While constant tremors assailed the island, Nanri’s face dripped with sweat as golden droplets in the mana’s light. Her forehead creased in deep concentration and her teeth were clenched from the strain. “How does she do this so fast? This is way harder than it looks.”

“I’m feeling better now, that’s probably enough.” Lomp tried to lean up, but Nanri pushed him back onto the bed.

“I’m almost done, just hold still!” She had been at it for some time, after spending just as long poring through the book and trying to get it to activate in the first place. “It even says it’s the easiest healing spell there is, so what’s the deal?”

The deal was that the process greatly depended on one’s comprehension and mental image. This was something Nanri would have known if she had read the entire book in which Heal is the only spell taught aside from Lesser Cure, which only worked for weak poisons and minor illness. Alas, she was still stuck in volume one.

To her credit, Cira spent a month on this book before she cast her first Heal, but Nanri didn’t have that kind of time. While Lomp was indeed healing, it was a slow and grueling process. She had a pile of empty bottles filling up an empty potion crate next to her and she was completely worn out. What was happening here was simple. Holy mana pulled all the weight in the absence of the caster’s comprehension, leaving her to purge exponentially egregious amounts of her own mana to keep the spell active.

This trick did not work on complex spells, which is why it was great for beginners. To follow in Cira’s footsteps, the next course in her curriculum would be to watch the healing occur with Spatial Sight, but Nanri didn’t have that luxury either.

But as we know, time heals all wounds, and Lomp was back to his sprightly self in another ten minutes or so. He got up and stretched out his legs, poking his limbs where they had broken to test them out, “Thanks, I feel great. A little slower than Cira, maybe… but I thought priests spent years trying to do that.”

Nanri was a little embarrassed, but after thinking about it he was probably right about the last part. “I’ve got a long way to go, but—” The quakes grew in intensity again, rattling the platform and sending spoons clattering to the ground. Lomp clutched the side of his bed, but Nanri was thrown out of her chair.

The shaking was almost as bad as before and the two got ready for another flood, closing the shutters and reinforcing anything that needed it. Soon it shook to such a degree she was certain the island was about to fall apart. As it reached its climax it was so violent it started slamming her against the bedposts on the ground and she hurriedly formed a metal dome in hopes it would protect them from miles of falling salt.

As soon as it formed, the tremors stopped. It happened in an instant, and all was still, save for the settling dust. The trickle of water which still held its eerie cerulean glow could be heard for the first time since morning and the two looked at each other, confused.

Nanri was still planted on the floor, and she looked around with wide eyes, “What do you think that means? I can still feel the mana from whatever she did… Maybe she’s okay after all.”

“Maybe.” Lomp reached out a hand to help her stand. “At this point I wouldn’t doubt it.”

The witch went to grab his hand and he hoisted her up, only to stumble back with a frightened yelp and lose his grip when the ring on his hand began to shine. Nanri plopped back down on the cold metal with her rear and a simple wooden box fell into her lap. It wasn’t ornate, but it was clearly decorative. Hand-carved, she thought.

A row of unrecognizable glyphs lined the front and back before wrapping over the top. What’s more, carved into the lid was a name as if it were a magic inscription. It read, “Nanri”.

“Lomp…?” She looked up at the befuddled man who gazed into his palm in shock. “What is that ring?”

He looked uneasy and then sighed, “Cira gave it to me… She woke me up in the middle of the night and told me she was leaving. Gave me plenty of mithril to pay everyone, but didn’t say a word about something for you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She was doing well since her smuggler pep talk, but now looked crestfallen again, trying to hold it back, “It’s okay, I know it’s not your fault. I just… at least wanted to say goodbye.” She looked off into the distance at nowhere in particular.

“Well, that must be what she left you.” Lomp motioned to the box in her lap, “I guess she set it to pop out when the ring touches you… Pretty terrible plan. Why would I touch a witch? Er, no offense.”

Nanri was caught off guard and grinned, “No offense taken… I agree it’s a rather unreliable way to get something to me, but it worked… right?” There’s no way she foresaw this. It had to be dumb luck. What if I never got this box? She found herself dreading a future already averted.

“For what it’s worth, she left dusty old coins for everyone else and a thousand years of Lomp work for me.”

