Months had passed since Ashlyn found herself alone, potentially the last surviving member of her family. She had gradually come to terms with her situation – not in the sense of acceptance, but in recognizing the stark reality of her circumstances. Instead of dwelling on the past, her focus had shifted to carving out a path for the future.
The likelihood of being the sole survivor of her family weighed heavily on her, though she dared not cling to false hope. Now, her thoughts turned to planning ahead.
The intentions her parents had in giving her the Neuroenhancer and the arcanite had perished with them. She speculated that perhaps they intended to equip her with the means to survive and live as fully as possible. They might have been saving the resonant-making tools for a more significant rebellion against the Hold. How they acquired even a single piece of arcanite was beyond her understanding, let alone acquiring the enhancer.
Now, the responsibility of how to use these tools rested solely on her shoulders. Her parents' final wish was for her survival, a wish she fervently shared. The logical path would be to train quietly, using the rings to carve out a discreet, peaceful existence. Yet, Ashlyn harbored a different desire – revenge. She yearned for retribution against those who had wronged her and her family, a revenge that, she knew, needed to be calculated and cold.
Ashlyn was deeply aware that her quest for vengeance was a path of danger and uncertainty. It would likely take years, if it were even achievable. The Hold, with its resources and methods of tracking down rogue resonants, posed a formidable threat. The likelihood of their paths crossing, either by chance or due to them hunting her down, was inevitable.
She recognized that she must be strategic in her approach. Avoiding settlements and laying low might delay their encounter, but it wouldn't prevent it. They had ways of finding those they labeled 'rogues.' Ashlyn knew she had to be clever and meticulous in her planning. Every step she took from now on had to be calculated, every decision made with the utmost caution and foresight.
Ashlyn was also aware of her own tendencies to overlook and oversimplify problems, which made overthinking a necessary counterbalance. The Neuroenhancer served as an invaluable resource for information, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was on the brink of making the gravest mistake of her life. The idea of infiltrating the Hold, which had seemed so ludicrous at first, was now taking a firmer hold in her mind. It wasn't a mere whim; her reasons, she believed, were valid. At least, she hoped they were.
The primary realization that led her to this terrifying idea was the understanding of why her progress with the rings had stalled. The enhancer, while an impressive repository of knowledge, lacked the ability to teach in the truest sense. It was a tool, not a mentor. It could provide technical assistance with the rings, but it couldn't impart experiential wisdom or correct her mistakes. Self-taught resonants often reached a plateau at the third ring, beyond which human guidance was crucial. The Academy existed for this reason, a place where resonants striving for greater mastery gathered.
Another driving force behind her decision was her unadmitted need for human connection. Her family, always on the run, at least had each other. Surviving alone was proving to be a challenge. She contemplated living in the settlements, where the Hold's influence was less pervasive, but that carried its own risks. Memories of her grandmother's harrowing experience in a northern settlement haunted her. According to the story, her grandparents had once enjoyed a semblance of normalcy there, with children and enough to survive, until a surprise screening by the Hold shattered their peace. Her grandfather's ultimate sacrifice to buy time for the family to escape was a reminder of the dangers they faced.
In her own experience, these settlements offered only temporary refuge, a brief respite to trade for essentials before returning to the wilderness. It was a tough existence, but it had kept them alive. Now, faced with the unreal prospect of infiltrating the very place she had been taught to fear and despise, Ashlyn wrestled with her options.
Infiltrating the Hold was an insane idea, she knew, but it was also a way to keep revenge on the table. Could she truly integrate into their society and orchestrate its downfall from within? The thought was as frightening as it was thrilling.
Nevertheless, she resolved to table this idea until she had mastered more rings. In the meantime, she dedicated herself to training with an exhaustive intensity, all the while scrutinizing her plan for any fatal flaws that might render it untenable.
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In a nondescript cave, hidden within a forest slowly healing from acid rain, Ashlyn stood enveloped in shadows. Her focus was absolute as she extended her hands, from which emanated rings of golden light that cast a warm glow in the otherwise dim surroundings. The cave was filled with various objects, all unified by their grey hue – the products of her relentless practice.
Her golden hair danced lightly around her face as the second ring sprung to life, encircling the first and zero rings. This ring bore more intricate geometrical patterns and rune-like inscriptions than her previous attempts. Holding the complex concept of Shape in her mind, now enriched with specific parameters, she gritted her teeth in concentration.
With a determined expression, she opened her eyes and firmly held onto the conceptual forms. Moving swiftly, she guided a nearby rough stone into the swirling rings. As it passed through, the stone was reshaped into a sleek, grey arrow-like object.
