Looking at the situation and coming to a conclusion as quickly and efficiently as possible, I immediately panicked and lunged for the alcoves' exit. I barely had enough time to think about the ramifications of doing such a thing; with that marbled thing crouched at a distance easily within arms reach, all I knew for sure was that I couldn't just sit there and wait for it to make a decision.

I am still to this day utterly bewildered by how I managed to get out of there without it attacking me or pinning me down; it's not like it couldn't have at a moments notice. Hell, with the backpack I was wearing, it could have just grabbed my pack and drawn me back in. The only possible explanation I could conceive was that it, for some unfathomable reason, decided against attacking me when it could easily have done so, which would also make this act decisively out of character for it.

Rushing out through the alcove archway, I stumble and trip over on the opposite side, where I hastily throw myself into a sudden roll and shuffle away from the arch. I glance back, only to see one of its hands slowly grasping the side of the arch and for its head to slowly emerge from the opening, glaring directly at me. I didn't know why I failed to chase me, I saw that thing quite literally phase through solid objects before, yet now it remained stationary, stuck in a space it could easily escape.

For whatever reason, however, it appeared unable to give chase. It remained locked in place, unmoving with the vindictive gaze of its eyes akin to daggers as they pierced through my mind. Much to my amazement, it seemed like the Statue was trying to do something, though I couldn't imagine what. The only clue or suggestion I could discern was the throbbing pulse between my ears and the tightness of my chest as it stared me down.

Much more intriguingly, though, was what was going on inside my mind. While I looked upon this thing, I started to feel...

----------------------------------------

I can't describe it accurately; the closest I could come to an accurate explanation was that I was, somehow, feeling emotions on behalf of the Statue, not just emotions but snippets and fragments of memories.

I could feel that it was sad, alone, forgotten, abandoned and unforgiven for 'what it had done', though what exactly 'it had done' was beyond my understanding.

I saw flashes of a life and experiences I had never had, from a perspective towering above my own, visions of whatever I was looking through, wandering through the sail-tree woods and lands I had never seen. I saw a town, no, a city built from geometric, minimalistic structures, many of which defied the laws of gravity and basic common sense. Virtually every structure was fashioned from walls of gently glowing marble which cast a faint pale light across all I could see, a place almost devoid of shade.

High above me, I witnessed a star, much unlike our very own. This one was akin to a jet black marble set against the nebulae which swallowed the sky. A deep, vicious purple corona stretched out from around this most charcoal orb, setting it apart from the vibrance which surrounded it entirely. The light that shone from its intangible surface was a gentle shade of faint purple, casting a subtle hew across all it touched.

The pavement beneath my point of view was carven and laid with such precision and artisanal expertise that the gaps between slabs were virtually non-existent as if the stonework was of one continuous piece of masonry rather than hundreds of individuals slabs.

Amethyst crystals appeared to grow around the bases of some of the houses, almost as if the crystalline material was cultivated akin to a fungus or a moss; it radiated from slight gaps in the stonework. Many of the crystal clusters showed signs of maintenance, and a few pieces chipped away here and there.

It was as if this place was somebodys' warped interpretation of perfection through minimalism, every single facet of what I could see screamed of it. If only I had more time to investigate and autonomy to walk around this place myself.

The air smelt devoid of, well, anything, entirely sterile and clear of pollutants or unwanted odours, not even traces of cooking to the almost stationary wind. I couldn't feel any temperature around me or anything at all; whether this was simply part of the vision or whether the source of the vision could not feel temperature or sensation was entirely up for debate. I could hear something in the distance, and it sounded like people talking about something. Alas, the speech was too faint for me to understand what language it was or what they were saying.

I felt something clawing at the deepest recesses of my mind, a name, a name for a place, perhaps the city I was looking upon at this time?

I kept getting this phrase, or perhaps the name of a location, burned into my mind, something about "Supra pinnaculum perfeccionis", which I recognised as Latin for 'Pinnacle of perfection'. A rather bizarre name for an equally odd place as this, assuming my postulation was correct and that it was indeed a name.

Within an instance, the source of this perspective was in a new location. I was outside the city, on some kind of hill, where I could observe it in its entirety. It had a wall which circled it entirely, appearing to be fashioned from stone, not unlike the stone from the ruined tower, covered from the foundation to crenulations with frescos and paintings, the very stonework of the wall engraved and embellished meticulously, it glistened in the purple hew of the strange sun. I saw a slab road leading to a massive gatehouse, which was flanked either side by towering sculptures running the length of the road until it reached a forest of sail-trees, where the path disappeared into the treeline.

