Come morning, we’re heading back to the Prydwen for another trip. This time, we have two more passengers. Aunt Heather and Aunt Myrtle, the latter leaning heavily on a walking staff as she crosses the village square. She finds the stairs leading up the docking tower to be unfeasible, so the Prydwen sends the landing skiff down to pick her up instead.

“There’s nothing left for me to do here,” Aunt Myrtle says. “Before I become aether, I’d like to fly. Never traveled very far from home before.”

Unspoken is the thought that Aunt Heather is reluctant to go on some quest, no matter how important, and miss out on spending whatever time her sister has left with her. Liz and their crew do their best to try to make Aunt Myrtle comfortable.

“Bye, Grandma Apple!” says Burdock, waving.

Liz does not insist on reincarnators calling her “grandma” and it feels a little funny that back on Earth, given our respective time periods, she could have been my grandmother.

Our next stop is the village of Treflys, and I know nothing more about it than as a point on a map and that Liz has mentioned some people she knew a long time ago live there. Wilderness and farmland fly by, or more accurately we fly by. (I’m not sure if the domains even orbit anything or move on their own. Zenith always hovers at the same place in the sky to the northwest.)

I’m not sure what I’m expecting when we arrive, but my imagination brings to mind three crones muttering words of power around a cauldron. The village we arrive at looks very much like my own, though. Liz has a brief conversation with one of the locals at their docking tower, discovers that the ones she’s looking for aren’t here, and we move on.

We finally stop at a random patch of forest that I can tell from the flow of aether and vis must be another dungeon, and head down in the landing boat. It’s just Liz, Anise and I going down while the others remain aboard the Prydwen. Aunt Myrtle would rather continue admiring the view of the domain from high above rather than hobble through a dangerous dungeon.

“I don’t know why Mist, Storm, and Shadow are hanging around in the Witchwood, but be careful,” Liz says. “I’ll keep you from getting hurt, but don’t go wandering off and don’t touch anything.”

Anise grumbles. “It’s not like I was going to get to visit an Epic dungeon without a high level escort anytime soon…”

If I thought the Spooky Grove was spooky, the Witchwood is positively witchy. Eerie fog hangs over the twisted woods, snaking along the ground and gathering in hollows. The eyes blinking at us from the shadows feel so much more sinister knowing that this place isn’t just a game for children.

Monstrous bats screech from the trees and swarm down on us. With a twist of her hands and the words “[Chain Lightning]”, electricity rips through the air and strikes one bat after another, bringing them all down in seconds.

[Don’t touch the corpses,] Liz says. [They’re carrying Heroic-rank diseases.]

We explore the dungeon and Liz destroys anything in our path like it’s nothing. As we walk, I start hearing something whispering, but not in my ears.

[Can you hear us, little reincarnator? Ehehehe… Listen to the song on the wind and follow our voices…]

I find myself taking a step off the path and toward a narrow trail in the underbrush. Before I’ve taken two steps, something is holding me in place and jerks me back to my position behind Liz.

[Try to resist,] Liz tells me. [I’ll keep you from wandering off but you might get a skill out of it.]

[Oh yes, everything is about skills…] whisper the voices rustling in the forest. [Everything can be quantified, from the quality of your magic to the content of your heart. Love, hope, fear, rage, all can be analyzed and measured.]

In a clearing, we come upon an woman sitting peacefully on the ground, looking to be in her twenties. That doesn’t look particularly comfortable, but what do I know.

Category Reincarnator Race Human Gender Female Rank Legendary Class Unclear Mood Anticipation

“I bid you welcome, travelers,” the woman says.

A few meaningless platitudes pass between them aloud, but vis in the air zips back and forth between them. They’re having some telepathic conversation that I’m not privy to, while the woman Liz refers to as Mist addresses me in her physical voice.

“You’ve brought a little reincarnator to me,” Mist says. “I wonder, yes, were you meant to be a hero, or a villain? Tell men, young man, who are you?”

“Drake,” I reply.

“Just a name, isn’t it?” Mist says. “Just a name to add to the long list of others you have taken or been given over the eons. I ask you again. Who are you?”

I sigh aloud. I really should have seen this coming when Liz mentioned three mysterious women. I hate this trope and I can just imagine what other stupid questions she and her sisters are going to ask me.

“I am a man who likes to make stuff in a world where monsters try to eat me and people expect weird things of me,” I reply. “Who are you? It’s only fair that the asker be able to answer their own question.”

Mist gives a low chuckle at that. “The name given to me by the spirits who rule this realm is Mist Treflys. I am a remnant of a memory of a dream of a woman who lived long, long ago, longer than even you. But it was in a time when the span of thousand years was longer than a thousand Ages are now. I have seen many like you, starting on a journey that is an echo of a journey taken many times before. Go now. My sisters await you ahead.”

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We continue on through the dungeon, and I watch Liz’s dazzling magical displays as she easily dispatches Heroic monsters around us. In the next clearing, we come upon a woman who looks around middle-aged. Liz greets her as Storm, and they begin their own telepathic conversation while Storm starts being overdramatic to me.

“You stand upon a precipice, wanderer,” the middle-aged woman says dramatically. “Before I will let you pass, you must answer one question for me. What… is your quest?”

They’re probably mocking me in telepathy. Or at least joking around like old friends. Maybe. Maybe I could even hear what they’re saying if I try to listen in. They’re both Legendary, sure, but they’re not actually being quiet or secretive about their mind chatter. I’m sure they could be more subtle if they wanted.

“I don’t have one,” I say. “Apparently Corwen decided to see what happens if it gives me no quests.”

“Those are merely system quests,” Storm says. “The guidance of the spirits is not the calling of your heart. What is your quest?”

“I want to build a skyship,” I say.

