February enters from the kitchen door in the back of the room with a glass of water. She sits by a woven bed shrouded in medicinal foliage in a wooden chair. She cradles her sickly father’s head, forcing him to drink it. His body uncontrollably flinches and twitches as he gargles and chokes. She drops the glass to set him up, and he spits the water out. As he lays back down, she catches a glimpse of an equinox flower. It has stringy red petals like spider legs, tiny yellow buds on the tip, and a crimson aura.
Oblivious to her discovery, she twiddles her thumbs with her head down. Tears drop from her violet eyes, defended by dark green lashes, coating her thumbnails as they glide across each other. Observing his gray skin, she notices the varicose veins bulging. His once emerald-green hair is now a moribund yellow.
“I am going to save you," she says, sniffling snot. She adjusts the knitted blanket covering her father, Sauerbrat. Her mother, Adalaide, designed it after their village flag: green with a red pentagram in the center.
February is fair-skinned with wavy green hair flowing down her back and shoulders. She holds herself with grace as if there was always a stack of books on top of her head. Her shirt dress has crushed herbs, leaves, grime, and drying water spots stains. Her callused feet lay on the wooden floor, toes curling tightly, gripping the ends of her mini dress.
She holds her breath.
Shooting up from her seat, she walks through the doorway behind her. In her room replicates a research lab, she undresses, revealing lashes, scrapes, and bruises on her back.
Into her bathroom, she throws the dress in a tall woven basket filled with others like it. She takes a shower. She leans forward against the wall, eyeing the eucalyptus plants growing through her window, and begins crying. She crouches and holds herself.
Hearing only her breath and heartbeat fill the room over the trickling shower water. She gets a stroke of confidence wiping her face.
She returns to her room. She reaches into her closet, grabs another shirt dress, and throws it on, tying a thin bow around her waist. She slides on an orange sweater and a red bow tie under her collar. She always goes back to the mirror to see her shape.
She sits at her desk and finds a couple of orange hair ties. She puts her hair in two pigtails. She rubs a scar on the right of her forehead before laying a wavy strand of hair over it. She puts on her glasses, searching through a small nightstand between her desk and bed. Finally, she finds an ankle bracelet holding a tiny green jewel.
February pulls on her pigtails and pouts. Taking a deep breath, she slaps her cheeks.
“Okay, February! You got this!” She says confidently.
She slides on a pair of white flats, packing her brown leather bag with an empty notebook, loose papers, pencils, a journal, and feet cream. Imagining everything she is about to regret. She walks towards the front door, and the wood creaks. She pauses at the opened door, turning back to her father, who’s coughing blood into a blood-splattered cloth. The light goes out as she closes the door.
Descending a giant fallen tree they call Mother Eve, she eventually walks through an abandoned village of tree houses covered in moss, vines, and a plethora of fungi. The bridges are missing wooden planks. Some of the paths of mushroom tiles were falling. And many large branches began growing through the blue-top houses made of treated wooden bricks.
The large grounded roots hold many destroyed vehicles and fallen shops. Snail shells, animal bones, and exoskeletons lay in ruins in the distance overtaking the ever-growing moss. Walking through the forest, February finds a water spout in the shape of an elephant filled.
“Must have been the rainwater." She says as she exits the village. She observes each plant she sees, watering them. She comes across a specifically green flower, a water drop falling from it.
“I’ll be back soon,” she whispers, caressing the petals that eventually drop.
She walks on a giant branch in front of a waterfall, taken afar by an angel snake, a lake serpent with lashes, and a mermaid-like tail, shooting up from the water. It hangs in time before splashing back into the mystical pool.
At the outskirts of the forest, looking at her map, she wonders where the Schnitzel Train Station is. Looking up, she sees a flaming-haired boy sailing on a yellow cloud, eating bananas. The boy looks down, his big bright blue eyes filled with curiosity, and gives off a contagious grin waving at her.
“Must be fun,” she mutters in jealousy, waving back. She decides to take some time to journal about her journey.
JOURNAL ENTRY #1
TO MOTHER, UNKNOWN
GOMORRAH TRAIL, UBRIEL FOREST, APR. 22ND, X273
Hi mom, it's been a few years since I wrote. Sorry. I turned 21 today and finally decided to look for the mushroom. The hardest part was leaving the village for the first time, and the stench from the rotting animal corpses and excrement in the mud water pooling along the roots. The final hydrangea has turned to a flushed green and has already begun to wither.