Once more, my vision flickered, revealing that same city again, only this time it was under siege. I saw crudely fabricated siege towers being pushed by blocky, earthen figures towards the walls, large ballista like constructs lined up near the edge of the forest; with loud, dull twangs, they launched massive chunks of whittled wood, of which the tips had been hardened by fire. I saw wonderous arcs of emerald lightning arcing across the sky, only to fall from the heavens upon clusters of earthen figures, leaving nought but a puff of dust in their wake.

The air was laden with nought more than the thick, clawing fragrance of smoke, yet there were no fires to be seen. Perhaps the smell was from fires made not long ago, which the blocky figures recently extinguished. We may never know. All I knew, however, was that the very act of breathing was becoming a painful endeavour, one which sapped my concentration and clawed at the recesses of my consciousness.

As the fighting appeared to grow in intensity, as more abstract attackers assaulted from the forest, I watched, terror gripping me, as the charcoal star high above glimmered with amethyst energy, only to erupt in a blinding eruption of light. I felt the temperature spike violently as a deafening roar rolled over the land, as more vicious bolts of energy crashed from the sky like a crescendo of devastation.

The visions flickered violently, then dissipated entirely, returning my view to that of the hedge pathway and the alcove entrance, with the eyes of that marbled thing staring at me, only now there was something behind those eyes, something indescribable but alive. Something which had, potentially, seen far too much...

----------------------------------------

"You saw all of that, didn't you?" I asked the thing as I sat there, glaring at me. After witnessing what I had and feeling what I did, I came to the rather hasty conclusion that I was looking through one of the twin pairs of eyes the Statue had; perhaps I had borne witness to some of its memories, some of its history.

Much to my amazement, the Statue slowly rocked its head down, then back up again, a simple nod of agreement, it would seem. I'm not sure why this thing being able to understand me came as some surprise, perhaps the lack of any prior two-way communication between myself and it had coloured my impression of it. This development left me with a somewhat complex conundrum; I couldn't just walk away from this thing since it was clearly sapient and, until just a moment ago, was routinely expressing overt desires to cause me harm, physical or psychological. I decided, much against my current knowledge of this thing, to stay and ask it some questions; perhaps it could provide some kind of insight or knowledge through these visions, assuming it was a controlled or otherwise intentional act.

"What was that place?" I asked it. I sat down against the hedge on the opposite side of the path and tried to keep calm. There was no point getting anxious about this thing; if it wanted to do something, it very clearly could, as evidenced by prior run-ins with it. "Was that your home, or where you came from?"

The Statue slowly shook her head, a tenuous confirmation that she did not come from such a place, though it does raise a rather important question. If the Statue didn't come from such a place, why was it such a strong memory?

Considering 'Pinnacle of Perfection' was burned so strongly into my mind through such a fleeting vision, perhaps this was some kind of Amethyite equivalent of heaven or the afterlife?

It would make sense to assume it was, especially since it appeared micromanagement, mysticism, and standardisation were such strong themes they exhibited, from the shared barracks for Farinosa to the minimalistic designs of their masks. Perhaps this was the case, and maybe I had seen through the eyes of this marbled monster the very purity and perfection it was promised over on the other side, so to say.

"Do you remember why you were made?" I asked it. I had a pretty good idea about the purpose the Statue had from my prior conversations with Farinosa. However, knowing that it could talk, I was intrigued to see if the Statue had its own understanding or story about its creation and purpose. "And furthermore, what are you doing here?"

It remained silent, its eyes twisted and swirled in their sockets while the things head remained bolt steady, locked in place repeatedly scanning me from head to toe; the poor thing was probably baffled by my refusal to retreat from it, especially after our last few encounters. A few moments passed, time for it to process my question, maybe discern an answer, yet no response came.

Feeling a bit cocky and wanting to try and goad something out of this thing other than a slow nod or a glacial shake of the head, I turned about to remove my backpack and take a quick assay of what room I had to bring stuff with me. A quick pat to the side of my coat confirmed that I was still in possession of my notebook and, most importantly, the ensorceled pen.

