I come to, as hot broth is poured lightly against my lips. I mash my lips slightly, licking and swallowing to the best of my ability. Blinking furiously, stretching and flexing my facial muscles, I find my forehead being mopped, and my ministrations being tended to by Keeley Johnston. She growls angrily, “You Liddle Shid.”

The juxtaposition is jarring to say the least. I get whiplash from the mix of tenderness and hostility. Gulping, I try to sit up, and she firmly shuts down my attempt by holding my forehead to the improvised pillow beneath my cranium. Now I’m nervous. I don’t like being trapped anywhere against my will. Thankfully, I’m not restrained.

A warm, soothing, elderly male voice states, “Gracias, thank you Keeley, I’m free now, I can take over once more. Dios! You’re awake!”

I blush as Keeley stomps off in a huff, and Tiago leans down to help me sit up, wrapping me up in a hug that I so desperately need. I embrace the octogenerian, and weep openly. A friend. I’m reunited with a living friend, but now that I’m awake, and have my senses, I have to leave and hunt a hydra. I want to ask Tiago how Keeley is alive, I want to reunite, and bask in the love of those that might care about me, but there are forces at play that won’t rest. I actually have to somehow keep the hydra alive, and put it in the path of the Celestial Imperium, or the Felgre horde, while deterring it from attacking the expansive alliance of human and kobold refugees. Even then, I just—. I don’t know. I can’t travel with them. I don’t have long, and I need to travel to the Spine of the World, find more dragons, or maybe at least reunite with Lil and Lu before I die. I can’t be the guardian they need, to handle this journey.

I can’t find words. There’s so much to say, so much I should say, or ask. Instead, I flex my limbs, and flood my cored out nerve-tunnels with electricity, just enough that my internal electrokinesis can operate everything at normal capacity. Standing, I offer Tiago a saddened glance, and his expression becomes one of dawning horror.

He argues, “No, no, you’re unwell, you’ve only rested a few hours, eaten so little, you must stay, you have to. I—. I insist!”

Frowning, I can only offer, “Hydra won’t slay itself, it’s down to me. Everyone else is dead or dying. Take care of them for me, please?”

Tiago flubs, unable to find words, making argumentative guttural noises before responding, “I—, of course. Miss Clocktok’s injuries are healing She should show signs of recovery in a week or two. The dwarven lass, I’m not sure of her name, she was badly off, but she’s much the same. Your, your, glp, ice sculpture, is another matter.”

My head swims with a torrent of emotions at Tiago’s final statement. My Wings, Teuila, love of my life, referred to as an ice sculpture. I shake my head sadly, orient myself, and begin marching west. Only to realize that I need to stock up on equipment and provisions. Groaning, I turn back, fully embarrassed.

I admit, “Okay, I might not be ready, right this instant, to set off. Huff. Where’s our carriage?”

Tiago frowns, and I can see the devious line of thought forming, as if he could delay my leaving by not responding. In the end he sighs as his shoulders sag. His expression droops as he points northeast, “On the northeast border of our camp. Please, won’t you at least stay, eat, see George, Berinon, Daffodil, Harriet, anyone?”

I breathe as best I’m able and slowly sigh. I try not to admonish Tiago as I glance across the elderly man’s gentle, caring features. His face has smile lines instead of wrinkles, kindness where others might have a permanently furrowed brow. He’s handsome, in a fashion, he and George both are in all honesty. I try to find words to express, “You know my time limit. The convoy of refugees also has a time limit, if one of the forces catches wind of where you are, everyone’s doomed. I failed in The Gap. We didn’t get the dragons. If it were just me, or just Teuila, maybe, maybe I’d have gotten another heart, more dragonforce. There were innocents. It—. It broke Teuila. It broke me. We hesitated, got sloppy. I’m still ruined from my defense of The Brook. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to walk right again.”

Tiago looks aghast at my explanation, and then pleads, “Then how, how can you head off to face the spirits of the swamp, and a hydra for us? What chance do you stand?”

Wearing a frown, I gulp back a saddened sob as I shut my eyes tightly. My mind is on Teuila, but I can at least provide Tiago an honest answer, “Because I’m the only chance you have. I will succeed, because there’s no other option.”

Tiago deflates, and simply leans forward, with his arms slightly spread. I lean into his embrace once more. Someone cares about me. Someone loves me, that I care about, and love. Someone’s willing to comfort me, to fight my instincts for me. I have to make it back. I can catch up if I survive the swamp.

Tiago states, “We’re coming with.”

I balk, blinking rapidly into the soft robes across his chest. I expel a muffled, “Excuse me?” That comes across as ekfoovvee.

Santiago states calmly, “The camp moves forward, bit by bit, as the rear catches up. It stretches for miles and miles. The fore will be with you. You need not do this alone. I can feel your heart, broken within you. A healer in touch with spirits and ancestors can sense these things you know. The fore has been Keeley, Harriet, George, and several of the rougher types from other cities across Aasimovia. I admit, I frantically hasten my way from one end to the other, day and night, as best I’m able, mostly tending to the sick or wounded in the center. I’m glad I was sent for when you arrived. I’ll be at the fore, and ask that the wounded be brought up as well.”

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My jaw drops as I shake my head. I try to argue, “What? No, absolutely not, I can’t have innocents possibly nearby when I might end up fighting a hydra or some other creatures whose abilities I don’t know for certain! Didn’t you hear what I just said, about how we screwed up because we had others to protect?”

Tiago takes a step back, but crosses his arms and responds, “And didn’t you also just say you have a time limit, for both you, and us?”

My jaw drops once more and I flex my right index finger as it can’t seem to decide whether to point or curl towards my chin. I’m flustered, almost speechless. He’s got a valid point, but I need to talk sense into him, “Tiago, listen to reason, keep the convoy clustered, but at the ready, stay back, stay far from me.”

