I haven’t been practicing or thinking about my affinity for absence, my supposed power relating to nothing as the Sisters called it. What exactly did she say? To Teuila, she said, “Yours is precise control over the forces of attraction.”

What did she say to me though? Was it literally just, “Yours is nothing.”? Then she started hitting me with a stick when I got mopey because she was reading my mind. Huff. Ugh. What the hell am I supposed to do with nothing. How do you use or manipulate nothing into some sort of magical advantage. What can I e—.

What if, in the absence of something, I can make something else nothing? Like, like say between shadows, between spots of the absence of light, I can make the space between those two shadows nothing for me. I could step from shadow to shadow.

I gingerly claw at my face, cupping my chin slightly while stroking my cheeks and jaw in a gentle massage. I’m lost in thought on this topic. I’ve been fairly lucky about the sort of assumptions and conclusions I land on when it comes to applications of magical powers. Nearly every single one I’ve made, I’ve been able to actualize. This feels incredibly close to how my power is supposed to work. How would I practice it? It’s not the sort of thing that you can do partway and live. If only part of me steps from one shadow to the next, I’m dismembered, possibly dead.

Teuila’s been able to do her gravity manipulation since the moment I met her, and probably earlier. She didn’t even know she was doing it for most of our lives. One of us figured out that she was doing it, so she started consciously controlling it at some point in our adventures on Can’Z’aas. Then one day on Rayileklia, I asked her about it, and she had an expert scientific explanation for it. I was stunned to say the least.

Hm, precise control over the forces of attraction. That’s what the Sister said. There are so many ways to possibly apply that, depending on how literal or figurative the Sister was being. But just nothing? Not precise control over nothing, not ability to generate nothing, no actual hint as to its application. Literally nothing as far as clues are concerned. Hah.

What’s that Bud? Well I don’t know what it is that I don’t know. How can I tell you what I don’t know if I don’t know it? Uh, yes, I guess that’s one application of the word. I know nothing about what I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to apply though Bud. What? How deep is the lake? I’m not sure, why? Where’s this coming from? You’re really worked up, slow down. Yes, yes we’re definitely going to find away to cross the lake Bud. It’s faster by several days travel, and we both know time is short for me. Hey, cool it a sec.

You’re coming off as being really scared about crossing a lake Bud. Hold on. Oh, that makes sense. Look. I promise that if somehow you drop out of the bag or my grip or some place, I will swim down and get you. Yes, even if it’s a thousand feet deep. Yes, even if I have to battle some giant lake monster to save you. I promise Bud. Teuila would do it too if I couldn’t. You know I battled, and defeated a kraken, deep beneath the surface off the coast of Can’Z’aas in the ruins of Eimsas. That was before I had a way to breathe underwater. You know that, right? You’re going to be fine. I could literally walk around on the bottom of the lake searching for you for days if I needed to. I won’t need to though.

Marshal seems to be trying to get my attention. I must have been spacing out for a bit, because Keeley’s back. I try to drop my weighted sigh silently and hide my eyeroll behind closed lids. Just what I don’t need. Hm, I must have finished the large muffin while I was spacing out. That’s too bad, I didn’t even really get to notice myself enjoying it. Her cooking is honestly a-friggin’-mazing. Oh well.

Keeley whips out her cleaver from her apron, and twirls it til it’s pointing at me. I don’t even have to open my eyes to sense her attempted intimidation. I roll my eyes behind closed lids once more. Keeley grunts, “Sounds like you got my Marshal convinced of some of your tall tales you liddle shid. I ‘aven’t got time to straighten ‘im out, so you’re going to apologize, and clear the air so ‘e’s not going around in a panic, spreading it to any idiot what’ll listen.”

Gor, friggin’ rammitall! I begin to seethe in frustration. I’m sick of people assuming I’m a liar! I don’t want their, their adoration or worship, or even really their gratitude. I just want to be treated civilly, and believed! I open my eyes, and realize my vision is flooded red once more. I’m not certain whether it’s from the anger, or if I’m bleeding from my eyes again, but even Keeley falters back a step. I cast my eyes about for a suitable surface, spying none, I take off my shield and set it down.

I cast the scrying spell into the reflective inner surface of the shield, and yank Keeley down to view it at the floor level while I set the scrying sensor near Noirdivinhoz, at Daffodil’s melted home. I’m tempted to grab her by the neck and shove her face into the friggin’ shield. Instead I let her realize she’s looking at a live image at her own pace.

Keeley mutters, “What sorcery. Wait, that side of the mountains, that rubble, that collapsed valley. But that’s. Wait, then these two piles of mush would be ‘Dil’s. What the shid.”

Keeley rips free of my grasp and seethes at me, “Just what the shid was that!? It’s one thing to tell tales like a disrespectful little cuss. To try to convince people of your lies with trickery is, is, it’s unacceptable!”

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I flare with anger and magic begins flowing from me and the staff. Keep it together Reggie. Cool it. We can not give in to our wrath right now. She’s a good woman, looking out for her husband, and her town, after she lost a son. Reign it the hell in. Keeley balks momentarily, and Marshal actually trembles upon viewing my anger.

I growl low, with all the presence and dominance I can muster, “I don’t care whether you like me or hate me. I will fight every damn evil from here to the deepest hells so that you and yours have your best chance for survival. But you are really not making the journey any easier. That happened around two days ago to the east, and you know fuggin’ where that is. I know damn well you do. You’re one of the most well informed, intelligent, most influential people in The Brook besides the Mairess herself. You -Will- listen to me.”

