly, they joined in the laughter for good measure, but awkwardly probed at her request, “So you will… Allow me passage?”

The feral protector in its immaculate armour stood with spear at its side; it caused a noisy THUMP when pressed into the ground and Teal was immediately reminded of that inert Sentry of all people. When the fiend next spoke, its eyes were strangely round which disturbed Teal greatly. “Oh, goodness, no!” the Warden casually denied.

The Spirit’s perplexed frown was immediate. If it is not trying to kill me, then why is it being so gregarious? If it means to be friendly, then why not let me pass?! they stewed.

Perhaps sensing this, the great automaton shook its head again – amid the gentle clatter on the air, Teal sensed something akin to sadness in its eyes. Its voice still boomed, but it took on a hospitable quality as they clarified, “For you to return, slaughtered though you were, exemplifies the depth of your affection, the sincerity of your conviction, and the weight of your determination. Were it possible for me, I would grant you that which you seek, mortal.”

A mote of incredulity popped inside the carmine Spirit. “Why is it not possible?! Simply stand aside and I shall be on my way!” they burst.

Their fury was met in equal measure. Slamming its spear into the ground, the Warden declared with shining eyes, “NAY!” Teal, with the ground shaking around her, silently grasped her wand in that time, yet the defender appeared to immediately soften once more. They continued more evenly, “Never before have I witnessed the return of one who my weapon has dispatched. Alas, mortal, as you have been destroyed and reformed, so too shall I. Such is my burden, my curse, to oppose all those who seek the tower’s bell.”

That’s so stupid, Teal seethed – she expressed herself slightly more eloquently, “That is unfair! Why must you oppose me when you understand my pain?!”

The Warden’s eyes regained their sharpness at the Half-Elf’s query. “Consider, mortal, the length of time I have stood guard over the tower’s sanctum. No number does this span justice, for I have resided here since time immemorial,” it informed. A sense of discomfort washed over Teal as she sensed something of mourning to the Warden’s inflection, “In that time, imagine the many souls who have sought the bell’s song – those brave enough are not constant, but there is always courage to be found in mortals. Few escaped my retaliation; fewer have bested me; those that did not were slain by my hands. Yet, I have been bested, and I have died countless times as well – I am brought back anew each time.”

“I-I do not understand, Warden. Why are you telling me this?!” Teal squabbled.

“As you, mortal, are trapped within this land, I am trapped within this tower. I am imprisoned. It is my fate to protect the bell with my unending life – only by my demise might the bell be rung, and only by the removal of an intruder might I return to my slumber. It is the only release I have from my curse as the bell is yours from this realm,” the Warden solemnly revealed.

Ever emotional, Teal was growing flustered. “Th-That is ridiculous!” she spouted, “Have I not endured enough? Have you not endured enough?!” She threw her arms up, caught up in the moment – she was trying to ignore her inflection on that ‘you’ she breathed. “There need not be bloodshed, we can have peace if you allow it!” Teal was no diplomat, but she was grasping at something, “If what you claim is true, that the bell cannot toll without your death, then explain how I rang it last time! Neither the Hero nor I brought about your end!”

Teal found herself heaving, caught up in the passion of her plea – a spirited Spirit. In the quiet that connected her postulate, she tried to push aside the savage thumping in her chest. The Warden responded eventually, but the choir of their voice was full of lament, “It is not that the bell will not ring, but that I cannot allow it to be rung.” They raised their weapon and motioned it about the pristine parlour. The Half-Elf’s eyes trailed the prompt, noticing the peculiar inscriptions among the floors and walls. The Warden confided, “Regard the markings here. They are not decorative; they denote both my bonds and my bounds. Whosoever crosses these, which one must to reach the lever yon, shall incur my wrath. Some ancient force compels me – I rage and thirst for blood and carnage. Were it so easy for me to grant you passage mortal, I would… As much as I admire you, I will kill you when I am lost.”