“It’s done!” Ashlyn exclaimed, her voice tinged with a mix of triumph and exhaustion as she fell to her knees.
Despite the fatigue that enveloped her, a smile of satisfaction graced her features. Ten failed attempts had nearly depleted her mental reserves, but she had persisted, driven by an unwavering resolve. The eleventh attempt had been successful, a breakthrough that allowed her to impart a specific shape to her QS material using the second ring. This achievement was more than a mere advancement in her magical capabilities; it was a key moment in her journey.
This success marked the benchmark she had set for herself – the point at which she would venture out from the safety of her cave and begin her journey toward the Hold. As she sat there, gathering her strength, Ashlyn felt a sense of readiness wash over her.
After her groundbreaking success, Ashlyn allowed herself a well-deserved rest, savoring the satisfaction of her achievement. The following morning, she confirmed her newfound mastery by effortlessly transforming another stone into a more refined arrow. This breakthrough signified the crumbling of a significant barrier in her progress. Despite the knowledge of more challenging obstacles ahead, she felt invigorated by the thought that as long as she kept moving forward, success was within reach.
The decision to leave the cave was both terrifying and exhilarating. Still, before embarking on her journey, she faced the task of erasing the traces of her stay. The discovery of her creations, indicative of advanced resonant power, would undoubtedly attract unwanted attention from the Hold. As tempting as it was to leave her work as a defiant statement, she couldn't afford to compromise her plan before it even began.
The solution to this problem came from the Neuroenhancer. With her newly acquired skill in shaping, she could essentially unshape the objects into nonexistence. It was an odd concept – creating a shapeless shape – but Ashlyn approached it with a combination of curiosity and determination. The creation of an Unshape ring was a slower process, taking ten seconds of intense focus, but she was confident that with practice, she could hasten the process.
She began with a small grey stone, a mundane object that served no real purpose. Maintaining the concept of Unshaping proved to be more taxing than she anticipated. As she pushed the stone through the ring, it began to disintegrate into fine grey sand, but the process halted as her concentration wavered. Catching her breath, she examined the partially transformed stone. It hadn't vanished completely, but the resulting dust was fine enough to blend seamlessly with the soil, effectively disappearing.
Emboldened by this partial success, Ashlyn proceeded to unshape the rest of the stone and other non-essential objects. The task was challenging but grew easier with each attempt.
During a brief pause, a new idea sparked in her mind. What if she could collect the sand and later reshape it into something useful? How feasible would that be? Excited by this prospect, she proceeded to test her theory. She unshaped a small stand into grey sand, carefully collecting it in her bowl. Then, with one hand, she summoned a Reshape ring – a difficult but potentially rewarding exercise. Dropping the sand through the ring, she watched with anticipation, wondering if her experiment would yield the desired outcome.
Ashlyn's eyes widened in amazement as she watched the fine QS dust effortlessly transform into a precise arrow shape. This reshaping process was surprisingly more efficient than any other she had attempted before. Although the effort required for unshaping was considerable, she realized it provided a valuable, ready-to-use resource.
With this newfound understanding, Ashlyn decided against dissolving all her creations into the ground. Instead, she meticulously collected all the QS sand into a bowl. Next, she reshaped an existing QS object into a secure container to store the sand. She had learned that transforming QS objects into new forms was easier than creating them from scratch. However, interestingly, shaping the sand proved not only more straightforward but also space-efficient and curiously lighter. The logic behind this escaped her, but the practicality was undeniable.
The process of unshaping her numerous creations consumed the entire day, leaving her physically and mentally exhausted. She chose to rest for the night, gathering her strength for the journey ahead.
As dawn broke, Ashlyn stood at the mouth of the cave, ready to embark on her journey into the unknown. The early morning light cast a soft glow over the forest, signaling the start of a new chapter in her life. With her belongings carefully packed, including the container of QS sand, she felt a mixture of apprehension and excitement. The path before her was uncharted, filled with challenges and possibilities.
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The Vineyard, renowned as the largest settlement west of the Hold and possibly the largest of all, loomed on the horizon as Ashlyn approached. The road leading to it was proof of a bygone era, lined with what her mother referred to as asphalt – a remnant of pre-Doom human technology. Ashlyn found the cracked and gravel-strewn path more of an eyesore than a marvel; it seemed illogical to her why the ancients hadn’t opted for stone paving, which would have undoubtedly endured the test of time better than this deteriorating material.
