Alan reached for Neesha’s hand as they both choked on the pink mist wafting in their faces.

“Got you, Merchant.” She held on tight as the wind passed, colorful starbursts twinkling in Alan’s vision.

The diamond chains keeping them from tumbling down an impossibly tall mountain rattled for miles below them, making Alan wonder whether every one of his steps counted for hundreds, similar to in Strangey Town.

He didn’t recall hiking so high.

Things were getting weird again.

“Flat ground is just over this hump,” Neesha’s voice struggled, which made Alan realize she was experiencing the fog too.

“This is chaos,” Alan complained. “Why are we here again?”

She laughed. “If I get the next connector stone, my mind will link a critical question and answer. Right now, the stone just shoots endless questions at me, with no end in sight.”

“I didn’t know you were so resilient.” Alan couldn’t explain it, but he was beginning to feel giggly.

“I stole from a Yero-losh. I am the queen of resilience!”

Alan was sure the pink fog was akin to laughing gas now, because what Neesha said wasn’t that funny, yet he bellowed all the same.

Eventually, the fog subsided, and Alan was able to find grooves deep enough to settle on the massive chain links.

“Just ahead,” Neesha promised.

Alan waved away the bottom of her dirt-encrusted robes swooshing above him and climbed as if his life depended on it.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

He reached again for Neesha’s hand, using her strength and his own to climb atop the flat mountaintop. What lay ahead nearly made him lose his balance. The pink fog, thick as it was, allowed for tower silhouettes the size of skyscrapers to shine at their magical center-points.

“Welcome to Sharas-da – Ojin’s ‘pinky.’” Neesha wiped her hands and placed them on her hips.

Alan couldn’t help but eye the stone slab sticking out of the case on her back. He wanted to launch Blue Saro at it and understand what was plaguing her mind, but he respected her wishes, for now.

“My group always avoided the Pink, lad,” Durger said cautiously. “It is not a place for warriors.”

“Well, good thing neither of us are.”

Durger sighed. “You forget yourself. Cunning minions roam these parts, ones that appear friendly, but will cut your throat when not looking. Be wary.”

Neesha turned to Alan’s hip and bent low to look Durger in his figurative eye. “Good thing I don’t trust anyone.”

“I am beginning to wonder if Sir Alan and I should take up the same sentiment,” Durger replied slyly.

“Cut it out, you two.” Alan covered Durger’s proverbial eyes and nodded for Neesha to lead the way. “Every second idle is a wasted one. I need Pegs of Fate, you need stones, right? Let’s go.”

“Hmph.” She scrunched her face at Alan and spun toward their fate.

They trekked onward, a bubble of clear air rolling with them to reveal what was directly in front of them. A straw hut that stretched toward a red sky came into view. Its awning was etched in gibberish lettering that Alan couldn’t understand, so he readied to toss Blue Saro at it.

“No!” Neesha caught his hand. “We are ants among giants here. Let’s stay that way… unnoticed. That is how I survive in places I do not belong.”

“Sure. Until you anger the biggest beast in here, then we run for our lives again, right?” Alan quipped.

“That is after we get what we want.” Neesha winked.

“I’m starting to think you’re just a thief wrapped in a pacifist’s guise.” Alan jogged after her.

They flattened themselves against the hut’s round wall and waited for something – Alan didn’t know what.

A powerful-looking Archer with oversized arrows sticking from his quiver strutted toward the hut, eyeing the two of them, shaking his head, he pushed right in uninterrupted.

“He saw us,” Alan whispered.

“Duh!” Neesha shot back. “Everyone knows not to disturb the Pink, even if they cleared the fog.”

“So this is like a neutral zone?” Alan whispered.

“Between warriors, yes,” Durger cleared his throat. “But not minions.”

“What he said.” Neesha glanced at Durger before looking back to the hut door. “We see what that hunter walks out with, then we know what kind of shop this is.”

“Huh?”

“Shh!” Neesha crouched as the door reopened.

The Archer came out with a fresh set of glowing shin guards that Alan hadn’t noticed on his way in.

“Armory?” he asked.

“Enchanters,” Durger and Neesha said in unison.

“Alright, jeez. Is that what we want?” Alan asked.

“It might be a good first step. Come.” Neesha led the way to the straw hut door and carefully inched it open. “Yodelayee!” She cupped her mouth so the sound would carry.

“Hoo!” the store owner sang back joyfully.

Alan slipped into a shop of endless shiny vials displayed meticulously behind a glass encasing, and a man with arms spread over his immaculately clean countertop.

“Ah, the hidden beauty returns.” The man hooted. “I don’t know why you wear that potato sack to cover up that luscious figure.”

Alan’s eye twitched. Happy yodeler, or perverted shop owner? Perhaps both?

“I see you’ve brought a friend.” The man frowned. “Not great for my hopes and dreams of one day courting you.”

“Enough with the pleasantries, Vidiger.” Neesha held up her hand and met him face-to-face on the opposite side of the counter, standing on her tiptoes.

