We emerge from the Wonderland exit shaft by being shot out of a hollow stump like a cannon and scattered onto the surface. We land lightly, the feeling of being the same weight as foam quickly dissipating as we get our feet under us again.

“Ugh, it was so bright down there and now my eyes are having to adjust to Topside again,” Rowan complains, blinking up into Tempest’s eternal twilight. “Why is Tiganna so much brighter than the Great Orb when it’s so much smaller?”

“I kind of feel bad about the cards,” Burdock says.

“They’re monsters,” Anise says. “They’ll respawn.”

“They seemed so scared,” Burdock says.

“How many mushrooms did we collect, anyway?” Rowan asks.

“I got a bunch,” Meadow says.

“They’re sadly less effective outside of dungeons,” Anise says. “I know, I tried. Dungeons sometimes have different rules for how things work in them. Wonderland’s got its own ideas on size changing.”

“They’re still useful in potions,” Meadow says, then turns to me. “Have you learned Crafting (Potions) yet?”

I shake my head. “I still have a lot of skills to unlock, never mind to grind up. I got freaking [Card Building] from that dungeon. I’ll just add that to my list of skills I am never actually going to use but suppose am happy to have for the bonuses adding up.”

“I have so many cool skills to learn now,” Burdock says, practically bouncing with excitement. “And I’m going to go to Crux Academy, too!”

“I’m sure it’ll be very fun and educational for you,” Rowan says.

Rowan’s been a little dejected over not reaching Elite but trying to be supportive. I have no idea what the requirements actually are or what Burdock did to meet them. That part of the process seems to have been deliberately left opaque. Training skills makes sense, relatively speaking. Deeds, though? That seems to be up to the discretion of the aether cores.

“So, anyone want to make another run, or shall we head back?” Anise asks.

The consensus is overwhelmingly in favor of not doing that again, so we break camp and get on the road back to Corwen.

Anise tries to cheer up Rowan with, “Don’t feel too bad. You can keep adventuring with us and the kids! It’ll be fun!”

“Yeah,” Rowan says with a sigh. “The kids. I bet your daughter will make Elite before me.”

“Oh, come on,” Anise says. “I didn’t make Elite until I was in my late teens. Most people don’t. I’m sure Talgarth doesn’t expect you to make Elite early.”

“Talgarth has fewer adventurers than Corwen, too,” Rowan says. “I was kind of hoping for something more. But I suppose you’re right. I still have plenty to learn and do. I don’t know if Talgarth could afford to send me to Crux Academy anyway.”

“I’m sure they would, even if they hurt for it,” Anise says. “They’re your family and they love you and they always want the best for you.”

Once back home, I get back to work on my studies. In addition to all the other things I’m trying to work on, I have a shiny new light crystal to play around with.

Aunt Rosemary has also noticed that my Maintenance skills have lagged behind and I need to fix that promptly. Both figuratively and literally. Look, I know where everything in my room is! Except when Griffin takes something. Every time I organize things, I never find them again! Fine, I’ll do it, but I will use [Psychometry] on everything I touch.

Skill increased: Maintenance (Cleaning) Skill acquired: Maintenance (Organization) Description: The ability to sort, catalogue, and gather items by category or purpose.

I manage to find time in between the mandatory lessons to try to make a board game with the light crystal. I have an idea to make a Khet set. The sort of “laser chess” with mirrors in some of the pieces and moving them around to tag your opponent’s king. I don’t know how to make actual mirrors yet so I just use polished bits of scrap metal. I just need something to reflect light, after all, and not a perfect mirror.

I’m in the middle of endlessly fiddling with that trying to get everything to line up correctly when Anise comes into the workshop excitedly.

“A skyship is coming!” Anise exclaims. “No idea who they are. Come see!”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I don’t protest, setting my tools aside to follow her out to the village square.

The white-and-red skyship isn’t nearly as large or fancy as the Prydwen, but it’s very clearly not a school bus. Eight sail-wings jut out at various positions around the sleek hull, furling as the ship comes in to dock at the gate tower. The name Vanguard is painted in front of the weapon ports. They’re closed at the moment, but I have to wonder what they have behind them. Cannons? Ballistae? Angry Sorcerers?

We head up so I can use my various analysis skills on it as it pulls up to the skydock. Unlike Aunt Heather and Grandma Laurel, Aunt Savannah isn’t deigning to come up to meet these visitors, so I suppose me and my mom are the welcoming committee today.

Category Object Type Vessel Race Human, Aranea Quality Great Rank Epic Aspect Protection

The paint is fresh, covering up a myriad of battle scars. When the Vanguard lowers its gangplank, a party of obvious adventurers disembarks from the ship. I identify them one after another, and determine them to be an Epic-ranked Human Warrior, Gnome Rogue, Half-Elf Wizard, and Elf Druid. They have not bothered to change into civilian clothes for hanging around a village, and are wearing blatantly magical armor and robes.