On the brighter side, this root trail seems to have taken me to the edges of the land. As I stand at this cliff, my stomach churns, shouting, “Go back, go back!” But I don't listen, I can’t. I was never afraid of heights, but seeing the clouds and endless blue sky below can make even a giant tremble. Looking up to keep my mind off the drop, I see all the roots continuing to twist and turn through the air, connecting many pieces of ancient ruins.
As I walked along the roots, they seemed to have defined gravity. Usually, someone would fall when walking upside down, but it seems that daddy was right about this land. Pangea seems to evolve against logic.
For the last couple of hours, I’ve been hopping rock-to-rock observing species like the gigantic eagle-hawk and a giant phantom-ray that carried an entire class. Wotters and propeller-weasels race in the floating streams with their cubs hanging on to their fur for dear life. Candy fish guard their nests in thick soap-like bubbles.
In the shallow quagmire, I found a parade of tō tō frogs marching from vixen dens to thornmunk burrows, spreading joy to every doorway. The jovial frogs lead the line waving large white fans and crocking melodies. The ponderous, dated frogs and what seems like a chary toad who keep giving me the stink eye waddles banging on their taiko drums with wooden sticks.
A flamboyance of blossom penguins joins in the party. The sky-blue males merrily grab the wings of the peach-colored females, spinning and dancing. Their dawn-colored chicks, some still wearing colorful shells, bounce around, making a racket. They irritate the old horned owl lounging on a tree branch.
Who knew the forest could be this lively?
Finally making it to the outskirts of mainland Europa, the first thing that greets me is a giant's corpse in ancient armor with his sword in the ground. It was captivating how something so big, so powerful could be subjected to something the likes of us Pangeans, Titans, and Humans are fated for, mortality.
The Schnitzel Train Station should be about 30 minutes from where I am. I took a break, sitting by the river under this mapple tree. It's been a while since I have seen one this clear.
Carmel hogs wrestle in the heavenly stream over freshly washed mapples filled with delicious tree sap. They are cute, even if they lick their snot to show affection. I wish you could see them; daddy said they are your favorite.
I decided to walk along the river, finally removing my shoes, to find out it was a waterfall. Even though I could meet the same fate at this height, like in the clouds. Just something about seeing such a lush field of flowers, sparkling ponds, and beautiful rainbows that leaves me breathless yet fills me with so much life. I can do nothing but smile and laugh.
I should be getting to the train station to ask for directions to the market metropolis, Europa.
You are the only one that could not read my research, so I will explain, but I am sure you know all this already. The stem of the Bucardee mushroom can absorb whatever virus it gave daddy. He explained that it attacks and reproduces by shooting the spores off the top.
I have been stuck at a wall for fourteen years, but now I can finally help him get better and begin rebuilding the village. If I fail, my last act would be joining a guild or finding you, if that is possible.
I will make sure to write more, mom.
P.S. My jewel has been shining. I can't figure out why. Is it a clue? I wish you had given me a manual or something.
I hope you are safe.
Your loving daughter,
F. Peony
February finally gets to the Schnitzel Train Station. Passing the sign, she notices a small, oblong building with a clock tower holding a giant gold bell. The burgundy tiled and glass roof replicates the lid of a treasure chest, while the body of the building is brick. Most adventurers treat this place as a checkpoint to rest, eat, gather information, and even receive first aid attention.
She enters through the glass slide door to be greeted by hundreds of people of many races. From humans in their capes, robes, and pointy wizard hats to Slimes walking around in their birthday suits.
She walks past a couch sunk into the center of the floor, circling a giant holographic flame. It emits heat for the building. Seated is a group of wizards with female spectators of many races. A short-haired Werewolf with wolf ears, fur covering her forearms, and shins down to her paws. The chain around her neck is tugged as one of the men peeks into the cloth around her chest.
A petite, relaxed black-winged Harpie lays curled up on a dark purple cloud, drinking a cocktail. She has pointed ears, a leather skirt, a black bikini top, seductive red eyes, and large dark wings that face upwards.
