As the Bamboo Princess was forced out of the third dimension and into the second, she realized for a moment what being a paper person must feel like. With a pained groan, the forest around her flattened into a series of simple geometric shapes. Green triangles and rectangles, arranged in configurations vaguely representing bamboo and trees. Each shape shook slightly, as if chilled in a winter breeze. The Princess saw herself among them, a solitary figure in an abstract painting. She seemed so small. From this angle, the cracks in the world were visible. The Infestation affected everything. It was all coming apart at the seams. Total collapse. A complete cascade. How was the Bamboo Princess supposed to solve this? Before she could ponder the question, the island beneath her tore itself open and swallowed her whole. Under a rush of vertigo and violent nausea, the Princess’ perception returned to three dimensions. Everything slowed, then stopped. The Green Tea Sea calmed and the sky stilled. The Princess floated to her knees, her breath choked and heavy. Around her was a murky green fog that obstructed her vision beyond a few feet. The ground was dark, fluffy dirt. Chunks of it wafted upwards with every sweeping, restricted movement the Princess made. She glanced at her arms and froze. They were covered in deep, dark holes. There was movement inside. Thousands of tiny black bodies, destroying her from the inside-out. It was happening so much faster in her than in the eldest Sage. The Princess tried to scream in horror, but tea filled her grass lungs. It allowed her to breathe, but talking was not permitted. She was under the tea’s control. She was its hostage, its slave. She stood up, willed by the tea. She finally understood where she was. The Depths. The absolute territory of the Green Tea Sea. The voice in her head no longer spoke. Its silence spoke mountains. A piercing, mind-numbing pain spiked through the Princess’ right hand. She looked down to see her grass skin morphing. New shoots rapidly grew from her arm, coiling themselves into tight spirals on her palm. Soon, a circle had woven itself onto her hand. A single twig lay in the center, suspended in the tea. Its sharpened tip pointed forward. The Princess knew what it was immediately. A compass, built into her skin. A compass pointed to the Sea’s center. A new voice, smooth and comforting this time, assured the Princess everything would be alright. She almost believed it for a second. The world unfolded and the Bamboo Princess returned to the domain of the weak.

The Sea had placed the Princess in the middle of nowhere, floating aboard an elaborately designed raft. Like the makeshift one she had been trying to build back on the island, this vessel was constructed from bamboo. However, unlike her pitiful attempt, this raft had also clearly been designed by a master. The way each delicately shaved strip coiled and wrapped, forming the complete, circular structure, was no less than beautiful. It was like something only nature could devise. It was something only nature could devise. Structures built by the Green Tea Sea itself were so rare as to exist only in myth, but the Bamboo Princess sat on one right now. It was an odd feeling. Her arms were still hollow wrecks, but the compass persisted. It was pointed to the northwest. The center. The Green Tea Sea had also outfitted the Princess in full ceramic armor, completed with a thin, curved sword. It was craftsmanship only achieved by the long extinct clay and metal peoples of the south, but the Princess knew better than to the question the tea. Clearly it sponsored her quest. Why wouldn’t it? She was the one chosen to heal it of the Infestation. The one chosen to restore it to the glory of centuries past. The Bamboo Princess would bring the Sea back from the brink of death. She would save it from decay. She continued to restate her goal over and over again in her head, hoping doing so would eventually muster up some motivation in her. She would do it. That much was certain. But the fact that she didn’t want to didn’t sit quite right with her. It felt wrong to save the world out of obligation. She tried calling to her head-voice; the one from the island. No response. She didn’t expect it to offer much emotional reassurance, but the Princess still longed for some company. She had gotten too used to living with the Sages. Too used to the privilege of contact. Loneliness plagued every corner of the Green Tea Sea. It had just been luck that she hadn’t been afflicted before now. The Bamboo Princess looked to the ornate oar beside her. Not yet. She would rest first and let the sun rejuvenate her. She didn’t know how long the Green Tea Sea had held her at its heart, but at least sunlight agreed to energize her once more. The Princess let out a deep sigh. A small black insect flew out of her mouth as she did so. She ignored it, choosing instead to stare at the horizon. Every direction was the same thing: a motionless expanse of tea and a cloud grey sky, meeting on a perfect flat line. The sun reflected off the Sea, causing it to shine with dying light. The Princess stared at the light, unblinking, for what felt like years. Eventually she fell asleep and dreamed of being eaten alive.

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The Bamboo Princess awoke slowly. She was groggy and fatigued, despite her long rest. The sun hung above, watching her as always. She wished she had a roof to blot it out for just a few minutes. Its radiance seemed to mock her. With reluctance, the Princess took the oar and begun to paddle northwest. The work was tough. Her arms had lost even more strength overnight from the Infestation. She had to keep going regardless. Stopping was not an option. She wanted to. She desperately, desperately wanted to, but the Green Tea Sea would not allow it.