Chapter 18: The Remembering Ring

Relja sat cross-legged, observing ants marching along a mossy boulder trail. She found it delightful, watching two lines going opposite directions, how each ant connected with their fellow workers at every passing via brief nose boops.

Afternoon sunlight dappled the boulder as the three discussed beneath a fragrant juniper.

“You know I don’t like doing this kinda stuff,” said Berem, unwillingly lending Medett his wrist and hand.

“So the needle pokes into a fingertip,” said Relja, “and you thread a tiny root tip in? And it links our minds through the vision of an ant? How?”

“The root’ll wriggle in and wind around your nerves,” said Medett, “then, yeah. Berem will use ants as your eyes. Watch.” Then she poked Berem. He only noticed once a bead of blood appeared.

He barred teeth at her.

Relja watched the strange threading. Then it was her turn.

“Ready?” asked Medett.

“No?” said Relja, holding out her hand and turning her head away.

Medett was quiet. Relja whispered, “Go ahead.”

“On three,” said Medett, who then poked Relja without counting.

With Medett’s help, Berem had prepared his [Spell: Hive Mind] in potion form. He imbibed it then.

Relja’s senses reeled. She closed her eyes, attempting to mute an instant nausea. She kept them closed, realizing that it wasn’t her eyes doing the seeing anymore, anyway.

“It’s so robotic. I can’t think. My mind is falling off the path,” Relja said, hand clammy. “The one and only path.”

“You can go frazzle-brained by getting too deep into bug stuff,” said Berem. “I’ve heard stories. Let me try to even things out.”

Relja sensed him concentrating.

“They’re so single-minded, aren’t they?” she said, awestruck.

“So, what do you see?” asked Medett, either unimpressed or impatient.

“We’re at war,” said Relja. “The colony must win. It’s the primary thought. It’s us, er, I mean ‘them,’ versus every other thing, even other ant colonies. Or especially other ants. I can’t ‘see.’ My brain can’t. Too mechanical. Methodical. There’s an imperative to think alike. Each ant is everyone and no one, sacrificial yet irreplaceable.” Relja bent over. “I have to stop,” she coughed, then retched.

“Shouldn’t have started if you ask me,” said Medett.

Relja felt rough hands begin the gentle work of untangling the roots from her finger nerves. Her normal vision returned, blink by blink.

“I admit,” she said once her stomach slowed its nastiness, “that is nothing like what I expected to happen.”

“That was a decent insect meld,” said Berem. “I’ve done worse. You’re kind of a natural. Must have a weird brain?”

Relja’s face twisted. “There’s no way you guys are NPC AI. But you’re not players either. I can’t inspect you, can’t friend request. You don’t use tablets. This free-form kind of questing is neat, but… what gives?”

“Please refer to our original answers,” said Berem.

“Can I get back to work?” asked Medett. “Or do you have more ‘real cure’ ideas?”

“Let’s call the ant trail cold for now,” Relja said, rummaging in Fizzu’s saddlebags. She pulled out an ugly Art Magic book and thumbed to a page with a tattered purple ribbon marking it.

Berem shook his head when he saw what section she was in. “Uh uh. Roots in the fingertips was enough for me. I’m not messing with that stuff.”

“Spirit Magic?” Medett said, leery.

“I lost my elder two weeks ago,” Relja said solemnly, “during a class progression quest… but I know if we could contact her, she’d have ideas. I know it.”

“There are worse things than breaking your brain with bug magic,” said Medett.

“Like what happened at the Grave Grove,” said Berem.

“Exactly!” Medett stomped her foot. “It’s not a school of magic to be trifled with. I don’t know enough. Do you?”

“Her [Candle of Remembrance] is still at half-wax,” Relja said softly.

“What’s that mean?” said Berem.

“Means she’s likelier to do something stupid,” Medett frowned. “Long as the candle stays lit, she can speak with the departed at lessened risk.”

“I can do it, but not alone,” said Relja.

