Despite having succeeded at finally creating a specific rune, I have to repeat the success, and perform it enough times that it becomes rote. Hopefully it will become quicker with practice. Spending several minutes crafting a single rune in the air, when the simplest spell takes five, well, it’s definitely not going to be helpful in battle.

Hm, I know that if I just poked the spell runes depicted in the book, in order, I could probably activate the spell, though I’m worried that the page could somehow become spent in some way. In the worst case scenario, it works similarly to the identification scrolls from Can’Z’aas, and disappears in a fwoosh. Losing the proper runes for a spell before committing them to memory would suck. I’m almost certain that that’s exactly what would happen too. Unless the spellbook itself were somehow enchanted to preserve the spells within it, even against consumption by the system of magic itself.

Anyway, enough conjecture for the moment. Let’s try again, see if we can get another successful rune on attempt one thousand and two. Huff, phew, huzzah! How about one thousand and three? Yes! Let’s just let these dissipate and not accidentally empower them. No need to make Percy, Dawn, or Teuila even colder. Let’s keep this up. We’ll leave the defunct mental language comprehension spellbook here in the cabin, and see whose docks we’ve landed upon.

Oh, oh the glaive at my back really wants to be full size. It's sending waves of insistent feelings at me. Okay, okay, calm down. Oh, I get it. It’s for my own safety. It wouldn’t maintain its true shape for anyone without fae ancestry. Thus me having this gorgeous weapon strapped to my back is sort of like proof that I’m not someone who just slew a person with this weapon. Or at least, if I did, that I’m not some random human who did it. Most likely anyone who recognizes it, or its magics, should pretty much assume that at least I’m not outright evil. Oh, even if I had fae ancestry, the weapon can simply refuse to respond if it dislikes me. Which it would probably do if I murdered its previous wielder. So yeah, fairly solid proof of intent, or lack thereof. It has such an odd, roundabout way of communicating its thoughts to me. Or well, maybe not even thoughts, just overall feelings about knowledge about itself. Self awareness is still impressive regardless.

I give Teuila and Dawn a moment to warm themselves, dry off, and secure everything or grab what they’d like to bring. As they’re preparing to disembark, I exit our vessel. Standing at the docks is a handsome, shirtless, dark-skinned fae man wearing trousers comprised of leaves. His outfit reminds me of my old leaf-leather clothing, mixed with ghillie equipment from Fakeworld, Earth.

I start, “Hail friend, is there an authority to report to, or a toll to pay? We’re all new to wherever we are. Folks from other parts just call it the rumored Hidden at the Heart of the Wilds.”

In a thick, rich Caribbean accent, the fellow replies, “I figured you would show up sometime. Shellcracker. Wasn’t sure whether to expect a Reginald, or Regina, your friend Lil says hello all the same.”

My throat catches, and I’m at a loss for words. Lil’s been thinking about us. Lil knew we would come for them. My Lil buddy. They don’t hate us. I openly weep, allowing grateful tears to stream down my cheeks. I cough though, and draw a ragged breath. If Lil was sure we’d arrive though, where are they? Glancing around gives no hint where they might be hanging out at.

Our welcome-party shakes his head and responds to our obvious searching, “Gone for some time now I’m afraid. Reluctant at first, then aided the Hidden with a great ordeal, then left with no pomp or pageantry. The hound and the girl left with, of course. Quite a loyal group of friends your little family. I’m not certain they told anyone where they were going, but if you’re to seek them out, I’m sure a few around these parts will offer guesses.”

I find myself still unable to speak. We missed Lil. Lil moved on without us, to who knows where. I drop to my knees and let my jaw hang slack with my lips drawn back in sadness. My lips and jaw quiver. I shouldn’t give in to despair, but I was so badly hoping to see and patch things up with my best buddy, that I didn’t even stop to think that they might have moved on already. I gulp several times, attempting to rein in my emotions.

Rubbing my itchy, wet eyes, I gaze at my own boots as I mumble, “Thank you, for um, passing along Lil’s message. How did you know I was me? I mean, that I’m Reggie?”

The fellow tending this dock offers, “Between the red hair, the potent, verdant soul, and you wielding the lost Lullaby, you were unlikely to be anyone else.”

My face contorts as one eyebrow raises. I query, “The lost lullaby?”

A certain joy spreads across his face as he answers, “Lullaby, Requiem of the Windless Wilds. He hasn’t been seen in the Heart in ages. His sister will be glad of his return. Even if it’s temporary.”

I glance around at my companions, the only one that might identify as male is Percy the Potted Plant. It seems unlikely that he’s from the Hidden Heart. My glance passes over the glaive strapped to my back. Its emerald hue shines brighter than ever. Is Lullaby the glaive’s name?

As if in response, the dock-fae, Phinarel apparently, nods while saying, “Anyway friend, welcome to the Heart. I’m Phinarel, and no, there’s no need to pay for something so simple as stopping your, um, boat, at our docks.”

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I chuckle for a moment at the description of our vessel. It's obviously a carriage, but it has been rafting fairly nicely. Realizing I've forgotten to breathe for a bit, I draw a shuddering, ragged breath as I stand. I blush while flashing Phinarel a smile in an attempt to respond, “I’m honored, it’s a pleasure to meet you Phinarel. You already know that I’m Reggie. If Lil told you about Teuila, the Valkyrie, that’s her with the giant backpack. Lil couldn’t have known about Percy the Potted Plant, or our shy friend Dawn here.”

