Chapter 16 - Flame's Fest
"Something's changed."
"What?" I ask.
We've only been on the road for an hour or two, all the crimson hints of dawn evaporated from the horizon.
"Actually, I know exactly what's changed," Noli signs. "I just couldn't tell in the dark, and I thought I was seeing things when it was still early. But now there's enough sun that I can definitely tell it's not a trick of the light."
"What is it?" I press, knowing full well she will continue to ramble unless railroaded into an answer.
"Your ink," she signs. "There's more of it. A lot more."
"What?" That's weird. I hadn't noticed that last night when I was looking at my reflection. Then again, my glass made for a rather poor mirror, and the brightness of my soul had overpowered everything else.
It was also the middle of the night, I guess.
Regardless, why would the ink in me increase? How? That doesn't make any sense.
"I mean, it might not be a bad thing," Noli signs, nearly guaranteeing it is. "Like, I thought you had more ink before, but then it went down. And now it's up again. So maybe it just does that?"
Maybe, but I know better than to believe in coincidences. What's the cause, though?
Echo, give me a Check.
[Name: Kanin]
[Species: N/A]
[Class: Wizard]
[Level: 3]
[HP: 10/10]
[Bonus HP: 24]
[Mana: 23/23]
[Void: 93%]
[Role: Homunculus]
Woah, woah, woah, woah. What's up with the Void stat? When did that skyrocket? I am not a fan of this development—whatever that development may be. Echo said it was a tracker for "The rate at which I access the void," (super helpful, thanks for that,) but a rate would be more of a number than a percent, right?
And what happens when I hit 100?
"I'm fine," I tell Noli, feeling anything but. The uncertainty of that stat unnerves me. But without understanding what causes it, there's nothing I can do. No sense in making Noli worry over me, at least.
With little else to do, we continue to walk, with me occasionally—okay, obsessively—re-checking my stats. Nothing changes, however. At least, not while I'm watching. It feels like one of those videos where the cat keeps getting closer and closer to the camera each time the filmer ducks out of view. Never moving when you're watching, but creeping up on you nevertheless.
Early on, the travelers pass us once more, and this time we let them go quietly by. It feels like we're missing our opportunity by hiding and just letting them stroll past, but I'm not eager to get into any more fights, even if it does come with the bonus of a Level Up. Which of course is only another reminder that we'll likely be facing more of the same treatment even when we do make it to a town.
It's noon when our road crests a small hill, trees spilling away on either side, to reveal the valley beneath us. I instinctively stop, as if walking and taking in the breathtaking view are too much to coordinate at once, and Noli likewise pauses beside me.
Clustered like facets of a geode in the basin beneath us are the red-tiled roofs of a town. The blue ribbon of a river winds lazily around the village, while smoke curls up from buildings in dozens of miniature clouds. It's still too far to make out the people who live there, but it's civilization, nevertheless.
Relief washes over me. We did it. We made it. We're not stuck somewhere isolated, so remote that our spells will expire before we can do anything to stop them. The travelers were a glimmer of hope, but this is the first breath of air after fear of drowning: Help is within reach.
"We're so close," Noli signs, echoing my thoughts as we start moving once more. "Without any more trouble, we should make it to the edge of town by nightfall. Then it'll just be a matter of seeing if this town has a telepad—though it seems pretty small, so I doubt it. But! We could always write Rezira a letter, telling her where we are. Although I'll have to convince someone to hand over a quill and paper. And they'll need to open the ink bottle for me. That went disastrous before. And then I'll need to convince the wyvern master to let me send it. And I suppose for that I'll need some money. And if we want money, we'll probably need to get a job. What do you suppose we could do, this size?"
Well from first-hand experience I'm fairly sure we could at least sweep the floor and do some dishes—assuming people will give us the opportunity to explain our circumstances before we get to experience an encore of last night's performance. But I'm stuck on something else Noli just said.
"Wait," I interrupt Noli as she's in the middle of talking through employment options (including, but not limited to, chimney sweeps and rat extermination). "Paper. Writing."
"The letter to Rezira?" Noli asks. "Yeah I was thinking—"
"No, stop," I sign before she can get going again. I mean, sending a letter is a good idea, depending on if we can convince someone to do that, and if Rezira can get here quickly. But Noli's getting ahead of herself.
"Can you write for us?" I wish I'd had the vocabulary to ask this back in Trenevalt's cabin, but better late than never.
"Of course I can write," Noli signs, completely misunderstanding my question. "Who can't—oh, right, you can't. Sorry! I didn't mean to be rude. That's probably a sore spot. I mean, it would be for me."
"Can you write for us," I emphasize. "To talk to…" I gesture at the town.
"Oh, I see," Noli signs. "You want me to write things down for the people in town? That's how we'll communicate? Doesn't seem as efficient as Sign Language, but it looks like not many people understand that around these parts." She considers. "Alright, it's worth a shot!"
More than worth a shot, it should stop us from being mistaken as wild animals again. What sort of spider waves a piece of paper around that says, "Don't squish me! I'm sentient!"?
Then again, this world contains elves and magic and teleportation pads, so I suppose anything is possible. We'll just have to count on a bit of empathy to get us through this.
"So have you got any paper and ink in… wherever it is you make things magically appear from?" Noli asks.
Erm. "No," I admit. At least, not apart from the spell books, but I'd rather not go tearing pages out of them until it's a last resort. And no ink to speak of… apart from what's inside my vial, I suppose. Without any apparent opening, however, that seems as unlikely as it is undesirable.
I gesture back to the town. "Paper there?"
"We could definitely buy some," Noli signs. "Oh, but we still won't have any money! That's brought us back around to the beginning, hasn't it?"
I'm not particularly planning on paying for anything, if I'm being honest. With my inventory at my disposal, any crime—or petty theft—would be entirely without evidence.
Look, desperate times, alright?
We pass another traveler late that afternoon, this one heading away from the city. Noli and I hide behind some trees as they pass, half dozing on their giant armadillo-pulled cart. They have pointed teeth and ash-gray skin, dark eyes unfocused on the road ahead. Echo identifies them as a dhampyr—yet another new kind of person for me to keep track of.
I find myself tensing up as the day grows longer and the town gets closer. I'm not even sure what I'm worried about, exactly. Not getting stepped on or slapped with a fly-swatter would be a great start. Overcoming the language barrier. Dealing with unfamiliar creatures in an unfamiliar town—you'd think I'd be over this by now. Hell, this whole world is unfamiliar. I guess it's just been in bite-sized pieces up until this point. I've had time to process each new curveball as it's been thrown at me. But a whole city to deal with all at once, where nothing will be recognizable, where I won't be able to navigate—literally—or even ask for directions… Honestly, I don't know how we're going to make it out the other side. I suppose I'll have to rely on Noli's blind confidence to carry us through. But the idea of having to lean on her completely, going into this situation blind myself, makes me just as uncomfortable.
We don't make it to the city by dark. Dusk has come and gone, and still we're on the trail. I ask about nightbanes, but Noli waves it off.
"We're nearly there," she signs, movements barely visible in the moonlight. "And the city should have some protections. We can't stop now!"
A distant murmur of noise—clanging of metal, occasional yells and calls—signals the town's close. But close for a human and close for a couple of pint-sized objects are two very different things.
Even so, we press on. A warm glow dimly twinkles between the trees. We pass branches in the main road, twisting into the forest or leading up to remote houses. Occasional stretches of cobblestones are set into the trail, vanishing and reemerging from the dirt at random. Gradually, the signs of civilization become more frequent.
And then the forest ends.
A stone wall runs around the village, carved with dozens of faintly glowing runes that shimmer like stones beneath the surface of a pond. There's an opening in the wall where the trail leads in, and Noli and I edge up to the corner to peek around.
The town blooms before us, glowing orange and red in all the firelight. Lanterns are strung across roads and flicker above doors. Food carts clutter the paths, full of skewered meats and colorful, strange foods, gusting steam into the night sky. Fat hisses as it drips onto coals, laughter and yelling permeate the air, drums and faint music leak through the crowd. And the people—there's so many people.