“If something bad happens to us,” said Medett, “what happens to the Mesafolk? Or anyone else who needs healing? Unfinished quests will pile up. We’re doing vital work.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Well,” said Berem, “you’re doing work. I’m just your pack animal. I’m no good with plants.”

Medett gave him a scowly look. This told Relja it was probably true.

“I studied under Air elder Neejael,” said Relja. “Will you come with me to the Remembering Ring while her candle’s still there?”

Their demeanors softened. It was a known name, not unlike Murnia Marshwick’s.

“I could be of real help,” said Berem.

“You’re not serious?” Medett’s hands were back on her hips.

“Seems like a risk-reward scenario to me,” he looked down at Vish the fox. Relja thought he scanned his pet’s face for hidden confirmation.

“Alright,” Medett shrugged. “Go with her. You have something to prove? Your problem.”

“It takes a triad,” said Relja. “Didn’t you know that?”

Berem and Medett both looked at her, their expressions difficult to read.

Relja shivered, finding it more difficult to act as if a fever weren’t creeping up on her. She retrieved the strip of [Tangybark] from her cloak pocket and gnawed gingerly on it. The texture was much like she expected, hard and fibrous. The taste was a shock. “Tangy” was an understatement. Her eyes misted over, but her health moved back into the green and she gained a temporary buff which paused the poison DOT.

“I have no choice,” she said. “I have to discover a cure. I’m thankful for this plant, but it’s only a bandage. I know this DOT can’t be dispelled except by finishing the quest. Herbalists talk to one another. I’ll have to move on alone.”

Relja turned to Fizzu and untied his tether straps.

“What if Vish helped?” said Berem. “Or your mesa strider? Does the triad have to be human?”

“Good question,” said Relja, intrigued.

“Bah!” Medett waved her short arms. “Fine! I won’t stand by while you make your foolishness even riskier by using animals for spirit spells. Honestly. What’s next? Asking Animun to help? Just remember, when we get confused players complaining about their quest NPC taking lunch breaks, it’s your fault. Not mine.”

“Alright then,” Relja clasped her hands together. “Since you're the quest giver, what should we do? Give to me the quest.”

Vish yapped, jumping and sniffing near the purple satchel Berem had found. There was a swirl of shadow; pixelation. The coat unfurled.

~<>*<>*<>~

The Spirit Realm’s foggy paths had drifted me toward the [Hive Scepter]. Azwold had found a graveyard and his body. From that point on, I observed his doings from my scepter’s eye view. I had yet to tell him I could hear him speak from inside. He spoke to himself and/or the scepter often enough to create a working narrative for me.

First, we went to Camp Starshot. Azwold picked up our attacker’s trail somehow. A Spirit Mage kinship, I assumed. But rather than walking straight in, Azwold took us to the edge of its spindly outer wall.

The wall’s posts were thin trees, growing at regular intervals to encircle the camp. Between their trunks, woven spider wire formed the actual barrier. But the silk had holes cut through it. I observed, surmising the holes made it permeable to strong winds; instead of breaking, the trees could bend.

Azwold spied through the spider wire, into the camp’s interior.

After a long, silent while he said; “There’s nothing to see.”

We had lost the scythe-wielder’s trail. So we departed Camp Starshot and summoned the Gremlin.

The mage combed several locations for my bones, but exhausting his best guesses, decided to re-prioritize. Having little to go on and without sign of DarkNeon, we proceeded to the next logical place: our questline destination.

The morning had melted toward noon as we transversed the smooth roads worn out of solid mesa rock and gravelly shale trails winding through stands of stunted pines.

The Canyon was sliding into view over the horizon when a citrus-colored beam cut the sky from the north. The Rogue, I wagered. I was glad to know her online status. The beam shot straight down into Cloud River Canyon. Somehow, my skeleton had made it to our destination before my spirit.

“Finally,” said Azwold. “I was keeping an eye out for that. What do you think, Eld? Is the Rogue’s Charm stat raising the party’s luck?”