On the skin-headed leader's lap is a Lamia. A fair-skinned half-serpent with a brown tail and a diamond pattern on the ridge. She wraps a purple hip scarf around her waist with gold medallions. On the top, she wears matching clothes with gold bracelets, eyes, and hair.
Commonly hired for a job to guide humans through the mysterious forests on the Pangean continent. For a hefty price, of course. Some gol the currency of this world, but for most, reproduction.
“Have you heard?” says the bald man, fondling a half-naked Amazoness. “This idiot from the Draco Seren guild has been causing a ruckus in the north.” He has on pieces of metal armor over thick clothes covering vital points.
“Leave it to those fools to create a mess for us wizards to clean,” says another, relaxing with a couple of cool-haired, horned Pixies. Sporting sparkly leotards with pink ribbons down their right thigh and crystal blue wings. “And I thought they were supposed to be the janitors,” he finishes, sipping some wine as they feed him grapes.
“You didn’t even hear the best part. They said he was one of those red-head freaks.”
They’re all thrown back, catching February’s attention.
“I thought they were wiped out.”
“Supposedly. If it’s true, they’ll have a bounty out soon. He notices February’s intrusive stare. What are you looking at girly?” he asks. He rubs his chin stubble disgustedly. “It ain’t right, Le Sier. We shouldn’t have to share a world with these exorcising fucks. It’s already enough those government dogs take 65% of our pay, but now I can't enjoy my downtime while these fucks can take our jobs? I’m gonna find that piece of garbage and teach him whose money he’s messing with.”
“You said it, Master Canaan. Once that bounty drops, we'll be feasting like kings,” says Le Sier before spilling some ramen onto his lap.
February tucks her head down and motions to the first counter. “Uck, smells like cayenne,” she whispers into her sweater.
Swimming through the crowd, she gets lost, finding herself back by the entrance at Johnstone’s Cafe.
“Hello! I'm Johnstone, and welcome to the cafe that never sleeps!” shouts the olive-skinned, round gentleman behind the bar. “You must be new around here. Please take a seat!” he says, turning to prepare her a drink. He’s wearing a yellow apron with the cafe’s title and #09, over a flora-unbuttoned shirt, some shorts, pink medium-cut hair slicked to the back, and navy eyes.
February cautiously sits on one of the cushioned high chairs. Next to her is a more timid Mandragora. A plant monster with a small woman's shape, a flower blossoming for hair, vines for garments, and roots for feet. She clasps a glass of sparkling water, sneaking a peak of February.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“A-are you a Dryad?” she optimistically whispers, observing her hair.
“No no no, I’m a Pangean from Perisipan,” February responds.
“Perisipan!? That’s a long way from home!” shouts a girl jumping up from under the bar. Similar looks to Johnstone, but contrasting his weight and lackluster demeanor. Similar age as the other two, wearing her apron over a flora-patterned tank top, with denim capris and her wavy pink hair laying down her shoulders, topped with a blue ribbon.
The two clutch each other, scared by the sudden question.
“I’m Jericho! Nice to meet you. And that’s Ramah you’re holding.” she states with her luscious pink lips.
“Oh, hi Ramah, hi Jericho. My name is February.”
“Can I get you something to eat?” asks Johnstone.
“You have to try our special!”
“W-what is it?”
“Apple pie with wild cherry ice cream!” they announce it together as if they rehearsed it.
“O-okay,” she answers. “Would you like some too, Ramah?” she asks.
“Yes, please.”
The two servers bring them slices of their signature crispy, golden apple pie. The scarlet ice cream that kisses the tops of the pastry cascades down the flaky side, cooling the caramelized center.
Following the first bites, their eyes sparkle.
“Sooo good!” they shout, holding their cheeks.
“So February, are you a scholar? A nurse? You must be an up-and-coming doctor with that hair color.” Jericho asks with excitement.
“I haven't decided yet, but I’ve been thinking about becoming an exorcist.”
“Seriously? Why?” Ramah asks, shocked.
“Well I would’ve been a doctor, but I figured since exorcizing is so dangerous, there’d be plenty of opportunities for people with healing Fantasia.”
“Fantasia”
“Ramah, I explained this yesterday. Okay, take notes this time! Fantasia is a life force every being on planet Eden has. It allows most of us to manipulate, conjure the elements, alter our bodies, the environment, and generate a slew of substances. It can be used for jobs, transportation, or a tool for everyday life like cooking and cleaning.” Jericho advertises.
