A dead branch snapped off to the ground as Deon and Skrili shuffled past the small trees and boulders behind Skip’s cabin. They joined him quietly in his humble, extravagant garden.

All the colors and shapes surrounded them–the flowers celebrating all of the teams Skip trained and passed. They could only guess why he decided this was the perfect spot to open up about the vision and the tree.

Last time, standing back here filled Deon with peace and life. But now, despite the still serene beauty, Deon sensed an air of discomfort. Considering the topic at hand, he couldn’t help but relive the dreaded vision he and Skrili shared.

“You’ll both fail,” the ghostly illusion of Skrili had promised.

Deon glanced down at their massive purple and orange flower, wild and messy, yet beautiful. He remembered their counter-promise:

To prove it wrong.

“So…my vision at the cliff.”

Deon readily returned his attention to Skip, eager to shake his mind free of the thought and quench his curiosity instead. Everything around—the forest life, and even the wind, fell into a hush.

“Yeah,” said Deon, “and don’t forget the whole thing with that big tree in the Caves of Information.”

“Insecurity,” corrected Skrili.

“Whatever.”

Skip’s eyes perused the garden once more. Something about his expression and bright eyes reminded Deon how young their trainer was—he couldn’t have been older than his early thirties, yet he always spoke with such wisdom.

“So many flowers. Man, I’ve trained a lot of teams, huh? Pretty soon I’m gonna need a bigger garden,” Skip uttered. His eyes returned to Deon and Skrili with a warm, oddly tired smile. “In my vision, I always see my students.”

His head dropped forward a bit. Hands inevitably in pocket, he began pacing in and out of the flower displays.

“I’m there too. It’s like a time lapse—I watch myself start from the beginning, with whatever team I have that month, and show them everything I know.”

“What happens?” prompted Skrili.

An empty laugh escaped Skip. “They master it, and they use it,” he answered, brushing his hand through some pink pedals. “They take it to heart, and…they end up just like me and my teammate.”

“Your teammate?” Deon repeated.

“She’s seriously amazing. It was an honor just to be around her. Traveling…talking…fighting—she’s an unbelievable fighter,” Skip reminisced. “She would have whipped you two into shape way faster than I did.”

His fingers fell steadily from the pedals, but lingered just underneath.

“We would have blown up. We kept winning small Conscious Competitions—we were on track to hit it big. Man, it brings me back…I was a Substitutor, and she was…well, whatever she was…”

He trailed off, but his nostalgia seemed to continue in his head.

“What…went wrong, then?” came Skrili’s soft question.

Skip’s gaze returned to them. He took a long, thoughtful sigh. “I’m about to say too much…I know I am,” he muttered. But with his eyes still on them, resolve set in. “She had…unique powers. They didn’t match a known consciousness type.”

“Kinda like me,” Deon connected.

Skip didn’t acknowledge him—as if to pretend he didn’t hear anything. “After a while, when we started gaining traction, certain people started taking an interest in her abilities. Certain…weird people,” he continued. “Eventually I barely ever saw her—she’d keep having to run off and meet with them. She’d say it was ‘classified.’ But keeping something from me wasn’t like her at all.”

He shook his head slowly.

“So I started getting curious, and I worried about her. Without telling her, I started investigating what was really going on. And well…I found out.” He took a long pause. “And…now I’m just here, without powers, training teams. And she’s…somewhere…still with them, probably. I know I’ll never see her again.”

“But like…what did you find out?” Deon pressed.

“I can’t tell you. Just as much for your sake as mine,” Skip immediately replied.

“So…that’s why you kinda freaked out when I told you about my other power—”

“Alright, I’ve already said too much,” Skip snapped. “You’re just an Imaginer. Got it?”

Deon gulped. He stood no chance against Skip’s unwavering sternness. “Uh…sure, yeah.”

Skip’s gaze softened back up quickly. “Well…with all that out of the way, it makes the tree thing easier to explain,” he said. “The trees in the Caves of Insecurity attack when the person you’re trying to get to has insecurities about you, remember?”

Deon and Skrili nodded.