When I looked back up from my brief search, I was startled by how much the thing had moved in such a fleeting moment of broken sight, its arm outstretched and fingers arrayed like the grasping talons of a bird of prey, the digits of its clawing hand less than a foot away from my legs. While I was concerned by this thing potentially being able to reach out and grasp me, a cursory look at the positioning of the Statue and the archway showed that. Even if it wanted to get to me, it would need to phase through the archway first, or at the very least phase its shoulders through. For whatever reason, it had failed to do so thus far, and now that its movement was entirely dependent on me not looking at it, it made me wonder about the precise mechanisms by which this thing was able to move. Was it possible that the dim light of the pergola passages was just bright enough to prevent it from moving, and by extension, the shade of the alcove allowed it the freedom to move?

"Now, now, that's not how we treat guests, now is it?" I ask with a mocking tone, shaking my head and wagging a finger at it while it was stuck motionless mid grasp.

Whether it was a direct response to my taunting of the thing or whether it was merely how it expressed frustration, a deep, guttural growl slowly echoed out from its cheekless jaws. I felt my legs vibrate slightly from the bassy reverberations, and I could almost feel the anger and frustration as if it were a tangible, physical force being exerted by the Statue. Much to a mixture of my discomfort and concern, I watched as the hand relaxed and the arm retracted back into the alcove. A second, softer growl echoed from within its throat while its eyes narrowed and fixated on me.

"We don't have to be enemies," I tried to reason with it, from what I had seen so far and from what Kliviero told me the other night about how something bearing a striking similarity to it came to my aid. I theorised that, unlike the Zhivaq or even the Amethyites, I could perhaps reason with it. "From what I've heard through the grapevine, you've been rather elusive for quite some time now; nobody knows what you've been doing or where you've been going, right?"

Its eyes continued to fixate on me, only for the lids to flutter for a moment, possibly this things' equivalent to blinking. The growling came to a halt as it sat prone on the other side of the archway. Something inside my mind told me that it must have been utterly perturbed by what I was doing.

"The small pixie thing in there with you, a construct much like yourself but far smaller which went to sleep when you arrived. Can you see her?" I questioned it. In truth, I was greatly concerned by what had happened to Kliviero, how she went entirely limp in the presence of the Statue. "Can you bring her to the archway, please?" If I could reason with this thing, there was at the very least the possibility that I could find out what happened to Kliviero, assuming her inactive state wasn't something permanent.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

With that, its head snapped to the side, only for it to shuffle and crawl around inside the archway. I gritted my teeth and looked away for a moment, unsure about what it was doing in there to Klivieros inactive body. It shuffled back around to face the archway and extended an arm to the edge of the arch, an arm which locked solidly in place once its wrist had passed the arch.

In its hand was the lifeless body of my fluttering companion. I didn't know what to think, was she gone?

"Y-yes, that's her." My voice quakes; I had no idea what this thing was about to do or what it could do. All I knew was that it would be more than capable of doing something drastic if it decided to do so. In the back of my mind, I wanted to congratulate it for being able to understand such an instruction, but at the same time, I knew all too well that it could easily tighten its grip and reduce the poor girl to nought more than a pile of fragmented metal and ceramic dust. "Could you put her down outside of the arch or as close to the arch as you can, please?"

With a level of precision and delicate manoeuvring of which I had not observed from the Statue before, it lowered its hand. It tilted its wrist, causing Kliviero to roll from its grasp, lying motionless a few inches outside the arch, not a sound coming from either.

Before I could approach Kliviero and see if she was alright, an awful sound which I could only liken to electrically charged nails being dragged across a copper chalkboard, I watched in horror as the Statues eyes shifted to a violent, malevolent deep crimson. Its eyes dropped, and eyelids lowered in place, its brow moving up and away. Was it sad?

While the things eyes were glowing a vicious crimson, Klivieros body twitched and writhed for a few seconds, appearing to be wracked with an indescribable energy. Only for the Statues eyes to return to their cyclonic blue display and the twitching to come to an abrupt halt, her eyes swirling once more.

Kliviero, after a few more seconds of inactivity, started moving again, appearing to come around. She glances up and sees the marbled form of a much, much larger construct than her glaring down upon her. Her reaction, understandably so might I add, was to promptly panic, jump up and flutter away as soon as she realised who it was that was staring at her.

"It's okay; you're safe now." I try to reassure Kliviero, who rushed to my side and landed behind my shoulder after seeing that I was present. I could feel her cold hands grasping at my coat, and I felt my coat vibrate with her fright. "I don't know what you did, but thank you." I gesture towards the Statue, whose face remained twisted with a sense of sadness, a rather interesting development considering what she had just done.

