The plans for the camp's migration had progressed at a blistering pace. Over the past few days, many people had begun to feel uneasy, to the extent that Emelia didn’t even need her empathy to notice. It had been about this amount of time in one place when the Chixel raiding party had kidnapped them. The memory of that experience still woke her up with vivid nightmares.

She did her best to keep herself occupied, which wasn’t hard during the day. There was always something to attend to, and it seemed like everyone had to ask her for instructions for even the most trivial tasks. She didn’t mind being the camp's leader, but she still felt like an imposter, no matter how often Imri assured her she was doing a good job. No matter what she did, it never felt like enough. It didn’t help when she empathically knew people doubted her abilities. It was often tinged with jealousy or pride as people coveted her position, those she could ignore easily enough. The harder ones to ignore radiated from Zhaire and Sylvi.

Sylvi was easy enough to understand, and she didn’t need empathy to understand, given how direct the ex-special forces woman was. She told her to put her foot down more, take charge of the situation, and establish a clear hierarchy. While Emelia could understand that approach, it wasn’t her approach. She instinctively wanted to work with everyone, her empathy having instilled in her an instinct to try to please everyone. This had been difficult enough when she was just a nurse, but now it was impossible. No matter what she decided, someone wasn’t happy with her, leaving her feeling stressed and anxious.

Zhaire was closer to falling into the outright hostile group, thinking she was out of her depth leading people, a sentiment she agreed with. He wanted her to be less involved, not more. She also tended to agree with this and had tried to insist that there was someone more qualified to lead them. She pointed out that they now had several people who had senior leadership positions in their companies before the integration. She also knew for a fact that they thought they were more qualified for the position, though most didn’t outwardly say as much. However, none of them seemed willing to take on the role, usually saying that their experience running a company had little to do with leading a group in a post-apocalyptic world. She could tell by their emotions that this was mostly true, judging by their fear and doubt.

In addition to her unease with her leadership position, she was starting to doubt her abilities in magic. She had the advantage of a fast start and Imri being at her side within the first few hours of the integration. Despite this, she was now lagging behind the other group members. Even Caroline, who had entirely switched her profession, was now at the same level as she was at level 7. Imri, whom everyone regarded as a prodigy, had a profession at the same level, and he didn’t even have the human heritage that increased experience gained.

Her depressive musings must have been severe because Imri’s concern for her well-being pulsed through their bond. He even stopped experimenting with the makeshift grenades he had been fashioning using spatial magic and plastic bottles.

“Sorry,” she said simply, not bothering with the bubbly persona she normally kept up.

“For what?” he asked as he sat beside her.

“For this,” she said, waving to the air. They both knew she was referring to the bond. Imri was decent at reading the room when he took the time, but he was normally too caught up with his work to even notice the room. He would still be chucking magically stuffed water bottle grenades if it weren't for the bond.

“It’s fine,” he said matter of factly.

“No, it isn’t. I’m being dumb, and I know it. Now, I’m dragging you into it,” she said

“You are being dumb, but not for the reasons you think,” he pointed out.

“Oh, and in what ways do you think I’m being dumb?” she asked. He had the good sense to pause, composing his thoughts carefully before diving into sensitive waters.

“You’re being dumb because you are amazing and incredible. You're a compassionate person who cares deeply, sometimes too deeply. If you can’t solve every problem, you feel like you are failing everyone. You’re doing an amazing job, and someone will always disagree with something you did. Most people wouldn’t notice, but you always notice.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be making me feel better?” she asked.

“I’m trying to point out that you can’t please everyone. No one can. You just have to let it go,” Imri said.

“And what if I can’t?” she whispered.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Then I will be here to help you through it,” he said. She gripped him tightly and moved his arms so they wrapped around her.

“What if I can’t keep up? What if our level gap just keeps growing?” she asked.

“I won’t let that happen. I’ll find a way to power-level you if that's what it takes,” he said.

“And if you become some immortal being while I grow old and wrinkly?” she asked. Imri just laughed, eliciting a glare from Emelia.

