I awaken feeling refreshed, extremely in tune with the natural world around me somehow. Bud, is this your doing? Wow. Thank you pal. Are you sure it’s okay to dig so deeply into yourself like this? Especially since we’ll be gone from the Heart for a while. What do you mean you don’t care? That’s not like you. Are you okay? Oh. Oh Bud. I. Me too. I don’t want me to die either. I’m touched. Really. Snfl. Crap, now I’m crying already and I just woke up. Hah. Sorry Bud. Oof, more ragged breathing. Where are Te and Dawn?

Outside, arguing? That, that, what is going on today? Lullaby being depressed and touchy, Teuila and Dawn arguing, me being revitalized? Is it topsy turvy day? Next thing we know, Jarrah is going to be super kind and sweet to me or something. What was that? The griffon statuette? Yeah I remember seeing it having transmutation and alteration magic all over it as part of the lingering enchantment. You think it can temporarily come alive? Well that’s pretty neat I guess, could be kind of cute to have walking around or something.

What? Oh. Really, that big? That would be big enough to pull the carriage, yeah. Lasts a few days, then needs to recharge? Huh. When did you learn all this? You were what? I, I mean I guess I don’t mind or anything. I’m just surprised is all. I didn’t even know that was something you could do Bud. Thanks for taking the time out while I slept to look through things. You think there’s another book I should give to Teuila? I mean, absolutely, I haven’t even read all the covers, I basically just checked over their enchantments. The what of the what? Ugh, I hope it’s not Bright Lord propaganda. Though I suppose even if it is, it could contain useful information.

I finish preparing to face the day, making sure we’ve packed up everything, and I gaze about at our temporary home with forlorn longing. I could have been happy here. In another life. I don’t know how to express my thanks to this place in any meaningful way. I lean my forehead against the inside wall of our small home for a time. Sighing, I share with it my final farewell. It might be weird, but yes, I kiss the inside of a tree, just like a simple goodbye peck on the cheek. Trees and nature and stuff. I am a Fae after all, y’know? Not to mention the Miracle Oak Fae community pouring so much love of nature into me. Not like, romantic love, obviously. Just worry, tenderness, care, compassion, joy, and so on.

After a deep breath and a long sigh I exit our once-domicile. Teuila and Dawn are pouting at each other with puffed reddened cheeks. I’m about to offer Teuila the book Bud suggested, but there’s an uneasy air. What’s going on?

I can virtually sense Dawn wanting to beg, “Please Boss?” Somehow.

Teuila seems to retort to the unspoken plea, “Dawny, it just, it’s not happening, okay!? I’m not giving up on you, and my Dink, my Airhead isn’t either. Like they said, leaving you guys on the off-chance that I could, hic, glp, could maybe, snfl, maybe save Reggie. When I might not be there for them as, as, as they die. I. I know I said I would, but I can’t. I can’t be gone when I might lose one or both of you. Airhead? Air, tell her, please. Please just, just help me out here. She wanted me to run away dragging you away searching for dragons, but I know you would refuse, so now she wants just me to go searching. I, I would. You know I would.”

I gulp back my sadness as I respond, “I know Te, My Wings. I absolutely know. You would fight the forces of all the Heavens and all the Hells for any one of us, if you could find them, if they would dare face you and offer a chance to save us. We don’t even have the faintest lead though. Would you just head one random direction til you circled around the globe? Would you do a spiraling search pattern? That could take years, decades on Rayileklia. The closest thing we have to a hint is dragons supposedly being driven off to the Spine of the World in ancient times.”

Dawn chips in, “Yeah, yeah history stuff says that. The big ol’ mountain range across the whole top of the continent, maybe the whole world.”

I loose a heavy sigh as I shake my head sadly. Turning to Dawn I state, “If that’s the case, how big is the mountain range? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? A thousand? Ten thousand miles? How’s Teuila even supposed to search a mountain range with the acid clouds that block passage over and between them?”

Dawn shrugs, pouting. She relents, “I, I didn’t mean to piss you guys off, Boss, Rej. I just. I saw how hurt you were, and Boss was crying all night in her sleep. I’m not really touchy feely and stuff, but it hurt to even just watch. You guys are great. I don’t want this for you. I, I’d fuggin’ kill something to stop this. It sucks. You’re such good people. You don’t deserve the heaping pile of steaming shid that apparently two whole different worlds dropped on you. Y’know?”