“I’m worried what I know will be a danger to myself—that’s why the tree was trying to kill me. And…I don’t want my teachings to lead you into the same situation as me—it ties in with my vision,” Skip elaborated. “The more success you find, the more eyes on you. And with more eyes on you, there’s a greater chance the wrong eyes will find you. And you don’t—I don’t—want those eyes to find you. Because once they do, it’s already too late. Okay?”

Deon and Skrili exchanged uncertain glances. Reluctantly, they nodded again.

“But…you’re not a danger to us,” Skrili denied. “We owe you everything.”

“Ha. Thanks. That’s sweet.”

“Seriously though!” Deon agreed vigorously. “Skrili almost tolerates me now. Heck, once every few days, she even smiles!”

Skrili rolled her eyes. “The point is, we’ll only use your teachings for the right reasons,” she assured.

A smile grew on Skip’s face as he nodded. “I know,” he said decidedly. “Alright, bring it in, you two.”

Skip walked up to them and placed a hand on both of their shoulders.

“You’re gonna do incredible things together—I’ve trained plenty of teams, and I can already tell,” he told them. “Our training’s over. And I don’t say this to every team, but don’t be afraid to reach out if you ever need guidance.”

“Got it,” said Deon.

“Okay…I lied—I totally say that to every team. But with you guys I actually mean it! You’re fun. Most teams are way too serious and have protagonist complexes,” Skip clarified.

Deon wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but he felt the sentiment nonetheless.

“Keep in touch. I’m here if you have any questions—anything at all.”

He released them, a glow of pride replacing his usual cunning demeanor. “Alright, Training’s over. I did the sappy speech, so make sure you give me a five-star review on your TeamTracks.”

Deon and Skrili laughed lightly. “Sure,” they said.

The team paused for a second.

“Shoo. Get out of here,” Skip said with a smile.

Finally, they turned to leave the garden.

“Thank you, Skip,” Skrili said one more time.

As they walked in silence, Deon couldn’t help but glance back at Skip. He simply stood there alone, observing the beautiful flowers of his many teams. Deon couldn’t tell if he was looking on in admiration, or sadness.

“I mean it, though,” Skip suddenly called.

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Deon and Skrili stopped and looked back.