“How can I learn Fantasia?”
“As she said, everyone already has Fantasia but can’t access the same amount as other races.”
“What do you mean access? I've never been able to use my Fantasia. I always thought I didn't have any.”
“Being a Magradora, you are from the Titan race. Like the Honey Bees, Vampires, and others, you can access 90% of your Fantasia. The 10% you can’t access is what little human blood you have. Pangeans like Jericho and I can access 50% of our powers. And humans can only control 10% of Fantasia.”
“I don't understand. how can humans mix with Titans and nerf the control over their fantasia?”
“It is because the human race naturally doesn't have Fantasia. They’re a warrior race that focuses on physical strength, using charms, spells and other temporary casting techniques. I don't see that as using Fantasia. More like a magic trick. So they evolved that way. Pangeans focus on the spirit and nature. It’s been a recent phenomenon for humans to be born with Fantasia.” Johnstone interrupts angrily, picking up their now empty plates.
“Excuse him, it’s a touchy subject,” Jericho says, cleaning the bar with a towel. “Either way, they are the weakest link so they have to use wands to help conduct their power. Other races use wands while learning to use their powers. I’m sure you Magradoras use your buds to store light. February, did you have a wand?”
“Not that I know of, no. I learned to use my powers from mimicking medicinal plant biology,” she answers, scratching her head. “But I heard some animals use their tails, horns, and antennae to master their abiliti-”
“You think someone as strong as me needs some stupid training wheels?” Canaan interrupts. “If humans are so weak, why do all exorcists, who are majority Pangeans, have to register with a wand? I would never let something so childish hold me back from finding the Holy Grail.”
“What’s a Holy Grail?” Ramah asks nervously.
“Somewhere in the world, there’s this mystical treasure grander than even the gods themselves. No one knows where it came from or why it exists, but they say it’s the brightest thing you’ll ever see. It's so bright, you won’t know you’re looking at it.” he states, slamming down the job poster. It’s a dingy piece of paper with a picture of a golden chalice in the center and a 25 billion gol price tag. “And anyone that drinks from it will have any wish granted.” he finishes putting his arm around February’s shoulder.
“Besides that, all we know is a while ago a group of travelers roamed planet Eden and just happened to come across it. In time many began to speculate its existence.” says the black-winged beauty.
“Genevieve, how’d you know about it?” asks Canaan, perplexed.
“My people have told this story for years. I know it like the back of my hand. In some cases, people believed it was just a cup. Some say it was a weapon, and some even say it can be a person. Many searched but never returned to claim their prize.”
“Yeah, until I return the king of this stupid rock,” Canaan announces smugly.
“If you want to rule the planet, you shouldn’t call her stupid. We Pangeans believe she’s always listening and she’ll pick her ruler. If she wants one.” Johnstone says irritated.
“I-i feel like I’ve seen that before,” February simply says.
A blanket of silence coats the building. All eyes shift to the bar, bewildered. Murmurs sails through the air.
A wave of laughter roars throughout the building. People cry, holding their stomachs, falling out of chairs, and spilling food and drinks.
“This chick thinks she saw the Holy Grail before!” shouts one of the drunk men.
“What did you wish for?"
“You sure it wasn’t a fake?
“What a load of bullshit!
More insults berate her from all corners of the building. Johnstone and Jericho halt in their spots with their heads down. Ramah's eyes search around for some insight.
February watches her hands grip the ends of her dress, and her brows sink onto her eyes. Her lips curl tightly, and a mighty roar sits in her throat, prepared to be released.
Her heart is the only thing she can hear.
“Now that was truly funny. I don't think I've seen anyone make this many people laugh so hard. Big John, put her order on my tab,” Canaan shouts as his group walks towards the exit. “I hope I see you around Cabbage-top!” he says to February as the slide doors close behind him.
“If you want to find a spot in a guild, you shouldn't make enemies through accusations and dreams,” Jericho mutters shamefully.
“I’m not lying. My mother showed me her drawings of it. That drawing.”
“You’re saying your mother found and drew that picture of the treasure,” Ramah asks.