I gulp back several tears and force a laugh as I nod. I reply as best I can, “I, I know. Sort of. Thank you for caring Dawn. My Friend. You know that I’m not going to, and realistically can’t abandon you, for the sake of all those we both care about. Teuila likewise isn’t going to abandon me. We, well, huff. We have a course for our journey, it’s set. Lullaby knows how to get us to the Sisters of the Mist. We’ll leave for their sanctuary at midnight tonight. Let’s just hope they can help one or both of us. Okay?”

Dawn frowns, but she nods, relenting. Teuila stalks over to Dawn and socks her playfully in the shoulder, a bit forcefully. Dawn winces, but nods again at Teuila. I dig around in the hyperdimensional haversack. There’s a few items from Milbert’s stash we haven’t figured out, or used yet. This griffon rampant is one of them. Hm, is there a difference between a griffon and a gryphon? Probably just regional variations on spelling, like color and colour, and armor and armour. Apparently to call forth the beast transformation of the statue, you have to express true love to it somehow. No wonder Milbert wasn’t using it.

I wonder which of my companions memories I could use to demonstrate true love to it. In my heart, I believe each and every one of them is someone that I truly, truly deeply love. Most recently added to that list, I think I could say I’ve fallen for Alanea Whifflewillow. She’s such a remarkable woman. I wish her a happy life, and maybe, hopefully the sort of family she desires. I don’t even know if changelings are born, or if we spawn from flowers or something. She might have no parents or siblings, simply by nature of being a changeling if we sprout from fruits or something weird, or if it’s a mix, that changelings can naturally be grown like mandragora, but can also mate and raise children through any number of methods. Or, if we’re more mammalian biologically, she may have lost them in our shared battle with our manxome foe, or any number of things. If, if only I could guarantee the safety and happiness of those I care about. I allow myself another long, deep sigh as I weep for those I love, in fear for what they might face without me.

My tears splash upon the griffon statuette in my hands, and my hands nearly break as the figurine expands rapidly. I tumble backwards as a magnificent creature becomes animate, its feathers contain a metallic sheen, as if its entire body is still made of the same material its statuette form was comprised of. His beak is a deadly saber atop a main-gauche, figuratively speaking. His eyes are virtually made of steely determination. Each of his talons is a weapon in its own right. As are his claws on his rear lion legs. I, uh, could do without the anatomical accuracy below, but even that seems like an impressive, though perhaps a bit small compared to his other features, club as it swings about. Why do statue designers do that half the time? Who thinks, “You know what would be artistic? An organ dangling between the legs of this creation,” ya know? Bleugh. I am so very glad I don’t have any of that garbage.

Anyway, his time limit seems similar to the beast tokens, slightly. It won’t pause completely while he’s at rest, but unlike the tokens, he can recharge with a few days to a week or two. Then he’ll be usable for another few days up to maybe a week if used only for travel and rest. I guess as long as we plan to make rest stops at places like the Sisters of the Mist Sanctuary, and maybe The Brook, and The Gap, spending equal time traveling and equal time resting and researching at each location, we have our mount. Despite having limitations, he’s still easier to use and take care of than a real horse, and less likely to tire out being the only beast pulling a full carriage. I toss the magical saddle over his back, and it seems to virtually meld with his form. Hopefully it’ll stay on him even if he shrinks back down into statue size.

I tell Apheliotes Zephyrus to follow Teuila’s orders. His name is a mouthful, but that’s what the magic said to call him. We hook him up to the carriage and have him draw it to the Enochian Enclave as we walk along, saying goodbye to the gorgeous scenery on this quiet edge of the Hidden Heart. Since we’re on the southwest side of the Hidden Heart, we’re nearest where we’ll be leaving too. It’s funny, this might literally be where Lil showed up with Luni and Lucky when they got here, since they probably had to approach from the southwest, over there by the river. Unless they went up along the mountainside to the west, then headed east here. Then they would have hit the royal dwellings and such on the west side of the Heart.

I pat Apheliotes to let him know to rest outside the Enochian Enclave, and he sits on his knees. Patting him felt like slapping a slab of steel, but it’s not like I was trying to put force into it. Teuila, Dawn, and I enter the Enochian Enclave for the final time during our stay. Possibly the final time in my entire life. At least Jarrah is pretty certain I’ll live for a couple of months most likely. Speaking of, he’s awaiting with a teapot, and several attendants that I haven’t met before.

