Boredom and Realisation

The sun sweltered overhead, its ever-growing influence causing the air to ripple and distort, creating illusions that shimmered in the air.

Wanderer had never experienced this kind of heat before, It was different from the burning fire of the magi’s attacks, that heat was sharp and fierce, yet under the unrelenting sun the very air seemed to take some unknown grudge against them, punishing with impunity.

Even the well-accustomed zebras began to falter, finding shelter under the ever-increasing baobab trees.

The heat seemed to draw out their journey amongst the endless sea of grass, what felt like hours was merely a matter of moments, so the Vessel began to search for something to occupy themself in their journey.

First, they tried to interact with Emio, successfully managing to pet the small creature for a while before they eventually grew bored and stalked off into the grass, out of sight.

Wanderer wasn't particularly scared of them running away, the verdestry often wandered off to entertain themself in one way or another, but they always returned eventually.

For a moment they thought to converse with their Spirit a little more, yet they were tired and unresponsive after the incident and the conversation that followed, so the Vessel decided to leave them be.

As their mind slowly turned over options of what to do, slowed a little by the heat, they eventually came across an interesting idea whilst thinking of Emio.

Their friend was currently formed of many strands of dry grass, knotted and tangled repeatedly over itself, causing Wanderer to think if they could repeat the effect themself they could perhaps even create a new Emio in the process.

Their wishful thinking thrived for a single moment before they remembered the vast ritual involved in the verdestry’s creation, even with their inexperience knew that such a thing wasn't easily replicated.

Walking over to the roadside, they plucked a few particularly long strands of grass, finding the texture unexpectedly waxy, before attempting to wrap and tangle the strands around each other.

At first, the Golem had no real goal in their mindless fidgeting, randomly weaving and tangling the strands together while their mind slowly turned over recent events.

But eventually, they set their focus upon a singular objective, to tangle the grass in such a way that it wouldn't fall apart.

The process didn't truly capture their attention until they created their first knot, however, a simple thing requiring the Golem to put the end of a strand of grass through a loop formed of the same strand.

Once they figured that out, a new world of knots, loops and twists opened before them, the Vessel becoming entranced with their work, hardly even remembering to keep moving in their grass-based reverie.

By the time they felt they could explore the wondrous world of rope no longer, the once proudly standing sun had hunched itself a little, readying itself to disappear within a few hours.

Wanderer was glad that the air had cooled a little, making their thoughts a little clearer and their clay body a little less dry, both of which were rather unpleasant feelings.

The Golem inspected the area around them, but other than the fact that the looming volcano seemed a little closer and the zebra packs were a little less common, there were no true changes.

And as Wanderer looked over the unending expanse, the feeling they had been so desperately trying to stave off and ignore reeled its ugly head, boredom.

It was a terrible, unpleasant feeling that itched and tore under the Golems clay skin, urging them to discover, explore, anything to escape the boring monotony.

The Vessel began to wish they were somewhere else, somewhere new and exciting unlike the endless fields they found themselves in now.

Yet as soon as they thought this a unbidden memory sprung to their mind, back when they had just been carried up the tree away from certain death by Emio.

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Just before they were chased off the edge of the branch they were on, they were warned by their Spirit of a great potential danger.

The danger that the beauty and glory in the world around them would fade as they forever searched for something new, that they would lose their love for adventure by being unwilling to see the intricacies of the world around them.

And was that not what was happening here?

Were they not succumbing to boredom in an environment they had not truly inspected, didn't truly know anything about.

They had only truly interacted with the zebra packs once, having been too deep in thought to truly relish the experience any other time the creatures approached.

And that was without even mentioning the termites and baobab trees which they only took so much as a cursory glance at.

How had they managed to have the audacity to get bored when there was so much yet to explore around them?

Wanderer stopped their walking for a moment as their mind landed on a single phrase “When did moving forward become more important than discovering the world around me?”

And the more they thought on the question the more they realised, that had always been the case.

How many details did they miss in the forests near their birth cave, was that not the very reason why they stopped their Spirit, so they could take in the world with greater detail?

And how many types of fish and glowing coral did they give nothing more than a passing glance under the lake, only to forget about not a moment after?

They needed to just stop and take in the world, not be content to just think on the world around them, they needed to truly know.

And so the Vessel did, they stopped for a moment and just let the sounds, sights and feelings sink into them.

They felt the slowly cooling air on their clay skin, a slight pain in their hooves where the rough road had worn down their soft feet, and the constant pressure of the light breeze.

They saw the blue sun reflecting off the road in front of them, a zebra munching on some grass and acrid smoke rising into the air, coming from one of the many lit candles that lined the massive road.

They heard the sound of rustling leaves and dancing grass as they were blown by the wind, the light clinking caused by the trinkets that hung from their hat-like head and to their own surprise, a slight murmuring came from their Spirit, as little fragments of their feelings and thoughts flowed from them unintentionally.

This caused Wanderer to attempt to recall the last time they had attempted to analyse their Spirit, or for that matter, their entire soul.

In tandem with the other thought, the Golem realised that they never had questioned their bond with the guide, they had always been there and so it never occurred to them to question it.

They looked inside themself, to the place their spirit, soul and blessing resided and took in all there was to see.

At their very core, their soul existed in a place of power, a glowing, humming ball of energy from which their thoughts and emotions emanated, it contained all their memories and ideas, in all reality, it was them.

Wanderer spent a moment staring at it, wondering how they had never thought to inspect it before, they had always had the ability yet it had never occurred to them to truly take a proper look, only ever being something they had done in passing.

After looking at it for a moment, and attempting to find the first time they had ever observed their soul, they realised that it was larger and more solid than it once had been.

The first time they inspected their soul was when they first woke in the cave, having felt it when their Spirit spoke to them from beside it.

Back then, it was hardly even there, it felt more like nebulous strands of thoughts and wisps of encoded instincts.

But now it was different, the new memories they had created since then had solidified their essence into a solid shape, a far cry from the errant wisps it once was.

From this ball of memories and thoughts stemmed a strand of foreign magic, a magic that directly connected to their Spirit.

Their Spirit took a form similar to that of their soul, differing only because of the singular eye in the centre of its being.

That eye was absently staring back at them while a light stream of curiosity filtered through their bond.

They spent a moment staring at the Spirit with their mind's eye before eventually moving on, feeling the interaction slightly awkward, a feeling only exacerbated by the complete lack of communication between the two.

The next thing their thoughts were drawn to was the blessing that was bestowed upon them in return for freeing the earth Spirit.

It rested next to their soul in a way that was similar to that of their Spirit, yet instead of connecting to their soul, it instead ran lines and pathways all around their body.

They were similar to the veins you would find in many animals, connecting and looping all around the Golem's body.

And if the pathways were veins, then the blessing was the heart, forcing powerful magic from itself and down the channels in a single, continuous stream.

Yet the Vessel couldn't help but think where all this magic was coming from, and after a moment's inspection, they found their answer.

It took them a moment to realise the source of all the magic, not because it was small or hidden, but because it was so common that it didn't stand out.

All throughout their body, a steady stream of power slowly made its way toward their core.

It fascinated Wanderer to no end, but they were brought out of their introspection by a piercing sound echoing throughout the land, emanating from a massive creature flying through the sky.