That got a chuckle out of the witch, and she looked at the box curiously before picking it up in her hands. The glyphs all lit up in unison and the lid suddenly popped open. She wasn’t ready to look, but the magical contraption forced her to.

As Nanri peered in, a sparkle caught her eye. Reaching for it, she pulled out a thin mithril chain which held a dark silver pendant. Encased within the silver was a gorgeous sapphire like she had never seen. It was clear like the purest lake and seemed to swirl from the center like a budding flower.

Lomp whistled, “See, look at that? No wonder she didn’t have time to make me a ‘more creative treasure’. I bet it does something too.”

Nanri flipped it around in her palm. Hiding a grin, she tried to read the glyphs on the back, but they were indiscernible to her eye. Artifacts were often non-elemental and had a wide range of effects, so it would take a little studying to figure out. Nonetheless, the witch slung it over her head and let it rest around her neck, turning the gem over with a faint smile. She glanced inside the box and noticed there was something else in there. A piece of paper rested at the bottom, and she picked it up, unfolding it with a nervous expression.

Dear Nanri,

I’m sorry for everything. I hope we meet again one day.

Regretfully,

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Cira

She folded the letter back up and leaned against a bedpost behind her with a long sigh. Quickly deflating, she still turned the gem over as it shimmered in the light. A heavy pout weighed down her fragile smile. It’s beautiful, but… why does this letter have to be so short? If you’re so full of regret, then why must you leave?

Nanri sighed. That’s not fair. I’m sure she has her reasons. I just… don’t understand them.

“What does it say?” Lomp asked in a gentle voice.

After a long breath, she offered a troubled smile, “She’s leaving.”

What is she sorry for? All the lies? She could have told me the truth… but I get why she didn’t. I can’t blame her. I don’t even have the slightest clue what she’s doing to this island. Maybe I’m not ready to join her after all.

Standing up, Nanri walked over to check on Delilah and the hourglass. It would finish at some time in the night. Most of the others had returned by now, either in bed or close to it. A very weary Triton was slung over the shoulders of both goons, caked in sweat and followed by the alchemaidens as they slowly walked down the bridge.

“How did it go?” Nanri asked Triton once they entered the workshop.

“It sure did…” Was all he managed before sprawling over the closest bed without thought. It was Cira’s, but she didn’t think the sorcerer would be coming back for it.

She gave the goons an inquisitive look and Lazy Frank gave her a thumbs up.

“What now, then?” Kate asked, “If the witch or whatever you want to call her up and died, we may as well leave, right?”

Cira would be disappointed if this all fell apart while she’s up there taking care of what she needs to—something only she can do. I won’t let that happen.

“Of course not.” Nanri’s harsh reprimand quickly silenced her, “There’s no way she’s dead, just look at the water. And the tremors have already stopped so I’m sure she’s hard at work. You all need to get ready for a big day. I want to see all three of these cauldrons running after tomorrow.”

“I can feel ‘em.” Triton laid on his back with his eyes closed as his mutterings drew everyone’s attention.

Chip nodded, “Yeah, if you focus, I think you can feel it under us.” There was a faint rumble beneath their feet, barely noticeable like a running stream far below the salt.

“What even happened earlier? That was crazy, right?” A hyped up and oblivious Charlie asked, and everyone threw him the same pointed look.

“As I was saying, we should turn in for the evening.” She looked over everybody in line, “This is already our third day and there’s barely any soul remedy to show for it. Tomorrow will be a long day in the Last Step and there are plenty of you now. Delilah, when that timer runs out, you should be able to let the aetherium distillate rest overnight and start brewing in the morning.”

If she’s still here, I’ll look for her in the morning, but I need a good night’s sleep and to get these guys back to work. A full day of tremors was enough to rattle anyone. Her body and mind were shaken up and she needed rest. Everyone’s faces said they felt the same. Even if I can’t find her. Even if I fail to reach her.

Nanri now wore a determined smile. I promise, when I see you I’ll be a much stronger sorcerer than I am now, Cira.

___

“Nina, I’m hungry.” The little salt nymph offered nothing but a blank stare, “If this goes on any longer, I’ll have to eat salt.”

For a moment she contemplated conjuring a pot and growing her last Moonberry plum seed into fruit to eat immediately, but the seeds regained from that endeavor would be of diminishing quality. She wasn’t ready to part with her last seed as they were one of her favorite childhood snacks.