They're every shape, size, and color I could imagine—not just white and black and brown, but some are covered in blue scales, or green bursts of plumage, or yellow manes. Children run around in leafy masks the color of autumn, waving ribbons about as their parents stand around chatting. Some of them are those dragon-looking people—dracids, apparently. And the cat-like felis, and orcs, and humans, and elves, and dwarves—and—and—
I shake myself out of my awe. I could stand here all night discovering new species of people, I bet. It's like this town walked right off the set of Cryptid Hunter. And if I'd come to this world in the body I'd left behind, maybe I could have strolled in here with all the swagger and confidence of Jack Stone. As it is, however, I'm eyeing the blissfully unconcerned footfalls of children with mounting dread.
"Oh!" Noli gleefully exclaims, demonstrating once again how her enthusiasm knows no bounds. "It's Flame's Fest! I didn't realize the holiday was so soon. I mean, we don't celebrate it back home, but I always thought it sounded charming. They say the roasted fire flowers are to die for."
Something that may be in our literal and immediate future if we don't figure out how to navigate this place.
"How long?" I ask Noli. Please tell me we won't be dealing with a trampling crowd for the next two weeks.
"Oh, it's only one night," Noli signs. "All night, that is. I imagine things'll be pretty silent in the morning, all the kids sleeping in and all their parents nursing a hangover. Do you think that'll affect our ability to find a wyvern master? Darn, if only we'd gotten here a day before."
Actually, a bunch of drunk shop owners sounds perfectly ideal for Operation Steal Some Writing Supplies.
If we survive the next twelve hours, that is.
It shouldn't be too bad, though. All we have to do is hang out in the woods until dawn. Not that I'm keen on waiting with the ticking clock hanging over our heads, but this seems like one instance where—
Hey! Noli! Where the hell—
But it's too late. She's already skittering away from the wall, making a beeline for the nearest food cart. I contemplate remaining where I am, safe in my obscurity and sufficiently removed from any misplaced and deadly boots. But if I lose her in this crowd, there's a nontrivial chance it'll be weeks before I find her again. With an immaterial sigh, I take off after her.
"Why?!" I demand as I catch up with her, tucked around the edge of the stall. She's peeking around the corner, watching the crowd, as food crackles on a grill overhead. A puff of smoke is snatched up by a breeze and blown over us. I instinctively try to take in a breath, and there's a moment of disorienting absence—like reaching for my phone only to find my pocket's empty. Because there's no way for me to smell, of course. I guess I'll just have to use my imagination.
Noli ducks back toward me. "Some of those paper masks have fallen on the ground. I think we can use them for cover."
Not to mention, paper. If she's right, that's less stealing we need to do. Instead of looking around the corner, I crouch toward the ground. I'm low enough to look out under the stall, even if my vision is more distorted at this angle. It's enough to catch sight of what caught Noli's attention, though. Several of the children's decorations have been lost or cast aside, providing us with an opportunity to blend in.
"Alright," I reluctantly agree. It's not the worst idea. "But one: plan."
"But first we need a plan," Noli corrects me.
Is now the time for proper grammar?
"Why we go paper now?" I ask.
"Why do we need to get the paper now?" she corrects me.
Noli, I swear to god.
She answers anyway. "For a disguise."
Yes. Yes, I get that. "But then what?"
"Well, we'll need a disguise if we want to search the town," Noli signs. "There's the telepad to look for, the wyvern master, someone to sell us some paper and ink—oh, and we have to get a job, of course."
I literally can't believe she still thinks that's an option. But figuring out the layout of the town now isn't the worst idea. An animated toy and walking inkwell might be a bit more obvious tomorrow when the streets are deserted. If we use the current chaos to distract from our scuttling, we can map out the area tonight. Then, tomorrow morning, we'll know where to go and what to get.
I guess it's as good a plan as any. "Okay."
"I can sneak out and grab some of the masks," Noli offers.
"Wait!" No sense in risking a repeat spider incident. "I get it." Hopefully.
Echo, I ask, what's the range of my Attuned glass now? Did it increase with the level up?
[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Attuned objects may now be manipulated within a twelve-inch radius.]
Okay, well, that isn't great, but it's at least an improvement. And a foot of range might get me what I need.
[Additionally,] Echo continues, [Attuned items now have the ability for select senses to be turned on or off. Senses include: touch, sound, sight.]
Uh. Okay. You mean like, I could feel and hear and see through my glass? I ask. Don't I already do that?
[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Sensory abilities now extend to Attuned glass as well. Currently Active Senses: touch. Inactive senses: sound, sight.]
Oh. So I've been able to feel through my Attuned glass already by default, but I could only see and hear from my vial. So this would be like adding ears and eyes to my Attuned glass? Might be handy to have a second set of eyes trying to navigate this village. Maybe it would even save our asses.
Sure, I tell Echo. Turn on sight.
[Designate an Attuned target,] Echo says.
I mentally shrug. I don't know. All of them I guess?
[Affirmative. Sight on all pieces of currently summoned Attuned glass has been activated.]
It turns out, this was a mistake.
The vision snaps on in every piece of Attuned glass I have—and I am seeing everywhere at once. Above, below, to every side, but the worst thing is that I'm seeing the same images from dozens of different perspectives. My vision swims. My head is in a vice. I can't process all this—I feel nauseous, disoriented, woozy—I stagger to the side, nearly falling over.
Turn it off! I cry. Turn them all off!
[Sight deactivated,] Echo says.
Reality collapses back into just my one source of vision. Suddenly, the fish-eyed sight from my vial doesn't seem so bad after all.
"Are you okay?" Noli asks.
I wave her off, somewhat embarrassed. "Fine."
Well. Never doing that again.
Before Noli could press the matter further and force me to reveal just how stupid I'd been, I lower myself to the ground and roll out of my glass legs. Just small enough to squeeze under the cart, I call a few of my signing shards after me as I hastily roll away.
At the other end of the cart, I come to a stop. The masks are about a foot away. Hopefully my range will be enough. I slip my glass out from under the cart, wincing as a foot slams into the ground mere inches away. The boot lifts and vanishes. I push my glass out further.
[Range limit,] Echo warns.
Shit, I know. I roll forward half a rotation more, barely sticking out from the cart. My glass snags the corner of the paper mask. I slowly reel it in, watching the forest of limbs that stretch far, far above me for any indication that someone's noticed. It's an ocean of movement, impossible to track every face at once, and the more I try, the more paranoid I get that I'm missing the one that's actually picked me out. Too jittery and impatient for any more of this, I snatch the paper back toward me with one quick (and unsubtle) movement.
Echo, add this to my inventory!
The mask vanishes as it touches my vial.
I wait a beat for someone to gasp or point. But the swells of people continue on, caught up in their celebrations.
Whew.
The second mask is a little further than the first, but I'm able to roll a few inches out from the cart and grab it without any fanfare. Relieved, I return to Noli with my spoils.
"Nice job," she signs as I remove the masks from my inventory and hand one over. She maneuvers it over her head, draping the paper around her like a cloak. "Kind of pretty, aren't they?"
The outside part of the mask is fashioned like a cluster of red and orange leaves, which I suppose is nice—it's the underside, blank and white, however, that catches my attention. I skewer several shards of glass through it as I fashion my tent as well. If we can't find ink, maybe I can go back to slashing markings in the material, like I'd tried to do originally with Trenevalt.
Even thinking about him makes my mood dip. I wish things could have ended differently in that cabin. I wish I'd had any power to do anything while I was there. Maybe if I'd tried harder to communicate…
Noli bumps into me as she passes, concealed beneath her mask, which shakes me out of the spiraling thoughts. There's no point in dwelling in the what-could-have-beens. All that matters now is moving forward—and trying to avoid a similar fate. There's been no sign of the predator since we left the cabin—and that worries me almost as much as the time limit on our spells.
But at least the latter is something we might have some control over. First, tools to communicate. Then, help. Then… well…
I follow after Noli, taking that first vertigo-inducing step into the flood of people.
One step at a time.
