I test out the steed conjuration, sure enough, it doesn’t cause me to projectile-bleed, or even seem to require any S P. I don’t think they can fight, perhaps the fact that they’d dissipate almost instantly in combat is what keeps them as free mana constructs. Whatever the case may be, there are now three water-horses bobbing alongside Teuila in the rowboat. An audible squee hits my ears as Teuila squeals with delight, and pride. I can’t help smiling at hearing her sound her elation. It’s one of the most delightful sounds that I can imagine.
Suddenly I’m struck with sadness as I recall another delightful sound. The voices of my family back home on Can’Z’aas, especially Laomati, our matron. I know that the messaging stone shouldn’t work, wouldn’t work, won’t work, but I’m so tempted to try it. I’ve had that desire crop up again and again on Rayileklia, but, well, the desire brings only pain. Even if the message somehow got through, it could be years before a reply came back, due to the time velocity difference between the worlds.
My beloved Shellcracker family, the otters, the cats, all the Fae around the Miracle Oak, I’m trying so hard to get back to you. Somehow, somehow I’ll persevere until I can get all of us back to Can’Z’aas. My attention turns towards the planeswalking spell. I’m almost sure that practicing every rune in this one until I understand each rune intrinsically is going to be a significant portion of the key to getting home. I just don’t have any sort of dragonforce infused vibratory rock or tuning fork thingy from Can’Z’aas. I wonder if Luni knows the exact harmonic frequency of our world.
Could Lu duplicate the required resonance? Would it work if we used a dragonforce from Rayileklia, somehow imbued with the resonance of Can’Z’aas? Could it possibly be that simple? Somehow I’m doubting it. Come on Reggie, get out of your own head, this is a depressing thought train that you’re not ready to tackle. The people of Rayileklia need help. We’re not going to just abandon an entire world, even if we did stumble onto the answer to get home right away. Not anymore at least. Maybe when we first arrived, we didn’t know anything about this world’s problems, its issues, or its peoples, but now we do.
You don’t abandon people. If you ever make it back to Can’Z’aas, and the convergence hasn’t yet happened, you try to convince the beavers to evacuate to the miracle oak once again. Also try to scour the continent for Neighbor-San, and the disgruntled critterkin contingent. Oof, systemic issues would crop up if we can find all of them and shelter them all within the Miracle Oak’s shield. They rightfully distrust, and perhaps even hate, the humans.
Hell, how do I feel about humans? I thought I was one, for a long time. I had, or have, preconceptions about them, based on memories of a world that doesn’t exist. Well, to be fair to myself, other than the technology level, it does seem that humans are easily as much of a mixed bag as my memories painted them out to be. Reggie? Reggie. Get out of your head. Please. These aren’t topics that you can even handle right now, let alone solve, or even afford to be spending time on. Right, right.
Hm, I do wonder whether my personality is fracturing further, or if my future self is sending back necessary messages again, or if I’m just weird in the head. It’s probably the latter honestly. I have this vague notion that it’s not strange at all for me to think in the plural. We’ve done that a number of times, haven’t we? Yeah. Also asking myself questions, and answering them. To be fair, is that unusual at all? Err, back to reality buddy. Right, right.
I glance around, and notice Teuila working to hitch up the water-horses, and rearrange our makeshift flotilla. I flash a smile her way, and she waves excitedly towards me. I can’t help but smile broader by the moment as I stare at her swimming about. It’s so reminiscent of home. We were, well, she was, is, a river otter at heart, and, err, well, physically was until she started assuming her Valkyrie form permanently. I’m unable to resist sighing contentedly again, seeing her swimming about joyfully. Tiktik snuggles into my torso while muttering sleepily, and occasionally whimpering in pain. I wear a half frown, pouting somewhat, worried for our friend.
Tiktik’s going to be physically out of commission for weeks, maybe months, and she’s -still- willing to face down the hordes and horrors of the world with us. I draw a ragged breath that becomes a yawn. I’m a few days from top form myself as well, at bare minimum, not even counting the nerve damage. It’ll probably be quite a bit longer to heal the holes in my leg and arm. I think my body focused internally first on making certain my ribs stayed in place and didn’t puncture my lungs. What about the fel-blood-coated magical lightning-wood shards? Their presence isn’t physically noticeable anywhere within my body, but they still have some effect within me. Is that cursed blood going to prove to be a problem later on down the road?
A groan draws my attention, and Tim’s voice reaches my ears as he complains, “I’m -so- not feeling the ‘aster. I’m moded, and so is The Drake.”
He’s using more of that unusual slang. How odd. I call out to Tim, “I can’t say how sorry I am Tim, or how grateful I am. If you hadn’t been available to get us out of there, I don’t know what would have happened.”
Tim scoffs, wheezing a pained laugh before responding, “Don’t worry about it, you teeny tiny little titans. You’re big-damn-heroes in my book. You got my wife and son out of The Brook. That’s crash enough for me. Hopefully though, the rest of your plan goes off without a hitch. Now that would be crash. It’s not like I could have walked The Drake to Jaggedfen or Jeegoobotstan anyway.”
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I suppose Tim is right about that. At best The Drake would have been left docked somewhere on Lake Siempre while he joined the evacuees. I hear Tim flop onto his back and wheeze once again. He sounds winded, bruised, probably injured around his ribs and lungs. I hope that it’s just bruising. My mind wants to wander towards all the ways that the last few days were a complete failure, but I have to be done with that. I have to be done wallowing in sadness and grief. I don’t get to choose, but I’ll do my best to focus face-forward.