As she neared the settlement, the landscape transformed into a patchwork of dilapidated stone huts, some accompanied by barns and modest fields. A significant number of these dwellings boasted grapevines, the settlement’s namesake, stretching out in neat rows. Crossing paths with a small group of outcasts exiting the Vineyard, she noted their attire was slightly better than hers. Shortly after, two donkey-drawn carts laden with goods rumbled past her towards the heart of the settlement – traders, she surmised.
The Vineyard, though an Outhold like the other settlements, maintained a bustling trade relationship with the Hold, primarily dealing in wine and various other products. This proximity to the Hold had made her family cautious, rarely venturing here. Ashlyn herself had only visited twice, and then only out of necessity for rare or well-crafted goods.
Continuing her journey, it took her another hour and a half to reach the core of the settlement. According to her father, the Vineyard housed nearly one hundred thousand souls – a number Ashlyn found difficult to fathom. She wondered how the Hold could be larger, though her mother, the only family member who had lived there, had once mentioned it might be comparable or just lightly larger in area. Her mother’s early memories were coincidently vague, but she often emphasized the contrast in lifestyle between the Hold and the settlements. The Hold revolved around rings and resonants, while settlements were a huge grouping of people trying to survive.
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In truth, aside from the occasional foray by hunters seeking rogue resonants, the settlements were of little interest to the Hold. This autonomy allowed them to live and govern themselves as they pleased, a freedom that Ashlyn now stepped into with a blend of curiosity and caution.
As she delved deeper into the heart of the Vineyard, her knowledge of its social hierarchy guided her steps. The settlement was a patchwork of smaller regions, each overseen by a local boss, all under the overarching authority of a mayor who exerted a quasi-ownership over the entire place. Ashlyn knew that adhering to common sense – staying discreet and avoiding trouble – would be crucial in navigating this new environment.
The commercial hub of the settlement bustled with activity. Stalls lined the streets, vendors calling out to passersby, hawking wares that ranged from handcrafted tools to aromatic smoked meats. Ashlyn straightened her tattered clothes, attempting to present herself as less of a vagrant, and approached a stall with a particularly approachable-looking vendor.
“Good afternoon, sir. Would you be interested in some fresh game?” she inquired politely, producing the meat and skins from her satchel. They had been neatly wrapped in a thin layer of QS material for preservation, but she discreetly kept this detail to herself.
The vendor smiled revealing a few missing teeth, regarding her with a mix of amiability and suspicion. Despite her ragged appearance, he seemed willing to overlook it for the sake of potential business. He asked for permission before examining the goods – a modest haul of hare and boar meat, skillfully cleaned and skinned.
“Well… The meat is nothing special, but with the acid rain, it’s worth a bit more… Nice job with the skinning, though it’s not a large catch… I’ll give you 20 coins, and that's already generous,” he said, feigning disinterest.
“That’s hardly fair, even before the rain. I’d say 30, but I’m in a bit of a hurry,” Ashlyn countered, a touch of impulsiveness in her tone.
The vendor scoffed slightly. “Hey, girl, I don’t know where you usually do business, but around here…” His voice trailed off into a typical haggling story, but Ashlyn wasn’t in the mood to barter extensively.
“Alright, 20 it is, but I need some clothes in the deal. Something without holes, if you please,” she conceded with a hint of resignation in her voice.
The man seemed inclined to negotiate further, but something in Ashlyn’s determined gaze prompted him to acquiesce.
“Alright, I'll find you something suitable,” the vendor remarked with a chuckle, a hint of humor in his voice. “You keep walking around in those rags, and they'll run you out of the inner districts. Beggars aren’t good for business, you know.” His words were light, but they carried an underlying truth about the harsh realities of the settlement.
He disappeared momentarily behind the stall, rummaging through a storage cart before returning with a beige piece of coarse fabric and a smaller, softer yellow piece. Tossing the cloth towards Ashlyn, he laid out the agreed-upon sum of 20 coins on the counter – a larger coin worth ten and ten smaller ones.
“This should keep you covered… Good doing business with you. Come back if…” His sentence trailed off, his tone shifting to a dismissive note, almost urging her to move along.
“Wait! How am I supposed to...?” Ashlyn started to protest, her eyes quickly catching sight of something on display. “Could you include that needle and some thread?” she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation.
With a sigh of exasperation, the vendor retorted, “Fine, 5 coins for those,” as he tossed the needle and a small spool of thread onto the counter, swiftly taking five of the smaller coins back.
Ashlyn wanted to object to his brusque manner, but sensing his growing impatience, she collected her purchases and retreated. She lamented not having scissors, but perhaps her knife would suffice.
Feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the bustling marketplace, Ashlyn sought refuge in a quieter alley where she could safely organize her new acquisitions. Leaning against a stone wall, she meticulously inspected the coins, looking for the customary star and cross emblem and biting them to test for counterfeits. The crudely fashioned coins of the settlements lacked the finesse but served their practical purpose. She compared them to the larger coins left by her parents, relieved to find all the currency genuine.
“You need to be smarter, Ashlyn,” she chided herself, turning her attention to the fabric. She realized she should have haggled more or at least compared prices with other vendors. The way she had let the man dictate the terms of the trade, treating her like an inexperienced child, was a reminder of her inexperience in such dealings. He had almost made it seem like he was doing her a favor, yet she felt taken advantage of. Ashlyn couldn't help but feel that she fell short of the standards her parents had set. It was perhaps a small blessing that they were not there to witness her first foray into the art of haggling.
Taking a moment to collect herself, Ashlyn drew in a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of self-reproach. She reminded herself that dwelling on her perceived shortcomings would serve no purpose. What mattered was learning from her experiences and improving with each new encounter. With a renewed sense of determination, she neatly folded the newly acquired cloth and exited the alley, set on finding shelter and gathering information.
Ashlyn knew that spending the night within the settlement was both a costly luxury and a risk, but it also presented an invaluable opportunity to glean insights from locals and travelers. Moreover, the prospect of wandering the settlement with her valuables after dark was not very appealing. During her past visits with her family, they had always conducted their business swiftly, leaving the settlement well before nightfall.
Spotting an inn was straightforward, even for someone who, unlike her, couldn't read. The universally recognizable sign of a bed was all everyone ever needed. However, she hesitated at the entrance of a particularly well-kept establishment, quickly concluding that its upscale appearance likely meant it was out of her financial reach. Mentally bookmarking its location, she continued her search in the less affluent areas of the settlement, where the buildings, though more modest, were sturdily built of stone to withstand the acid rain.
As she navigated the streets, lost in her observations of the local way of life, Ashlyn nearly collided with a cart parked outside a sizable stone building. A scruffy young boy was attempting to maneuver a stubborn animal into a side entrance, presumably leading to a shed for carts. The building's size and the presence of the cart suggested it might be an inn. It appeared shabby enough to be within her budget, so Ashlyn decided to venture inside.
Upon entering, she was greeted by the sight of an elderly woman, hunched over and sweeping the floor in a plain dress. The woman paused her cleaning, seemingly ready to switch into a welcoming hostess mode. However, upon seeing Ashlyn’s disheveled appearance, her demeanor shifted, and she looked as though she might be on the verge of shooing the young traveler away, possibly even wielding her broom as a deterrent.
Ashlyn stood there, momentarily uncertain, aware that her appearance didn't inspire confidence. She needed to quickly demonstrate that she was a paying customer, not just another vagrant.
Aware of the innkeeper's wary gaze, she quickly clarified her intentions with a mix of urgency and frustration. "I'm here for a room... My appearance isn't the best, but I assure you, I can pay."
The woman's skeptical expression lingered, igniting a spark of annoyance in Ashlyn. The thought of being judged despite her ability to pay was irksome. She was about to unleash a biting retort when the woman's demeanor shifted, her tone softening.
"Oh, I apologize, dear. It's just been a long day, and my back's giving me trouble," the woman said, her voice filled with fatigue. "But let's not dwell on that. You mentioned a room? We have some on the ground floor or the nicer ones upstairs. Which would you prefer?"
Ashlyn was taken aback by the woman's sudden change in attitude, offering the more expensive options in what seemed like an attempt to gloss over her initial reaction. She couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed by her own indignation, recognizing the innkeeper's tactic as a savvy business move.
"I'll take the less expensive option, thank you," Ashlyn replied, opting for honesty over pretense.
"Of course, I'll make sure you get the best available room downstairs. Would you like to include breakfast and supper as well?" the woman asked, her professionalism now flawless, almost to the point of irking Ashlyn.
It was then that Ashlyn realized she hadn't inquired about the prices. Scrambling to maintain her composure, she asked, "And what would the cost be for the room and meals?"
"For the room, it's five coins for the night, and each meal is two coins. If you pay for both meals upfront, it's a total of eight coins, and I'll include a bucket of hot water for bathing. Cold water is complimentary, of course," the woman explained, her tone devoid of any annoyance, almost making Ashlyn forget the steep prices.
Ashlyn weighed her options. The rates seemed steep for Vineyard standards, but she couldn't afford to stay more than a couple of nights anyway. Haggling over accommodation didn't sit right with her, so, with a sigh of resignation, she agreed to the terms. She couldn't deny the appeal of a hot bath after her long journey.