“Pleasantries? Your world must be full of sleazes, then.” Alan felt protective over his new, beautiful friend.

Neesha slapped his arm. “Remember yourself.”

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“Yes.” Vidiger dragged out the word. “In my house, I play how I wish, traveler. And if she’s still smiling, I’d be less of a gentleman if I’d stopped.”

Vidiger’s turban shined with Pink Saro essence at the center, and his mustache curled into three spikes each on either side. His mannerisms seemed eccentric – by Earth standards, at least – but Alan guessed that’s where he’s from since he likely taught Neesha the yodel.

“He is an experienced Merchant, Alan. Best play nice and learn what you can.”

“Ah!” Vidiger jumped in place. “No gibberish in my store. Silence that foul thing.”

Alan clasped one hand around Durger. “Are you a minion or a warrior, sir?”

“Oh, I’m a sir now?” He placed his hand to his chest, aghast. “Just a moment ago I was mistaken for a sleaze.”

“Sorry,” Alan whispered through gritted teeth.

“What was that?” Vidiger leaned forward to better hear.

“I apologize, Vidiger.”

He smiled wide, showing two rows of pearly white teeth, and one odd silver one toward the back. “Apology accepted, newcomer. I, if you must know, am a native of Moon Hearth, governed by Harama. She is a kind god. Ample. Busty. Delightful.” He began to drool.

It took everything in Alan’s power not to grab him by the collar and shake some sense into him. But Durger was right – there’s much to learn.

“Ahem.” Vidiger found himself. “Alas, I serve her from afar, in Ojin, in this very shop that I have rented from the great lords of the pink fog.” He bowed as if they could see him.

“Rented?” Alan’s ears perked up. He always dreamt of having his own shop. Back on Earth, he hoped his old shop owner would transfer the lease over to him once he retired. Maybe…

“Why yes, of course. Securing a space in this battle-torn realm is a Merchant’s dream. The foot-traffic is immense, even atop a very high crystalline-chained mountain.”

“So, you cleared the Pink?” Alan continued.

“Of course.”

“How?”

“Hm, hm! That, my friend, is a trade secret. I cannot have more Merchants scurrying around here than there already are. Real estate is limited. You understand.”

“Of course.” Alan didn’t want to push his luck. Instead, he glanced around for any weaponry he might be able to analyze.

“Vidiger.” Neesha tapped the table for his attention. “Nigel’s directions to the Yero were perfect.”

“Mhm. I am glad we Merchants were able to be of assistance.”

“Yes.” Neesha’s voice became bashful… even flirty. “But I may need another favor.”

“Ooh, ho. I see.” He leaned over the counter, unabashedly inhaling her scent. “How can I assist you, my beautiful, pink-nosed flower.”

“The stone I obtained, is loud,” she admitted.

“Really?” Vidiger furrowed his brow. “You hide it well, my love. Usually, the Stone Chasers are all flailing crazy people after a big find. But not you.” He edged closer.

She twisted her lips, showing a bit of regret for saying it.

“I need its counterpart,” she went on. “The Answer Stone.”

Vidiger puckered his lips while rising to full height. He glanced down at something behind the counter and slid a compartment door forward. “Perhaps I can be of assistance once more.” He dusted a clothbound binder and flicked it open.

Alan ducked to analyze the glass encasing. It was hard to stare directly into the Saro essences. Each had a sun-like center and its own unique variant shell. One appeared metal with engravings. Another wood. He guessed certain combinations worked better with specific armor and weaponry. None of it evoked a trance, though. It made him wonder if Saro essence was stripped from items to get to some kind of core, away from history.

“I must ask, how far did that Yero-losh chase you? They say its leash feels sometimes endless.” Vidiger raised his eyebrows at Neesha.

“Too far,” Neesha said vaguely.

Alan wondered why Vidiger asked.

“Mm. Well, it is great that you escaped. Ah, here we go.” He traced his finger over a page within his binder. “Rigal Stone of the Orange. Said to have answers to those guarded by great Yero-losh and Five Tails. Travel past roaring fires and pouring lava, and into the burning mouth of Drako Rock. Only there will you find the answers you seek.” Vidiger gritted his teeth. “Your journey is not easy, my love, that is for certain.”

“Orange, dammit.” Neesha turned sharply away. “It’ll take too long to get there. I’ll never make it.”

Alan narrowed his eyes. “Make it? What do you mean?”

Neesha paced away, ignoring both men. Alan wanted to ask Durger what she might be talking about, but wasn’t ready to get kicked out of the shop just yet.

“Stone Chasers tend to drive themselves mad.” Vidiger snapped his tongue. “It would be a shame to watch this one rot from the inside out.”

“What have you seen?” Alan asked.

“All stages, unfortunately. Those who ask questions to anyone who would listen. Those who speak to themselves incessantly, trying to conjure an answer from thin air. Then there are the broken. Convinced of wrong answers to the point of madness. It is a sad fate.”

“Are there no successful Chasers?”

“Sure, in legend.” He slammed the book shut.

“You’ve not met even one?”

“Yes,” Vidiger admitted. “Only one, though.”