Trying to distract myself from all the pain, suffering, and failures going on, I attempt to orient my mind in a more useful direction. What other assets can I bring to bear? What about my Changeling gift? I’m supposed to be using it constantly, to prevent additional mana residue buildup. Should I just dink around with my appearance? Tiktik was talking about Fae appearances earlier. I think I should probably seek a better application than just vanity though, even if I’m supposed to be using it constantly. Yeah, yeah I’m sure there must be some way to apply it. Right? What about my nerve channels? Can I use my gift to focus a latticework of tissue to stretch between the cored-out nerve-tunnel walls?
Flexing my jaw, and drawing a ragged breath, I focus on my first attempts to use my gift in a masterful fashion. I’m failing miserably, but it doesn’t feel entirely impossible. I also feel as if I’m stretching a muscle that’s been atrophied. It’s almost like, the more I practice this, the easier it will be to hold any shapes I manage to change. Heck, that might actually be the case. I probably should have been working on this ever since Alanea Whifflewillow confirmed for me that I really was, err, am, a Changeling Fae.
Huff, trying to stretch these muscles, this magical center of myself, it feels so close to impossible. The failed attempts are exhausting. It makes me feel like a failure. It’s the one thing I’m supposed to be a natural at. So many things in this last few months are just, they, they just make me want to sink into despair. I know part of that is the mana residue corruption amplifying my depressive tendencies, but it’s so hard to fight it back. I’m almost ready to give in again already, but something comes to mind. Something a little bird once told me. No, not me, something I read somewhere.
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”
I don’t recall where I heard it, or read it. Somehow, at this moment, it feels like advice. Give in to despair nevermore. I’ve lived through fire and flood, hell, I’ve lived through a flood of fire. Hell, I’ve lived through dying! To hell with despair! Every doubt, every last bit of it, shove it down, bottle it, fight it back and seal it away! Reggie Shellcracker, Teuila Shellcracker, Tiktik Clocktok, you will succeed! You will reunite with Luni, Lil, and Lucky Shellcracker! You will save the Aasimovian refugees! You will overcome your obstacles preventing you from safely using mana! You will overcome your temporary paralyzed state! You will learn the truth behind the events on Rayileklia. The, the truth. That’s right. Something happened before we left Autumn Brook the first time. It’s hazy.
Brook, book. A book! A screaming pain tears its way through my brain, and my left eye feels as if it bursts. A burning behind my eye heats to a point that would melt the brain of anyone without my insane levels of fire resistance. My left eye loses vision after washing over in red. Is, is this what Teuila or Tiktik were warning me about in my head? It’s like something is actively, violently being kept secret from me. Fight it Reggie, fight it!
The heat traces a path along the inside of my cranium towards my right eye, and the pressure builds to the point that it feels like I’m going to lose my right eye as well. Huff. Okay. I lose this round. Fine. This isn’t over. This time you won’t keep me from remembering that I’m fighting something for access to memories and secrets within my own mind. Whoever you are, whatever grip you have on my memories, I will pry them loose at some point.
Teuila’s mental avatar arrives in my mindscape, frtizing slightly. She glances around in horror. At first I’m confused, until I notice what she’s witnessing. The inside of my mind, my mindscape is a hellish nightmare, a universe on the verge of destruction. Cracks in its reality bleed light, darkness, fire, every possible thing that could consume. Teuila’s telepathic avatar rushes to mine, to check on me. I feel horrid for worrying her. Take a deep breath Reggie. Fix this. Patch it up for now.
As Teuila’s avatar closes in, I focus on the moments between moments, the space within the absence of time. As I’d feared, even her telepathic avatar freezes in place. I can’t bring her into my accelerated thinkspace, or whatever this absence of time can be considered. But I can work on my own mind. Let’s get to work pal. One crack at a time. This, this could take centuries. I wonder how long I can hold this.
Do these ruptures represent something? Is it a psychic manifestation of a physical occurrence? Is my brain actually being destroyed? Is it more esoteric? Is it a representation of losing memories? Wait. That’s familiar. The chamber. A metallic tube. Losing memories. A heat behind my eyes. Why does -that- feel like a memory? That can’t be right. I think I’m at the edges of a conclusion, and misinterpreting something, because I’m missing clues. What was I missing though? A force tries to rock my temporally frozen mindscape, and I can tell that as soon as I let go of my paused time, I’ll suffer a heavy backlash if I try to pursue this line of thought any further. Some other time then. Some day when I can risk putting myself out of commission.
I don’t know when, I don’t know how long it will take, but some day I will chase down these mysterious memories. For now, all I can do is patch things up as best I can, and push onward, ever onward. I’ve gotten lucky so far, but if my brain is vaporized, I doubt there’s any do-overs. I’ll play it safe for now. Especially now that I’m vaguely aware of the stakes.
Days, weeks, months go by in my nearly-frozen time. Teuila’s telepathic avatar moves slowly closer to the point where mine had been sitting. For some reason, holding back the flow of time doesn’t hurt as much as the last time, or times, that I tried. Perhaps I’m just aware of the limitation, and not struggling so hard to drop time down to absolute non-existence? I wonder how close to absence I really am. Well, regardless, most of the nearby, obvious cracks have been patched or repaired, for now. I’ve hidden the entire vast realm in the distance. There’s no reason to worry Teuila. I’ll be honest with her, and tell her about it, but I’ll show her that I can succeed against it as well, with this.
I release my grasp on the flow of time, and meet Teuila’s rushing telepathic avatar with wide-open mindscape avatar arms.