Stunned by this revelation, by its crushing assurance, the red Spirit had nothing to add. The Warden at this point spun about, its decadent cape caught the air and Teal, for the first time, noticed the ornate silver tree adorning the drapery’s blue length – its leaves were miniature dazzling stars. Intentionally and gracefully, the colossal custodian retreated until it stood again at the chamber’s core. Here, it turned back to face the intruder from its initial perch; in one hand it readied its pike, in the other it held aloft the wall of steel that was its shield. No words were needed to convey its present intention, and yet, more came from across the room. Sorrowful words that crushed the poor wizard even more, “In a time so long ago that I recall it only in smears while I slumber, I was the guardian of a sweet child. I loved them dearly. You remind me of them, mortal…”

There were no words in Teal’s mind that could conjure the cruelty of such a sentiment. Was it part of the Warden’s tactic to discourage her, to undo her determination with such a stirring comment? She had been keeping her own opinions on the guardian stifled, but its comparison caused her belief to wane – she could no longer tell if it was merely a construct or if they were, in fact, a tormented soul. How different, then, is it—are they from me? The Half-Elf bitterly reflected, gazing with glassy eyes across the compound at the Warden. Somewhere beyond the feral traits, that wolfish visage, those fearsome eyes, and those gotesque antlers, was a soul who loved, had loved, and could love. And yet, they were barred from extending such grace to another for eternity.

Disgusted and enraged by the brutality of her present situation, Teal found herself trembling again, shaking from head to toe beneath her splendid red robes. She was wracked with terror, but nevertheless, her right hand found the grip of her wand. Slowly and begrudgingly, she armed herself and, in doing so, she rekindled the resolve that had dimmed. I have to do this, she told herself over and over again as her clasp on the dagger tightened. There was no use stalling any longer and no way to avoid this confrontation.

Noiselessly, on one final breath that would expunge the last of her present fears, Teal instructed Lacrimosa with a single word, “Go.” Leaping from her shoulder, the moth took flight – their wings sparkled as descending embers danced before the scarlet Spirit. In the next instant, as Teal glared at the Warden, the light of the flickering flames reflected in her green eyes, she performed three acts in conjunction: she pushed her cloak aside causing its red radiance to billow strikingly behind her; she readied her wand as crystals of ice fell from its tip; she confidently stepped beyond the barrier of cryptic inscriptions which marked the central arena.

CLACK!

Their form was impeccable. Charging forth with unbridled ferocity as they had done before, there was no sense of restraint in the Warden’s assault. Teal could barely keep up with the impossible speed of their movements. STAMP! One of their boots plunged into the ground as they shifted their weight. STOMP! In fractions of fractions of a second, their pike was raised to strike. STUMP! The point of their spear plunged towards the ‘mortal’ intruder before them.

A domed barrier formed between Teal and the weapon when she spun her wand and chanted, “Píngbì!” It shimmered with a sheen of light as the staff plunged into its surface. Teal grimaced, resisting the intense force pressing against her arcane conjuration – she had halted the momentum, but not the intent behind the strike. Cracks formed along the dome’s shimmering exterior, deepening by the second as the Warden exerted their power.

Digging in her heels, Teal knew she had to react; she couldn’t resist the Warden’s strength outright. Shifting her weight, she stepped aside as she flicked her wrist which caused the shield to burst into a puff of wispy smoke and dazzling light.

Appalled by the speed at which the Warden fought, Teal narrowly noticed the change in their advance. The beast’s grip effortlessly altered, and, without any issue, they transferred their weight to bring their pike down in a slamming motion. With the weighted edge of her foe’s pike barreling down upon her, Teal thrust out her wand and called, “Yídòng!”

CRASH!

The counterattack rippled through the tiles and left a crater in its wake. Hungry to reveal their slaughter, the manic Warden scoured the debris, but found no signs of the mangled Corpse they hoped to find. They found themselves disturbed, however.

Behind and above the giant, the carmine Spirit suddenly appeared as an unfurling red mantle. They hung in the air, inert amid the Warden’s brief perplexity; with both hands descending, palms extended horizontally, Teal shouted, “Bīng fēngbào!”

Shards of jagged ice plummeted down, a swathe of them aimed at the Warden’s back. Whether they sensed her reappearance or heard her spell, Teal could not say, but regardless they effortlessly twisted with their shield presented. The hunks of ice pelted against its surface sending shrapnel this way and that.

THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK!

Teal landed and would have cussed that her ambush had been so defiantly deflected were she able. From beyond their shield, the Warden swung wide with their pike, throwing their weight into the attack. It was low and devastating, Teal saw sparks along the ground where the fiend smoothly dragged their weapon – there was no time to prepare a defence.

SSSHHHHHWING!

She leapt over its haft instead. Tucking and rolling as she landed, Teal ignored the woozy sensation as she stood and paid no heed to the ringing in her ears: an opportunity was before her. The Warden had thrown all of themselves behind the sliding blitz and their back was once again towards her. Promptly, the Half-Elf lifted their hands to their chest, pushed them away in unison, then swung them apart as if parting water. “Bīng gài!” they yelled.