Chapter 17 - Class Check
The fatal flaw in our plan is almost immediately discovered when we wait for a cart to pass, only for me to go left as Noli goes right. My omni-vision catches the flub right away, but Noli doesn't even notice we've separated until she's half a house away. We need to use our limbs to hold our cover overhead, and since we also need to use our limbs to communicate, this means we can't do both at once. After regrouping on the other side of a small mob of children, we reevaluate. I pass one of my shards off to Noli, which she holds with one of the limbs she's using to keep her mask in place. Even if I can't see under her cover, I can feel which way she's pointing it. As long as she stays within a foot of me, I'll have enough foresight to stay on her heels.
We keep as close to the houses, and as far out of the street, as we can manage. I'm starting to doubt the practicality of our plan (apart from choosing to navigate a crowded village while being only three inches tall). I try to sneak glances at the signs that decorate buildings as we pass them, but most of my brain power is being spent on trying to avoid getting stepped on—and not all the signs even have words on them. Some are just symbols or drawings, which my Google Translate apparently doesn't deem worthy of interpreting.
"Whoa! What the fuck is that?" someone cries, which I don't immediately pay attention to, until I realize they're pointing at me. Shit. I guess it was too much to hope everyone would blame the wind for a couple of masks suspiciously shuffling about. Not giving our detective a chance to investigate further, I give Noli's glass a couple warning tugs and hastily guide us beneath the nearest cart. A shopkeep is pushing it down the street, and luckily the crowd has hampered its movement enough for us to keep pace.
"Whew," Noli signs, risking a peek out from beneath her camouflage. "This is a little crazy."
You know, it is, Noli. Who would think this would be a good idea?
"Did you read?" I ask instead.
"The street signs? Only a little," she admits. "It's a bit difficult to see from under here. But I've been tracking our turns as we take them. I think we're heading closer to the town center. If there's going to be a telepad, it'll be there."
"And writing paper?" I press.
"Sorry," she signs sheepishly. "Haven't been able to look."
"It's okay. I'll look." Might be better to divide and conquer, anyway. And we still have time. Better to tackle this methodically than rush it and get ourselves hurt. "Ready?"
"Always," she signs, lowering the disguise back around herself. We strike out once more.
This time, attempting to emulate a couple of paper masks caught in a gust of wind—rather than a pair of rats in poor disguise—we try a sort of start-and-stop method, timed with passersby. "Hurry up and wait." That's what they always used to say on set. Apparently, it's good enough for sneaking through a fantasy fire festival, too. Who knew?
Avoiding footfalls while trying to catch glimpses of signs between a forest of people is no easy task. It certainly helps that I can, technically, look for signs while also seeing someone come at me from behind, but trying to focus on and register those two things simultaneously is more than my human-programmed mind can handle. So I surprise myself, then, when I find what I'm looking for.
Excited, I tug on Noli's glass to get her attention. When she pauses to check with me, I steer us both out of the danger zone.
"Look," I sign, pointing up at a building.
The logo is styled like a stack of scrolls, and the name of the shop is painted across the window: Attiru's Atlas Emporium.
"A map shop," Noli signs. "Oh, yes! Good idea. They definitely should have some ink and paper in there. And if we can't figure it out before then, that should tell us where we are!"
Maybe I could even learn a thing or two about what planet I'm on. I haven't spared too many thoughts before now on exactly where we were—priorities and all that—but now I'd be lying if I said I'm not at least a little curious. What does this world look like? How is it similar and different to Earth?
Noli makes a verbal note about the shop's location—I have no idea how she knows where we are—and then we strike out again.
It's a long night. The festival never wanes, though children thankfully become less frequent, and we continue our scouting mission far into the early hours of the morning. Noli picks out a place where we can send wyverns—apparently similar to messenger pigeons, though these small winged creatures appear significantly more scaly—and I find another couple candidates for ink theft. There's no telepad, it turns out. Noli seems to have expected this, though she still seems a little disappointed when she tells me. I think I'm okay with that not being a possibility: If it's what cast Noli Between in the first place, I'd honestly rather not risk another run-in with the predator until we're out of all other options.
"We've been going for almost a whole day now," Noli comments when we pause beneath a food stand to gather our bearings and share our findings. "I mean, not the festival. That's only been all night. But we started walking at dawn yesterday, and it looks like we're only another hour or two away from hitting it again. I keep feeling like we should stop and rest. But I guess that's more out of habit than need, isn't it?"
I sign an affirmative. It does feel weird. I'd been using Attunements before to simulate a dreamless sleep-like state, but I guess I haven't really rested since I arrived in this world. And that's been, what… at least a week now?
With everything that's happened, it feels so much longer.
"So what's next?" Noli asks.
We've figured out the layout of the village. (Well, Noli has.) We've found places for ink and paper and sending messages. We determined there's no telepad. All that remains, I suppose, is writing out our messages and…
"Find a wizard," I sign. "To help our spell."
Huh. Maybe we're not so far from resolving our predicament after all. Finally, things seem to be falling into place.
"I'm not even sure what to look for, there," Noli admits. "There are homunculus specialists, but they're fairly rare, and this town is pretty small. Maybe a healer could help? Though they probably won't know any summoning type spells. Rezira doesn't, anyway. Well, I'm sure we'll find something. We've only scraped the surface of this town, after all!"
After a whole night of walking? She says that like it's a good thing.
But she's given me an idea. We don't need to find a business; we just need to find a wizard. And I have just the dowsing rod for the occasion.
Echo, I say. Can you give me a Class Check on everyone I point out?
[Affirmative,] Echo says.
And level? I add.
[Affirmative.]
Sweet. Might be a bit preemptive if I lose them in the crowd, but it couldn't hurt to keep an eye out for anyone powerful enough who might be able to recognize or fix our spells.
I clock a robe-toting elf in flowing purple and silver attire.
[Level 10 Rogue]
Oh. Way off base there. Okay, well, how about that halfling in a pointy hat?
[Level 22 Beastkeeper]
Nope. The gray-bearded man at the fireworks stall?
[Level 9 Bruiser]
Maybe I need to stop relying on movie stereotypes.
I absently follow Noli as I pick out more of the village folk, this time selecting at random just to surprise myself.
[Level 7 Brawler. Level 14 Warrior. Level 12 Guardian. Level 31 Rogue Artificer. Level 6—]
Woah, back up. Level 31? That's the closest I've seen to Trenevalt's level so far. I skim back through the crowd, trying to find the rogue artificer. He's nearly out of sight when Echo picks him up again. Even from behind, though, I can tell he's not human. Orange curling horns, a prehensile tail, and crimson-red skin give me flashes of demons and devils.
[Name: Zyneth]
[Species: Cambion]
[Class: Rogue Artificer]
[Level: 31]
[HP: 150/150]
[Mana: 580/580]
Devilish looks aside, that is some mighty fine mana. He's the best target I've picked out so far. I wonder if I should catch Noli's attention and head after him, or if we should continue to—
I almost don't notice the fight breaking out until it's too late. I've filtered out raised voices as background-noise of the festival, but these ones are sharp, tones filled with drunken irritation. The flurry of movement catches my attention at the last second, and the ground thrums with heavy laden footfalls as someone stumbles toward me.
I throw myself to the side, heedless of any fall damage, as a foot slams into the ground behind me. I hit the pavement next, just barely getting some signing glass under me to break the fall.
I feel several pieces snap, disembodied jabs of pain shooting through me.
[3 points of Bludgeoning damage sustained.]
I don't have time to worry about that as panic forces me stumbling to my feet and out of the way of the drunk bystander. My signing glass flies behind me—whole and broken pieces alike—as I scramble to take in my surroundings, locating the brawlers. Noli! Where's Noli?
But the fighting has already moved on down the street, and I catch Noli ahead of me going the opposite direction, blissfully unaware of the mortal danger we were just in.
Relieved, I hurry to catch up. I suppose it was just a matter of time before one of us was nearly crushed. Even so, it's an experience I'd love to not repeat, especially given the damage I took to my bonus HP. I'm lucky it wasn't to my vial.
Echo, Check, I tell her, just to make certain I hadn't missed any other surprise blows.