I wanted to tell him that luck be a fickle mistress. Azwold seemed to understand, however, that we carve our own fates through action. If that were true, it would beg questions about my own karmic meanderings.

Azwold had his tablet on the dash, displaying the map. We disembarked the Gremlin near the zenith of a canyon stair. The mage made few preparations, then pressed the [Gremlin Signal] button.

We approached the Canyon’s edge with caution. Kneeling at one of two stumps which marked the stair’s entrance, he peered down with his binoculars.

“Okay, I see you,” he said. “There’s three of them doing something weird by a boulder. But I don’t see a hint of Telemoon. That’s good… I think.”

He moved closer and the dizzying depth of the canyon, river, and orchard below swelled into hexagonally fractured view. Seeing the stair snaking its way down the cliff face, I knew the mage would loathe the descent.

“We need to get down there and summon you before they finish whatever strange seance they’re doing,” he said.

We began our descent.

Azwold’s relief was palpable even through the scepter walls as he set foot on solid canyon floor. Inching closer, he watched the three through his spyglass, keeping a careful eye.

We crept past a tent made of strung up animal hides, and Azwold knelt behind the nearest boulder.

“I can hear them talking,” he whispered to the scepter.

I strained, finding I could hear them too. Faint, but the silence in my sandy cell was deep.

“Does the triad have to be human?” I heard the biggest one say in a dry baritone.

“Good question,” said a spindly woman in braids and a brown robe.

“Bah!” the short, burly one in a green tunic threw up her hands. “Fine! I won’t stand by while you make your foolishness even riskier by using animals for spirit spells. Honestly. What’s next? Asking Animun to help? Just remember, when we get confused players complaining about their quest NPC taking lunch breaks, it’s your fault. Not mine.”

“That one complaining?” Azwold whispered to me. “Apparently she’s got our next quest objectives. Better get you summoned before our quest-giver NPC leaves to go on her own quest. Seriously. WTF.”

He began casting [Spell: Summon Skeleton]

I heard, “Give to me the quest.”

Then I flowed from the [Hive Scepter] and into my [Grim, Dim Purple Coat].

There was a swirl of shadow and pixelation. I unfurled from the coat and lay sprawled on the ground.

I stood, an Emberfur fox sniffing my ankles.

The three drew their weapons, surprised.

“Hello,” said Azwold, scanning them with his green light device. “I heard you mention Spirit Magic? Maybe I can help?”

I stretched and straightened out my coat and [Grave Buckle], but opted not to speak until Azwold affirmed they were clear of Telemoon possession. But as I watched him scan them, I sensed something. I moved to the mage’s side.

“They’re like me,” I whispered. “Real spirits inside an NPC.”

“What? Impossible.”

“Is it?” I said, hushed.

Azwold stared at them a moment.

“Hi, I’m Relja. I’d love to party up with a Spirit Mage for this. But, um, were you talking to your skeleton pet?”

“It helps me process my thoughts,” said Azwold. Then to me, he whispered; “Braids looks like a normal player. Better not blow Medett and Berem’s cover just yet. To us, they’re NPCs till we finish the quest and get your bone. Agreed?”

“Aye.”

“Well, I say good!” said Medett. “I’m going back to my Tang Tree Orchard. I am the quest hub after all. Can’t frolic too far afield like my brother here.”

“I have a quest to speak with you, actually,” said Azwold.

“Do ya?” said Medett, cross. “Go with her,” she pointed at Relja.

“I require objectives,” said Azwold.

“Are you the quest giver?” she scolded. “No? Oh, that’s me? I said go with her. Helping her is your objective.”

“Alright,” said Azwold. “As you say.”

“Hey, are you already in a party?” said Relja. “Invite me, please?”

“I’m a lone wolf,” said Berem, “but I’ll follow solo.”

[Relja has joined the party]

“Thanks!” she said. “To the Remembering Ring.”