A wave of ice detonated from the floor and sprawled from the wizard at its centre; as a wave would crest, however, spikes of ice bolted from the arcing sheet instead. Having no escape left or right, the Warden instead jumped backward to safety in a single bound. Circumventing the summoned blockage, they skipped around its perimetre with ease and, again charging forward at a hideous speed, they assailed with a jab.

They’re too fast, Teal worried with a tut; it was followed by a cough – KOFF KOFF – as she pivoted to defend herself. “Xuĕ wū,” she silently summoned; pressing her wand and hands to the ground, she threw them skyward. An enormous block of ice spewed from the tiles between her and the mad assailant – and not a moment too soon. As she remained kneeling, shuddering in laboured breath, she heard the Warden’s pike pierce the frozen wall.

CRK!

A foul screech combined with the thunderous shattering of ice filled the room. Teal had no time to acknowledge the incipient chill coursing through her: how numb her fingers felt; how her teeth were chattering; how her ragged breath sparkled with frost as it left her trembling lips. In her bleary sight, she saw the Warden lift their shield on the opposite side of her crumbling protection. If the ice would not fall and crush her than the goliath would. Instinctively, Teal reached out her arms and squawked, “Bēnténg!”

C R U N C H !

A thin trail of blood accompanied the sanguine Spirit as they surged forth several paces in a flash. There was no time to consider the wads of ice and snow erupting from the point of impact nor was there time to stifle their fitful coughs of snowy vapour. The Warden lurched back from their pummelling and turned toward the irksome invader – Teal had to act fast.

Droplets slid from her nose undisturbed as she raised her stiletto at the rampaging defender. They had already adjusted for a fresh assault on their prey when Teal spun her wand to the left – counterclockwise. She bellowed, “Jiănhuăn!” and the Warden’s pace slowed considerably. It was difficult to maintain the focus needed to magically hinder their movements, but Teal pushed past the blurry splotches at the edges of her vision. She saw the Warden wind up for another horizontal strike at her head – their speed was still deadly, but it was now as if Teal were fighting a being wielding a cumbersome pike instead of a tree branch.

Able to see what was approaching, Teal lowered herself to duck beneath the oncoming onslaught. An unmistakably deep WHOOSH passed overhead, but this ruffled no feathers; there were more pressing concerns within her to neglect right now. The Half-Elf felt nauseous and dizzy when they rose to full height – their knees were weak and—KOFF—it was hard to bring their sight to clarity.

Blinking hard at what slouched before her, reeling from their missed assault, Teal noted the Warden’s vulnerability. Even with her sluggish mind, she could tell they had over-extended. Their lack of agility made the weight of their armament, the clumsy force of their murderous strikes, much more apparent. It was then that she spied it, a gap in their defenses – a literal one: there was a pocket of space between their breastplate right beneath their arm. Her grip upon the trenchant wand tightened, her legs tensed, and Teal prepared to strike. All it would take is one simple deadly lunge into the Warden’s chest to end them. It all transpired in her mind: a lethal plunge up to the hilt into their chest, the loathsome screech of pain, the convulsion and reaction to her strike, and the inevitable collapse.

Yet, she never moved.

It was something in her chest that stopped her – it always was. A shuddering pulse permeated through her as if the banjo at her back were its source. She recalled the pain vividly, that wretched, guttural hurt which sent every nerve in her ablaze. She had been skewered more than most, lost her life too, but, in this moment, Teal wondered how her trifling experience compared to the Warden’s. Just how many times have they perished? she reflected, Just how much pain have they endured? …I don’t want to add to that even if they aren’t themselves right now.

Her spell waned, Teal felt it unwind from her and cursed the wasted energy. Whether it was intentional or due to her frazzled state, she couldn’t say. She saw the Warden stand to full height and heave themselves about to strike anew. The Half-Elf, a spooked rabbit in an open field, could do little more than watch in their stupor of consternation as the bestial bodyguard renewed their offensive. The Warden had attempted to extend kindness to her before, it was clear to Teal that they wanted to, but they were currently incapable of meeting halfway, of compromise, of grace.

Then I will simply have to cross that threshold alone, Teal cemented within herself.

There was little time after her frantic considerations to act upon the Warden’s most recent assault – the attack had no semblance of sense, they seemed fully intent on simply crushing the pestilent meddler as a carriage crushes a weed along a path. Hurdling toward the haggard Half-Elf with shield raised, Teal couldn’t spare another morsel of time. She pushed both of her hands away from herself and, stretching her focus beyond the storming sentinel, frantically mustered, “T-Tàomìng!”

