Moonlight spills from a frosted window, providing the only light Noli and I have to work by, as Trenevalt sleeps in the next room over. I imagine him explaining all the tasks he expects us to perform once we have proper bodies is extremely exhausting for someone who typically only concerns himself with how his eggs are prepared on any given day: soft boiled, if you were wondering.

“There’s got to be a way to make him understand us,” Noli signs, despite having already proven herself wrong dozens of times this afternoon.

Even so, I give an affirmative “Yes” jiggle just so she knows I’m listening.

“Or maybe we’d stand a better chance finding someone else to listen,” she suggests. “There must be a town nearby. That tea he drinks is the same kind Rezira buys, I’m sure of it. We could try walking there.”

We can’t do anything. Noli is the only one with any mobility between the two of us, and her tiny toy tentacles don’t strike me as something that would weather miles of wilderness and potentially wild animals in one piece—assuming she’s right that there is in fact a town nearby, and that she even knows which way to go.

Not for the first time, a wave of depression washes over me. I miss my body. I miss being able to walk and talk, and I’d sell my soul just to be able to cry or complain. God, what I’d give to have my glutes back. I had amazing glutes.

And what’s going to happen to my TV show now? My heart sinks. Without its star, it’ll probably be dead in the water. Somehow, that hurts almost as much as losing my body. I spent my whole life trying to break out. All those years of acting classes, voice training, community theater, working out, strict diets, and countless auditions—just for it to be thrown away, the moment I finally got my shot. What was the point of all that struggle? It’s not fair!

A cloud passes overhead, and light catches in the creature-shaped glass husk that sits silently in the corner. Noli seems to notice it too.

“Well one thing’s for sure,” she signs. “We can’t let you get bonded to that thing.”

Oh? I mean, I’m not thrilled about being stuck in a squatty glass body—he could have at least made it athletic looking—but having arms and legs again sure would be nice. Maybe then I could at least write something and clue Trenevalt into what’s happening with us.

“Homunculi are mindless, soulless, magic-less constructs, right?” Noli signs. “So what happens when a soul gets stuck to something that’s designed only to obey its creator’s commands? I mean, I don’t know for sure it will be bad.” She wrings her octopus arms. “But I also can’t imagine it would mean anything good.”

I suppress a shiver. I’ve already run into a few of these “Role requirements,” as Echo calls them, forcing me to obey Trenevalt’s simple command to stay put. If I get bound to that glass body, and Noli’s right, then what will happen to the remainder of the small scrap of autonomy I still have left?

Trenevalt mentioned he needs to wait a few days for his mana stores to recover first (whatever that means). A few days doesn’t feel like much to work with. But if my freedom is on the line, then we need to figure out a solution—quick.

“Anyway,” Noli signs, clapping her limbs together. “I could probably carry you, if it comes down to it. Although I’m still figuring out these wobbly arms.” She attempts to pick up a feather quill and immediately drops it, not filling me with an abundance of confidence. “Well, practice makes improvement, as they say! Unless you think you can roll around on your own?”

That idea sounds significantly preferable to the alternative. This stand is preventing me from doing any rolling, but if Noli could help me out, then maybe I’d have some options.

But just as soon as my hopes are stoked, I remember that annoying buzzing sensation and Trenevalt’s command: Stay put.

Hey Echo, I ask. Do I still have to stay put? Do these commands, I don’t know, have any kind of expiration date?

[Negative,] Echo says. [An expiration timer must be established by the summoner in order to apply to a command. However, in this instance the command to “Stay put” has become rendered null due to the summoner actively changing your location.]

Perfect! I stash that bit of loophole knowledge away for future use, then answer Noli with a rock of excited agreement.

“Great!” Noli skitters over to me, tapping her limbs at my small metal stand. “Now, let’s see what I can do about all this…”

I am starting to have regrets. Unlike a real octopus, she lacks any kind of suction cups or grip, and her metal tentacles produce a faint yet painful screeching sound when she runs them over my flask. I internally cringe, but I don’t see any alternative; if she drops me, at least I’m only an inch off the desk.

Noli grounds herself on four of her limbs and uses the other two to wrap around me and squeeze. I can’t say how, exactly, but the sensation makes me uneasy.

[Crush status in effect,] Echo pipes up. [1 point of Crushing damage is sustained every second. HP: 9/10]

Well that doesn’t sound good. Noli tips back, and I come halfway out of the stand.

