“So, Nyx,” Jayson said. “What we’re doing is using the latent Nirva of the World to camouflage ourselves. You want to take your own Nirva and sort of disseminate it, make it calm.

“It’s like spreading butter over a piece of bread, but you kind of… do it with the essence of your Nirva? Uh, it’s helpful to breathe deliberately. Exhale your Nirva into everything else, but also keep it with you.”

Gwil stirred up a bunch of Nirva, enough that vapor trailed from his pores. But that wasn’t right—it was dwindling. Escaping. He inhaled, capturing it within, and then let out a slow breath.

Calmness quivered through his roiling Nirva. The burning sensation in his limbs waned, but his bolstered strength endured.

The veil, which had been rippling around Gwil’s body, enveloped him.

“Hold it like that,” Jayson said. “Let me see.”

Gwil felt Jayson’s gaze fall upon him as a sort of tugging sensation.

“Good, good. You’re doing it. I don’t see the slightest irregularity. That took me an entire month. Wait.”

The tugging sensation strengthened. Some reflex of Gwil’s batted it away.

“Gah, and what you did there is an aspect of Mir.” Jayson laughed. “Have you been lying to me about how much you know?”

“Noo,” Gwil said, putting his hands up. “It was instinct.”

Jayson nodded and then walked closer. “Nyx is something that, with practice, you’ll start using passively. There are a lot of other factors, but with the basics and your… proclivity, I reckon you’ll figure it out.”

“So, all these colors, this veil. There’s Nirva in everything?”

“No, that’s not the right way to think of it. It’s more like Nirva is everywhere and it touches everything. But it is a part of us Hallows.”

“Weird,” Gwil said. “So, can’t this be used to find… anyone or anything? I can see bugs and everything all over the place.”

“Maybe,” Jayson said. “I can’t do that. There’s just way too much stuff. If you look beyond this field, everyone and everything coalesces into indistinct chaos. But Hallows stand out, like how a river parts around a rock.”

Gwil nodded as he looked around. Past what his eye could see, the veil was like an incredibly dense forest packed to the brim with infinity.

“That leads me to Mir,” Jayson continued. “There is a proportional relationship between Nyx and Mir, and it’s based on the strength of the respective Hallows. But as long as you’re not actively using Nirva, then even the lowliest Hallow’s Nyx should still hide them from the strongest Mir, unless you’re practically on top of each other.

“A lot of the time, Nyx and Mir will cancel each other out. But the Mir will catch spikes in Nirva usage, like the cast of an Invoke. The more Nirva you’re using, the harder it is to hide.

“Eye contact and proximity have a huge impact. It’s possible to see through walls and across great distances, but the efficacy is much weaker. It’s important not to over-rely on Mir, or you’ll get yourself into trouble when it fails.”

Gwil’s eyes had glazed over. He puffed up his cheeks and blew out. “I already forgot half of what you said.”

Jayson laughed. “I’m bad at explaining. In my defense, we’re discussing the metaphysics of existence itself. It’s hard to put to words. But you’ll be fine. I can tell you’re a natural. Wanna try using Mir on me?”

“Yeah!”

Jayson took a few steps back. “I’ve dropped my Nyx. Look for me.”

Gwil squinted and saw Jayson awash with lustrous gold.

“And now, try to focus on my aura as I use Nyx.”

Argo growled. “Hey, it’s okay, buddy,” Jayson said.

Gwil focused harder as the golden light faded into the veil. There was a moment of tug-of-war before Jayson’s Nirva disappeared, leaving the man indistinguishable from the rest of the prismatic collage.

“Keep looking—I’ll use my Invoke.” Jayson breathed out a few wisps of fire. Both his body, and the flames, flashed gold.

“Woah,” Gwil said.

Jayson nodded. “That’s what you’ll wanna look out for. It’s all a big balancing act, weighing a Hallow’s strength, the quality and quantity of their Nirva, eye contact, distance. Try to keep all those factors in mind.

“And practice, practice, practice. Use Nyx and Mir both all the time, and eventually it’ll become second nature. That way, you keep yourself hidden, and you see as much as you can see.”

Gwil knelt and clapped his hands. Argo came running over, ears flopping. “Thanks so much,” he said to Jayson.

“I hope it was helpful. I wish I could do more. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be without a proper teacher.”

“It’s super helpful,” Gwil said. “You’ve probably saved us from a ton of trouble.”

Argo ran to the edge of the clearing and started barking.

Jayson laughed. “His nose is better than my Mir. I’ll bet that’s the turkey.”