“If anything goes wrong, reach out about it,” he said. “Especially if…those wrong eyes find you.”

~~~

Between the fairly plain wooded paths of this new terrain, and the hours of hiking on them, Deon felt like he and Skrili were back in No Man’s Land again.

Yet at the same time, it felt nothing like that at all. For one, to uphold his end of the deal for putting Skrili through the Team Special, Deon lugged both his and her travel bags along.

But much more than that: now they walked side-by-side, while back in No Man’s Land Skrili had often been paces ahead as she rushed him along. They occasionally discussed team techniques and their plans for the Conscious Conference now, but mostly, they traveled quietly. Yet the silence didn’t make Deon uncomfortable anymore. It didn’t seem wrong; that was just Skrili. He felt right at home.

Truly, now, they were a team.

Spoiled by the bustle of Conscious City and Gloat Stadium, and the quirks of Nightwood Valley, this new and utterly normal path left nothing to catch Deon’s attention. He had little choice but to linger in his thoughts.

And while he’d said regrettable things before thinking many times before, he’d never mulled over his words as much as right now.

“Ugh…why did I blurt that out?” he moaned.

“Skip knew you meant well,” Skrili assured.

He replayed it in his mind once more: just before they turned to leave the garden, and Skip, behind, Deon whirled back around one more time.

“Someday, we’ll find your teammate, Skip! You’ll see her again!”

He cringed as he remembered Skip’s reaction. It wasn’t grateful, or admonishing. He just smiled.

And it was the saddest smile Deon had ever seen.

“Please, don’t try,” he urged.

Deon slapped his hand against his face. “I’m an idiot. That only made him feel worse…I just…felt really sorry for him, though.”

“You say dumber things than that regularly,” said Skrili with a shrug.

“Wow. Thanks.”

“And…I’m with you in that,” Skrili finished.

Deon looked at her, and saw a decisive confidence in her face as they traveled along.

“I want to find her, too,” she said.

Deon smiled. But the likelihood of their success led him to shake his head.

“It’s just…so confusing. He really didn’t explain much,” he said. “Like, who were those sketchy guys? What about her powers made her a target? Also: Skip used to have powers?! Can those just, go away?”

“No. If you’re born with consciousness powers, they’re a part of you. For life,” Skrili shared. “So that seemed…off. There’s something strange going on with that.”

“Huh,” uttered Deon. “Well, when we make it big, let’s keep our eyes peeled for those whackjobs.”

Skrili nodded.

“What did he say his type used to be again?”

“Substitutor.”

Deon retrieved his TeamTrack and opened the Type Guide application. He figured he should only bother Skrili with so many questions a day.

Scrolling into the ‘S’ section, he quickly located it:

Substitutor: The power to trade perspectives—using any and all senses—with another person. This is usually performed with a willing subject (such as a teammate), but can sometimes be achieved forcefully.

Oh…pretty cool, Deon thought. So on top of all his fighting skills, he used to do that, too? Man…Skip was probably unstoppable.

His TeamTrack buzzed briefly, and a message popped up. He heard Skrili’s go off beside him, as well.

Pang:

“You losers better be coming to the Fiction Country Conscious Conference. It started yesterday, you know. Message me when you’re here. Dinner’s on Deon!

Deon chuckled. “What a nut,” he said.

Skrili smiled. “Well Kotono wants to meet us as soon as we get there, which will be early evening, so that works out. I already registered us online.”

“Right. ‘Online.’ I know what ‘online’ is,” Deon said uncertainly.

“Though…it’s weird…” started Skrili.

“What?”

“For some reason, she wants to meet up just outside the Conscious Conference, in a really specific spot,” she explained. “It’s up on a hill. She even sent me the coordinates.”

“That is kinda weird,” Deon agreed. “Why?”

“I’m…not sure,” Skrili said. “It doesn’t seem like a bad thing. I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

~

Deon peered upward, careful to balance as he stepped up a long, steep hill. A few more hours passed, and sheets of graying clouds were beginning to shroud the sky.

“This thing is inside, right?” he checked.

“Some of it. But not our meeting spot.”

Man…this seems so roundabout, Deon thought to himself. Then again, they are super famous. I guess they need the privacy.

“When we get big like Kotono and Hiroko, would you want bodyguards?” Deon asked his teammate, hopping over a long root. “I feel like they’re stronger than their own bodyguards, right? So what’s the point?”

Thunder rumbled, but it sounded distant still.

“It’s just up ahead,” Skrili updated. “Kotono says they’re there.”

They hurried their pace a bit.

Strangely, with every step towards the top of the hill, Deon noticed a peculiar sense of familiarity. But nothing around looked memorable—it was just a series of rocky, tree-covered hills.

Why would Fiction Country phenomena be kicking in again now?

To his own confusion, everything suddenly seemed…simpler. Lighthearted, even. It was different than when he looked at Skrili.

It felt like Tailpiece.

He didn’t expect an explanation for the sensation any time soon. But he got it, nonetheless.

Deon and Skrili scaled the hill, and stood scanning what lay ahead. There was another series of slopes before them, shrouded under a natural wall of tall, pointed stones. Beyond that, Deon spotted the roof of a massive gray building in the short distance.