“Yes, she is an exorcist named Adalaide Peony. She told me many stories about her and her guildmates traveling for years searching for it. When they found it, her master told her to make a drawing and leave it to its rightful owner. I thought about becoming a doctor, but every time I do, I think about her. All her research, all the maps, just her contribution to our village is something I can’t compete with.” February says as her eyes begin to flood. "But that doesn’t mean I'm not going to try. My dream isn’t to make the best hospital, reverse death, or teach at a big university. It is to show everyone, even jerks like that guy, that they can achieve anything they put their minds to” she declares.
Johnstone gives a mighty laugh, more robust than the roar from earlier. “If you ask me, I think you’d make a great exorcist.” He begins to write on a piece of paper. “And since you’re Lady Adalaide’s daughter, you’re going to need this on your journey, along with the Great Mushroom Plains.” he finishes, giving her the paper with a proud smile.
“But how did you-” February is cut off by the train’s twenty-minute warning whistle.
“You can get it from the library upstairs. There's no fare because only big city stations charge you for traveling. And don’t worry about registering right now because you’ll need a guild master’s note of recommendation or request from his guild. You can still work as a freelancer, but it’ll have to be voluntary. But I think you have no problem with that.” says Johnstone.
February smiles ambitiously.
“We’re rooting for you Febby! Make sure to write to us!” Jericho shouts, reaching over the bar to hug her. Streams of tears shoot from her eyes.
“Please stay safe, and come back to visit!” Ramah says joining the hug.
Johnstone joyfully gives the group one big bear hug. Waving her goodbye, she waves back almost falling as she hops up the stairs.
In the library the books are on wooden shelves behind glass, low hanging chandeliers, plants grow up and down the walls, and a glass dome roof. February approaches the wooden counter. Books are cluttered, a globe is tilted, and document scrolls lay astray. Vines appear, moving everything to the sides. She meets the librarian, Rosmund.
“Hello, sorry about the mess. I am Rosmund,” she says, adjusting her bottle glasses.
“I was told you can help me find my mother’s book,” February says, giving her the paper. Rosmund yawns, digging through her mint-colored bedhead, observing the note.
“Oh! Lady Adalaide’s daughter? The Codex should be in the isle of occupations,” she says, pointing to her left. “Are you an exorcist?” She adjusts the navy blue dress strap under her stripe-patterned sweater.
February is frozen. She grows a proud smile. “No, not yet.” she bounces away jovially.
She enters the aisle, finding a dark leather book with big gold letters spelling Gigas Codex. She takes it from the shelf, observing her mother’s name in the lower right corner. She hears a snarky laugh coming from behind her.
“My goodness, I knew I smelled manure,” says a smug voice. February sighs, depleted of all excitement. Turning around to see a young lady with blue eyes, ashy blonde hair in a ponytail, and two large bangs. She wears a beige sweater, a blue skirt, and knee-high boots.
“Well if it isn’t the walking pigweed.”
“What’re you doing here, Sevilla”
“Oh, my dear February you know me. I do whatever I want.”
February is disgusted at her complacency.
“I know you didn’t see much of your mother, but surely the big brain knows reading her work won’t bring her back.”
“Who said she was gone!?”
“Where is she?
February grows irate.
“That’s what I thought. Now, just hand it over.”
“No, it's going to help me become an exorcist. Don’t you have enough, princess?"
“Becoming? I think it’s about time you retired.”
“How about we just decide this with a game of rock, paper, scissors?”
“So childish.”
“It worked any other time.”
“Did you find it?” Rosmund asks, peering around the shelf. “Oh hello princess. I’ve noticed you’re dressed more casually than usual.”
“Oh this, it was just for the trip here. Next time, I’ll wear my dress so I can remind Ms. Peony just how poor she is," she states vainly. "Now give me the book. You can get it when I’m done.”
“You two know I can make you a copy of the book. It may take a few days.” Rosmund squeezes between the arguing.
“No thanks!” their shout blows her sway.
“Alright, let's get this over with,” Sevilla utters. February sets the book on the shelf.
“ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS!” they shout. February wins paper to Sevilla rock.
“Fine, just don't lose it like you did mommy. Some of us actually need it.” Sevilla states as she struts away, we catch a glimpse of her tiny white wings on her upper back.
“To do what-”
“Don’t even-” she tries to cut off February.