They started making their way back to the camp.

“Does breathing fire chap your lips?” Gwil asked.

“It did at first,” Jayson said.

“What happens when you sneeze?”

“I do need to be careful with that. Burnt down my bed once cause I blew my nose with a tissue.”

***

“Good timing,” Cort said as he took the turkey off the spit.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Argo was already there, tangled up with Cort’s legs as he set the bird down on the table he’d put together.

“I was gonna baste the turkey with ztuff,” Cort said, “but I wanted Argo to be able to eat it too. Did you learn anything, Gwil?”

“Tons,” Gwil said. “But forget that. Jayson can breathe fire.”

Cort looked over his shoulder. “Damn, really? That’s badass. I bet it's handy with this never-ending rain.”

Jayson shrugged. “It’s not bad, but I couldn’t cook a big turkey like that without passing out.”

Cort ripped off the turkey legs and gave one to Gwil and the other to Jayson, who gave it to Argo.

They sat down to eat, and Gwil slathered the drumstick with ztuff.

“Wowowow!” he said, devouring the meat like corn on the cob.

“Yeah,” Cort said. “This is great. With this ketchup, it doesn’t even matter what food we have. Everything will taste amazing.”

“Cort, did you find any eggs?” Gwil asked. “The ketchup would be so good with eggs.”

“Just a few smashed ones,” Cort said.

“I have eggs at my place,” Jayson said. “That’s what I eat the most, ‘cause I’m no good at cooking. We can have some while we hunker down from the storm.”

“Great, I’ve got vodka too,” Cort said.

“From here?” Jayson said. “Damn, I thought I’d procured all the liquor.”

Argo had gobbled up his drumstick, bone and all, and now moved between the three of them, licking fingers and eating scraps.

“Jayson, what’s the deal with these Stormlands?” Cort asked.

“That’s a damn good question. I actually grew up around these parts. And it’s always been like that. My grandparents and even their grandparents say so. It’s gone on like this for at least a couple centuries.”

Gwil glanced over at Leira’s temporary grave. He focused his Mir and saw… nothing. Looking deeper, he gasped and flinched out of it. Beneath the fledgling wildflowers, a gnarled, writhing mass of Yalda’blood, like a ball of tar.

Gwil clenched his jaw. You poor thing. He couldn’t wait to kill the shit out of that Centipede Queen.

Dusk fell and with it came a torrent of rain. They got their camp situated and then made for Jayson’s place.

***

Carrying their backpacks and four boxes of ketchup, Gwil and Cort followed Jayson to a small house in the corner of the town.

The roof had collapsed, but three of the walls still stood. They went inside and descended a dark stone stairwell. There was a bang, followed by clattering metal falling down the steps.

“Fuck,” Cort said as he stumbled down the last few stairs.

Jayson flicked on a Kaia lamp that hung on the wall, and pale blue light illuminated the dank cellar.

The far side of the basement was filled with a pile of deteriorated crap—furniture and boxes. The near side was an open space with a couple of chairs and a heap of blankets and pillows. In the middle was a Kaia torch with a cooking pan sitting on its top.

“Decent digs for the middle of nowhere,” Cort said.

“I was staying across the street,” Jayson said. “But it kept flooding. I’m only comfortable in the cellars because of the storms.”

Gwil went to examine a strange black cube. It hummed quietly and gave off a bit of heat.

“Is that a fridge?” Cort asked, nodding toward the cube.

“Yeah,” Jayson said, hanging his jacket on a hook. “That and the torch are both collapsible. Those things brought me across three continents.”

“Oh yeah, you said you’re from around here, right?” Gwil said.

“Make yourselves at home,” Jayson said, gesturing to the pile of blankets. Gwil plopped down next to Argo and Cort sat down in a chair.

The storm began to rage outside. The house had minimal sound isolation. Rain barraged the ceiling, thumping like drums. Hailstones tinkled against the stone. The wind groaned as it tunneled through the ruins of the house.

The first major thunderclap came, and Gwil felt it in his bones. The whole house shook. Green light flashed down the stairwell. Despite the racket, Argo slept soundly.

Careful not to look too deep, Gwil used Mir and glimpsed the storm in all its glory. Countless droplets fell from a vibrant green sky, shining like stars. Fuzzy static sparked through the air like an enormous swarm of lightning bugs.

“Don’t worry,” Jayson said, eyes toward the ceiling. “Everything’s already collapsed, so nothing’s gonna crush us.”

“Guess that’s our sign to start drinking,” Cort said, pulling the bottle of vodka out of his backpack.