POOF!

Reappearing in a puff of smoke and sparkles behind the Warden, Teal struggled to remain balanced given her dizziness. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings; the deafening din in her ears, the slosh in her head, nor the static in her vision made the ordeal easy. While she stood bent over and coughed, paying no heed to the droplets of blood on the tiles below her, she understood that she was near the podium at the rear of the chamber. Her thoughts were paper links chained together by fumbling fingers – maybe they were her own frost-bitten digits.

She looked over her shoulder to the Warden beyond: they were scrambling to find her. She could tell the fury within them was intensifying; while her blood chilled theirs boiled. It stood to reason that she was quite near the stage where the lever was hosted, however, and a plan coiled through her mind – one poorly made from colourful pages. If I were to conjure illusory copies of myself and hurl them towards the Warden, she plotted, It might distract them and give me enough time to rush up to the lever.

If that doesn’t work though… Her imagination etched a gruesome scene into her mind, one that resembled her former trial within this blasted tower far too closely. The bloody Spirit hacked loudly – KOFF KOFF – between laboured breaths of frost. They were at the end of their rope, they could feel they had little left to give in this fight, but the fire of life had yet to be snuffed out completely. The plan would be a gamble, and these might be the last spells they could muster. Would it be worth it?

Maybe it was the sight of Lacrimosa’s flashing wings as they descended to check on their beleaguered comrade, but something stirred within Teal then. She wadded her fists and stood upright, attempting to ease her ragged breath. I’m sick of this, she told herself presently. The little light inside her surged, the life within her remembered how dearly it wanted to cling to hope, how badly it wanted to exist – it would not leave something so precious up to chance.

On cue, the Warden spotted their prey from across the parlour. In a savage frenzy, they charged. Their boots, stride by demonic stride, slammed into the tiled floor – every impact left a sadistic crater in their wake.

Opposing them was Teal who stood undaunted and Lacrimosa who fearfully fluttered nearby. The Spirit composed themselves, or tried to, by breathing evenly. They shook though; each inhale was sharp, trembling, and each exhale a drawn-out gust of icy mist that escaped her bloody nose and frosted lips.

The Warden’s crazed stampede neared. The tilt of their lowered head gave the glint of their sharp eyes a murderous quality. They could smell the Half-Elf’s blood as clearly as the nose it dripped from. Their pike, that gargantuan shaft of steel whose sole intent was to maim, lifted in the protector’s gauntlet. It was clear to Teal they intended impale her much as they had done before – at least this time she saw them coming. This time she stood her ground.

The performance that transpired in the subsequent instant required the involvement of all present as three distinct occurrences came about in effortless confluence. It began with the Warden’s lethal lunge. They readied their spear to strike; the jab that would take less than a blink of an eye to reach their target was beguiled. A tiny moth streamed before the Warden’s face, and the pitiful burning ashes left by each beat of Lacrimosa’s delicate wings shimmered against the void that was the guardian’s face. Simultaneously, or perhaps lastly, Teal tensed her body and leaned ever so slightly to the side.

The pike cut into her sleeve and glanced her cloak as she raised her arms – the Warden had missed.

“Lĕngdòng!” cried Teal as she raised her wand to the sky. Ice, a stout clear pillar of it, detonated from below the Warden’s weapon, encasing the spontoon amid its crackling inception. Their momentum was suddnely thrwarted. They lurched then heaved their armament to no avail, altered their grip to yank it free, and shattered the blockage with ease.

CRACK!

Spinning to face their foe, however, the Warden’s eyes beheld the results of the Spirit’s ruse. The chamber was flooded in a brilliant green shine which radiated from the jade pendant at Teal’s collar; it sparkled and shone with dazzling light in concert with the energy that poured from the wizard’s intent. Their arms were already cast out toward their target, the spell nearly cast, as the Half-Elf coldly voiced, “Wŏ huì dòng sǐ nĭ…”

Unable to respond, the Warden’s boots were surrounded in ice. They attempted to break free, but in the next moment their legs and torso, too, were encased. This glacier crept along their body unhindered and, accompanied by a rush of thunderous cracks and pops, was soon joined by great spikes of ice which shot from the tiles surrounding them. These jagged towers rushed out and up, barely missing the Warden’s arms and hands, yet entangled and lifted them in such a way that they were utterly helpless. They fussed and raged, but even with all their ferocity it was no use. One final spear of ice, far larger than the others, unceremoniously erupted at an angle and sped towards the Warden’s head – the defender’s disfigured display.

