In the end, the most effective method for the potion-making turns out to be relatively complex. I have to first double the concentration of the acid, then, before the new concentration ‘sets’ I have to return it to its original concentration. Repeating that a few times while swirling the mixture seems to do a good job at making the reactions happen quickly.

And making the reaction happen quickly between the harash root slivers and the venom seems to be key to increasing the number of health points the potion offers.

After that, I actually reduce the concentration further – in comparison to the harash root, the aslebellum seems to work better with a longer dissolution time. I’ve also discovered that, as long as enough time passes after I reduce the concentration, I can actually reduce it further.

Therefore, my final step is to reduce the concentration by half again as soon as I can, and then by half a final time when the reaction between the aslebellum and the rest of the concoction is complete.

The final product that I come out with is a lot more satisfying than what we started off producing.

!o+on §&me: @cid%c Heal§?!

Ingre&ie&ts: Aslebellum, Harash, (unknown) venom

E§§ec!s: Heal§?! for 39u of heal%*: ov/r 2 ?!nute§

Sid#-e§§ec!s: 2 acidic dama§e e/e%y ?!nute fo% 4 ?!nute§

Close message? Y/N

The healing and the damage time haven’t changed, but this new potion only loses eight units of health for the thirty-nine that it provides, giving a net benefit of thirty-one units of health. Significantly better than the one unit of net benefit that we’d had before.

My other experiments had mostly offered better results than the initial potion, though a few were worse, but this is definitely the best of them all. The downside, of course, is that I have to be involved in it.

“No luck?” I ask River. He gives his equivalent of a sigh.

No, master. I’m sorry.

“It’s alright,” I say, though sigh a little myself. The problem is that River is failing at the first hurdle: he’s unable to even enter his Core space, or whatever the equivalent is for lizard-folk. Either my instructions are exceedingly poor, or it’s because he’s only Tier one. Or both.

What do you wish me to do? River asks. I consider the question for a moment.

“Keep trying,” I say in the end. Surely it wouldn’t hurt? “But don’t spend too much time on it. I will try to create a few more of these potions for backup, but you keep making ones with boiling water. Try to improve the concentration as much as possible by reducing them, maybe try grinding the leaves and roots too, but don’t worry about matching the venom exactly.”

My reasoning is that, even if they’re weaker, he’s able to create them by himself. And who knows? Perhaps by reducing the concentration of the water significantly and grinding the herbs, he’ll be able to make a potion which has at least thirty-one units of health. If it has more than that, he’ll actually be beating the acidic healing potion for effect.

As you wish, River agreed. I will need to find more ingredients.

“I’d imagine that some of the others have finished their meditation by now,” I reply. “I’m sure that we can find a group to go with you.”

The others have all returned from their hunt and have been meditating for most of our exploration time, but I’m sure some of them wouldn’t mind going out again – hunting is necessary to maximise their gains after all.

It only takes a few minutes to check with my Bound and soon I’m watching the backs of River, Bastet, the cubs, and the two kiinas disappear down the hill. Fenrir and Sirocco both stay with me – Fenrir because he apparently wants to guard me, and Sirocco because she wants to absorb more of her Energy-Heart.

The sun is already mid-afternoon, the experiments having taken a good two or three hours. My hide is doing well; the ventilation the fire provides helps it dry quickly. I still anticipate it needs a little bit more time, though.

Stretching it for a bit longer, I settle down to sit in the sun. After my experience with the fire earlier, I feel reluctant to go too deeply into that again any time soon. Instead, I want to work on something which desperately needs to be solved, and which might actually help me with my efforts anyway.

My soul damage.

The problem is that I’ve already tried several methods, and they just haven’t worked. I’ve tried feeding Energy into the void, and it’s just been consumed. I’ve tried extending my matrix further in that area, but though I succeeded in doing that, it had no noticeable effect. I’ve even tried forming my mana into ‘healing’ mana, and using that. No luck.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Perhaps the issue with the methods I’ve been trying so far is that they’re what worked with healing my Core and internal matrix; that doesn’t mean that they’ll work with my soul.

So, this time, instead of trying immediately to think of a solution, I attempt to start at the root – what caused the problem in the first place.

Obviously, it was Pure Energy, and I don’t know enough about Pure Energy for this line of thought to be at all helpful. What I do know, is how it felt to have sustained the damage in the first place. Even a few weeks after the event, it’s still vivid in my memory.

Before coming here, I wasn’t even sure I had a soul at all; after suffering the pain and damage to it from the Pure Energy, I was convinced that I do.

I close my eyes and bring to mind that moment. The feeling of pain in something I recognised on an instinctive level, but could never have discovered on my own. Part of me recoils once again, as if flinching at the memory.

Attempting to pounce on it like Bastet would an unsuspecting beast, I’m just as disappointed as she becomes when it escapes my mental grasp.

I try a couple more times, but it seems like my soul – if I’m even succeeding this much in feeling it – quickly becomes inured to the traumatic memory and stops reacting. Or perhaps it’s because I am more used to it.