[HP: 8/10]

Hurry the fuck up, Noli! She leans further back, and I slip free from the stand. She’s still holding me, though. Shit, we really should have fleshed out more methods of communication than just ‘yes’ and ‘no.’

[HP: 7/10]

Noli leans forward to set me down, but I slip from her arms and drop to the table with a jolting crack.

“Oops!” Noli cringes. “Sorry.”

[2 points of Fall damage sustained. Total HP: 5/10]

Sheesh! That much damage from such a little fall? I’m more fragile than I thought. But at least that ordeal is over. And I wasn’t forced to find out what happens when my HP falls to zero—an ignorance I’d love to maintain.

Without the stand to keep me still, I roll halfway over, my vision rotating disorientingly around me. I attempt to roll in the opposite direction, and succeed! A bit too well, however, as I continue to roll backward.

I’m barely able to catch Noli’s “Careful!” before she pounces on me, and I feel my HP drop another point.

The world stops spinning, two of Noli’s limbs keeping me secured in place, and it’s only then I can see where I’ve rolled; the edge of the table is inches away.

I don’t need to consult Echo to know that fall would cost me the last four points of my HP.

“Whew.” Noli carefully lets me go. “Well, at least we know you can move around like this.”

Mobility, yes, precision, no. The hook shape at the back of my glass is throwing off my balance. And if I’m going to have to roll everywhere, I wouldn’t be able to see much of anything while in motion. This body just keeps getting better and better.

“Should I put you back on the stand?”

I don’t bother moving—to indicate a ‘No’—as I take stock of my surroundings. No way down from the table that doesn’t involve falling and shattering into countless glassy bits.

I lean away from the edge of the table and begin to roll again—slower, this time. Noli scurries after me like a mother hen, but I think I’m getting the hang of it. It’s like trying to balance on a see-saw; I have to keep shifting my weight from side to side if I want to stay put, and leaning one way or the other just a little bit is enough to break the balance and start rolling again. Awkwardly, I inch my way across the desk, pausing occasionally to gather my bearings.

Noli skitters after me as I practice. “There you go, you’re getting it!”

Thanks for the patronization. I bump into something and roll to an abrupt stop—a messy stack of books. For a moment the words on the spine seem nonsensical, then just as quickly they snap into focus.

Advanced Summoning Arcana. Planar Theories. Vessel Construction and Binding. Birds of Valenia North.

Ah, a powerful wizard and a bird watcher. This Trenevalt is one multifaceted halfling.

I pick a candlestick as my next checkpoint to travel toward and start rolling once again.

“Good, good!” Noli signs. “Now if we can just get down from this table, we should be able to make a break for it. I’m pretty sure I’d be okay if I fell, but…”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

My glass is anything but durable. And even if we do make it down, I’m not sure running is the best idea. I mean, I definitely don’t want to get stuck in that glass shell and become a mindless magical maid, but if Trenevalt got us stuck in these bodies, he’s still the best bet to get us unstuck, right?

I bump into the candlestick and pause to take stock once more. There are some ink and papers nearby, which I decide to aim for next, keenly aware my vision will start swirling into a nonsensical blur the second I move. There has to be a better way to get around.

“Maybe we can find a different way to communicate,” Noli continues. “Like rolling in a circle versus a straight line, or left or right could mean something, or up and…”

I lose track of what she’s saying as I roll. But she’s right; we really need to work on making our conversations more than one-sided. Now that I’m starting to get the hang of moving, that should come next. Maybe if I tipped that inkwell over and rolled through the ink, I could write something in cursive.

I try and fail to recall the cursive alphabet. I’d only ever practiced my name for signing autographs.

Well, it was a good idea, anyway.

I roll to a stop before running into the stack of papers. The inkwell is only a few inches away. Would bumping into it knock it over? Or would it crack me apart?

That’s not a gamble I’m really wild about taking. But maybe Noli could help.

I roll over to the inkwell and make a slow circle around it. There’s a cork in the top, which proves an additional obstacle. Apart from the ink, only that cracked homunculus flask is nearby. I try to ignore the latter; something about that dead core gives me the heebee jeebies.

“What’re you up to?” Noli asks, following me over. “The ink?”

I rock an affirmative “Yes.”

She takes a lap around it as well. “You want to use this?”

Yes! She’s getting it.

“Great idea!” Noli wraps two limbs around the base, and works at the cork with two more. I roll back an inch to give her room, but her metal tentacles slip useless around the stopper.

“Hmm,” she considers after a minute of futile effort. “We’ll have to get it open some other way. Think we can break it?”