The salt nymph never offered no replies but talking to her helped Cira stay in the moment. If she let her mind slip, her focus would split in a thousand different directions as Aquon retained dominion over the island. Each time she let her focus split too many ways, the pain grew exponentially and the sight before her own eyes grew less significant. Hell, a couple times Cira forgot that she wasn’t the island. The countless waterways were not only her bones, but her veins and her eyes as well. So, what was the salt between and around them if not her flesh? Her meaty body, merely a vessel for the mind.

The Staff of Springs, incredible as it was, could not carry all the burden. By nature of the technique, Cira was forced to assume a great deal as a bottomless sea of information threatened to break the dam of her mind. Pulling just enough through to see the outside of the island without the miles of everything in between or focusing on a particular area at will was like pulling teeth.

Were it not for her father’s prized robes, the constantly growing array, and hourly handfuls of mind tonic, she would be dead a hundred times over. It was a dull ache at the back of her mind, and she was certain she would feel it for some time to come, but in her many eyes this was a small price to pay for absolute agency over Fount Salt.

Ahh, yes. The six new pockets of deritium, you ask? One had a crew a scraggly miners around it, but no pirates in sight. She scared them off with spontaneous explosions. The rest were clear, completely cut off from human access but still passing water over them. She claimed them as reservoirs. Storehouses of mana, ranging in size from the Salty Songstress to the former Don’s treasure. One was double the size of the original and somehow the only one not leeching into the rivers, completely encased in salt.

Her original plan was to pull them towards her, but quickly realized it was pointless—counter-productive in fact. Her own frail human frame made no difference at this scale, and she was shackled by her meager human paradigms about how things worked. The deritium wasn’t fifteen miles away, it was nestled between her ribs like pulsating tumors just waiting to be burned up. In fact, she found all her sorcery to be more effective when she used mana close to where it needed to be, as she always had a myriad of limbs within reach.

Cira had never felt like such a powerful sorcerer as she did in this moment, nor such a monstrosity. She reckoned she could have taken her dad on, but that was debatable. Wisdom triumphs over power every time, and Gazen had both. However, in this moment, Cira held a great deal of power. In her left hand she scared off miners a few miles below Uren, and in the right, she healed flood victims in Deep Falls. To look between the two was to roll her eyes from one side to the other.

More island than girl at this point, she realized she was more salt than water, and the body of her birth paled in comparison to both in succession by several orders of magnitude. Liquid metal trickled up her veins, creeping its way through hundreds of different chosen paths. So many veins dried up and filled in with salt, while others only grew stronger. There was so much salt. It was everywhere, but suddenly, Cira felt so terribly misshapen. It started to itch. But her hands and arms were flowing rivers so it could not be scratched.

But what is this feeling? My skin is so… rough. So worn. What happened here? Why do I feel this way? Is this erosion? From centuries of weather? No, millennia, to be sure. But why me? How long have I been—

“Nina!” At Cira’s abrupt shout, the nymph fell off her head and fluttered back around in surprise. Cira looked down and noticed bloody scratches on her arms and slowly retracted her grip, letting her arms hang to the side and steadying her breath, “Phew… Almost lost myself there.”

That nagging feeling was the harsh exterior of Fount Salt. Deep ravines and crevices were carved into her skin. Thousands of them. Shelves jutted out into nothing, crumbling in the winds. It wouldn’t stop drawing her attention and she found herself having to hold back from trying to scratch herself more. “Okay, this is more than I signed up for, but it’s going to drive me insane.”

Slowly, the outer face of the island started to melt back into itself, very gradually smoothing over at a nigh imperceptible pace. This was an excruciatingly slow process as the island had a ridiculous amount of surface area, and it added some more pain to her diet, but it couldn’t be ignored now that she was beginning to settle into her current form. She felt more sensitive to the island itself than when she awoke, and less so to herself.

Excess mounds of salt and the shelves that hung precariously all dripped away and formed massive orbs which hovered at the ready. By the time she was done, Fount Salt would really become that pearl on the horizon.

In her mission to bring holy light to the hundreds left injured inside the island and envelop her chosen rivers in a time-resistant shell all while trying to get rid of that horrible itch, Cira didn’t notice an ominous ship floating down from Uren. Its sails bore the sheen of mithril lining and there was an Earth Vein insignia painted on the hull.