This isn’t working.

I sigh, adding it to the list of other things that haven’t been working. Opening my eyes, I stare up at the blue sky. There’s not a cloud to be seen today, though the slight haze that obscures my view of the valley indicates that this is not a state of affairs that’s likely to continue.

Somehow, the blue sky, the same clear colour of my father’s eyes, reminds me of something.

I have a Skill which deals with the soul. Two, actually, though only one might possibly be able to help me here.

After all, what can the Battle of Wills be but a battle between two souls?

I’m putting words to a thought that’s been percolating at the back of my mind for a while – maybe this is what I almost grasped when considering how the fire could have consumed the essence of who I am: my soul. Ever since the first Battle of Wills with Spike, I’ve been wondering about what the space actually is. With all the evidence of subsequent Battles, that it is some sort of soul space is the only thing that makes sense.

Point one: Kalanthia said right at the beginning how Bonds affect the soul, so that the sundering of a Bond, willing or unwilling leaves scars upon it.

Point two: when I’m engaging in a Battle of Wills, I have the same access to my opponent’s emotions as I do with a full Bond – as long as I move close enough. But that could be because our souls have to be within a certain distance of each other to do so.

Point three: we are unable to feel our own bodies while in this space, even though time continues to pass for our bodies. I mean, I’m assuming a little bit here, but I was unable to feel how close to drowning my own body was during the fight with the crocodile.

Equally, the crocodile appeared unable to defend itself while it was engaged in the Battle, given how River didn’t have any injuries. That time passed is clear – I wasn’t sure it did, but given that River was able to kill the crocodile in the middle of our Battle, I think there is sufficient evidence that time doesn’t stop.

Actually, that latter is very important to know: it means that I mustn’t use Dominate on an opponent which is surrounded by allies, not unless I have my own allies to defend me while I’m vulnerable. Otherwise, next time, it could be me who disappears mid-Battle. Which in itself seems to support the Battle of Wills being either a mental or soul projection.

It might not be a soul projection; it might be a mental one. But with what I know about Willpower being connected to the soul from Nicolas’ world’s experiments, I think there’s a strong likelihood that my guess here is correct.

Who knows – what if the crocodile was so indomitable because I’m suffering a penalty of twenty percent to the stat which governs the success of the Battle? Perhaps if I hadn’t had the damage, I might have made more headway against the water-dweller. Then again, perhaps not. Obviously, I wasn’t able to Inspect it before it was dead, so I have no idea what the minimum recommended Willpower level for it was.

Anyway, that’s somewhat irrelevant to the matter at hand. If I’m right, that gives me a new avenue to explore to heal my soul damage.

But how to use it? Can I enter that space again by directing it at one of my Bound? I doubt it, somehow, but decide to give it a go. Of course, I’d better try it on Fenrir, not Sirocco – since she’s connected to me through Tame, that could have some unintended side-effects.

“Fenrir, could you come and help me here, please?” I say out loud, turning my eyes to where he’s gnawing on a chunk of meat.

He perks up at my words and comes trotting over, his side of the Bond emanating eagerness.

“Do you remember when we first met? The space we entered?” Fenrir cocks his head and sends a sense of confusion along with a few images. The pictures are of us fighting in the cave, of him feeling weakness suffusing his limbs, of seeing me stand over him – much larger than life. “Yes, and then after that – do you remember what happened?”

This time, he sends a picture of grey mist, the feelings attached far more informative than the picture itself. The emotions are those of fear, of sensing something much larger and more powerful than himself come closer. Of being offered safety and belonging. Of his eager acceptance and the immediate brightness of a connection being formed. Of him feeling an instantaneous sense of loyalty, hierarchy, and Pack.

So he does remember it, though somewhat differently from me. It’s interesting to see how he’s connected the automatic feelings of loyalty and obedience to the usual expectations within a Pack. Unlike what happened with River, I get the feeling that this isn’t so foreign to his personality, fortunately for my sense of guilt.

“I’m going to try to do something similar to what happened in that last memory of yours,” I tell Fenrir. “I don’t know what will happen, but are you OK with me trying?”

He sends a sense of confusion across to me, but willing acceptance of whatever I wish to do. Perhaps I should wait for River to come back…or Bastet. They, at least, would be able to better understand what I’m trying to do here.

Then again, who knows when they’ll be back? Surely this is unlikely to hurt Fenrir? He’s already been through it once, already.

“Dominate,” I say firmly, looking in his eyes.

As if the universe is laughing at my previous trepidation, nothing happens. I try again, but then shake my head. It’s not working.

Clearly, the Skill detects that a Bond is already in place and stops it from triggering. Or something like that.

“Thanks Fenrir,” I say, trying not to let my disappointment leak across to him. “You can go back to eating.” With a hint of confusion, he trots away.

Well, that was a let down.

My throat is dry, so I pull out my sneleon shell full of water. As I drink, I see the blue sky and my own face reflected in the surface. I suddenly pause.

Could that work?