[Name: Kanin]
[Species: N/A]
[Class: Wizard]
[Level: 3]
[HP: 10/10]
[Bonus HP: 21]
[Mana: 23/23]
[Void: 95%]
[Role: Homunculus]
I freeze. Ninety-five percent. When had Void gone to ninety-five percent? It was ninety-three last evening, I'm sure of it. I'd been checking the whole afternoon, and it hadn't moved at all, but then—shit, I'd forgotten to keep checking once we arrived in town. Too much other stuff to worry about. But when in the last eight-ish hours had this happened? And why? I haven't done any magic, right? So spells can't be it. I did just get hurt. But that was three points of damage, and this is up two percent. I mean, maybe the math isn't one-to-one, but… Jesus, I have no idea. And I hate that so much.
Anxiety pooling inside me, I finish catching up to Noli. Should I tell her about the Void? I haven't even been able to articulate the concept of "Stats" to her yet. It doesn't seem like she sees stats or hears an Echo—or if she does, she's not giving any indication that's the case. How would I even explain all this? I don't know what Void is. Maybe it's not even important.
Somehow, I'm not able to convince myself that's the case.
Gradually, the sky begins to lighten, and just like the vanishing stars, the festival goers thin from the streets. Eventually, with fewer and fewer people around, our disguises become too conspicuous, so I store the masks in my inventory. Back to skittering from hiding spot to hiding spot again.
"Alright, I think I've got a good layout," Noli signs. "It'll take us another hour to get back to the map place, but that should be our first stop. Sound good to you?"
I sign my best approximation of a thumbs up. "Let's go."
Maps seem like the last thing we need with Noli's natural sense of direction, because we make it back there faster than she suggested. I feel like I might even be starting to pick out some familiar landmarks, but maybe that's just because everything has started to blend together.
However, navigation becomes the least of our problems when we make it back to Attiru's Atlas Emporium.
"So." Noli wrings her limbs awkwardly. "How do we get in?"
You'd assume at some point during the night I would have thought this part through, but you'd be mistaken. I check the bottom of the shop door: There's a gap, but not nearly enough for my vial to squeeze beneath. Noli could flatten herself better than me, but she'd also still be too big.
"Back?" I suggest. With little else to do, we circle around the building.
"If this doesn't work out," Noli signs as we go, "We still have other options. There was that book store, too. I'm not sure if the wyvern master would let us borrow any, but that might also be worth a shot."
Borrow. Oh, honey.
As luck would have it, however, there is a backdoor to the shop—and the door is propped open with a rock. As luck would not have it, the gap is still too narrow for my bulbous form.
"Here, let me try something," Noli signs. She finds another rock nearby and drags it over to the door. Wedging herself in between the gap, she pushes against the frame with all her might. Picking up on Noli's plan, I hurriedly use my glass to corral the rock into the extra space Noli manages to eke out. Noli lets go with relief, and the door holds. Not waiting to see how long that hold will last, I hastily step over the doorstops and inside the shop.
An eerie familiarity creeps over me. Wood floors thump dully underfoot, while log rafters stretch overhead. It's all too similar to Trenevalt's cabin. The walls feel too close, the still air oppressive and suffocating. My hackles raise at the memory of the last time I was in such a place and the distinct feeling of being watched.
But as Noli and I linger by the door, the differences start to become more apparent than the similarities. We're in some sort of storeroom, with cluttered shelves stocked with papers, bindings, and rolls of leather from floor to ceiling. There's another door at the far end of the room that presumably leads into the front of the shop—which swings open even as I'm looking at it.
Noli and I scatter. I dive beneath the nearest shelf as Noli jumps onto one across from me and vanishes into a nest of twine. The room rattles as the far door closes and a person with glasses, red skin, and black horns strides down the racks. They make it to where Noli and I are hiding—then keep going out the backdoor. Whew. They must not have seen us.
We wait a beat or two, but the shopkeep doesn't come back. Noli pokes her head out of her hiding spot.
"Should we wait?" she asks.
"Yes," I sign back. Actually, snooping around the backroom might be better than us poking around the front of the shop—assuming we don't get caught by the owner, first. Why were they even working this late on a holiday? Or early. We should give it another minute or two in case—
The back door swings open again, the map maker heading back in. This time, however, they kick the rocks out of the door frame, and when the door closes, it's with the click of a latch. Welp. There goes our escape route. They stop a few feet away, gathering a box of leather and papers from a shelf, then disappear through the front-shop door once more.
Noli and I give it another five minutes, but they don't head back in.
Cautiously, I creep out from beneath the shelf. Noli untangles herself from the twine.
"Well," she signs. "Time to get to work?"
"Look for ink first," I respond. If nothing else, we can use our masks for paper.
I suppose climbing the shelves is always an option, as I had back at Trenevalt's place anytime I needed to get up or down the table. But even with my meager "Climbing" skill I've obtained, doing so here would be flirting with death. Luckily, I have a Noli.
While I check the contents of all the shelves within reach, Noli begins climbing the scaffolding to see what she can find higher up. No ink down here—or any other kind of writing utensils for that matter, who knows what they use in this world—but I do find two leaves of crumpled and discarded paper, which I set aside for Noli. There's also rolled up scrolls and what might be maps tied shut with string, but without knowing their contents I decide not to take them. Only a couple spaces left in my inventory, and I'd rather snag some more magic books than half a dozen potentially useless topographical maps of forests and mountains. Maybe Noli will know what's useful to take.
A flicker of movement catches my attention as I emerge from the scrolls, and I notice Noli trying to signal me from a couple rows up.
"Found something," she signs, waving around some stubby black sticks. "Don't have enough arms to carry them while I climb down, though. Catch!"
Noli, what, no—
I sidestep the lethal projectiles and let them clatter to the ground beside me. One of the sticks snaps in half and rolls up to my foot. I nudge it, and it leaves a black smudge on my glass. There are black marks where they hit the ground, too. Oh. Some kind of charcoal?
"Sorry!" Noli rushes over to me after she makes it down the shelves. "Forgot how fragile you are. Right. No more throwing things at you."
How kind. But hey, at least we've got what we came here for. Noli gathers up the sticks of charcoal as I retrieve the crumpled papers. Finding a remote corner of the storeroom and smoothing out the pages, we get to work.
"What should we start with?" Noli asks.
Given my struggle initiating communication with Noli the first time, this is one area in which I have something of an expertise.
I point out parts of the paper where I want her to start writing. "Yes. No. Help. Wait…" I pause as I go, waiting for Noli to painstakingly draw out the words. Some are longer in her written language than they are in English or Signs, so Noli makes substitutions where she thinks it's necessary. She also messes up the first couple of times and has to start over; even if she claims she's gotten pretty good with this body, it's clear that dexterity is still difficult for her. I can relate.
It takes about ten minutes to fill up the page with a dozen important words and phrases. As she reaches the end, Noli steps back to admire her penmanship.
"Thank you," I sign. This is a great start. And it should be a huge step toward getting us some help. I gesture to the other blank paper that's left. "You write to Rez?"
"You wouldn't mind, would you?" Noli asks. "I know we're in a hurry and all, but she must be worried to death about me. And once I figure out the name of this town, we can tell her where we are."
"You write. I'll look," I sign. This is a map shop, after all. There's got to be some indication of where we are. Might as well be multitasking anyway, and if Noli's previous writing speed was any indication, we'll be here a while.
"Really? Oh, thank you, Kanin!" It looks like Noli is about to go in for a hug, then thinks better of it. She gingerly pats one of my pieces of glass instead.
As I add the communication cheat-sheet to my inventory, Noli turns back to her blank page, wringing the giant charcoal stick between her limbs as she stares at the empty letter. I feel a faint pang of sympathy. What must her wife be thinking right now? Does she think Noli is dead?
As I wander through the room, looking for ideas, my mind drifts back to Earth and the people I left behind. I haven't really given myself a chance to think about them much before now.
How much time has passed back there? Has it been a week, like it has here? Or are the timelines completely separate from each other, given the worlds are divided by the Between, a place where time doesn't even seem to exist?
I think about my dad. We haven't talked in years; acting wasn't exactly his first career pick for me. Would he care that I'm missing? Or dead, I guess, assuming any time has passed over there. I have friends who would care. Li from Wardrobe, and Harold from Sound, and Jenisha from Make-Up and… I mean, I definitely also have friends outside of work! Like, Stevo. Okay, more of an ex, but he'd probably still care, right? And there's Imani, of course. We were best friends in college. And we just caught up last…
Jesus. How long has it been since I've hung out with any of my friends off-stage? No, that's beside the point. Surely, there has to be someone out there who's worrying about me as much as Noli's wife is worrying about her… right?