Before I can ask, Jarrah speaks, “Flint and Alanea have returned to their slightly more secret assignment. They, well, they’re throwing themselves into their work, seemingly avoiding processing certain emotions. I hope not too recklessly. I’m regretful that they won’t be able to bid you farewell. Jioskar, and Zintata here will look after Teuila and Dawn for the day. Please. Come.”

I gaze back at Dawn and Teuila who wear neutral to half-sad expressions as they watch me ascend the Enochian Enclave’s spiral staircase. As we’re leaving, my hypersensitive hearing picks up a few things. Zintata introduces herself, voicing a distaste for me and my recklessness, but an intrigue in Dawn’s stealth. Jioskar introduces himself. He makes a big deal of pointing out that his name is pronounced hee-yo scar, despite Jarrah having just used it, and his own introduction of himself. I shrug. Some of us have had people mispronounce are names, and it irritates some people more than others. Oof, as I’m leaving, I hear one more snide remark from each Zintata and Jioskar about me. Apparently I’ve made a fairly poor impression at the Enochian Enclave in general.

Well, oh well. They won’t have to worry about my disruptions again after today, unless I live long enough to visit again. To do that though, well, huff. I don’t know. I’d be coming back to either join Jarrah in facing off against our manxome foe, or, or to. Gosh I’m blushing. If it’s impossible to return to Can’Z’aas, and somehow all the craziness and bad stuff stops here on Rayileklia, I. I might return to start a, a family with Alanea, and Te, and Lil, and Lu, and Lucky, and Dawn. Hopefully we all survive all these stupid messes. Hopefully the triple L gang is alright. Hm? Yeah Bud, it’s kind of funny that all three of their names start with L and they’re a separate party for now. Oh? Jarrah’s been laughing at my thoughts this whole time? Oh, right. Well that’s embarrassing.

Ugh. I really did not mean to spill the emotional beans of my, and possibly Alanea’s feelings for each other. I could still be misreading things. That whole situation was just so confusing. Wonderful, amazing, tender, sweet, but confusing. I let loose a forlorn sigh as all my muscles sag heavily. I feel weak and drained as I enter Jarrah’s chamber. My eyes loll about in their sockets and I stagger a few steps into the chamber. W,what. What’s going, going on. So heavy. Oof, eyelids too heavy, can’t, can’t keep them open, and ow, left eardrum blew. Tinnitus is so, so loud.

Thanks for catching me Lullaby. I don’t know what’s coming over me. Jarrah’s what? Bleeding on me? Drawing on me in blood? Huff. Do I even want to know any more? I give up. If he’s killing me or sacrificing me or whatever, I’m just, I’m so tired. I’m so emotionally drained from having to be the one that steps up, time after time, when no one else seems to have the power to stop situations. If he wants my powers, or my corpse, or whatever, I’m sure he’ll put it to good use. Hm? He’s scowling, rolling his eyes, and trying not to laugh at me? I, well, that sounds about right honestly.

Actually. You know what. No. Not even Jarrah. No one’s going to take my last month or two away from me. Argh! It hurts so much, it’s like tearing my muscles apart to try to move. Huff, huff, huff. Exertion. Can’t. Fight. No! I rise with all the force I can muster as I headbutt my mentor away from me. He reels back, and I stand doubled over, nearly touching my toes as my arms hang limp. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear it. What do you think Lullaby, cold rune, or try to move my left arm again for the staff? Uh oh.

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Jarrah raises his hand, and seems to mutter something. I’m sent flying into the rear wall of his chamber. As I slide down along the wall, I come to a seated position in an incredibly comfy chair. Thanks Lullaby. Huh? This wasn’t you? Now there’s a table somewhat trapping me in place, slightly. Jarrah draws a chair up to the table and sets the teapot and glasses upon it. I blink rapidly in confusion.

Jarrah shakes his head, muttering. As my hearing finally returns, I can tell he’s saying, “The vexing child is truly an impossible ignoramus, but after all they’ve been through, their paranoia is hardly difficult to understand. Looks like this one’s coming to their senses. Yes?”

Jarrah’s wild eyes focus their gaze mostly on me, as much as their ever-moving presence can. I nod tentatively. Jarrah claps once, and the teapot begins to steam slightly. He says, “Good, welcome back. Whatever nightmare you’d been having, could you refrain from attacking me again?”