Jayson handed him two tin cups and a bowl, which Cort promptly filled. He gave Gwil and Jayson each a cup and kept the bowl for himself.

“Hmmm.” Gwil said, cup of booze in one hand, tube of Zippy’s in the other. He glanced up at Cort, who was watching him.

Gwil squeezed some ketchup into the vodka and swirled it around to mix it. He took a sip, swished it in his mouth, and swallowed.

“It’s way better than plain alcohol, but not better than plain Zippy’s.”

Cort grimaced. “I’ll just enjoy them separately.”

Argo perked his head up at another boom of thunder and then resumed sleeping.

“He’s used to it?” Gwil asked.

“Yeah, he grew up around here, too.”

“Oh shit!” Gwil said, jumping up. “Cort, uh, remember I buried my… favorite pair of shoes underground at the camp? Do you think they’ll be okay?”

Cort went wide eyed. “Are you only just remembering that now? I’m sure they’ll be fine. Probably safer than this basement. No offense,” he added to Jayson.

Jayson laughed as he popped open the fridge and reached inside. “You guys want those eggs? I’m dying to try them with the ketchup.”

“Yeah!”

The Zippy’s paired much better with the eggs than with the vodka.

Safe from the storm’s fury, they passed the night, drinking and eating and laughing.

***

Jayson crossed the ravaged Stormlands. Dawn had yet to break. The air was heavy with weary tranquility in the wake of the night’s storm.

Layer upon layer of earth had been scoured away, leaving a kilometers-wide depression of cracked and barren bedrock. Nothing but shades of gray as far as the eye could see, just stone and fog. A brief respite before the jade lightning returned.

Bundled up in his jacket, Argo was a ball of warmth against his chest. The dog still slept.

Jayson had a spring in his step. Anticipation, and that his pack was lighter than he was accustomed to. He’d left his refrigerator and torch behind for Gwil and Cort.

Finally, his journey neared its end.

And it would end where it began, as he’d always known—and feared—it would. Honor had forced him to fight against this outcome. His efforts proved futile.

Jayson laughed. Time to return home.

To the northeast, the silhouette of a mountain loomed, coming into greater clarity with every step. Ankai Denai. The Palm of the Outsider.

His home, the home of his people, and the place where it was kept. The Altus Panacea.

Jayson felt bad about leaving Gwil and Cort without saying goodbye. He liked them, but he couldn’t risk getting tied up with them. Best to get away.

They seemed like good people, and he could not abide that. Plus, they had a fucking goddess or something sleeping in the dirt at their camp.

Hell, they might’ve been up to worse shit than he was. Jayson wanted nothing to do with any of that. I just want to save my dog.

Funny that he’d gotten to enjoy a night of simple pleasures—drinks and food with new friends. New stories and plentiful laughter. That was more than he deserved.

A crack splintered through the bedrock. Jayson stopped in his tracks.

A massive, carapace-covered creature erupted from its burrow, spraying stone and dust.

He wrapped his arms around Argo and turned his back on the shower of debris.

A vivid green shell, four meters tall, six long, eight scuttling legs and two nasty claws. It was a rock lobster. The beast stomped around, clicking its massive claws.

Jayson’s invasion of the lobster’s territory had sent it into a frenzy.

He fixed it with a glare. Cowed, the creature ceased its flailing.

But the lobster only swung around, backing up to take a defensive position and raising its claws.

Jayson grimaced. He’d hoped the beast would flee at his use of Mara. But hundreds of black eggs clung to the underside of her abdomen. She would fight.

Jayson zipped up his jacket to cover Argo. Then he inhaled, breathing in as deep as he could, filling his lungs with terrible fire.

As if blowing out a candle, Jayson unleashed an inferno of red and gold flames—Dragonfire. Just a single puff.

His breath enveloped the rock lobster. The unreal heat burned its shell to black in a heartbeat. The creature’s legs curled inward. It collapsed, stiff and charred, smoldering as the flames dissipated.

Jayson could hear its flesh sizzling inside its shell. As he went around the corpse, he did note that it smelled quite tasty. Maybe Gwil and Cort would pass by and get to eat it for dinner.

Damn. I should’ve taken some of that ketchup. They wouldn’t have minded.

Argo whimpered from inside his jacket. Jayson unzipped it and lowered his face so the dog could lick him.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said in a high-pitched, babyish voice. “But I’d destroy the whole World for you.” Jayson nuzzled Argo. “Yes, I would. Yes, I would.”

Grinning, Jayson pressed on, and Ankai Denai loomed larger.