With my current line of thought taking a depressing turn, I force my attention back on the task at hand. Maps. Village. Where we are.
Unfortunately, short of snipping the string on all these scrolls and unfurling everything within reach, I don't have much to go on. That is an option, of course, but I don't have much faith in my ability to roll everything back up again, which would leave very obvious evidence of hideaways for our shopkeep friend.
I'm near the door to the front of the shop—actually, only inches away from it—when it swings open once more. In a panic, I brace my signing glass against the door as it sweeps toward the wall, pushing me along with it. The owner steps into the room once more, but I'm more preoccupied with the wall that's rushing toward me. I try to scramble out of the way, but my feet slip over the ground, and there's not enough time—
Until the door slows to a stop, a handspan from the wall, sparing me death by trash-compactor. Slowly, the door begins to swing back into the closed position once more. But if it does, then I'll be left out in the open. Nowhere close enough to hide behind if the shopkeep turns back around and looks. I have to think fast—run toward the map maker and hope I can dive into a shelf before they turn around, or…
Taking a chance, I skirt around the open door and into the front half of the shop. The floor rattles as the door shuts behind me, and then I'm alone in Attiru's Atlas Emporium.
Chapter 18 - Atlas Emporium
The shop is surprisingly clean and modern—not at all the medieval setting I was expecting—and for a moment it feels like I'm back on Earth, having walked into some kind of antique bookshop. Bookshelves line the walls, stuffed with scrolls and loose papers of every shape imaginable. There are some maps framed on open spaces of wall, and even a glass case in the middle of the room containing some wares I can't make out from my angle. To my left is a counter, beneath which appear to be ledgers and something approximating an abacus, while to my right is some sort of work desk where a lamp is burning and rolls of unfurled paper are scattered over the surface. The front of the store is mostly windows, where dawn light has begun to filter in.
The floor shakes with approaching footsteps, and I dart to the left, out of the meager firelight. The owner steps back into the room, depositing more materials and tools onto their workbench with a sigh. As they organize the tabletop, I hoist myself up into the area beneath the front counter and out of sight.
Whew. Close call. Maybe I can follow them back into the storeroom next time they return for more supplies—assuming they'll be heading back there again. I'll just have to hope so if I want to get Noli out of there.
In the meantime, I'm pretty much stuck here. Looking around my surroundings, I find that there's two shelves beneath the countertop, of which I'm on the lower one. The upper shelf has the math-looking tools I'd seen before and what appear to be some stacks of coins. Down here it's mostly papers.
I look over the open-faced book I'm currently standing on. Some kind of sales docket, maybe. There's a list of sold items, payments, receiving parties. I quickly lose interest, cautiously (and quietly) picking my way along the shelf.
Over here's a stack of opened letters, unsurprisingly addressed to Attiru's Atlas Emporium. I wonder if there's any kind of mail carrier service similar to Earth, or if these all travel by those dragon-pigeons Noli pointed out. Can Noli and I just ship ourselves to the nearest city? Think we're light enough to be carried by wyvern? I mentally chuckle at the idea of adding a "Fragile Cargo" stamp to the box.
I'm about to leave the letters behind when I happen to glance at who it's addressed to. But not just who. Where.
Attiru's Atlas Emporium
Peakshadow
Valenia North
I flip through the next couple of letters just to be sure, and they're all addressed the same. That's it! Peakshadow must be this town's name. Or, maybe Valenia North. Either way, I've finally got a name for where we're at, so I'm declaring this a win!
Despite its exceptionally dry content, I return to the sales docket. Now some of the lines are making a bit more sense. There are delivery addresses that just contain names of individuals or companies, while others seem to have an address and city attached. Peakshadow is notably absent from the list. Maybe they don't add the city name to deliveries that are already in town. So these other places—Harrowood, Crimpool, River Cross—must be nearby cities. At least, I'm hoping they're near. Harrowood comes up quite a bit, so presumably it does more business than the others, and hopefully that means it's also bigger. A bigger city means more opportunities to find a wizard who can help us.
I skim the list of recipients and what they purchased. Most of it's what you'd expect: regional and topographical maps. But there's some more unique entries as well, like "Griffin Migration Patterns" or "Hydra Territories." One in particular catches my eye: a "Magical Ruins of North Valenia" map, sold to a business called Cloud's Arcane Artifacts. Arcane! That sounds wizardy.
Out of curiosity, I turn the page. The paper crinkles slightly as it flips over, and I cringe at the slight sound, freezing as I wait for the owner to react. No alarms are raised, however. Not willing to poke my head out and see if they're looking my way, I cautiously keep reading.
This Cloud shop keeps coming up, and all their purchases seem magic related. Even if the owner isn't a wizard, they clearly have some serious interest in the subject. It's probably a leap, hoping they can remove our spells, but at least maybe they'll understand something about it. Maybe, if we make it to Harrowood, they'll be able to help.
Well, it's as good a lead as any. As soon as I can figure out where Harrowood even is.
Now I just need a map.
One would think this would be easy, given I'm trapped in a map shop, but the presence of Attiru—I confirm my new friend is in fact Attiru with a quick Check—complicates this venture somewhat. After finishing a search of the underside of the counter, I conclude all the maps are on the walls and in display cases. I'm out of options here. With nothing else to do, I carefully check up on the shopkeep.
Attiru is still hard at work. Glasses pushed up their nose and quill in hand, their tongue barely pokes out the corner of their mouth as they squint at something on their desk. The very picture of an enrapt scholar—if typical scholars had red skin, horns curling out of their hair, and glowing yellow eyes. Perhaps they're working on another map. While they're here, however, there'll be no way for me to get close enough to find out.
Unless… I could try out my cheat sheet. Maybe they'll listen to me if I start with "HELP! DON'T KILL ME!" Of course, if they don't, this room doesn't leave a lot of options for tactical retreats.
A loud crash shudders from the backroom. Attiru jumps, spinning around to face the door.
"Who's there?" they call, holding their quill before them like a dagger. After a moment of silence, they grit their teeth, then jump from their chair and plunge through the door.
Now's my chance. I clamber down from the back counter and head toward the front of the shop. I'm nearly in front of Attiru's work desk—and hopefully out of their line of sight when they get back—when something darts out of the back room. I flinch, raising my glass in what little protection it can provide, but—
"Noli," I sign with relief.
Noli spares no signs back as she hurries over to me, her letter to Rezira flapping behind her like a cape as she dives behind the desk as well. "Thought we could use a distraction. Didn't mean to knock a whole shelf over, but—"
A muffled "Fuck!" drifts from the backroom.
"It's probably fine," Noli signs. "Probably not too much is actually broken. It was mostly just papers and binding supplies anyway. And I can reimburse them when all this nonsense gets sorted out."
'Nonsense' is such a Noli way to phrase our predicament. But at least she's on the same page about "Flee now, seek reparations later."
"I know the name. Town name," I sign, looking for cover as loud thumping noises and muting cursing rings from the back room.
"Really? That's awesome! Great job," Noli signs. We tuck ourselves beneath Attiru's work desk, and Noli sneaks her letter between a bookshelf and the wall to be a little less obvious. "So what's it called?"
I pause, realizing a moment too late I don't actually know how to sign the town's name.
"I can't spell," I admit, faintly embarrassed.
"Oh right," Noli signs. "We still need to work on your letters. But a lot of towns have unique signs anyway, like with names, so—never mind, I can go over some later. But you can read the name, right?"
"Yes," I sign.
Noli shakes her head. "One of these days you're going to need to explain to me how you can read but not write or talk." That's fair. "Anyway, can you point it out on a map?"
"Yes!" Great idea. And it kills two birds with one stone; hopefully we'll be able to figure out if those other towns that this shop delivers to are nearby.
"Okay, be right back," Noli signs.
"Wait!" I sign after her. Attiru could show up any minute. But Noli's already gone, skittering up the chair like an insect.
