Grandmaster Perspective:

This is troublesome. Those are the facts of the matter. This hasn’t happened before, and I can’t let it happen again.

“Afereo have you run diagnostics?”

“Yes Grandmaster, the fear room showed no deterrents, but when we looked into the stimulation we saw tools and technology that we haven’t seen yet. We’re currently running it through our database, but so far this culture of clothing hasn’t been found in our records either.”

“I believe you have a good reason for bringing this up”

“To my knowledge, these tools operate on an entirely different system than ones we’ve seen before. It’s so intricate that I find it hard to believe that there isn’t centuries of history in the development behind these tools”

“Could this be a product of a child’s imagination?” Eliminate all other possibilities, then the one that is left is most likely the truth.

“I doubt it, unless this child has enough imagination to explore years of history supporting her fear.”

“Then that shouldn’t be possible. Fears evolve from a deep emotion, built upon a basis of imaginative reality to support that emotion. Have you cross referenced this technology, arts, and tools to existing arts, tools, technology and cultures of fiction?”

“That would, take an inefficiently long amount of time”

“You don’t need to check them all. Check the ones in Iris’ library.”

“Yes Grandmaster, I’ll see it done”

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I tapped my desk. If she really is from another world, then it would be best to send her home or this can get very very complicated. I hate complicated work.

“Lyssia, Are you there?” I grabbed a piece of paper and began folding.

“Nova, What brings you to call me this afternoon?” A succulent and soft voice entered my ear. It felt like an Elf consoling her young, comforting him, telling him everything was going to be okay.

“Is it possible that someone from another world came to ours?”

“That’s entirely possible, assuming our population count then there are bound to be a few.”

“If we found one, is there a way to guarantee that they’re from another world?”

“You’ve aroused my curiosity, Nova.” A shy chuckle was heard, “What makes you believe you found a person from another world?”

“I put her through the fear test, and she imagined something we haven’t seen before.”

Silence was heard over the line. “Like, something that shouldn’t exist in this universe, or just something that hasn’t been created yet.”

“We’re still figuring that out. Can you come over and help analyze what we found?”

“Sure, This sounds quite fun. Thanks for calling me, I’ll be right there”

Silence was heard in my room again, except for the occasional boiling of lava in my aquarium. The popping and churning of lava which was where my pet Sylvie was kept. I finished folding my paper, and the form of a moth sat on my desk. I threw some magic on it, took the quill out of my little inkwell. Scarlet red ink dripped from my pen. Slowly I tapped the quill to the side, letting the ink fall. I carried the wet-tipped ink to the moth, this was art, I am the artist, and this is my paintbrush.

I carried the paintbrush on top of the paper moth. Tap. The first drop of ink fell from the pen and split. The paper sucked it up, a single splash of ink covered the dead center of the moth. I lowered my pen, and started to engrave my first letter, symbol, scribble, line and curve. This was my space.

This was my art. I decorated the moth's wings with inscriptions that were as beautiful as a butterfly’s pattern, and then as the ink began to dry up, and my quill went from wet to dry, my work was almost done. I tapped two little eyes, giving the moth sight, inscribed a spell, and now it can smell.

On its back, wrote the lines, “Iridescent memories, Flutter and Flow, I fly seeing it all”.

Plop. The sound of the quil going back into the inkwell could be heard, and the moth began to fold itself more, giving the final touches that separate it from origami and life. Itfolded it’s little fuzzy antennas, the six tiny little legs, the mouth down the center, and two long tails at the end.

I opened my hand, and the moth flew into my palm, using its legs to clean its feelers. It looked and acted exactly like a moth.

“Go” I whispered, “Go and find me some lost souls”

I flew from my hand, and went through the ground, disappearing from sight, like a mirage of something that didn’t belong to this world. It felt like it was a ghost watching it fly away.

The last thing I can do is sit here and wait for the analysis.