Tiago raises a brow, and scoffs, almost humorously, “Hijo de cabron este es—! Koff. Sorry. You stubborn fool. We are all on borrowed time, all at risk, at all times. You are not responsible for the lives of everyone in the world!”

I slump as I state wearily, “Actually. I am.”

Tiago, taken aback, flubs, an almost question, “Qua?” He gathers himself, and then asks, “You can’t be serious. If nothing else, the ego alone would be unhealthy.”

Shaking my head weakly, I explain, “It’s not that. I don’t think I’m that important. It’s just, I was the only person in a position of power that might have been able to help Dawn. I failed and the ancestors are gone because of it. That’s a country worth of people, gone because of me. If that’s not close enough to responsible for the lives of everyone in the world, to say I shoulder that responsibility, I don’t know what is. Now, those that are left, face the threat of beasts of myth and legend, and I’m the only one who’s still standing that stands a chance against them. Unless you could maybe get Jarrah Bettergrove to leave the Hidden at the Heart of the Wilds, and the Enochian Enclave, I can’t think of another functioning powerful person on this planet, that could likely succeed, save perhaps Dippy, but his arrows seemed ineffective against the dragons, and Miza tires too quickly to take one out.”

Tiago asks, “Then why not at least take your kobold friends? Someone, something, anything!”

I frown as I half-joke, “You don’t happen to know a soul-stolen dog named Eights do you?”

Tiago furrows his brow, mouthing the word what, as he doesn't immediately recall Aces' dog's name, but before he can continue our argument, I’m blindsided by George, who rushes to embrace me, dropping to his knees to do so, “Little friend, old soul, Reggie, our hero, I got word of some of what happened. You must be devastated, I—.”

Tiago orders, “George, call the surviving council together. We’re moving up, along into the swamps, through the narrow passes between lakes.”

George and I are both taken aback by Tiago’s firm sternness. George asks, “What brings this on beloved?”

Tiago’s response is simply, “Reggie has suffered untold losses, many, perhaps all, for us. We are beset on all sides by danger, so we may as well face it together.”

I facepalm. If I could just teleport all of these people to the Fae’s Wilds, the Enochian Enclave at the Heart of the Wilds, I would do so, and just hope that Jarrah would take them in, to keep the forest from rejecting them. Friggin’ hellspit if only it were that easy. Nothing’s ever easy though, is it?

Every last inch of me aches, I’m certain I’m to blame for most of that. Still, I’m not going to have a bunch of innocent campers wandering around with me as I scout a freaking swamp for a hydra and its lair. Huffing a sigh, I slip loose from the two handsome elderly gentlemen, my friends, or at least Aces’ friends. I might be having some wires crossed there, forgetting why I should or shouldn’t be attached to someone.

I call out to them as I hustle back to my carriage, “I can’t stop you from following me, but I can leave you in the dust, too fast to follow for mud-campers.”

Tiago grumps, and starts to call angrily in response, but George takes one of his hands, and rests his forehead against Tiago’s, soothing his husband. I’m sure they’ll probably do what Tiago ordered George to do, call a council of the surviving elders, from the various cities. That part is sobering. There have been deaths amongst the refugees already. There is literally no time to lose.

I—. No time. Sighing deeply, I inhale slowly, then exhale slowly. I grasp at the spot in the moment between moments. I’ve wasted precious, valuable time, by shutting myself down, rendering myself incapable of accomplishing things or multitasking. Hellspit and Fel Fires, I could have maybe had the telekinesis enchantment up by now. Speaking of, I’ll plan around emptying the massive hoard of gems that Teuila dumped out into our carriage, that we stuffed in the hyperdimensional haversack, and various little compartments that we’d found within the carriage itself.

I can afford to pause, take a break in that space between times, the frame between moments. I can just breathe. Metaphorically. I have to try to get my head on straight. I’m going to take on the swamp, and I’m going to do it solo. That’s fine. It’s not like I haven’t done *that* before. I loose a dry, humorless chuckle. I was a lot weaker back then, when I lost to Octorochi, and caused Staff Ninja, TQ’s predecessor to die. Despite the pain I’m in, despite everything that has happened, all the losses I’ve suffered, I’ve grown. In worlds filled with violence, life and death struggles, and the insanity that is magic, and special powers, I’ve grown in the way that seems to matter most. I’ve gained almost unimaginable resilience, and strength. Even if I suffer a fractured psyche, or check out on occasion.

Knock them down, and Reggie Shellcracker just doesn’t stop coming. Yeah, they get knocked down, but they get up again, and again, and again. Stop talking about yourself in the third person Reggie. Sure thing Reggie. See what I mean? Fractured psyche. Shut up Reggie. Right, sure thing. I flex my jaw and rattle my skull, shaking my head vigorously, hoping to heck that I was just being silly in the head, as I often am. I wait a bit longer in this paused time, to see if another me actually speaks to me in any way. So far as I can tell, I’m alone here in my head. As much as I dislike that state, it’s probably better that way at the moment.

Ugh, as much as I don’t want to, I think I’m going to need the contingent of refugees to follow me after all. I’m recalling the geography of Rayileklia in this paused time, and if the Hydra’s lair is somewhere near the heart of the swamplands or marshlands, such that it can range enough to block off the entire western third of the continent, I would lose weeks making it to the Spine of the World if I had to return for my carriage, for—. Gulp. For Teuila. Worse, if it’s not just one hydra, I need to find whatever communal lair they have, if they’re a community. Thinking back on Octorochi, there were at least two of them, and Dehlia was being transformed into another. I’ve no reason to doubt such to be true about the hydra as well.