CRK CRK CRK CRK!

They flinched then in that moment before being run through.

CRK… …CRK…

But the moment never came.

Soon, with no release from their imprisonment, their anguish returned, and the Warden’s temper boiled anew. They twisted and squirmed, they pulled and thrashed, but it was in vain for the ice which coated them was frigid and solid – it was far colder than the bloodthirsty rage that steamed within them. Lashing about in this way, the Warden became aware of the disappearance of their foe. Only able to crane their neck in futility, they searched about with wild eyes and ice digging into their throat. The paralyzed protector didn’t spot the sanguine splotch at first but by following a similarly coloured trail along the white tiles below, they found their mark climbing the stairs at the far end of the crossing – they were ascending to the apse’s sanctuary unopposed.

Gruesome screams of defiance and agony came from a hundred disfigured voices all emanating from the Warden. These were perhaps the only fragments of reality that Teal perceived clearly as she trudged from one step to another; every segment of the stairs seemed another mountain for her to struggle over. She stumbled from left to right as she struggled to remain standing, locomotion was difficult when one must maintain their focus on a spell such as that which she had cast. It helped matters none that she was bleeding profusely from her nose and – KOFF KOFF – blood spilled down her chin as she expectorated gasps of snow and ice; even her ears were dribbling that iron gush.

Additionally, her hands clutched at her sides for warmth. She was cold and shivering, her vision was failing, her eyelids were heavy and blinked very slowly. She saw little that wasn’t a frosty blur. Even as Lacrimosa buzzed about her in concern, she only saw them as a beautiful golden smudge. It reminded her of something, but she had no capacity to think. She was solely focused on two opposing concerns, balancing them both carefully lest either tear her apart. Somewhere though, a small voice – its origin Teal was incapable to discern – called to her, forcing her to move, pushing her higher, propelling her toward the lever that lay beyond this incline.

"Up, up, up, up, up!” it begged, “Please, Teal, please. Just one more step. Then another. Please, please, keep going!”

She reached the zenith, climbing to it on frozen hands and knees. Cresting the top, that final step, she wrenched her body over the final hurdle and, for a moment, collapsed. KOFF KOFF – Teal wheezed, pushing herself from the ground – KOFF KOFF KOFF – She spat and sputtered. Her vision wavered, yet she noted a splotch of red on the ground below her. She felt embarrassed of all things, knowing it had come from her and that she had sullied the pristine white tiles. Her arms shook, her mind shook, the tenuous grasp on her spell shook, as did that wavering flame inside her.

is this all that i can muster…? i dont want it to end like this… were her chilled thoughts, i want… i want… i miss… It was too cold to think clearly anymore. She remembered this chill paradoxically both poignantly and vaguely, but it had crept up on her so much more gently than it had before.

maybe it is better like this, Teal shivered.

Despite her waning senses, there was that ever present ringing in her flooded ears. It was the only thing she could hear clearly now; even the guttural wails from beyond the stairwell had faded into the static of the blizzard that was consuming her. The ringing, that unworldly little voice, though it was so very small, beseeched her with such earnest sorrow that she was fain to hear it whether she wanted to or not.

“Please, Teal! Do not give up! Please!” it cried. Was it crying? Was the sound of that miniature resonance their tears? “Get up, please!” it urged, “Just one more step, please! The lever is right there! Just hold on, please! You mustn’t give up!”

the lever..? Teal raised her head to look out, she knew it was beyond her somewhere. It was so hard to see, but she forced her eyes to stay open and willed her spell to remain for just another moment. She could not see it, perse, but she knew it was there, that monolithic apparatus. Less than a smudge or a blur or a cloud, she knew the lever was there because it was glowing. From behind its form, a halo had emerged which showered it in a golden lustre. In a circle the light spun, and Teal was entranced; it was warm, it was soft, it was alluring, it was full of hope, and it beckoned to her. She cared not for the lack of sense such a phenomenon made. Pushing up from her table posture, the ravaged Spirit stood as well as one in their state might. Their legs obliged and they hobbled toward the light.

Every time she blinked there was distorted darkness that sweetly sung to her raptured psyche, yet every time she gazed out at that auspicious radiance won her over. The Half-Elf was so weak that they knew not the distance nor length of time it required them to reach the grand switch. In one faint moment they were falling toward it, catching themselves, and falling again. In the next, they fell against the broad handle of the lever and braced themselves against it. There was something distant then, a great howling gale that bit at every essence of the bloody Spirit. It was sad and horrible, but they ignored it for now. They ignored it and grasped the lever with their frozen hands, they heaved with the shreds of whatever it was they had left in them, the glow above intensified as did the cold about them, but, by degrees, the mechanism shifted.

click click click click

CLACK!