No wonder those people thought she was a spider.
Noli disappears over the top of the desk, and I shift nervously from foot to foot, straining to catch sight of her. Hurry, hurry, hurry! We'd managed to shake our pursuers last time in the forest, but we don't exactly have bushes and trees to hide behind in this book shop.
Noli reappears at the edge of the desk, looking down at me. "Find cover!" she signs.
"What?" But she's already vanished again. Why?
My question is immediately answered in a cascade of falling scrolls. I scramble back underneath the desk as they bounce to the ground around me with hollow thumping sounds, thankfully quieter than I would have expected. I roll a couple of them over, trying to see what had made her pick these ones out. There are some initials at the edge of the rolled up papers: GV, VN, VS, VW, and VE, but they don't mean anything to me.
Noli's back on the ground next to me half a minute later. "Looks like they're transcribing some regional maps up there, which is lucky for us. These should be a good place to start."
I'm all for cracking them open and taking a look, but now and here seems hardly the time or place. "Hide first," I suggest. But Noli's already struggling to untie the twine around one of them.
"Just a sec," she signs. It's the roll that's labeled VE. "I just want to see…"
There's still clattering and banging going on in the back room. Alright fine, just this one, then we really need to skedaddle. I push Noli's fingerless limbs away from the knot, and slip one of my glass shards beneath the twine instead, snipping it open.
"Ah, thanks!" Noli begins to unfurl the map. I plant myself on one end as she kicks the unrolling map ahead of her, stretching it out.
Stabbing a couple pieces of glass in each corner—[Range limit,] Echo warns—I'm able to reorient myself for a better look.
Valenia East, the map is labeled. On the surface, it seems like your standard map. Mountains run along the northern edge, while forests take up a majority of the land, and the land turns to sea along the right border. Cities are sprinkled throughout, although…
Everything is moving. Just the slightest amount, in the subtlest of ways. Trees sway in an unseen wind. The water sparkles as it catches the sunlight. Even the mountains have tiny dots circling the peaks here and there, and roads draw themselves between the cities even as I watch.
"Here," Noli signs, pointing out a coastal city to the east. "Miasmere. This is where I was headed to. And here…" She taps on another town, this one toward the south end of the map, in a forest. "...here is Bluevine. It's not much, but it's home."
The town lights up as Noli touches it, and the map abruptly zooms in, a layout of Bluevine filling the whole sheet. She's right, it doesn't seem like much: more of a rural farming community than a real city. Not exactly where I would have expected an elf to live, if I'm being honest, but what do I know about this world.
"Oops!" Noli dismisses it, and the map zooms back out to a full view of Valenia East. "I don't suppose you live anywhere around here, either?"
"No," I sign, making the understatement of a century. I haven't even had a chance to tell her about Earth yet, and how the hell I'm going to break that news, I can't even imagine.
"Ah well," Noli signs. "What about what town we're in?"
That one, I can say something about. Taking a stab at the naming conventions, I tap the scroll with VN on it.
"Really?" she asks. "Interesting. Alright, then we'll be needing that one, too." She points to the GV roll. "Let's get these things rolled out."
Once again Noli struggles with the ties, but I hesitate before snipping open these two. I already feel like we're pressing our luck.
I tap Noli to get her attention. "Let's go first. Not safe here."
Noli hesitates. "I wouldn't want to steal anything."
That's rich coming from someone who just destroyed the back room. But I'd at least rather do this somewhere Attiru won't see us upon stepping back into the room.
"Okay. There." I gesture toward the front of the shop. At least let's get a display case between us.
Noli begins rolling the map labeled VN over to where I'd pointed, and I quickly add GV to my inventory before following her. I leave the other maps behind: If Attiru comes back into the room and stops to look at them first, maybe it'll buy us a few extra seconds to hide.
We get VN unrolled first. Valenia North. The top half of the region is mostly mountains, with the range curving down the right coast as well. There are cities sprinkled along the less mountainous region, though there are one or two other remote towns in the north as well. There's Harrowood, about in the middle, just an inch out of the craggy peaks. And right along the border…
There! I tap excitedly on Peakshadow. "Us."
"Are you sure?" Noli asks. "That's really where we are?"
I mean, sure is a strong word, but it's about all we've got to work with. "Yes. Us."
"Peakshadow," Noli considers. But she doesn't seem as excited as I would have expected. "Help me roll out the regional map next."
Assuming she means GV, I summon the map from my inventory and get it rolled out as well, revealing a large, twisting continent. This one is titled Greater Valenia, and it takes me a moment to mentally resize and fit the other two maps I'd seen over the top of this one.
Oh. I see why Noli's so subdued.
She taps the top of the map, where Peakshadow should be, though it doesn't show up on this one. Then she traces a limb all the way down the east coast until it reaches another unmarked spot. Where Bluevine would be.
They're half a continent away from each other.
"Of course," Noli weakly signs, "There's always the telepads. It's not really so far."
But it's far enough that help won't be coming for us anytime soon. If Noli sends her letter, how long will it take for one of those lizard birds to get there? Not to mention, how long will it take for Rezira to get here?
I rest a piece of glass on her arm in what I hope is a reassuring gesture. There's still hope. We still have options. I shuffle back over to the Valenia North map and gesture for Noli to follow. I tap on Harrowood.
"What about it?" Noli asks. "That's not where we are, right?"
"No," I agree. But it's the next place we should go. I stick a piece of glass each in Harrowood and Peakshadow. "How far?"
Noli finds a scale at the edge of the map. "Between Harrowood and Peakshadow? Looks like… maybe 25 leagues."
That means literally nothing to me. "How long?" I try again.
Noli draws some nonsensical shapes in the air with one of her limbs, maybe doing some mental math. "It would take about two days on foot, assuming the roads are good," she signs. "But for our size…"
More like two weeks, which will take up the rest of our timer. Maybe we can make it in time, but I don't like the idea of cutting it so close.
"Why?" Noli asks. "You think we should go there next?"
"Maybe," I sign. "Help with spell."
Noli examines the map. "I haven't heard of Harrowood before. Although to be fair I'm not familiar with most of the northern cities. It does look a bit bigger on this map." She moves back to the continental map. "And it shows up here when Bluevine and Peakshadow are too small." Her signs perk up a little. "I suppose it's worth a shot. Yeah. Actually, it seems like it's the nearest town to where we are now, and it's probably big enough to have a telepad. You're right. This might be our best bet."
Finally, a plan. I don't know how I'll tell her about Cloud's Arcane Artifacts, which may or may not have a wizard who can help, but they might be irrelevant to our plan anyway. Once we find a big city, someone there will have to be able to help us. And hey, maybe we won't have to walk the whole way. There's got to be some merchants heading out in that direction. If we play our cards right, we might be able to hitch a ride.
Something like excitement—no, that's too strong a word—something like relief ebbs through me. We have a destination, we have a way to communicate, and we have a plan. That's the most we've had yet.
The door to the back room swings open, and Attiru stomps in with a string of curses. Noli jumps, pressing herself against the display case. We're out of sight from the shop owner for now, but all it will take is two steps toward the front of the store for us to be discovered. Better hide the evidence.
I lean down to touch my vial to the paper. Echo, add these two maps to my inventory.
[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Adding maps to—]
If Echo finished her sentence, I can't say, because for a moment everything vanishes behind a flash of lightning that sears straight through my soul. I stumble into the display case and lean heavily against it, trying to gather my wits against the surprise and stabbing, ethereal pain.
"Who's there?" Attiru calls.
"Kanin?" Noli signs, clearly concerned. "Kanin, what's wrong?"
The ache is only getting worse. It's like a splitting headache. Like a building pressure, trying to crack me open. In fact, as I struggle to push myself back to my feet, I realize there is a crack. A white jagged line runs across the top of my vision. And even as I watch, a bead of ink drips out of me.
And it falls to the ceiling.
Something beneath the veneer of reality begins to stretch. An eerily familiar sensation of brokenness, of timelessness, of absolute dark, seeps into the world, and I am incapacitated with complete, all-consuming fear.
More drops of black seep from the crack and fall against gravity, joining the first on the ceiling. The slow stream of raindrops feed more steadily into an inverted pool of black.