"I-it's you?" Kliviero climbed up my back and sat on my shoulder, her eyes fixated on the Statues face. "I-I thought you left this place, I thought that was a spectre of you the other night, b-but it's you, it's really you!" She fluttered free from my shoulder and cautiously approached marbled mass. "B-but why? Why did you leave us?"

The Statue spoke over Klivieros' last question, though I could barely discern it whatever tongue it was over the guttural, deep voice that the thing produced. Kliviero slowly backed away while it spoke, its jaw completely stationary throughout the whole endeavour. How precisely it managed to vocalise, I will never know. I noticed that its eyes grew dim, unfocused and distant as if it couldn't bear to look upon either of us or acknowledge the presence of Kliviero specifically. It slowly tilted its head to look upon the roof of the covered passageway, eyes glinting with the rare few traces of light that cast rays through the leaves.

I watched in horror as the marbled giant begun to fragment, breaking down into hundreds, nay, thousands of Ashen Bees, a vigorous swarm which writhed and hurled around the rapidly disintegrating outline of the Statue. This swarm then surged towards the canopy and bustled around, chunks of plant matter falling from the insectoid throng like a torrential rainstorm as it bore a hole in the very roof of the garden space which contained us.

The sound was cacophonous, and I could barely hear a single solitary sound over the buzzing maelstrom, which hammered away at the canopy above, ablating vast chunks of material. Before long, the swarm had managed to smash its way through the canopy, allowing it to surge away into the vibrant sky and thankfully bringing the grating noise with it.

----------------------------------------

Some time passed us by while we stood in utter shock at what had just happened, not just the presumed revival of Kliviero but the fact that this giant marble beast could disappear into the wilderness as a swarm of insects that permeate the entire environment around us. This thing could have been anywhere, at any time doing anything, and we wouldn't have the faintest clue that it was there. Heck, was this thing watching me from the moment I set foot in this world?

"I don't think she liked your questions." I nervously remarked to Kliviero; that was the last thing the Statue had heard before its spectacular, albeit abrupt exit.

"N-no, I don't think she did." Klivieros response was equally anxious, if not more so. Whilst I hoped we would have gotten a few more answers from the thing, I was glad that it chose to leave in a relatively peaceful manner. "I mean, it's pretty clear that she's quite upset about something, although what precisely it is that's troubling her is beyond me." Kliviero looks back at me, then glares at my shoulder and coat. "Hold on, didn't you just get stabbed in the chest?" She flew up to my chest and inspected the area where the warrior had stabbed me. "W-where did it go?"

"I got sent back to my place, somehow being sent home caused my injuries here to reset?" I trailed off as I spoke; I knew what I was saying was preposterous, even by the standards of this place, but it was the best explanation I could find. "There's some Amethyite Quire who's stuck in the real world, the same one we spoke about the other night, well, not long ago here that is, her name's Farinosa." I tried to catch Kliviero up on the situation. "Do you recognise that name?"

"Farinosa," Kliviero mull over the name. She squinted at an indistinct corner of the slab she stood upon in deep thought. "No, not that name does not sound familiar, definitely sounds like the name of a Quire, though; far too fanciful to be anyone higher ranking than that." She chuckled. "And that's coming from something with my name."

"She's definitely an Amethyite, wore the robes, had the mask, and so on," I explained. "She claimed to have gotten in a fight with someone over something fairly trivial, like asking for clarification or something, found herself stranded in my world and got burned bad when she tried to leave..."

"Burned?" She looked up from the pavement, her eyes agape. "She's lucky to be free from the void's embrace, let alone alive, all things considered." She fluttered up from the pavement. "And for your fellow Amethyites to turn upon you like that, she must be a nervous wreck after experiencing all of that."

"She's doing alright, at least as far as I can tell," I reassure the pixie. "Though I'm not sure what she's like when she's 'normal', she did say that her kind act out a bit when they are separated from their Protasi warding and whatnot."

"Right, that does make sense," Kliviero enlightened me. "I'm sure she's mentioned the whole 'textual warding' stuff the order talks about at great lengths; it's not just for protection; the stuff provides calming and psychological grounding benefits as well."

"Which makes sense since their Protasi magic stuff relies on their ability to think, right?" I queried; I was reasonably sure this theory was correct, but I wanted clarification from a second source.