I explain through seething rage, “I’m done being derided. A wave of horror unlike anything you’ve ever known is on its way to Aasimovia. The manxome foe, the Celestial Emperor has developed a light that can steal souls en masse. He had a necromancer from Navica testing it out in Victo. Everyone save a couple of travelers, and the innkeep’s nephew had become similar to the ancestors. Animate bodies without souls.”

I huff, trying, and failing, to calm down, “I don’t know if I destroyed the prototype, or only a copy. He wants every last soul on Rayileklia, and I aim to stop him dead in his tracks, but I need time to get powerful enough to do that. I am -Dying- however, with a capital D. I don’t have long. I’ve learned an entirely new world’s way of working magic, but my body was never meant to be able to handle magic at all, on any world. I’m a Changeling, and magic, mana is toxic to us, to our true selves, basically our souls. And you know what? I’m taking in and taking on more mana and more magic than ever, hastening my demise, trying with every last ounce of myself that I can muster, to save all of you, you, you disbelieving jerks!”

As she’s about to interrupt, before she can do so, I growl, “I don’t want your gratitude, your pity, I don’t want anything from you, I just want you to stop effing assuming I’m gorram lying! I hate it! Gor effing rammitall! If I didn’t need Teuila, her power, and her love, to be able to continue, I would stalk off out of this entire town, and stand in The Gap. I’d be awaiting the coming army, and fight until I died in a pointless waste of my life, just to not have to deal with the vitriol that comes when people assume I’m a liar. I’ve killed people Keeley! I’ve killed dragons! I’ve only had two months of life here, and only two years back home, and I’m about to die again! And I’d do it again, and again, and again, for all of you, for any of you! Just. Leave. Me. Alone.”

I fail to restrain myself and I put my fist through her bar. I huff a ragged sigh and struggle to pull my fist from her bar, which collapses an entire third of the piece of furniture for my troubles. I facepalm, jamming thick wooden splinters into my forehead. Ow.

I apologize, “I’m. Sorry. I have, huff. Trouble with my wrath. It has killed, many, many, many people. I barely prevented myself from killing hundreds in a single fell swoop when they believed my brother’s lies over my truths. I still slew several of them before— It doesn’t matter. I don’t even care if you believe me. Just stop yelling at me and treating me like crap. Thank you for the food, thank you for the room, I’ll pay to have your bar repaired, but I highly suggest you evacuate the entire nation anyway. I can’t stop a multi nation army on my own, nor can Teuila, nor can Tiktik. Even the three of us together are, we’re. I don’t know how to succeed. I don’t know how to not fail you. You’re good people, and I don’t want you to die, or to have your souls stolen.”

I slump to my knees, defeated, weeping. I don’t know how to save them. It’s another apocalypse, hell, three of them, and I don’t even know if we saved our family from the first one we faced. Bud, I don’t know if I can do this any more. I’m so sad, and I’ve screwed up and failed so hard, so many times. Bud, maybe you should scan Autumn Brook for another Fae. Find someone worthy to wield you. I’m dying soon anyway. We’re not going to find a batch of evil dragons with powerful enough dragonforces for me to pay the cost to even start finding my cure. Maybe some hero will rise up among the Aasimovians if there’s someone with Fae ancestry that you find and coach.

Marshal grabs Keeley by the wrist and drags her to the kitchen, the tavern patrons have been deadly silent ever since I started my tirade. I nearly blew up about this. I was going to nuke myself with a fireball to show off how powerful I am to her, to try to prove something, to stop being disbelieved. I’d have roasted her and her husband and her patrons. I still let it get out of hand, even if I didn’t go to irredeemable levels. What would I even have done if I’d killed a tavern full of innocent people? How would Teuila view me? How would Tiktik? Tiago? Harriet? George?

Bud, you’ve gotta find someone else. Maybe even just Tiktik. I’m done. I can’t go on. My best, oldest friend left us while hating me for the timeline turning out the way it did. Lil was, is, a dragon, and my entire soul hope for survival is slaying dragons and consuming their hearts. Even if they started to forgive me, they’re going to hate me all over again. I can’t bear the thought. Then of course there’s everything about Dawn. Dawn was erased, almost entirely. The ancestors are gone. I can’t do this. Teuila wants me to stop being hard on myself, but I just want it to all be over.

I weep into my hands. I just want people to be safe and be able to be happy. I want to be able to, and allowed to, be happy Bud. Why do I always have to turn to violence? Why is that the only solution that gets my point across? Yeah, I imagine that’s true. I can see why you feel the way you do. Ugh, why stick with me though? I’m a wreck. I think about just walking out into the lake holding a boulder, and then taking off the Neckchain of the Everbreathing. I know, I know it’s an absolutely horrid thought. Intrusive thoughts are like that for neurodivergent people Bud. Those of us that battle depression and the like.

I sit here, slumped against the half-destroyed bar, crying into my hands, shaking my head. We’re not going to win Bud. I learned in the temple of time that my failure is inevitable. I didn’t know it stretched across several lifetimes, but that must be what the third room was trying to teach me. No matter where we go, what world, how long I live, I’m doomed and destined to fail.

Something we really don’t need to have happen right now, happens. Teuila’s anger fills the air as she enters the bar, spies me, and shouts a growled demand for answers, “What!? Happened!? Here!?” Whatever object she’d just been holding shatters in her hand.