Dawn elbows me playfully as she jocularly states, “Shy friend Rej? I’m over it. Just look at where we are pal! Don’t know how long we’ve got before we need a solution, but damned if I’m not going to enjoy the time I’ve got at this point. Y’know? Howzit braddah Phinarel. Hele hele mai kakou e Rej. Some place safe, yet wild and new. Some place I can be Aasimovian without being worried about it? Being out as myself in the first time in almost forever?”

Joy spreads across my face as Dawn lays it out for me. I’m so glad she’s getting to be herself and simultaneously enjoy it. A nagging feeling at the back of my mind latches on to one sentence though. She doesn’t know how long we have. I haven’t been filling her in every day on my assumptions of her soul’s progress. She can see it with her aura vision wand if she’s really curious, but hasn’t commented on it at all. I worry that perhaps it’s simply too depressing. Her soul is tatters at this point, shreds even. There’s barely enough to be compared to something like the bottom few rows of a knitted sweater.

I need to hurry. We need to get set up, and I need to keep practicing, and learning magic. I ask Phinarel, “Phinarel, does the Heart accept travelers? Do they have anything like inns or anything like that? I don’t want to act on kindness and good will that Lil has earned, I’d prefer to not take advantage of Lil and their good nature in such a manner.”

Phinarel gives me the so-so gesture while answering, “Not as such, no, but new houses grow every day. Anyone that can find their way to the heart is deemed worthy of setting up in one. We haven’t had to exile anyone in ages, not even the Hidden of the Vale.”

I clutch my chest at the mention of Aces homeland. A pain grips my heart like homesickness. But it’s not my home. The home that I long for is my little pond on Can’Z’aas with my family, or barring that, our new house in the Miracle Oak settlement. Why did hearing about Aces’ homeland suddenly spark an equal level of longing? I rattle my head as I try to reorient myself.

Teuila literally lifts the carriage out of the river, seemingly effortlessly, and walks down the docks to the shore with it, leaving everyone around the docks speechless. Te, I thought that was too big to use your gravity powers on. Are you getting even more powerful? Was that your gravity powers, or your raw strength, or both? When she’s sure she’s got clearance away from everyone, she sets the carriage down, and begins to reattach its wheels.

Percival shuffles along after Teuila, likely wanting to resume his seated position in the cart if we’re not going to need to abandon it. Dawn just appears to be gawping at Teuila. Sure, Dawn’s seen Te bash down an entire wizard’s tower, but that doesn’t mean she has to stop being impressed by decent shows of strength. It’s a bit amusing though. I’m glad Dawn and Teuila have their friendship, and their nicknames for each other. Boss and Dawny are a fun pair. I truly, truly need to learn about souls as soon as possible. Teuila doesn’t deserve to lose someone that she has become such close friends with. Especially not in such a horrid manner.

With as much gratitude as I can muster, I thank Phinarel, “I’m humbled, and extremely grateful for the welcome, the message, and the knowledge. So basically some tree near the edge of town will have grown a well-lit hollow or something? If it’s unfurnished, we can pretty much just claim it and camp there, no issues?”

Phinarel nods along in response, giving me the affirmative. I press my luck, “Do you know what I should do with Lullaby? I was hoping to return him to his proper owner. We, um, rescued him from someone’s hoard. A bad someone.”

Phinarel brightens up, “You want to see him home? You’d be ready to part with him so easily? You’re as kind as Lil says, though I’m not so sure Lullaby is ready to part with you yet. His sister is wielded by one of Bastet’s entourage, her royal guards. His wielder is likely dead if you found him in some wicked being’s hoard, so there’s no one to return him to necessarily. Still, Dirge, Requiem for the Wounded will be glad to be reunited, even if only for a time. Getting them together might prove a challenge, but I’ll leave you to figure out the politics of the Seelie and Unseelie court.”

My eyes flick wide in surprise. Those are concepts that I have from my Earth memories of fantasy media. Also, now that my mind is drawn to Earth, Bastet is an Egyptian goddess or something like that. Isn’t she? I think something to do with cats. More than just the usual Egyptology references to cats and the underworld though. I suddenly remember Fawns at Sunsets face. There’s no way, right? Bastet was something of a matronly goddess, protection, pleasure, health. Like most Earth deities, a beautiful personage, moreover, a feline face, or some anthropomorphic feline qualities at least. I’d once thought jokingly that Fawn would easily be at home amongst the pantheons of Earth deities, for almost those exact qualities just now. Could Fawn be an incarnation of Bastet back on Can’Z’aas?

Hm, doesn’t Bastet have a son, Miho? That’s sort of amusing, since I’m pretty sure mijo means son in several Latin languages like Spanish. Actually, that might be a contraction of mi hijo. Perhaps less of an influential coincidence than I thought. Also, let’s go back to those names. Lullaby, and Dirge? Both are requiems of some concept, the Wounded for Dirge, but the Windless Wilds for Lullaby. Lullaby’s enchantment is about ease of travel across the wilderness, the wilds. If strong winds were affecting a journey, they’d seem to almost dissipate in a small area when traveling with a wielder of Lullaby. Does that mean Dirge’s enchantment specializes in wounds? Causing them? Or treating them? Quite possibly as frightening as Gae Buidhe honestly.

Phinarel appears to be leaving, but I’m still lost, and have so many more questions. I ask, “Are there any places to learn that would accept a new, short-term student? Especially learning anything to deal with magic. Also, um. Did Lil have any particular friends, or group of people they spent more time with?”

He turns his smiling face back my way over one shoulder as he calls back, “Lil, the lady and the hound mostly hung around the Enochian Enclave. They’re also your best bet in answer to your other question.”