"Yes, precisely." Kliviero nods her head and flutters back around me, landing on my shoulder once again. "This Farinosa you've been speaking to knows her stuff. What's she up to now?"

"She's currently in my room with a bunch of textiles making a brand new set of robes for herself," I explained. "That's why I'm here actually; she sent me here so that I could collect a bunch of different plants for her, something about using the resulting liquids to imbue the robes..."

"Oh, she's trying to do that?" Kliviero interjected. "A rather unusual way to do it, then again I suppose in her situation it's not realistic to expect her to have access to more reliable means."

"Well, anyway, she's filled a few pages in that notebook I was using with details about the plants I am supposed to be looking for." I continue. "Now, I don't know where I should look, but I would hazard a guess that the Sail-tree woods would probably be a safe bet for finding them." I reached into my pocket and retrieved the notebook. Flicking through the first few pages, I saw the detailed images and descriptions of seven different plants, each seeming to be vital additions I could not skip. I'd have more time to inspect what I was looking for later, but that brief check confirmed that I had not seen any of them thus far in the gardens unless I had simply overlooked them.

"The Sail-tree woods is probably the best place to go, though I'm sure I can help you find them quicker." She reached one of her arms up, the forearm shifting around into a short scythe, of which the blade was no longer from tip to forearm than her upper arm. "I used to receive herbalist tasks on the side from the masters when I wasn't required for engraving tasks, and I've got a keen eye for them."

"That's a handy skill to have," I muse while placing the notebook back into my coat and turning around. I remembered the path from the last time I was here, so I had a rough idea where I needed to go, although the lack of the passage of time was somewhat worrisome.

Walking down the slab path and around the corner, I staggered my way around less than a day ago. The bodies of the Zhivaq were all still present, including the cadaver of the especially large one. Its ceramic armour broke across the masonry beneath it with several handfuls of clay-dust sprayed around from where smaller sherds had been reduced to nought more than clusters of dust and a few sorry fragments of what was once a formidable protective suit.

Out of all of the bodies, one appeared to have moved, or rather jostled, around since I was last here. From memory, it seemed to be the one who had the zab'erim in their possession, and it appeared that something had indeed tried to look for it. A smirk formed on my face knowing that, for how mighty the Amethyites were, there was probably an Archivist somewhere who was especially angry with the knowledge that something that precious had disappeared entirely.

"Looks like the patrol came back through here," I muse while crouching beside the body of the warrior I had thought. I inspected his body for any changes; perhaps the patrol had looted something. Nothing appears to have changed other than the candles upon its now broken helmet no longer burning and a distinct lack of herbal aroma and fragrance to the air. Closer inspection of the candles and incense sticks showed signs of a forced extinguishing of the flames, which lead to only one conclusion. "Though it seems they stamped out the candles, it would seem."

"The Zhivaq burn incense in a variety of forms; they believe that it brings good luck and that it wards away the Protasi," Kliviero noted. I made sure to remember this, at a glance, unimportant information; knowing that the Zhivaq appeared to have an acute aversion to Protasi made me wonder just how far this aversion would go. "It's only natural for Amethyites to stamp out the fires once they're done, sends a message to any Zhivaq that find the bodies that their superstitious beliefs did little to protect them."

"I suppose they were right in the end," I murmur while standing up. I step past the hulking corpse of the warrior and pass the remaining cadavers with care; I wanted to afford them a degree of respect that the Amethyites had not, even though deep down I was convinced they would not have done the same had this been the other way around.

Walking past the bodies and around the corner, I worked my way towards the garden segment from before; I knew this section had a large number of plants from a wide range of species, meaning there was a decent chance I might find something I was looking for there. However, a thin dusting of the adhesive fog could stymie those efforts; blotches of it hung around patches of vibrant grass and plants, not unlike shoals of fish, obscuring what lay within its chalky embrace.

I stand a short distance from the archway I walked through, retrieved my notebook, opened the first few pages, and began to scan the grassy space for anything that resembled any of the seven sketches. Eventually, after a few minutes of observation, I spotted one which looked like something Farinosa needed.

I identified the plant as 'Psylock tangle weed', named after both its penchant for locking Protasi energy within its leaves and how it grew in tangled knots and clumps. Had it not been for its hexagonal leaves and its janky, jagged stem structure, the plant would have resembled neon Japanese knotweed, albeit on a far smaller scale and probably easier to remove, for that matter. The notes continued to explain that the plant is usually ground into a fine powder and then mixed with water to create a Protasi-infused liquid, which would function like an alchemical base for further ingredients; think of it like a catalyst that makes other ingredients more potent.