“Well then point us to them, please, for her sake.” Alan motioned to Neesha.

Vidiger hooted. “And what are you? Her chauffer? The selfless Merchant? Hah, imagine such a Title.”

Alan did his best to hide his annoyance.

“Tell me you’d run into the depths of the orange fog just for a chance at that tail,” he lowered his voice.

Alan took a deep breath. Was he that shallow… and dim? No. He had a life he wanted to get home to. His own purpose. Scary how he had to think about it the more time he spent here. His Origins were slipping further and further away.

“If you could point us to the closest successful Stone Chaser, and the Pegs of Fate, I will be forever grateful, Vidiger.”

The Merchant belly-laughed. “Now I see—” He tried to catch his breath. “Madness belongs together. Hah!”

“Spare me. I already know no one has collected them all.”

“Yet you chase all the same?” Vidiger tried to calm himself. “It makes you even more off your rocker.”

Alan waited patiently for the laughter to die down. “What did you do back on Earth?”

Vidiger spread his arms. “Managed a sporting goods store, before the whole world fell into their devices.”

“And I a pawn shop,” Alan said.

“Look at us. Our souls carry through the cosmos doing what we were meant to. Of course you see why I much prefer it here. We’re needed again, my friend. Can’t you see?” He opened his bag and shook out a stack of pink coins onto the counter. “These are some of the rarest items in the realm. My personal collection.” He winked. “You will have one too, soon. Why waste your time trying to go back?”

Alan peered over his shoulder at Neesha.

“We have unfinished business.”

Vidiger nodded. “That will change, I assure you. Give it time.”

Alan tried to inspect the coins, but something profound occurred to him in this moment. Being able to coin items… is a shield. Not just visually, but magically too. He had no idea whether those were swords, or gods, or beasts sprawled over the table.

“Surely you have something that can help us in there?” Alan said.

“Hm. Hm. But unfortunately, you have nothing I could ever want.” He picked up a coin and peered closely at it. “This here, is repellent to all things fire. Safe passage through the orange fog for a limited time.” He flipped the coin, which transformed into a leather glove with silver rings knitted into each finger.

Alan took the opportunity immediately – the last thing he heard before falling into a trance was the Merchant’s distinct voice echoing all around him.

He awoke in a world of mighty cliffs and ocean waves the size of mountains crashing mere feet from reaching the top. A tall Knight stood strong, expression crazed, like he was about to unlock the secret to eternal life.

“Hear me, Derstan!” he shouted to his general waiting far behind him on flatland – who rode some sort of horse-like beast. “I will lead you through the Crimson! As decreed by the gods of the Black!” He pulled that same glove out and tossed his current one to the sea.

“Don’t do it, my lord!” his general pleaded, tears wetting his eyes.

“I must. For our raid. We will never be outdone again.” The Knight eyed the glove with wonder. “For Rikus and the skies beyond!” He pulled the glove over his right hand, and the silver finger-rings hooked harshly into his bones, crippling the great warrior to the ground. “Arh! A trick! No!”

The general looked away as twenty others bowed their heads in horror.

“Why!” The Knight gasped as his hand crushed into a ball. “Why am I not worthy?”

As the Knight tumbled off the cliff, the glove severed itself and remained at the edge, taking the Knight’s hand for itself, jarring Alan back to reality. He blinked hard to refocus on the Merchant who he now knew was trying to send him to a speedy death.

“A glorious item,” Alan said. “Such fine craftsmanship.”

“Yes, indeed.” Vidiger nodded.

“I’m sure I have something you might want.” Alan began to dig through his bag. “It will guide us safely through the fog, for certain?”

“Oh ye—”

“Or will it crush me in its grasp? Like it did the raid leader who bowed to Rikus?” Alan’s gaze hardened.

A flash of uncertainty washed across the Merchant’s face, satisfyingly so. “H—how?”

“You would go to the lengths of ridding anyone who comes in contact with her, just so she comes crawling back to you?” Alan guessed.

Vidiger remained dumbstruck.

“You underestimate me, twice now,” Alan said. “Too bad.” He dug into his bag and flipped his own coin to reveal the rotating horns of the Yero-losh, then slammed the base hard down on the counter.

“Impossible.” Vidiger’s eyes widened.

“That’s why you asked about what happened to the beast, didn’t you? You wanted to send warriors after it, for this.” Alan swiped his elite item and marched away, grabbing Neesha by the arm on his way to the exit.

Alan knew what he was doing. He could tell how valuable the horns were from Vidiger’s face alone. A Merchant caught off guard, is one who doesn’t have time to hide his true expression.

“Alan?” Neesha asked, perplexed. “Where are we going?”

“To the orange fog, in search of a way to calm your mind,” he proclaimed.

“Wait!” Vidiger called, rushing around his counter. “Wait,” he exhaled. “I apologize.”

Alan hid his smirk, slowly stopping in his tracks.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“I will never be able to trust you again,” Alan said.

“What happened?” Neesha tensed.

“Please. That does not mean two talented Merchants cannot do business.”