“Good day, travelers!” Anise exclaims. “I’m Anise. What brings you to Corwen?”

“We’re looking for Rowan Talgarth,” says the Warrior. “We were told that he was studying swordplay here.”

“Is he in trouble?” Anise asks.

“No, but we have some grim news for him. Is he around?”

“I’ll let him know you’re here,” Anise says. “First, let me show you to the guest house. I mean, the village is small so I’m sure you can find it yourself, but he might just be in the public hearth.”

Anise leads the adventuring party down the docking tower and across the village square to the guest house. Sure enough, he’s there trying to play mahjong with the kids. ‘Trying’ being the operative word here. Willow thinks she understands the rules and is very insistent about it but she’s definitely confused on a few points. Griffin is very insistent about breaking what he thinks the rules are. Juniper’s face is scrunched up staring at the tiles and looking like she’s the only one here trying to actually play.

“Rowan Talgarth?” says the Warrior, immediately guessing that the only blond 13-year-old boy in the room must be him.

“That’s me,” Rowan says. “Do I know you?”

“We’re your Uncle Wolf’s adventuring party. Could we get a moment?”

“Come along, kids,” Aunt Hazel says, swooping in. “The weather is beautiful. Why don’t we go for a swim?”

She shepherds the younger kids out of the guest house, leaving me, Anise, and Rowan with the adventurers.

“Did something happen to Uncle Wolf?” Rowan asks.

“I’m afraid so, young Rowan. There’s no delicate way to say this. A few years ago, during an adventure in a distant system, he succumbed to… eldritch corruption. He went mad and we spent years tracking him down again to… well, suffice it to say that there was nothing of your uncle left in that body by the time we found him.”

“But Uncle Wolf is an Epic Paladin,” Rowan says. “How could he get… corrupted?”

“Sadly, courage and righteousness are no protection against the eldritch,” says the Warrior. “It twists things, changes people, and turns noble warriors into abominations.”

[Mom,] I send to her telepathically. [Can you ask them about the Wisteria Garden? I’m playing ‘normal kid’.]

I’m sure these people are probably trustworthy, but I don’t know them and there’s no reason to open with telling them all my secrets when I have the option not to.

“A few years ago,” Anise says thoughtfully. “Did Wolf Talgarth ever visit the Wisteria Garden, by chance?”

“That’s a low level dungeon near here, isn’t it?” the Warrior says. “He was from the area, so most likely. Why?”

“Did he have a habit of throwing aspect stones into fountains for good luck?” Anise asks.

“He threw a lot of things into bodies of water for good luck,” the Rogue puts in. “Once he even threw me into a lake for ‘good luck’.”

“A few years ago, we ran across a sudden eldritch infestation in the Wisteria Garden,” Anise says. “We were able to deal with it and tracked it down to an aspect stone in a fountain. The dungeon told us that a previous adventurer had tossed it into the fountain for good luck, and gave a quest to investigate with a timer ticking down to the end of the century.”

The Wizard frowns. “Theoretically, conceptual connections to distant objects may be touched by certain effects. If an aspect stone Wolf touched years ago became corrupted when he did, that’s… worrisome.”

“We will need to investigate further,” the Warrior says.

“This had better not result in having to dive into every pond Wolf chuckled something into,” the Rogue mutters.

“So he’s definitely dead, then?” Rowan asks. “And not… something worse?”

“He’s definitely dead now,” the Warrior says grimly. “I’m sorry.”

Rowan sighs heavily and puts his face in his hands. “He was my favorite uncle. I always admired him and wanted to be a Paladin like him when I grow up. But I haven’t even made Elite yet and I turn 14 next month.”

“I’m sure you will become a Paladin your uncle would be proud of someday. But it wasn’t on you to save him. It was on us. And we failed. You, though. You still have plenty of time to become a Legendary Paladin by the time the eldritch comes knocking at the end of the century.”

Rowan isn’t entirely mollified by that, but he has nothing else to say.

The adventurers seem about ready to move swiftly on, having delivered their message, but Anise wheedles them into staying for dinner and sharing some stories about Rowan’s uncle. Some stories about the good times they had together, their fun adventures, and not about the tragic ending.

“I suppose we owe the kid that much,” says the Rogue.

“But we’re leaving by dark,” adds the Warrior.

I haven’t even managed to catch their names and doubt I will see them again anytime soon, if ever. None of them are from Tempest, and most of them aren’t even from Tiganna. The gnomish Rogue (or roguish Gnome) is from Rust, one of the small domains close to the skymote, but the others are from further afield.

“It sounds like you went through a lot together,” Rowan says eventually.

The Warrior nods. “He was a good man, and the Crystalline Heavens is poorer for his loss.”