Surges of dense black smoke billowed into the sky as hot blazing tongues of fire licked up, fanned by the warm spring breeze. The flames loved it here. Heat pulled at the skin on Theora’s face, dried her eyes.

She wanted to rush in. Fetch Dema’s remains and hug them tight. But Dema was too scattered inside, too broken. So Theora simply stood there, feet firmly perched between flowers, wary of complicating the process of regeneration, of making it more painful. Still — any little start could unleash her, have her pluck every little flake of Dema’s ashes from the winds.

The bracelet was still intact. So was Dema’s, which she’d picked from the ruins when she rescued Serim, stored safely in her attire since. Theora didn’t dare break either to see if they would repair themselves.

She caught herself making a tiny step forward. Just a small one, then another.

Every passing second hurt Theora’s soul. Minutes went by sowing doubt.

Dema was alive. She had to be, because of the rules of this world. But then, even if she was alive, how would she fare? After being injured by the Devil of Truth and having her regenerative abilities disabled for almost two decades, Dema was never quite the same. Motor issues, defective balance — they never healed, despite her body being back at full health, because apparently, they resulted from damage that lay deeper inside. Deeper than neurons or flesh.

This time, Theora told herself, wasn’t as bad. [Retain] had kept Dema suspended, safe.

She’d died in a world without magic, though.

A wet spot dotted Theora’s cheeks. She wiped at the slickness, her fingers coming away with a dash of crimson. A step back revealed more of the sky — deep red clouds raged above, spewing amber sparks snuffing to flakes of grey ashes as they fell into the flowery meadow like snow. That wasn’t all, though. The clouds were spewing a drizzle. Droplets caught in Theora’s hair, her clothes. More of that oily liquid, deep red. It tapped against the leaves, her clothing; a gentle rush sweeping down far across, beyond the little hilltop, escorted by a thick and rusty scent.

It was raining blood.

Theora let out a deep breath of relief, mixed with half a sob.

Then, she sensed movement from within the rubble — rocks pushed away, a groan. Theora dove into the ruins in a heartbeat. The blood rains cooled the flames with pops and sizzles, mixing into the taste of iron and burnt flesh on Theora’s tongue. Her attire crusted as the downfall dried to the flashover heat. A moving piece of wall. Theora pushed it aside. A body, twitching, smiling. Theora picked her up.

“Wha,” Dema croaked out in a deep gravelly voice. She weakly hugged back. “Serim alright?”

“She’s fine, but we had to leave. She’s still over there.”

“I died, huh?”

“Sorry.”

“Damn.” She spat out a chunk of blood and… more. “Thought we’d have… a few more weeks.” She pushed a strand of sticky hair out of her face. “Bummer.”

Dema’s arms squeezed stronger against Theora’s shoulder, almost holding herself up. Soon, Dema’s legs could move; the one that had been severed was attached again, but still charred. Theora wanted to pick her up, but Dema’s injuries made her hesitate to touch her more than she had to.

As they left the ruins, Dema gently pushed herself away to test if she could walk. Faltering steps led her back to Theora to grasp her hand for support.

“Thanks.” Dema coughed. “Gosh.” She took a breath deeper than Theora would have thought those little lungs allowed. Dema watched a few drops of red rain slide down her arm, then fusing into her skin. “Glad my blood’s gone back to helping me out, instead of… You know.”

“I’m happy you’re back,” Theora said, very quietly.

“So…” Dema frowned, her eyes searching the sky as if there were memories in it. Her voice got a little better with each cough. “You brought me back. That means…”

Theora nodded. “Let’s go meet the others. I already saw Iso and… well, Bell.”

“Oh, yeah! Let’s! Ah, I’m a li’l dizzy…” She conjured up some blood into a cane, while leaning against Theora for support. She looked back over her shoulder. “The rain’s gonna take care of the fire.”