“That’s what you're worried about? Wrinkles?” he said between laughs.

“I’m being serious,” she pouted. “It’s not the wrinkles, necessarily. It’s what they represent.”

“I didn’t realize wrinkles had a significant meaning. I just thought they were wrinkles,” he said, genuinely confused. Even with an Empathic Bond, Emelia still had to spell everything out for him.

“It means I’ll be old and ugly, and you won’t look at me the same way anymore,” she said.

“First off, If I’m some immortal, all-powerful being specializing in time magic, I would find a way to reverse aging. Second, even if I couldn’t, I would still love you, no matter how wrinkly you get.”

“Love?” she asked. They both knew how they felt about each other, with the Empathic Bond they knew this wasn’t a fling or an infatuation. Still, neither of them had said the L word until now.

“Oh, I…” he started to awkwardly say before Emelia cut him off.

“I love you too,” she said, kissing him passionately. “Is there any problem you can’t solve?” she asked playfully, her mood significantly better than it had been moments ago.

“Trying to find a way to tell my girlfriend she is being too critical of herself without her getting mad at me,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, you already solved that problem,” she said, kissing him again. “Just don’t let it go to your head; you can still be remarkably dense for someone so smart,” she added after they had finished their kiss.

“How am I being dense now?” he asked.

“You have an Empathic Bond with your girlfriend, and you still can’t figure out what she wants right now,” she said.

“What she wants right now?” he repeated back as a question. Emelia just smiled at him, and the moment he figured it out, he made an oh face that quickly morphed into a smug grin.

The next day would mark the start of the mass exodus. She had been honest about the dangers, not leaving anything out when she had addressed the entire camp. While a few had considered the journey reckless, most agreed that it was an opportunity worth pursuing. It had taken very little convincing, and the few who remained stubbornly opposed were going to be left behind.

The camp had accumulated more in the week than it could carry with it. The debate about what was critical for founding the settlement was more contentious than whether they should proceed. This was further complicated by the fact that most of its carrying capacity would be spent on supplies just to make the journey possible.

This time, it was Imri’s turn to feel useless. Emelia felt his frustration as he went through his spells, looking for a way to help with their logistical problems. Unfortunately, he couldn’t develop a workable solution with his given power level. He claimed that any proper space mage would not be constrained by the limits of a backpack. Emelia was practically gleeful as she almost used the same speech he had used on her. He shook his head when he noticed that, calling her a weirdo in a playful manner. Their banter did have the desired effect, and he was back to his nerdy self almost instantly.

The morning of their departure arrived, and tendrils of nerves and excitement radiated from almost everyone. Throughout the camp, people finished packing the last of their supplies, double-checking that they had everything they would need. They were underway shortly after first light, the last stragglers encouraged effectively by their fellow travelers. Everyone’s pack was filled to capacity; there was no wasted space, and everyone struggled as they grew acclimated to the increased weight.

Sylvi led the way, somehow not needing any instruments or maps to remember her route. The more fit and capable people led the rear, ensuring no one fell too far behind while defending them from potential pursuers.

While there had been suggestions of making the journey at a leisurely pace, that had been discarded for a more aggressive pace, having them arrive at the destination within a week. The reason was logistical, if they went any slower they would need to bring even more supplies. With every pound of weight accounted for, this would mean discarding some of the other items they considered essential for building the settlement. The pace was brutal for some of the less physically fit. This included Imri, who had rapidly improved but was still far from peak condition due to his pre-integration illness. He was far from the worst off, while no one truly incapable had survived the integration, there were still several middle-aged overweight office workers. However, despite their obvious struggles, no one wasted any breath complaining. Emelia could feel a mix of determination and gratitude from this group as they were helped along whenever they struggled.

They stopped to make camp with barely enough time to get everything set up before nightfall. Everyone was exhausted, quickly falling to sleep without protest. Emelia was about to do the same when she noticed Imri was trying to get some enchanting done. Emelia tried to get him to come to bed, but he just waved her off, deeply absorbed in what he was working on. She shook her head but didn’t press the issue. He was going to regret it tomorrow.