Noli doesn’t wait for me to answer. She knocks the well on its side, which clatters loudly, but does not crack.

“Maybe more height?” she suggests.

I decide it’s prudent not to stick around to find out. Rolling back, I’m only a few inches away when Noli throws the inkwell at the table. The bottle skips and comes crashing back down onto the old homunculus flask, which shatters on impact.

I cringe.

“Oops,” Noli signs.

A grumble and rustling of blankets comes from Trenevalt’s bedroom. Busted. What will he do when he finds us? He doesn’t strike me as the quick-to-anger type, but given he sees us as something like Roombas and not actual people, my faith in his understanding is slim. Will he lock us up somewhere we’ll have no chance of causing more trouble—or escaping? I look desperately around for somewhere to hide—myself or the evidence, I can’t even say—but short of risking a jump off the desk, my options are limited.

“Shoot!” Noli skitters to the left, then the right. “What do we do?” She hesitates at the edge of the desk, and for a second, I think she’s about to abandon me. It stings, but I can’t blame her, really. We’ve only known each other for a day, and we’ve been able to communicate for even less. Then she hurries back over. “Sorry about this, Kanin, but better to ask for forgiveness than permission!”

Before I have a chance to figure out what she means, she scoops me up and rushes across the desk. Trenevalt’s footsteps thump across creaky floorboards and a light turns on from in his room. Noli bumps into my stand, and I feel a stomach-lurching bout of weightlessness as she nearly drops me, juggling from arm to arm, as she tries to set me back in place.

She’s protecting me. If Trenevalt finds me securely in my stand while Noli’s freely skittering about, then she’ll take the blame for the broken flask. Guilt washes over me. I’d tell her to stop if I could! It’s my fault she was trying to open that stupid ink bottle in the first place.

But there’s nothing I can do. Since the moment I was dragged into this shitty fantasyland, I’ve been completely useless.

And I’m fucking sick of it.

“What’s going on out here?” Trenevalt grumbles, a ball of light floating over his shoulder and spilling color onto our surroundings as he limps into the room. The light glimmers off the shards of broken glass.

“Ah.” Trenevalt bends over his desk as Noli sits carefully still near the stack of books. “I see some of us have been creating more messes than they’ve been cleaning up.”

His gaze lands on me for a moment before shifting over to Noli. Her limbs twitch. He reaches toward her.

“Hey!” he says as Noli jumps from the desk, landing on the floor with a thunk.

She pauses to look back up at me. “I promise I’ll be back. Sit tight, Kanin!”

As if I could do anything else.

“Get back here,” Trenevalt orders, but Noli skitters around the corner and out of view.

Interesting. If Trenevalt had said that to me I would have had that annoying buzzing in my mind, and Echo saying [Order received] or [Role requirement engaged.] Did Noli not have an Echo rattling around in her head, too?

She also seems to understand Trenevalt perfectly fine. If she doesn’t have a mental translator, does that mean she can just speak his language? Are we in her world? And even if we are, why do each of us appear to be operating under a different set of rules?

Either way, she’s gone now, and Trenevalt is in a foul mood.

“What a mess,” he grumbles, peering down at the broken flask. He points a finger at the shards, mumbling something under his breath. A purplish glow appears at his fingertip, and he begins to sketch a symbol into the air above the glass. Then he hesitates. With a shake of his head, he withdraws his hand, and the light vanishes.

“Suppose I’ll clean it up the old-fashioned way in the morning,” he sighs. “Need to save all the magic I can afford for your spell. Then I won’t have to clean up anything myself.”

And I’m so happy for him. But it’s curious he seems so conservative about his magic. Like flexing an invisible muscle, I Check Trenevalt.

[Trenevalt, a Level 40 halfling null wizard,] Echo says. [He specializes in summoning magic and null arcanum and is exceptionally tired.]

Thanks for that, Echo. Exactly the information I care about.

What about his magic? I ask. Um. Mana?

[Mana: 50/800]

Well that might be useful info if I remembered how much he’d had before. Still, it seems low. I guess casting that net Between and yanking Noli and I back out costs a pretty penny. So how much mana does it cost to animate a homunculus? And how much time is left before I’m doomed to senile-wizard servitude? He’d mentioned a couple days, but did that include yesterday? How many is a couple? The uncertainty stirs anxiously in my chest.

Or, glass, I guess. Whatever.

Anything else you can tell me? I ask Echo. Anything else I can Check?

[Check: broken flask,] Echo says.

That’s not exactly what I meant.