Theora squeezed Dema’s hand, then let go. She looked mostly healed now — still crusted with ash, coal, and blood, but she’d had stopped wincing at every step. So, Theora took off her travelling attire to give Dema something to wear.

“Thanks,” Dema murmured, doing a clumsy job of pulling it over her head. Her horn emerged from a fold and Theora helped her put the attire on properly with a few calculated tugs. “Gotta take a bath when I get back. How far is it?”

“Two minutes or so.”

Dema blinked at the surroundings, and her eyes widened a tiny bit in recognition of the landscape. “My memory’s kinda fuzzy…” She sounded a bit displeased. “I gotta write notes of all the things I remember of our time there, so I don’t forget.”

“Let me know if you need help.”

Dema let out hums of awe as they entered the soft shadow of Treeka’s canopy. She was in full red flowered bloom; this time around, her trunk hadn’t grown quite so straight. It covered a wider area, split early near the ground.

They followed Treeka’s thickening roots. Dema made a little game of balancing across them barefoot while Theora held her outstretched hand to make sure she wouldn’t fall. “Happy to see her so healthy,” she said with a smile.

The roots tangled more and more. They entered the yard of their house, and Dema immediately tripped over a root knot. “Woah,” she giggled when Theora caught her by the waist.

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She walked up toward Treeka’s trunk with some help, then leaned against it, grazing the fingers against Treeka’s bark. “Am home.”

“Moms!” Isobel’s voice rang out from the door. She scuttled over the roots and rocks to throw herself against Dema for another hug.

“So,” Dema went, “where’s Treeka?”

“She’s shy,” Isobel chirped.

Dema blinked. “Why would she be shy?” She looked into the leaves above. “Treeka! Come out! I wanna give your spirit a hug too!”

Nothing happened.

Isobel said, “She thought you’d scold her for ruining the yard.”

“Ruining the yard?” Dema looked across Treeka’s work. “But the yard is perfect. How about… I gotta wait for me to get some mana back.” She hummed thoughtfully. “What if I make a path with crystal blood? Around the roots. Can use them to walk from door to door. But we can still see the roots preserved in it. Just gotta ask her if that would feel too restrictive for her.” Her gaze went further around, landing on the roof. “Oh I gotta fix that too.”

“Rest first?” Isobel suggested, and after seeing Dema nod, she helped Theora half-carry her across to the entry.

Inside, their eyes fell on little Bell, who was standing at the end of the corridor, frozen — terrified, even. Her tendrils were in an attack position; she stared ad Dema, wide-eyed.

“Oh no,” Dema let out. “Polyped again? How’d that happen?”

Isobel took a step forward. “Is everything okay, Bell?”

Bell took a steadying breath, then nodded, suppressing her reflexes. She tangled her tendrils into a thick braid, seemingly against their will, and with a lot less elegance than Theora was used to seeing her handle them with. “Just instinct,” she pressed out. Her eyes darted between Theora and Dema before she snapped, “Stay longer this time,” together with a murmured ‘None needs you.’ Then she turned to rush away.

Dema swivelled her head to Isobel, her question still in her eyes.

Iso reciprocated the gaze, the leglets protruding from her carapace behind her body shifting across her front restlessly. “The rains of fire went on a bit longer than we were hoping for.”

“Oh no,” Dema whispered.

Isobel nodded. “She lay dying for a while and succumbed after two years.”

“She alright now?” Dema asked in a murmur. “Seems a bit… angrier this time.”

Theora gently made them both press onward, turning left to the stairs leading to the basement bath. “It must be an unpleasant process,” she said in a low voice.

Isobel let go of Dema before they crossed the doorway. “You get her cleaned off and I prepare food in the kitchen?”

Theora nodded and they went down the stairs.

Despite Dema’s attempts to stall, the bath didn’t take too long — Theora didn’t want to make the others wait. Dema clearly would have had enough strength by now to clean herself, but she made a show of making Theora do it for her. Every time she held out the washcloth and expectantly presented another part of her body, Theora couldn’t help but laugh. That little brat.