I grumble as I gaze about. Lullaby, that really happened, didn’t it? Yeah, I thought so too Bud. I respond, “Yeah, I’ll refrain from attacking you if you explain why you were drawing on me in your blood.”

Jarrah strokes his beard and relents, “You are, as you know, dying. I had not bothered previously to learn much about changelings. What I have learned in the last several days allowed me some insight into their natural gift. I’m hoping that by unlocking yours, we can prevent that demise by even a short time longer. Ms. Whifflewillow believes that one must shapeshift often before ever even touching mana, and she may be right, but we’re both in dire need of your success. Every last tool in your kit, every last second to your life is that much greater chance for your success, no matter how slim.”

My face contorts as I cock my head to the side to stare at him. I roll my eyes and sigh before asking, “You’re telling me, that you were just helping activate my natural gift, but you didn’t think to tell me that you’d be knocking me out and bleeding all over me, or even trying to do that, before we got up here?”

Jarrah frowns, and says something that I suspect to be a lie, but his eye doesn’t twitch, “I’d done no such thing. Whatever sent you reeling was not of my design. Yes I took advantage of your vulnerable state to simply do what I was going to do anyway however. If there’s some other additional malady you’re suffering, now would be the time to disclose it, in case there should be a cure we can pursue.”

I huff a sigh and glare at him with a furrowed brow, attempting as much truthseeking as I can muster. Jarrah’s mostly a fairly honest person. I’ve caught him in his lies once or twice, but most of those seemed almost harmless desires to withhold information for my own benefit. Huff. Fine. I respond, “I’m pretty sure between you and Alanea, you should know everything about me. The mana sickness, the time travel, the panic attacks, the tinnitus, the muscle spasms, the anxiety, the self-doubt and slash or depression. The concussions, the explosions, the delimbing and regeneration, the melting in lava, the drownings, the lightning spark that burst inside my heart, destroying my internals, only to barely be saved in time by a magical potion while clinging to life based on Lil’s bond, nearly killing Lil in the process. What else? Having gods melt and fry my brain simply by speaking at me, having a necromancer try and fail to steal my sou—“”

Jarrah’s eyes widen and widen as I go on and on, until he interrupts, “What? That last bit. You had what happen? Alanea mentioned seeing no such thing. Also, what the fel fiery hells are those doing back already? How long have they been here? I saw no Kamaitachi deliver them.”

Jarrah mentioned he was having Dirge and that somebody’s flame armor delivered into the spaces between the wind by the Kamaitachis, so my eyes shoot wide with fear as I glance around. Sure enough, they’re nearby, and I feel weakened, pulled towards them. They, they want me to claim them. They need me to claim them. They weren’t truly dead, only mostly dead, and my recent attempt at wearing them has bound them to me. They’ve been slowly rejoining the living, but they’re pained, sickened because of that attempt, because of my defenses fighting back their desire to speed their healing process by borrowing my life force. Well, crap.

As far as the necromancer thing, I’m not that surprised. I state, “I have millions, maybe billions of years of logs, I’m surprised Alanea learned as much about me as she did while gazing around at them for a few minutes. It seemed like she started at the beginning. The necromancer happened a week or two ago here on Rayileklia. It was, uh, June twenty sixth. Also, those artifacts are crying out for me, begging me. Should we do something about that?”

Jarrah returns to his usual, muttering, rude self. He grumbles, “Vexations upon vexations, child of a million lives upon a myriad of worlds, time traveling nonsense expanding their story. What? No, shut up. Leave those accursed fel-broodspawn objects alone. Ill-begotten rotter and nonsense. Wait, what. The twenty sixth? No. Yes? No. Near Victo? Necromancy surges have stopped since that very night. But there was a flash, our foe’s presence, very near.”

I nod as I add to his muttering, “Yeah, we were about to defeat the necromancer, while we were trapped, frozen in his soul-sucking firelight that couldn’t manage to grip our souls. Instead, it seemed like his own Bright Lord, our manxome foe reduced him to ash. Something about a primary something, prime soul maybe. Ol’ manxy was pissed, obviously. Milbert, the necromancer, wanted to keep our souls for himself, and manxy caught on apparently, since the torch was lit for so long without funneling souls to Navica.”

Jarrah’s eyes boggle as he demands, “You did not think to lay such pertinent information upon me sooner!?”

I shrug as I retort, “You somehow knew about my delimbing on Can’Z’aas, and a heck of a lot more about me, I figured you were mostly being coy whenever it seemed like you didn’t know something. It’s hard to know what to share when someone keeps hiding what they truly know, and denying things I obviously heard.”