With a trace of reluctance, Ashlyn handed over one of her larger coins to the innkeeper, waiting expectantly for her change. She mentioned the possibility of extending her stay for another night, though she wasn't entirely sure yet. The woman responded with a polite smile and offered to show Ashlyn to her room.
As they walked, the innkeeper pointed out the small dining area, furnished with three tables where guests typically gathered for meals. The room was empty at the moment, but Ashlyn noted that it was still a few hours before supper time.
Her room was located at the end of a hallway, with two of the other three rooms appearing to be occupied. The woman demonstrated how to operate the room's lock, handed Ashlyn the key, and assured her that hot water would be brought to her room shortly. Ashlyn, remembering the cloth she had purchased earlier, requested a pair of scissors. The innkeeper looked momentarily puzzled but quickly regained her professional demeanor and promised to return with the scissors.
Once alone, Ashlyn surveyed her modest accommodation. The room was small, barely accommodating a bed, a stand, and some shelves. A narrow space in front of the bed was just large enough for a bucket. A half-closed window at the back of the inn let in a soft, natural light, and a candle on the stand promised illumination for the evening.
True to her word, the innkeeper returned shortly with the scissors, interrupting Ashlyn's examination of the room. She left again, reassuring Ashlyn that the hot water would follow soon.
With the door closed, Ashlyn began to organize her limited belongings. The task was quickly accomplished due to the scarcity of her possessions. She spread the cloth she had purchased over the bed and retrieved the needle and thread from her bag.
In the privacy of her room, Ashlyn set to work on the beige cloth. She envisioned a simple dress, something she wouldn't normally choose due to its impracticality for movement, but the limitations of her sewing skills and the material at hand dictated the design. She meticulously cut out a flowing, loose shape, taking care to form armholes and a neckline. Draping the fabric over her body, she made small adjustments to ensure a better fit.
While she was engrossed in her task, a knock on the door interrupted her concentration. “Miss, I have your hot water,” announced a weary young voice from the other side.
Opening the door, Ashlyn was greeted by the scruffy boy she had seen earlier with the cart. His reaction to her makeshift attire was blatantly obvious, his face a mix of shock and disdain. Feeling both tired and irritated, she quickly took the bucket and towel from him, shutting the door abruptly in his face. A twinge of regret nagged at her for possibly creating an unnecessary adversary. Her mother had always emphasized the importance of discretion and tolerance while in settlements, but Ashlyn couldn't help feeling indignant. She was a paying guest, deserving of respect regardless of her appearance. With a firm turn of the lock, she dismissed any further thoughts on the matter.
Alone once more, Ashlyn returned to her sewing. She threaded the needle, her fingers moving with determination as she began stitching the pieces together. The process was slow and somewhat clumsy, but she persisted, driven by stubbornness and necessity. The dress, though far from perfect, would serve its purpose and provide her with a semblance of normalcy among the settlement's inhabitants.
Choosing to capitalize on the rare luxury of hot water, Ashlyn set aside her makeshift dress-making project for a moment of self-care. She tested the water's temperature, finding it pleasantly hot, a small indulgence she seldom experienced. Back in the days with her family, heating water to such a degree was a luxury seldom afforded due to the trouble.
Tearing a piece from her worn-out clothes, she soaked it in the steaming water, starting her cleansing ritual. A small bar of soap, wrapped in the towel, caught her eye. She used it hesitantly, noting its lackluster fragrance and texture, a far cry from the herbal soaps her mother used to make. She scrubbed diligently until the water turned murky, then dried off with the towel, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.
Returning to her dress, Ashlyn used the previously cut piece as a template to mirror another section of fabric. Thankfully, there was enough cloth for both sides of the dress and a little extra. The next task was to sew the two pieces together, a challenge that tested her patience and skill. By the time she finished one side, the daylight had faded, forcing her to rely on candlelight to complete the other side, which took an additional hour.
Trying on the dress, she noted its slightly loose fit, which was expected considering her limited tailoring skills. To add a touch of style, she cut the softer yellow fabric into thin strips, creating a lace that she attached around the waist. The remaining yellow material was used to embellish the sleeves and neckline, adding a simple yet effective flair to the otherwise plain garment.
Standing back to assess her work, Ashlyn acknowledged that the dress was functional but not fashionable. It was a practical solution, and that was what mattered. She brushed off the imaginary critique of her mother, reminding herself that her current situation required pragmatism over perfection.
Dressed in her new attire, she felt a sense of accomplishment. It was a small victory, but one that symbolized her ability to adapt and overcome challenges, no matter how mundane they might seem.