“Find the monster that stole your boobies?”
Sevilla gets flustered and storms off.
“Why is she like that?” February asks herself, tightening her fists.
The bracelet on her ankle begins to shine. A green aura shines underneath Sevilla’s feet. A briar vine slithers near her foot but disintegrates up February’s observation.
She hears the five-minute whistle, “Rosmund, I’ll be back in a couple of days to return it. I can't miss this train. I'm sorry.” February shouts, rushing through the exit and down the stairs. Sevilla is having a drink at the cafe.
“Good luck February!” shouts her group of new friends.
“February,” Sevilla says, “be safe out there, and happy birthday.” she turns away, sipping her drink.
The orange steam-powered train’s silver-haired pitmen on pulleys covered in dirty and grim, wearing gray overalls with t-shirts that used to be white. They finish wiping down the train with oil, going on to refill the giant tank that replaces the second car with water.
Two teenage workers finish feeding the Ursa Majors, two giant bears layered in brunette fur, hooked to the front of the train to help pull it.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, at this moment the PointMetro train to Misha, Steampoint will be departing now. Halfway through our trip, we will have a brief stop in Lago Vista, Europa.” says a lady on the intercom.
The final whistle blows. The wheels begin to clack. Steam bellows from the pipe above. The train is pulling out, and February runs down the platform behind it.
A family observes concern. They wear winter clothing: heavy coats, boots, thermals, scarves and cossak hats. This is the popular attire of Steampoint, the origin of most passengers. Watching curiously from the deck of the rear of the caboose. The little girl holds a honey lollipop. A sign above their head reads PointMetro with a picture of the face of a bear right underneath.
February’s flats flutter against the pavement. Screaming over the engine. Sliding the book into her leather bag, picking up her pace. Throwing her bag onto the deck, the mother catches it as she leaps on board, hooking arms with her. She clutches her, admiring her scent before pulling away, realizing the uncomfortable situation.
The girl squints at her suspiciously. She walks through the door, looking back at the family, who stares back with confused expressions. She grows envious of the little girl.
February walks through the car full of abstract, obscure shapes and forms on an orange and purple horizon on the verdant ground. Full of symbolism, including childish representations of bears, deer, and birds, along with the all-important great lake, the Steampoint's source of power.
She finds her way to the second one with even more. A twenty-three-year-old man with a handlebar mustache stands in the middle of the aisle with a metal hole puncher with orange rubber grips in his hand. He wears a dark purple high-waisted inspector suit with orange trim. His short, tin-colored hair is slicked to the back.
“Ticket, ma’am?”
“I’m just riding to Lago Vista.”
“Well, right this way, express passengers are encouraged to sit in the common area,” he says, guiding her through the two cars that hold more compartments.
Sitting her in a green cushioned seat, “Would you like something to eat? On the menu, fish cooked in a honey bourbon with berry puree.”
“No, thank you.” She says, sinking in her seat, holding her stomach.
“Would you like some water?”
“No thank you, could you just wake me up when we get to Lago Vista?”
“Of course, long trip?”
“It’s getting leggy, but thank you.” Taking off her shoes. Sitting them on the floor, she pulls out some cream from her bag and rubs it on her soles. Laying down using her bag as a pillow.
MANZANA STATION, LAGO VISTA, EUROPA.
“Um, excuse me, Miss? Are you all right?” A female inspector asks, gently tapping February. She has a similar uniform, but the pants are replaced with a purple skirt and heels. Her hair is pinned into a bun.
February wakes up to a small blanket covering her. Stumbling out of her seat, greener than her hair. “This sucks. I can't walk. I am never getting on a train again!” She mutters, wobbling to the aisle. Knocking her bag onto the carpeted floor, “Excuse me, is this Europa Station?”
“Um, yes. We are currently unboarding. Would you like some help?”
“No, thank you. I just need a quick break.” She says, sitting in a nearby seat, rubbing the bridge of her nose, underneath her glass.
“Miss, you have to hurry. This is your stop. Any longer, you will have to-” The train whistle cuts off the gentleman from earlier, taking off.
February notices her bag dropping to the floor. As she picks it up, her knees buckle, and she sinks. Beginning to panic.
“Wait, wait, waaaait!”
February sticks her head out the window again. “Noooo!”