[The broken remnants of an expired homunculus core. Attunement available.]

What? What’s that mean?

[Broken: adjective. Fractured or damaged. Homunculus: noun. A creature of artificial—]

No, no, no, I interrupt. Echo must think I’m stupid. Attunement. What’s that?

[Attunement,] Echo says. [A spell which allows the caster to form a magical bond with an object.]

Magic? That’s something I can do? I thought only wizards could do the glowy finger tricks. I suppose it’s possible; there’s a lot about this world I still don’t understand. But even if I do, what would forming a magical bond with a broken pile of glass even accomplish?

Trenevalt raises his glowing ball of light higher in the air, sweeping his gaze around the room. I don’t see Noli anywhere, and I guess he doesn’t either, because he gives another rumbling sigh and shakes his head.

“A problem for the morning, I think.” Lowering the light, he straightens up the bottle of ink, gives me an affectionate pat (ew, please don’t,) and then lumbers back to his bedroom. The light snuffs out a moment later.

So we’re back here again. Stuck on a stand in magic-Frodo’s house, abandoned by my clockwork friend. Really, who hasn’t been there?

I glance at the pile of glass. That Attunement thing still has me curious. Performing magic was never on any of my forecasted career paths—at least, not since I gave up prestidigitation in 5th grade—and it’s not terribly appealing to me now that I know it’s real, either. I just wish I had two heels I could tap together to send me back home, somewhere familiar and comfortable, where my biggest worries are forgetting my lines and trying to decide what I want to order for dinner. (Delivery is its own kind of magic, really.)

But all of that is just fantasy now—and yes, I’m well aware of the irony. Currently, a wizard holds my fate in his hands, and my only ally is missing. If I want to get back to any sort of normalcy, I’ll need to take things into my own—metaphorical—hands.

So what’s involved with this Attunement process? I ask.

[Attunement Requirements,] Echo says. [Mana: Variable. Time: Variable. Proximity: Must be in physical contact with the Attuned target object.]

I Check my stats.

[Name: Kanin]

[Species: N/A]

[Class: None]

[Level: 1]

[HP: 5/10]

[Mana: 10/10]

[Void: 1%]

[Role: Homunculus]

That’s one more Hit Point than I had earlier, I’m pretty sure. Which means the damage isn’t permanent. Well in that case…

I begin rocking back and forth, and I can feel the dark whatever inside me sloshing from side to side. Eventually the stand starts to wobble as well, and I give the next rock a little extra umph: I teeter, hanging at the edge of balance, and then fall in a gut-wrenching lurch.

It’s only an inch or two, about the height Noli dropped me from before, but I still wince when I hit the table.

[2 points of Fall damage sustained. Total HP: 3/10]

As expected. At least now I—

[Skill Obtained: Fall Damage Resistance.]

Oh. That’s new. Echo, what’s Fall Damage Resistance do? Besides the obvious, I guess.

[Skill: Fall Damage Resistance Level 1. When a user would sustain damage from falling, they sustain 10% less fall damage than the default.]

Call me ungrateful but a 10% discount hardly seems like grounds for celebration, especially given a max HP of 10. Maybe the skill can level up at some point? But if that requires more falling, I’d frankly rather focus my efforts elsewhere. Thanks anyway, I guess.

I roll cautiously over to the pile of broken glass. The corpse of another homunculus, I suppose. Grim, but it only makes me more determined to not end up the same way. I’m going to be fleshy and shredded again one day, no matter what it takes.

Edging a little closer, my glass tinks softly as I bump into the closest shard.

[Target Attunement acquired. Mana Cost: 2]

And I have 10, right? Seems like a fair trade.

[Time requirement: 2 hours]

For a shard of glass barely an inch long? Okay well that’s just excessive. What am I supposed to do for two hours while this thing is chugging away?

Then again, I have no better ideas on how to spend my time.

Anything else? I ask.

[Attunement spell ready to be cast.]

I guess that’s a ‘no.’

Alright then, I sigh with just a twinge of nervousness. Let’s do this. I will this ‘Attunement’ thing to start working, and I feel something in my essence—my soul?—react to the thought.

[Attunement activated,] Echo reports.

I wonder if it’ll look like those wisps of light Trenevalt was drawing in the air. Would my magic be similar? A different color? Did I need to sketch out some pattern to…

My thoughts stutter, growing sluggish and disjointed.

Oooh… I groan, reaching for Echo. What is happen…

My consciousness spirals away from me as Echo says something from a vast distance, and I’m dragged down into a dreamless black.