A dog’s bark. The sound of waves in Lake Belone lapping up on the shore outside of Quorge. The aroma of freshly baked bread. Several shades of blue and green. All these things and more flitted about Felitïa as she brought up the black walls of the Room in her head. They circled around and bounced about the empty space, occasionally colliding with one another. Sometimes, those collisions caused the sensations to vanish. Other times, they combined into a completely different sensation—yellow colliding with the taste of mouldy cheese became the sound of rain on a window; the slick of melting snow on her skin colliding with the caw of a crow became the grey of the well where her telepathy had first manifested.

Still other times, though, two colliding sensations became a full-on memory. Like when the sound of a rat squealing colliding with the chill of a cold breeze turned into a memory of childhood at Elderaan’s Mystic Palace. Felitïa was tending the rats while trying to watch over the store while Elderaan was out. As she tended to one of the early Lons, a cold wintry wind blew over them as the front door opened and Elderaan entered, a wide smile on his face.

And that was the entirety of the memory. She had no idea what happened next, or even when exactly it was. Certainly, it was very early in her time with Elderaan, perhaps even before her telepathy first manifested. But even though she could remember nothing else about it, it brought with it feelings of happiness and fondness. A part of her longed for that time again.

Yet most of the sensations didn’t combine like that, and Felitïa suspected it had something to do with needing just the right combination to trigger any specific memory. It would be interesting to explore this in more detail.

Or you could remain focused on the task at hand. Honestly, how you survived against Plavistalorik is a miracle. Your concentration is terrible.

Felitïa sighed metaphorically. Mikranasta was going to be a huge boon in so many ways—Felitïa had no doubt she would have a much harder time with her new powers without the Isyar’s help—but she was also proving a very harsh taskmistress.

Elderaan used to criticise my concentration, Felitïa said.

And he was right to.

I thought the point of this was to explore my mind. Surely learning how these sensations or whatever they are work is part of doing that.

Eventually, yes, but the first part is to set up this Room of yours.

It’s done.

Then we clearly have a lot of work to do.

Felitïa looked about the mind-scape. The Room was emptier than it would usually be. There were no presences, and the queue of people was missing. Same with the Staff of Sestin’s presence over the queue. And the ever-present voices calling her name and listing the people in the queue were silent. The only things present other than the black and grey walls were the flittering sensations.

And those were actually new. In the past, she had always set up the Room in an isolated part of her mind. Now under Mikranasta’s instructions, she was experimenting with letting her entire mind—conscious and subconscious—in.

But the relative emptiness of the Room was because Mikranasta was blocking anything from getting in. Of course it was empty. What else should be there?

I am only blocking exterior sensations, Mikranasta said. Not interior. You have only the barest magical protections up and I take it those black walls are the extent of your telepathic ones.

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Most of the time, I don’t need any more than that, and with you shielding my mind, I certainly didn’t expect to need more. Ses-Tlacotl had apparently found her defences more than adequate and difficult to break through. Admittedly, that had surprised Felitïa at the time.

This...Ses-Tlacotl was clearly an amateur.

Felitïa groaned—probably in the real world too.

Yes, I know that last thought wasn’t directed at me, but it’s the perfect example of your poor concentration and defences. At the barest minimum, I should only receive what you specifically send me. Nothing more.

Felitïa nodded. She was right.

Of course I’m right. Now focus! Don’t let me hear anything you don’t specifically—

Felitïa clenched her fists and blocked Mikranasta completely. Some quiet for a little while would be nice. Just what did Mikranasta expect of her? Felitïa was grateful for the help, yes, but it had only been a week since she’d been able to sleep properly again. She was only just starting to feel something approximating normal again, and her magical power was still mostly depleted. Of course she only had the barest of magical defences up! It was a strain just to maintain those.

Felitïa opened her eyes and looked across the table into Mikranasta’s thin grey eyes. The Isyar’s face was expressionless with neither the hint of a smile nor of a frown. They were seated at the table in the Belone palace library—well, Felitïa was. Mikranasta was standing, as the chairs’ backs were not good for Isyar wings.

Mikranasta reached across the table and took hold of Felitïa’s right hand, gently pulling her fingers open and laying her hand down, palm up. Four little red marks made a line across the palm, impressions from where her fingernails had dug into her flesh. Mikranasta’s mouth dropped into a slight frown and she shook her head, then stared at Felitïa.

After a moment, Felitïa relaxed and let her back in.

Honestly, not bad, Mikranasta said. I could have broken through with a little effort, but honestly, it’s a good start. However… She motioned down to the marks in Felitïa’s hand. You need to control your temper better.

Felitïa nodded. Controlling her temper had never been an issue for her in the past. That had been a Zandrue thing, and Felitïa had always been the one contending with it. But when she had become overtired, her temper had started to become a problem. Now she was feeling better, she was sure she would return to normal.

She hoped.

That will be all for today, Mikranasta said. You are still overtired. Get some rest.

Felitïa nodded again. “Thank you.”

Mikranasta let go of Felitïa’s hand and placed a hand to her chest. Pleasant thoughts, Felitïa Asa Folith.

Felitïa copied the gesture. Pleasant thoughts, Mikranasta.

With a slight nod, Mikranasta turned and walked from the room.

Felitïa sat there for a couple minutes longer before getting up and heading out herself.

In the hall, Hedromornasta fell in beside her, maintaining the shield that blocked her telepathy. As usual, he had a scowl on his face.

I’m just going to my room to take a nap, she tried to tell him, but the shield blocked her. Either he was unable to make the slight alterations his mother could to allow mental communication or he was unwilling to. Felitïa suspected the latter, and there was no point saying it out loud as he didn’t know her language and she didn’t know his. She did try giving him a comforting smile though, to which he just looked away.

Mikranasta talked of Felitïa getting her anger under control, but her own son clearly had far worse anger problems. Felitïa didn’t need to sense Hedromornasta’s feelings to be aware he seemed perpetually angry. She should probably bring it up with Mikranasta before it became a problem, as it was already starting to disturb her.