"Oh, oh Kanin." Noli takes a hesitant step back. "Your ink…"
Echo? I call, pushing through my mounting horror. Echo, what's happening?
[Check,] she replies, nonplussed as she begins reading out my stats.
[Name: Kanin]
[Species: N/A]
[Class: Wizard]
[Level: 3]
[HP: 5/10]
[Bonus HP: 21]
[Mana: 23/23]
With every line, the dread in me grows deeper. By the time she approaches the end, I already know what she's going to say.
[Void: 100%]
And the room is filled with hunger.
Chapter 19 - The Void
I shove Noli away. "Run. Run!"
The ground thumps as the shopkeep rounds the corner. "I swear, if it's you kids again…" They stop, sucking in a breath. "What in Relona's Realm…?"
But I'm barely paying attention to them, because I can feel the predator pulling itself from Between. I can feel reality tearing as easily as paper, the black spot on the ceiling becoming a crack, then a crevice, then a yawning, black maw that swallows all the room's light. The shopkeep lets out a strangled cry, stumbling backward, but I'm rooted in place as the predator lets loose a triumphant scream, all its malice and hunger crashing through me. The feelings are so strong I'm swept up in its tide, helpless to fight back as the waves of emotions smash me against the rocks, leaving me dazed.
"Kanin!" Noli grabs my glass. Her touch brings me back, and I struggle to shake off the petrifying horror of this moment. "We have to get out of here!"
No, no, she doesn't understand. I can't run from it. It's me; I'm the crack in reality. That thing is coming through me.
But she could run. She can still get away. "Run," I repeat, my glass feeling stuffy and numb. I stumble away from Noli. The darkness on the ceiling drops into the room, rearing up in a shifting pillar of shadows, or ink, or nothingness. It's silent, but its presence is so loud, its instincts and emotions and desires—I can hardly hear my own thoughts over the roar of the predator's hunger.
Noli. I have to warn her.
"In me, the predator," I start to sign, but it's like I called out its name, because its attention snaps around me like a vice. I freeze, unable to move or think around the icy fear that grips me. Its recognition and distaste pound against my mind as I desperately try to hold on. God, it's so strong.
And I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared.
It's with the smallest effort that it flicks me aside, like a child tossing away a wrapper. Agony lances through my soul at the dismissal, and I'm sent spiraling into the dark.
The shop is gone. My glass is gone. Sight and sound and touch, vacant. The predator, though—the predator I can still feel, painfully near, but now its overwhelming presence is distant enough that I can take a moment to try to catch my metaphorical breath.
It's thrown me Between.
My mind reels, finally able to start processing everything.
Between. The predator. My ink.
The first time this happened back in Trenevalt's cabin, he hadn't actually summoned the predator, had he? It was me. That Void stat—somehow, that was what was causing all this. The fact that Trenevalt had been performing a spell when the predator appeared had been a coincidence—it was my fault. It was me. He died because of me.
And now it's happening all over again.
Echo, I call. I need help.
But I'm met only with silence. Alone.
I try not to panic. How had I gotten back before? I'd followed the sensations. I'd found my tether to reality. I try to find it again now, reaching for something—anything—that is different from the empty, endless nothing that surrounds me.
And instead of finding one path back, I find two.
The first one is familiar. When I grab hold, it brings to mind stability, and fractals, and glass. It's the spell that's tying me back to my body. It's quiet. Comforting. But the other…
This thread is twisted and dark, and without even reaching for it, echoes of the predator's mind resonate down the string and into me. The swirling combination of elation and malice make me feel ill. I never want to know what sort of terrible things brings happiness to a creature like this, but it makes me all the more anxious to get back. I can't let it hurt Noli. And the shopkeep and everyone else in town. This isn't like Trenevalt's cabin, remote and removed from the world. This has the potential to be much, much worse.
It all started the first time I ended up Between, didn't it? When I met Noli, the two of us caught in Trenevalt's spell. That was when the predator had first appeared—and when it stabbed me, was that when this extra tether was formed? Once I fell back into reality, it was easy to brush off the encounter as a narrow escape. But I never escaped it. I've been pulling it along like a kite on a string this whole time.
Which means it's up to me to fix this. That's what heroes do, right?
Shying away from the predator's thread, I find the tether that anchors me to my glass body, and I pull myself along its path. It's like pressing through mud; at first, reality is slow to reach me, sights and sounds and sensations still frustratingly distant. But the more I clamber my way back into the world, the easier it gets.
Sound comes to me first: panicked screams and crashing glass. No, I can't be too late. I have to do something! Slowly, colors and shapes also begin to form, and I can see the map shop, far away, as if I'm looking down on it from above.
And as reality starts to sharpen into focus, so does the predator's mind.
It's overpowering. Its sadistic glee bursts across me as if there's no barrier between our minds at all. I have to struggle to hold onto my own thoughts, remind myself of my own fear and determination, and how I have to hurry, I have to get back—
I crash back down into my glass body once more, reality screaming into focus around me. I'm in the shop, but everything is chaos. Black ichor drips from the walls. The shopkeep is nowhere to be seen. The windows are blown out, glass and paper scattered everywhere, and outside there's cries of alarm. Noli! Where's Noli—
I have half a second to take all this in before the predator rounds on me.
Like a column of rippling ink, the predator curls down to look at me. Its thoughts are louder, almost a physical pressure crushing me into the ground. Puzzlement, curiosity, contempt. It wasn't expecting me to come back. It's irritated.
I hold onto that small nugget of encouragement—the knowledge that even like this I can provoke it—and use that to fuel my courage. Time to channel Jack Stone, cryptid hunter, and vanquish this monster once and for all. I push myself to my feet and activate the Bond Trace spell.
And the magical tether jumps into grim clarity.
Before I'd only been able to see the tether that tied my soul to my glass body. That second string that seemed to have vanished into thin air—that I'd thought was the broken bond to my human body—is now clear as day, drawing a line between myself and the predator. Connecting us. Connecting our minds and magic.
It must sense what I'm planning next, because it flares with anger.
I activate the Sever Bond spell.
And Echo says, [Insufficient mana.]
Oh, fuck.
The void collapses onto me. Everything goes black, and I lose all sense of direction as if I'm being flipped end-over-end. But this isn't the Between. I can still feel my body. I'm still here.
Though being swallowed up by the predator is hardly an improvement.
I try not to panic. It can't kill me. I saw the bond with my own eyes—it's tied to me, and I'm tied to the glass. If it wants to stay in the real world, it can't destroy me or my vessel. It needs us.
This reassurance is short-lived as something tightens around my glass, scratching over its surface. Like claws trying to find purchase and pry me open.
And to my horror, I feel my glass begin to creak.
[1 point of Crushing damage sustained.]
I flail, desperately trying to dislodge its fangs. In my mind, I'm screaming. I can feel its essence prying open the crack in my glass. Forcing black drops of ichor between the gap. And at the first drip—
The predator explodes into my mind. Or I've fallen into its. It's a maelstrom of fury, of triumph, of hunger. It's ravenous. Starving. It aches with how hungry it is. And each of these feelings smash into me, sweeping away all my other thoughts. Smothering my fear. The predator rips at my soul, stripping away bits of my sense of self with each battering swell—
No! No. I clutch at my terror. I grasp my defiance. I pull tighter in on myself, gathering every thought and feeling and memory I can scrape together, trying to insulate myself from the void's broiling sea.
It's like the first time I went Between all over again. A fishbowl in an ocean. But this time, the ocean is trying to drag me down.
And I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
The predator presses around me, sheering away my defenses. Contempt and greed pound against me like a storm. It's so loud. So powerful. I buckle beneath its pressure.
My walls collapse, and the void rushes in. It extinguishes my defiance. It smothers my fear. It squeezes even tighter, until I can't think, I can't feel, I'm just—
—I'm drowning—
No, I have to do something, it can't end like this, I have to fight back—
But I can't breathe.
I'm suffocating.
It's—
I'm—
please
I—
We open our eyes, turning our attention back to the outside world. A tiny, lifeless glass vial sits on the ground before us. Our anchor to reality. We pluck it from the floor to hide within our shadows, and our maw splits into a grin.