"Ah, Psylock tangle weed, I remember this stuff," Kliviero murmured while fluttering away to inspect the tangled mass. "The order used to grow this stuff in huge clusters the side of the wellspring; you could harvest that thing daily and still walk away with bundles upon bundles of viable samples." Her scythe arm goes to work, cleaving a few stalks free from the pain tangle, where she examined them and stacked them neatly in a pile behind her.

"Not surprising that they farmed this stuff," I remarked while closing the notebook, sliding it back into my coat. I swung my backpack over my shoulder and unzipped the middle compartment. I saw that it was empty inside, something I should have checked before coming to this place, but thankfully I got lucky this time. "Seems like a bloody useful material to work with, to be honest," I said while approaching the pile of harvested herbs.

"It was always in high demand, I know that much," Kliviero spoke up while clipping away several large, bulbous spheres from somewhere inside the matted mess. "Which is why you should probably take a few of these with you." She brought the spheres over and dropped them into the opened backpack.

"What are those spheres?" I asked while loading the pile of leaves and fronds into my backpack. The plant emitted a rough smell and a faint purplish haze when it was cut as if the air was loaded to the gills with copper pollen and sulfur. I couldn't imagine how atrocious a large scale harvesting effort would smell. The leaves were smooth, almost like they were grown from glass, perhaps a side-effect of containing Protasi energy, yet they were soft to touch and released a gentle clicking sound while I held them.

"Seed pods," She smiled. "They grow virtually anywhere, and having some growing in your world might not be a bad idea; would make things a lot more convenient in the long run, you know?" She returned to the tangled weed and continued chipping away at its mass, pulling leaf after leaf out from the matt.

In truth, I had not the faintest clue whether or not these things could even grow in the real world. However, the concept of referring to my world as the real one at this stage was getting harder to justify considering what I knew during these early days, and especially with what I know now.

"There, I think that's all the leaves which are worth taking." Kliviero reverts her scythe arm to normal and flies the remaining leaves to my backpack, dropping them in while I finish picking up the clippings. "Might as well leave the rest to regrow; there's no point overharvesting these things."

"Probably best if we continue heading towards the Sail-tree woods," I remarked as I picked up handfuls of leaves. With the last of the plant matter stowed away within my backpack, I zip up the pack and hoist it back upon my back. Interestingly enough, the herbs were surprisingly light, even by herbal standards.

"Sounds good," Kliviero agrees, landing upon my shoulder again. "I do not see any more Psylock around, but I'm sure the woods will have something useful."

----------------------------------------

With our search of the garden space now completed and with nothing better to do, we started wandering in the direction of the reflective pool. While we approached the reflection pool and its many orbiting sculptures, I noticed something unusual changing around us. The air was becoming denser, so much so that it didn't feel like we were breathing air but instead a thick, cloying soup as we walked along the orbital path. I felt jolts of energy traversing the length of my left arm, but not my right nor my legs; whatever was causing this must have something to do with the Protasi in this area.

"You feel that?" Kliviero asked; she rose a hand to our front and appeared to be measuring something in the air. "The wellspring, it's been drained." She remarked, the wellspring being drained made sense considering the patrol from the other night; perhaps they had worked their way through here and wanted to top off their batteries, so to say.

As I walked around the wellspring, I suddenly felt like something was pinning me down, as if something had thrown out a wall of cosmic cobwebs to bind me in place and siphon energy from me. Barely able to remain in motion, with every movement feeling like my legs were bound and weighed down by untold weights, I managed to break away from the path where the slowing effect was weaker.

"That was weird," I comment as I widened the gap between the wellspring and me; I dread to think how bad this feeling was closer to the wellspring, let alone directly adjacent to it. I kept off the orbital path while approaching the passage to the Sail-tree woods. "Let's hope we don't have to deal with that again,"

"I'm sure we will," Kliviero tutted while she shuffled around on my shoulder. "But let's focus on what your friend needs; we can worry about the wellspring later."

The pair of us walk under the archway of the passage to the Sail-tree woods, which appeared to be missing the collapsed hedge from a few nights ago. Besides the absence of such a blockage, traversing the passage was entirely uneventful until we reached the other side...