Jarrah grumbles, but looks mildly abashed as he somewhat apologizes, or backs down at least, “Ah, yes, I suppose that could be true. Yes, I did, do know more than I’ve said, by some marks upon your soul. I did not know your own soul was bodybound. That, that is a powerful tool against our foe. Perhaps the most powerful, necessary tool. Were it remotely possible that you could survive long enough, grow stronger, I would plead you take it upon yourself to finally lay to rest the fel-broodspawn that is the self proclaimed emperor.”

I wear half a wicked grin as I add, “Lucky for you, I don’t have to survive. Teuila’s soul is bodybound too, and she’s a hell of a lot more powerful than me.”

Jarrah virtually drops his jaw to the floor. Only for a moment, before he shakes his head sadly. He mumbles, “The last solo endeavor against the emperor was by the ageless grasshopper, one whose soul also seemed at least partially bodybound. It’s rather obvious they didn’t succeed.”

Now it’s my turn for my jaw to drop. There are so many connections between me and Aces, but Luni says I’m not ready to compare them. Why no- Ow, glrp, blrpk, I. I’m. Glp. Gushing a torrent of blood from every orifice. I, I’m. Fal,falling. Thanks Bud. My head slams forward into a moss pillow that grows upon the table, a moss pillow that thankfully absorbs the ridiculous quantity of vitality leaving my system. I think I black out for several moments.

I’m finally coming back to my senses, and no longer leaking vitality. Jarrah is, nursing me kindly with a damp cloth to my forehead? Rehydrating me with that bitter tea? Morning prediction accomplished. I think I was having a thought. Wasn’t there something. Before I blacked out. I was starting to think abo—. Lullaby’s warning blares into my head like a foghorn, interrupting my thoughts. Huh? Oh. Thanks Bud. Not sure what I’m thanking you for, but I vaguely remember agreeing to heed your warnings about my traveling thoughts.

Jarrah nods along with my thoughts, and lifts my head from his lap to set me upright back in my chair. What Bud? Dirge is doing what? But you had the wood soak all that up! Oh, you didn’t tell it where to go.

I cry out, “Jarrah! Dirge, quick, she’s about to drink m—“

Too late. Dirge comes screaming back to life, singing angrily from her location laying nearby. I slam my face into my palm and shake my head in dismay. Great, now we have a homicidal sister active nearby to worry about. Hm, what’s that Bud? She’s usually less kill-y? Well, that’s good I guess. Balchar’s Flame or whatever it’s called probably affected her too, on top of her lunatic bonded guardswoman.

Jarrah joins me in facepalming. Only momentarily though, as he gazes at Dirge. Her song slowly changes, mellows, soothes, quiets. It somehow becomes silent, yet still permeates the air. I stare along with Jarrah at Dirge as she changes from deadly crimson to a swath of azure and emerald and just the faintest streaks of— Wait. Those are the colors of my soul’s aura on Can’Z’aas. What did my soul just do to Dirge?

What Lullaby? She’s lost her dirge? She’s now just Requiem, the Silent Song? She’ll go by SS or SS Requiem for short? That, that’s weird. Right? I mean, I’m not one to deny anyone their identity, or name, but, but has anything like this ever happened before? Wait, the flame armor is about to do the same thing!? F%^&!

I start to make a mad dash for the stupid artifacts, too late, as Balchar’s flame radiates power, knocking me away onto my arse. My emotions intensify, and ramp up to stupidly crazy levels, and it takes all my willpower not to cave in to so many rampant emotions. They slowly calm, and calm, and calm. Dirge is telling you something? Err, sorry, SS Requiem is telling you something? He what.

I don’t know whether to be honored, or terrified. Balchar’s flame is now a spectacular mixture of colors, quite similar to Di— uh, Requiem. It’s as if a tornado drew forth my soul as its palette, and used the armor as its canvas. Streaks and slashes of one color over the other are nearly hypnotizing. His name is now apparently Shellcracker’s Iceflame Spark. That’s, that’s just a whole mess of wrong, on so many levels.

I’m going to be in so much trouble with Sindred, and that trouble is going to be passed on to the Enochian Enclave. I begin my apology, “Jarrah, I, I had no idea that bleeding in their presence could, would, that it was even possible to, to do this. Sindred is going to kill people.”