“Alright, where are they?” Deon asked, squinting his eyes as he browsed the many hills. “Look for purple and reddish-blonde hair.”

“Why…do I see white hair…?” Skrili muttered slowly.

“That’s me,” said Deon. “Wait—huh?”

“Deon…isn’t that…”

Skrili pointed off to a slight angle, towards a hill Deon must have missed.

He had to blink. And blink again.

“LAMMY?!?!?!?!”

There was no mistake—while he was dressed in very worn, unfamiliar clothing instead of his black family tunic, his shaggy white hair (a bit shaggier now) was unquestionable.

Deon’s little cousin Lammy sat atop a nearby hill against the rocks.

And he wasn’t alone: a young woman with long brown hair sat beside him.

They both must have heard Deon scream his name, because Lammy immediately perked up. Looking forward, he shot to his feet, joined by the woman.

“DEON!!!! DEON!!!!!!” Lammy cried, waving with a huge smile visible even from their distance.

Deon darted forward at full-speed, having to catch himself a bit as he ran down the opposite side of the hill. Skrili followed close behind.

“LAMMY!!! I’m so confused!!” Deon puffed. “Like—WHAT?! HOW?!”

“It’s a really, REALLY long story!”

Lammy’s voice filled Deon’s heart. He wanted to cry—but he had to hold it back so he could run as fast as possible. But as he could tell by now, tears were streaming down Lammy’s face.

“Did—did Kotono set this up?” Skrili wondered.

“No idea! Ha Ha!!!” Deon felt weightless. The lack of sense this made didn’t set in yet—he had no time for it. He hadn’t seen his cousin—his best friend in the world—in months.

All he could think about was tackling him into a hug.

The last they’d spoken was right before Deon fell into this whole Multiverse. They never even got to properly finish their conversation. It was cut short while Lammy was putting his own desires aside, and giving Deon his full support for going away—despite Deon’s inability to even try saying goodbye.

There was so much to tell him. There was so much Lammy deserved to know before anyone else. Deon had kept his word: he was on track to achieve exactly what Lammy knew he could.

“DEON!!!” Lammy exclaimed again with an ecstatic laugh.

As they neared the bottom of their hill, which bridged a way towards the hill where Lammy waited, Deon observed the woman again, able to see her more clearly. Her dazzling green eyes watched him and Skrili with an anticipation he didn’t quite understand.

Wait…haven’t I seen her before…? Deon pondered.

Then, he noticed the elegant markings all over her arms.

The concessions lady?!?!

It was her, indeed: the pretty Phoenix employee who sold him and Phillip food several times throughout the Fantasy Country Conscious Competition.

What did she say her name was again…?

Zayza…? Deon tried to recall.

“Uh…Zayza?!”

“Y—yes!” came her reply.

His mind spun even faster now. What was Lammy doing with her? And…why was Lammy all the way out here in Fiction Country, in the first place?

Finally, the questions began flowing in.

Meanwhile, a low hum resounded from high above—probably another rumble of thunder, distorted in Deon’s now racing mind.

He soon found he had to quickly set these questions aside once more. Though this time, it wasn’t because of his utter jubilation.

It was because of terror.

Zayza was the first to collapse. Her eyes widened in shock, then went hazy and rolled as she toppled over. Lammy was too slow to catch her. But only a moment later, he wavered and fell beside her.

The shadowy figure swung in from seemingly nowhere. He was unimaginably quick as he lifted the slumped Lammy and Zayza in each arm.

A black rope fell from the sky.

The shadowy man grabbed hold by the teeth, and the rope yanked him into the air.

All before Deon or Skrili could say a single thing more.

The man’s eye caught theirs—a slim, dead black eye.

Deon felt cold.

But the feeling only lasted an instant—Deon’s face went burning hot, as his orange eyes flashed to life.

“LAMMY!!!!” he screamed. “COME BACK HERE WITH HIM!!!”

He instantly imagined a series of planks along the rising hill. Deon and Skrili pounced onto them, and Deon sprung each plank to launch them flying up the slope in mere seconds.

Soon, they came crashing onto the top of the hill, where Lammy and Zayza had just stood—just a single moment ago—waiting for them.

But they weren’t soon enough.

The man was almost a spec in the cloudy sky. The rope from which he somehow managed to hang began tugging him up towards its source: a metallic flying vehicle with rapidly spinning blades.

The heads of several more figures peered out the side of it, the front one a man with disheveled, light blonde hair and markings—much like Zayza’s—all over his neck. Their hands worked quickly as they pulled Lammy and Zayza’s kidnapper up.

They were totally gone in almost an instant.

Silence.

A drizzle began.

Deon couldn’t breathe. He bashed his fist against the grass over and over.

He felt Skrili’s hand touch his shoulder.

“WHAT IS THIS?! WHAT THE HECK IS HAPPENING?!?!” he wailed.

Skrili’s fingers clutched tighter. “Deon…” she whispered.

Eyes still bright and glowing, he spun to face her with rage and confusion in his heart.

But as he found her face before his, her eyes wide with trauma, her cheeks drenched in aching tears.

She knew precisely what he felt right now.

Their vision invaded his mind.

Deon felt ghostly as he realized: it was unfolding before their very eyes.