Teal held her breath, slumped against the lever, and braced whatever parts of herself she could still hold onto. The gale about her was disfigured and revolting, that beyond was worse, but all the same it raged. The bell far above – who can say just how far – didn’t care for any of this though. The gears had been turned, the operation initiated, and so it raised little by little until it reached its peak all the same.

Then it happened and it was deafening.

GONG GONG!

Little made sense to the former Castaway then. The bell’s cacophonous peal tore through the storm that was their present state. It crashed upon them as it did the entirety of the room, but some aspect of its brassy aria seemed to replace the vile ichor of their rotten mind with velvety syrup. Teal stumbled back from the contraption and coughed, but there was something soothing about the golden glow on the frigid air around her, like the light of a morning on a winter’s day. The light, the halo, was following her now. She didn’t mind – she could barely think – but she knew she had done it.

GONG GONG!

The concussive projection from above brought about a sense of peace and Teal underwent a serene transition that perplexed her. It was as if the ringing of the bell cast aside that blizzard which had assailed her. Where she stood in the sanctuary was still and calm, there was a weightlessness about her, yet the frenetic tempest continued its foul swirl at the opposite end of the room. Instead, she turned and allowed herself to be drawn by the sound of trickling water. She smiled weakly and shambled onward, unable to perceive the complex splendor of the dazzling river before her. It had elongated and became ethereal as it extended beyond the confines of the bell tower, curling up to a place past everything else. Teal’s eyes were so encumbered that as she stared, she sluggishly blinked, and when she saw again there was a white blot bobbing atop the water’s surface.

GONG GONG!

With great effort, Teal leaned toward the blob – she knew what it had to be because she had seen it appear before in a shining display. A thin stream of blood accompanied her solemn shaking march, but she pushed past the numbness of her body to shift her legs in one uneven shuffle after another. Nearing the white stain and grasping something solid in her gloves, she faintly heard the sound of her wand clang against wood – she fell into whatever it was, ignoring her own clatter, and struggled to stay conscious. The illumination above her, the sunny gleam, was all the ragged Spirit could truly recognize. They laid there and considered how dearly they loved it, how it sparkled and undulated just like the river she was now on. They laid there, panting weakly, and everything went dark.

Gong Gong!

Stirred by the bell, Teal’s eyes fluttered open. She reached out a hand and clasped at the solidness around her – it was the miniature raft’s gunwale, but she was none the wiser. There was a splashing somewhere close, a pulse somewhere closer, and she knew that she was moving. Compelled by some machination, she forced herself to sit up; she was glad she did. Surrounding her was the river; it was no longer of water, but of a milky sheen from which serene flecks of gold and silver drifted away from. Around her, a light was intensifying. It was mystic and blinding, but comforting and sweet. Teal felt as though it was reaching out to her, to pull her into an embrace, and she might let it freely. Yet, fool ever to the end, she disregarded its attempts at present and, rather, peered over her shoulder.

gong gong

There far below where she had been perhaps a morsel of time prior, was the cathedral’s inner chamber. Among its tiles, many were intact, many were destroyed, some were stained red, yet among them all the Warden stood precisely where Teal had left them. No longer encased in ice, no longer strangled by cold, they stared up at the Half-Elf drifting away. They stood with neither weapon nor shield in their hands or rage in their heart; they simply watched as Teal rose away from them and Teal watched as they became smaller from her point of view. She could barely see the defender’s thin eyes, but as hers met theirs – even at such a distance – she was certain that they were sad and thankful. She knew because they had been her eyes once.

Teal raised a hand to wave goodbye and was shocked to see the Warden so far below mirror her motion. Here, as she drifted away from them, from the tower, from all that she had experienced, she parted her chilled lips and quietly recited,

This placid river

Carries me out to the sea

Where waves ebb and flow.

I reached out, you stood adrift,

Waving to me from the shore.”

Whether or not the Warden heard, Teal might never know, yet the craft sped along its journey. She turned toward the light and climbed higher and higher. While she rose, the light got brighter and brighter. Bobbing effortlessly, flowing freely, the white wooden boat and its contents flowed along the rising river of light until, up, up, up, up, up, they were no more.

gong gong

Currently Untitled v1.0.0 - Chapter 39 - JuncoSnow (2025)
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