Jarrah is muttering to himself, apparently repeating several of my thoughts, including the artifacts’ new names. Of course a familiar phrase he utters while muttering is, “What? Shut up. Let me think.”

I roll my eyes and puff an exasperated breath, half humorously. I’m glad I was able to have him as my mentor, despite all the rudeness and peculiarity. I return to my seat, shaking my head at the absolute insanity of it all while I pour myself another cup of bitter tea. Hm, you can? Yes please Bud. I hold the teacup to the wall, and Lullaby has the wall produce a few drops of the purest sugar possible to sweeten the tea. Sipping it is now delightful in comparison. I still don’t like tea, but at least it isn’t like pouring a disaster into my mouth. The sugar can only do so much to mask the ashen flavor.

I finish my tea, and I’m about to pour another cup when Jarrah suddenly hoists me by the collar and drags me to the artifacts. He demands, “Go on then, divest, pick up your new toys. We may as well see what is happening. Stop being shy, we both know you’ve nothing to see, and your skin may yet tell tales that your mind has not.”

Ugh. I hate that I even have a sense of propriety from stupid human memories that makes me embarrassed about this. Still, I quickly strip and don the new equipment. Lullaby and Di—, um, SS Requiem begin chatting across a wavelength that requires the back of my brain to facilitate. Ow. Iceflame joins in, and it’s a myriad of these difficult to parse emotional waves that each mean words and phrases, all jumbled together. I could understand Bud, mostly, because he and I were bonding and talking things out, and he was patient when speaking. This is a chaotic mess in the back of my mind of a rapid exchange of communication.

Hrp, glp. Guys, is there any chance you could please maybe slow down across my bandwidth? Really? Thank you, yes please. Hoof. That’s so much better. Thank you. Pft, haha, yes, Jarrah and I probably were going to ask that soon. It’s too bad you don’t know. I’ll take a look at your runes later to see if I can discern anything, if you even still have enchantment auras. For all I know, you’re powerless hunks of metal with souls that have mellowed out a bit.

Jarrah was about to ask the question, but followed along with my thoughts and he scowls. Jarrah stalks back to his seat, and waves dismissively at me, permitting me to change back into my normal clothing. Sorry guys, if you want to hang out, you’d either need Lullaby’s non-Fae shrinkage enchantment, or Can’Z’aasian size-accomodation magic. Give it a try? Sure. Huh. Whaddaya know. Alright, can you two literally handle the heat? I’ll store you with the phoenix-roc egg alongside Lullaby for the time being, until I have to leave you with Jarrah.

Jarrah shakes his head and sneers, “Oh no, you’re not leaving that mess in my lap. You take those things with you. Seems they’ve an affinity for your family now. Maybe your Teuila will see use of them. Or perhaps your Luni when you reunite. Hm, that should be within the next few weeks. I do suppose I owe you a message.”

Jarrah sighs and shakes his head before dropping his forehead into his right palm. He admits, “I’ve led you on a slight bit. I’ve little for you to go on. Lil only requested that we delay you. They did however speak of a desire to see the Sisters of the Mist, hoping the Sisters’ oracular powers might help them solve or find something, some day. Whether or not they headed directly to the Sanctuary, I know not. Nor could I tell you precisely how to get there without being your guide, and I cannot, will not leave the Enclave and its children while it still stands.”

My jaw hangs slack momentarily. I’ve returned to my normal clothing, and now have three artifacts chattering alongside an egg hanging about my neck, two of which are now connected to my family. Reggie Shellcracker? What in all the fel fiery hells even are you? Jarrah snorts and spits his tea. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh so genuinely before. Whoops, heh.

I start to apologize, but Lullaby helps clean up the spray of tea, and Jarrah shakes his head while waving his hand dismissively. He states, “Let us pay it no mind. I’ve done you many a disservice, and you remain a civil, strange, marvelous vexation on a parallel path. Let us enjoy our last teatime together, young-ancient Reggie Shellcracker. Hm. That does alight on some lost knowledge. The ancients, but no, simply myth and vagueries. Stories told to explain the unknown who came before.”

I raise an eyebrow, but I trust Jarrah enough that I’m certain he would tell me anything that might help me survive to ensure our mutual needs are met. He knows I will do everything in my power, and possibly beyond, if I can, to succeed in this task. For love, compassion, and empathy for Dawn and all Aasimovians. We sup together silently this last time, whiling away the hours as I practice runes and read at the tea table.