“We can take a longer bath later,” Theora appeased her eventually. “When we said hello to everyone.”

She only met playful resistance; Dema clearly wanted to say hello and catch up too.

When they arrived at the kitchen, they found Isobel sitting on a little stool, having poured two cups of what Theora immediately recognised as tea she’d once made with her Skill.

“Saved some for your return,” Isobel boasted with a smile, pushing the steaming cups in front of them.

Dema beamed at it, sipping away as her muscles relaxed into the chair. “You’re a treasure. All of you are treasures.”

Isobel chuckled, and her belly legs happily shuffled against each other with clacks and clonks. “Take your time arriving, but once you’re ready, I want to bring you up to speed.”

Theora bit her lips. Apart from the last few days, most of her time in ‘Reality’ had felt like leisure. Not living with the burden of the System’s meddling was one thing, but being so close to Dema had given her a lot of strength. She wanted to give back right now — especially since it seemed like the ones she’d left behind were struggling.

“Please let me know if there is anything I can do right now. Don’t wait until I ‘arrive’.”

Isobel giggled again. “Well…” She tapped her chin, click, click. “An’s said she needs help with a quest. Bell needs someone to fight her, she wants to practise against targets she can’t harm. I also have made some discoveries over the past years that I’d like to share with you. But before that…”

Theora swallowed. “Yes?”

Iso’s expression turned towards what Theora would disbelievingly categorise as one of smug victory. It made her shiver. Since when could Isobel look at her like that?

“There’s something I want you to do for me.”

Theora slumped a little in her chair. Oh no. She’s been had. “What is it?” she still asked, voice a little dry.

Isobel showed her a hint of pity, but paved on regardless. “You know what it is. I won’t say it out loud because I’m scared you’ll run away the moment I do. But… look. I know, okay? You hate the idea. But you said many times you’d let me do it, and then always ran away at the last second. I’m getting mixed signals here.”

Theora wanted to squirm. “I know. I’m sorry. We can do it.”

Isobel raised her eyebrows. “It’s just — just so you know why — I’ve made so much progress. You know, when you want to find out how something works, it’s super useful to see what happens when you break it. Right? I got so much information from your logs of when you broke the System that it allowed me to manipulate it to conjure an Orb of Seven Wishes — and fetch you back. That wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t exposed some of the System’s internal storage data to me.”

Theora nodded. “Yes. And you wish to learn more about it.”

“Not just about the System,” Isobel admitted. “You can break anything. And you can break it in a way nobody else can. I always tried to push other projects first, but… I’ll be honest — my research has hit several impasses that might get sped along dramatically if I got a proper look. Especially when it comes to other worlds.”

Iso nodded at a bucket in the kitchen sink that was filled with a thick purple liquid that looked suspiciously like what Theora had metaphorically swam through to get back home.

“So,” Isobel continued, “I know you’re shy about it, but still. Just once! Would that be okay?”

Theora had already told her about a dozen times that it would be alright; now it was finally the time to make good on that, it seemed. She took a deep breath, and nodded. “Let’s do it as soon as you have time.”

“Yay! I’ll ask Treeka to take care of Bell and Dema. If she agrees, we can leave for it today. Oh, and also. How’d it go?”

Theora tried very hard not to flinch at the idea of doing it today. She’d really been had.

Dema looked up. “How did what go?”

Isobel tilted her head curiously. “Well, you know? What you left for?”

Ah. Right. Theora finally remembered the thing she’s been holding in her clenched fist, ever since opening the coffer containing Dema’s presents. She extended her hand and slowly opened her fingers to reveal what was inside.

The second Fragment of Time. She hadn’t yet taken a proper look at it. It was a white marble. She turned it in her fingers, until it stared back up at her.

“Wow,” Dema breathed, pushing herself up and across the table to see it more closely. “Looks like an eye!”