“That is a goal, not a quest,” Storm says. “And what then? Where do you go from there?”

“Anywhere I want.”

“And where might that be?”

I sigh. “Is this really necessary? I’m not looking for the Holy Grail, the Fountain of Youth, or whatever else. I’m not hoping to find increasingly bigger monsters to fight. I just want to build cool things and explore this amazing world.”

“Perhaps it is enough,” Storm says. “Go on, then. Next, you must face my sister, Shadow. She will be more difficult to satisfy. I hope you have your answers ready, reincarnator.”

“Fine, let’s get this over with.”

We move on, Liz kills some more monsters, and we come to another clearing with another woman. This third woman looks older than the other two, at least seventy. Did they see us coming and set this whole thing up ahead of time? How long have they been waiting here?

“Greetings, children,” says the old woman.

“We’re technically the same age, Shadow,” Liz says. “I just reached Legendary earlier than you.”

Shadow gives a raspy chuckle. “You rushed, just as Mist rushed. And yet now you are still at Legendary.”

Once again, this woman begins a telepathic conversation with Liz and turns her attention to me. I keep trying to catch whatever they might be saying, but I’m being distracted with silly questions.

“My sisters have already asked their questions of you,” Shadow says. “Now you must answer mine. What… is your favorite color?”

“Blue,” I reply.

“Are you committed to that answer?” Shadow presses.

“Yes,” I say with a sigh.

“But what shade of blue?”

“Actual blue,” I say. “Not azure, not indigo, blue. #0000FF.”

“You know a code number for that off the top of your head?” Liz asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course.”

Shadow cackles. “Very well. I am satisfied.”

Congratulations! You have successfully answered difficult questions about yourself. Skill acquired: Discipline (Self-Awareness)

Fine, I’ll take it. I’d be happier if I could glean even one word of what Liz has been talking about with them. People keep talking to me and I can’t focus on it and it’s annoying.

The other two Treflys sisters arrive and stand next to Shadow. I was really hoping we were done here but it looks like they still have something else to say.

“We see you, reincarnator,” Mist says. “Drake, as you call yourself.”

“You say you wish peace, but I believe you will still seek the call of blood,” Storm says.

“Not if I can help it,” I say.

“And yet your soul is steeped in violence,” Shadow says. “Light that burns so hard it will burn you as well if you let it.”

“I would really just like to build, research, and explore,” I say. “I’d be perfectly content not to get in another fight.”

“You say that, and yet how many beings have your other incarnations slain?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say.

“Doesn’t it? Does it matter to all those lives you cut short? To those who screamed whatever name you went by and begged for mercy they were not shown?”

Memories tickle in the back of my mind, but I clamp down on them. I suppress the thought of me gleefully hankering for a good fight. Of wars, bloodshed, brawls. This is annoying, and it’s not me.

Skill acquired: Recollection (Suppression)

I try to interrupt to tell them I am done with this, but they start speaking in overlapping voices and I can’t get a word in edgewise.

“Perhaps what you need is a new perspective.”

“You are not the sole protagonist in the universe.”

“Other people have stories too.”

“It’s not like you are even Drake Corwen.”

“You’re just a ghost that refused to pass on.”

“Forever running around the same cycle.”

“Nothing more than a pawn in a game beyond your comprehension.”

“Does it even matter if you say ‘I’ or ‘he’?”

“Your search for peace is in vain.”

“Good cannot exist without evil.”

“You cannot save a life if a life is never in danger.”

“And if people do not rise up against one another…”

“… then the world will rise up against them.”

I sigh and put my face in my palms. “Are you done now?”

The three witches chuckle and grin in an unnerving manner.

“Go with our warning, reincarnator,” says Shadow.

“May you find what you seek,” says Storm.

We leave, finally, mercifully. I think I would have preferred to be fighting monsters and I’m mildly annoyed at Liz for bringing me here, but I’m sure she had a good reason for it. We don’t get completion credit for the Witchwood, but then we also don’t explore or need to explore most of the dungeon.

[I do hope you got whatever you came here for,] I send to Liz. [Have they… always been like this?]

Liz sighs aloud. [Yes. Yes, they have. Coming here was necessary, though.]

[I’ll take your word on that.]

We board the flying skiff and fly up to the Prydwen hovering overhead, from which we return to Corwen Hearth. This has been an interesting little adventure but I’m happy to be back home, where there are no mysterious witches saying cryptic things at me and asking me stupid questions.

[You’d best go before some cliche villain shows up to murder you and set me on a path of revenge or something.]

[By tradition, I’m supposed to give you some heirloom or token or something, but I forgot about it and didn’t realize you were here, so I didn’t have anything cool prepared. What sort of thing would you like?]

[A bag of holding?] I ask.

[Oh, yeah, I do have a few extras. There’s no point in carrying more than one around since any bag of holding just links to a space adjacent to you, not the bag itself. Your inventory. Celestial regulations prohibit selling them below a minimum price and anyone who can afford it doesn’t need one. But I can give it as a gift, so please take my crappiest bag of holding off my hands.]

You have received item: Apple’s Crappiest Knapsack Inventory active. Capacity: 5 kg (0 kg used)

A new icon appears in my system interface displaying a little stylized backpack.

[It’s only 5 kilograms capacity, so nobody but a kid who doesn’t have one at all would want it. Have fun! Be aware that people have skills that can scan it so don’t think you can get away with smuggling contraband in it. People know what inventories are.]

I play with the bag a bit, putting in and pulling out a book, pencil, and hat.

“This is awesome,” I exclaim.

I wave to them as they leave, taking Aunt Heather, Grandma Laurel, and Aunt Myrtle with them. It’s only three people, but the Hearth is going to feel a little empty without them.