Chapter 20 - We
The hunger is devouring us. It eats us from the inside, maddeningly incessant, and we drag our claws through our surroundings, desperate for relief. Irritating high-pitched sounds rake at our ears. We wish it would stop—we can make it stop—but when we turn our attention to the source, we notice a distinct glow in its chest. Our mouth waters.
Food.
The room we're in is tiny, cramped, so when we dart out the door, it shatters from its frame. We shake off the splinters. There's more noise out here. Screams—yes. More screams. It's irritating, but inconsequential, because our prey is fleeing.
A thrill runs through us. A chase—we love a chase. Usually. But we're so weak, right now, and tired, and hungry. We can play with our prey later. First, we need to feed.
We jump, snapping through the air like a black bolt of lightning, covering half the block in an instant. We crash down on our prey, snarling with triumph. Easy. So easy.
Something dark and wet is spreading across the ground where we've pinned one of their limbs. It smells sharp and warm. We crane our head toward it.
Blood. Right, we remember blood. The one before had so much blood. We hadn't had time to play with him, then, either. Maybe today we can. But first, the meal.
Their soul glows bright, so bright, beneath their ribcage. We don't understand why it's tucked away in there, when it's so easy to peel back the layers. We reach toward our prize, savoring its quivering, fragile light.
Something hits us on our side. Not hard. Barely a tap. But it's curious. Why? Doesn't it know what we are? Doesn't it know not to interrupt a meal?
At first, we don't see it. It's not another creature, but a small, pitiful object. A—a toy, the word comes to us.
It throws another pebble.
We laugh. How simple. How stupid! This insignificant bug wants to fight? Alright. We will indulge.
We spear it with one of our shadows.
The thing convulses, waving its limbs frantically, trying to grab at the nothing of our essence, as we lift it into the air. How funny! It looks so pathetic, still trying to fight. Why does prey never understand when it's about to die?
We are about to tear it in half when we notice the sliver of light shining from inside it. Oh! This one has a soul. Good. We will need many more. We curl our essence around the soul, starting to—
No! We can't, not Noli, please, we have to leave her alone, we—
We hiss, snuffing the thought from our mind. The creature in our grasp has gone limp. Its soul is still in our grasp. We tighten our grip, tasting the first licks of the power we crave.
But something has soured our appetite. The idea of eating it is distasteful. It is so small, anyway. Barely a snack.
We toss the thing away, where it cracks into the side of a building and crumples to the ground. Desiring something more filling, we turn back to our other prey.
But it's gone! Fury boils up within us as we swing our head from side to side, searching for where it's run.
There's more prey about. More screams. We see the one we had captured, others helping it away, trailing ichor—no, blood—from its wound. We sneer at the attempt. Good. In its pain, it's called more of its kind.
We're in for a feast.
We charge the injured one first—an easy mark. The ones surrounding it freeze, bracing for impact—
A blow crashes into us from behind and we fly over our prey's head, slamming into the ground beyond and skidding across the road, leaving a streak of black ichor in our wake. Concern briefly ripples through us, and we quickly check our anchor—undamaged. Good. We tuck it back safely within our shadows. Then anger ignites within us. Indignation. Seething, we spin to face our attacker.
Four beings confront us. A tiny, insignificant part of us recognizes them: the adventurers from the forest. Irrelevant. We will devour them regardless.
The largest one charges first—clumsy and slow. We weave around its attack, stabbing it with spears of black in its back and side. Before it even hits the ground, we are upon the rest of the party, fangs bared.
The first to react dodges back—a smart move as we swing a blade of void before us, slicing through the other two. They go down, as the last one screams for their companions. This time the sound is more satisfying than grating. Even so, we cut it off with one final move, a spear of ink stabbing through their—
Stop! This isn't right, we can't, we—
—stabbing through their chest. Stuttering only a moment, we yank our limb back, drawing with it the freshly harvested soul. The body collapses as the soul leaves its vessel. We wish to marvel at it, to savor its warmth and fragility. But we cannot allow for any more opportunities to hesitate. In one swift move, we crush it between our teeth.
Its power floods through us, filling us with euphoria and satisfaction—dismay and horror—as we absorb the life force into our essence. The ecstasy is indescribable, all cares abated, the hunger banished. But it is only temporary. The craving begins to creep back in once more.
Another. We need another.
No. Please. No more.
We turn to one of the fallen companions, who is not dead—no, that wouldn't do for us at all—but has conveniently decided to only crawl a few spans away. We stalk after them, gleefully spearing one of their legs to reel them back in. They squirm and scream like an animal. This amuses us. Maybe this soul we can savor.
Our mouth waters in anticipation.
We feel sick.
We reach for the glowing star in our prey's chest.
Victim. They're our victim.
We press the tip of our blade above their soul, ready to plunge it down.
And hesitate. Our blade quivers. We want to—no, we don't, we don't want this, we have to stop—kill them. We want to crush their soul in our jaws. We want to savor that brief, sweet relief from starvation, to sate this never-ending hunger, to stuff ourselves until the craving is buried beneath gorged satisfaction.
We stab into our prey's chest, ripping their soul from their body.
No! No no no no no—
Our heart breaks as we consume our second soul, and we're sorry, we're so sorry, we're trying, but we can't stop it. We're too powerful.
The thought fills us with pride as the warmth of the soul spreads through our void. The second is just as delicious as the first.
Now for the next o—
Something strikes us in the side, and we are slammed into the street, splashing along it like a smashed fruit. We nearly drop our anchor as it crunches against the gravel, and a distant, strange voice rings through our mind.
[4 points of Fall damage sustained.]
Echo. That's Echo.
We start to engulf the anchor within our void once more, but our attacker doesn't give us a chance. Another blow swings down on top of us, smashing through our shadows and the street beneath it, splattering our essence away. The anchor slips from our grasp.
Now, now, now's our chance!
We howl in anger as a fraction of our mind pulls away, but we still have the prey to deal with. It's screaming and frothing as it slashes at us with an ax, blood dripping from its wounds and splattering about with each wild swing. The first and largest companion of the other two creatures we devoured. We thought we'd dealt with this one already. No matter. Despite its strength, its movements are slow and uncontrolled, and its soul glows brightly in its chest, an easy target for—
Attune. Attune!
[Activating Attunement with Void.]
A numbing heat spreads through us like poison. We recoil as the sensation crawls through us, searing tendrils infecting our essence wherever it spreads. We feel a surge of hope—a wave of uncertainty. What is this? But we already know. It's for controlling magic. Controlling us.
But it's not nearly powerful enough. It's a cup of water against a wildfire, a candle against winter.
Yet it's enough to make us hesitate. And as our prey launches itself at us once more, it's enough distraction for our hold to slip—
And the Between yawns open behind us. It draws us in like a whirlpool. Our claws are torn from the fabric of reality. Angrily we try to regain purchase, snatching at the anchor, but now that we've lost our hold, we don't have enough power to sustain our presence here. More souls. We need more souls.
And we try to pull ourself away. We fight, we fight so hard, even as we feel ourself being dragged back Between with it—with us—with the predator—
A final burst of fury explodes through us as we realize we can't hold us together any longer, as our soul is slipping through our fingers, our warmth, our power, we don't want to let it go—
Fucker, that soul is mine.
And we scream as we rip ourselves apart, as most of us succumbs to the Between while a small part of us—
Collapses back into my body, light and sound and sensation all painfully, painfully real. Oh god. Oh fuck. Oh my fucking shit fuck—I'm me. I'm me again.
But every part of me aches, like I've been shredded apart and stitched back together, like I could blow apart at the slightest breeze.
Slowly, the shadows evaporate from the street.
And I'm left there alone in the rubble, trembling, fragile. Not just physically. My mind—my sense of self—my soul. It's all mine again. The predator is gone. But I don't know that all of me made it back. When we ripped apart, it didn't feel like a clean cut. I try to pinpoint anything that's missing, anything that might be out of place, but how can you even know if a memory's gone if you can't remember it? If a feeling's gone that you can no longer feel? It's just… a hunch. A lingering dread that when the void was torn away, it left me perforated, and whatever's filling those holes might not be me.