“What is a Core Space? Some of you may know it as something different, but I trust you can use context clues to figure it out. We call it a space, a room, but does it physically exist? We go there with our minds, our spirits, but could we go there physically? If any of you ever decide to try, please take thorough notes and make sure you have witnesses for your experiments. It would be a shame for you to succeed only to be unable to return, after all.”

~Unknown

The rest of the evening passed without much fanfare, all things considered. Zetta made me promise to take care of Tina and I made her promise to take care of herself, then she stole me for a dance. I say dance, but she basically hoisted me off the ground and did all the work herself; I just kind of swung around while my legs dangled beneath me. It was ridiculous and I loved it.

Eventually, people started making their way back home. There were no days off for the farmers, and sensible people saw the value in grabbing some shut-eye. Bella and her family were among the first to leave, along with a few other families that had children. Between my Skills and Advancement, I had outgrown the innate weariness that laid siege to a growing child when evening turned to night. Even so, I made a show of slowing down and being less active for the sake of maintaining appearances. Tina’s connection to Zetta could justify why we were staying later than most, but it wouldn’t explain my constitution if I didn’t show any sign of slowing down.

We eventually left when Zetta and her new husband retired to presumably run off and dance the ol’ horizontal tango. Good for them.

The walk home was a somber one. Tina leaned up against Tulos as they walked. Tulos’ arm wrapped around her back so that he could grab her shoulder and help pull her into his side. No words were spoken. None were needed.

When the lights of town dimmed, when the smells of celebration faded, when the last din of conversation fled our ears and was lost to the wind, all that remained were thoughts of what tomorrow would bring. They were bittersweet.

***

We met with Zetta in the following days, but it wasn’t long before she packed up her life and bid farewell to Elbura with Lou and the caravan. She left us with promises she’d write and an insistence that we go visit once she’d gotten her new life settled down. Aunt Zetta was gone.

I knew, academically, that similar occurrences likely happened during my first life. Friends of my parents whom I saw infrequently inevitably fell out of memory when life pulled them away. As an adult, when my best friends started having children, I became one of those ‘uncles’ myself.

The friends I used to see every day became friends I saw every couple of weeks… every couple of months… every year or so… and, eventually, we all saw each other for the last time. Sometimes, separations happen gradually. Sometimes, they hit with a sudden finality.

Eventually, I too would be lost to memory.

Yet, life keeps going. We wake up in the morning, we stumble somewhere to take a piss, then we get on with our day. Sometimes we remember the loss and separation, and more often than not we can do so with a fond smile while we reminisce over how that connection shaped us. We might also wonder ‘what if’ and dream of things that could have been.

These things are normally short-lived, though. They have to be. When we spend too much time living in the past, we miss out on the present.

That’s the way it should be, at least.

Another couple of months had passed. I continued my lessons with Tina, my training with Tulos, and my efforts with Fudge. There was always something to keep me busy, something to occupy my mind. Recovery and Perseverance worked in tandem now, helping me shoulder the crushing weight of grief that occasionally ambushed me.

I was… doing better, I think. The more I dwelled on those painful memories, the more I knew it would jeopardize my chances of working towards a future where I got to reclaim the life I lost. Yet the more I lived my new life, the more I loathed myself for letting the memories fade. In one of those moments of desperation, as I sat in a darkened room clutching onto Fudge’s tear-stained fur, I willed my Skills to help me.

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When I’d made the effort with Perseverance alone, my memories continued to slip from me. It was years ago, and part of me had forgotten that as well. Such was the folly of the mind, even my mana-enhanced one. Perseverance was a lot stronger than it was back then, though - and it wasn’t alone.

I almost hesitated. Some small part of me realized that preserving those memories, restoring them to the same luster they once had, would not just leave them fresh in my mind. It would also leave them raw. I think that’s why Recovery didn’t help as much as it could have. In many ways, those memories would just hurt me.

It was a hurt I wasn’t ready to live without.

It was a project reserved for those quiet moments. When night settled over the world and all was still, when my body craved sleep but my mind was free to roam. I made a deal with myself, then. I would allow myself to hurt when no one else could see it - no one except Fudge, who I doubt I could have hid it from even if I tried.

Mana traveled from my core in a slow trickle. I was always so cautious, so ready to shut down my efforts at the first hint that something was going wrong. Intent was important, but it wasn’t the only factor in play. Like pieces of a million-piece puzzle, every spec of mana worked to rebuild the gaps in my memories, to restore clarity to that which had begun to blur.

My rational mind began considering ways I might further leverage half-remembered knowledge or lines from barely skimmed textbooks, but the nights were not for my rational mind. Instead, I focused on her. Her face, her eyes, the way her hair set itself when she peeled herself out of bed. The casual glances, the intimate gestures, the smell of her favorite candles… the way it felt to hold her close.

Those memories were mine. I was not going to give them up without a fight. Would it make feeling better harder? Probably. I did not care, not when I knew what the alternative was. I often reflected on the fact that my choice to take Perseverance meant I would need to make my life hard to progress. If things were ever easy, I would stagnate.

I told myself that’s what made what I was doing okay.

So long as I let myself enjoy my days, I could spend my nights in memory. Even as I stared at the ceiling, while thoughts of home filled my head, I wondered if soon even memory would not be enough. At what point would the man I am becoming overwhelm the man I once was? Would that version of myself soon be like an old friend?

***

Tina was fidgeting. I watched as she rhythmically tapped each finger of her right hand against her thumb in a repetitive ascending and descending pattern. Her steps were smaller than they usually were, delaying the journey she had been reluctant to make for months. Tulos was not with us. It was just me, because it was my selfish request that brought us here.

Off to the side of the dirt path, Vigil growled at Fudge who had been playfully nipping at the older dog's tail. He’d put up with the game - for a time - but his patience had worn thin.

Fudge is a little rapscallion when he wants to be, I thought with wry amusement. I had to use the English word since I had not yet heard a one-for-one translation for ‘rapscallion’ which…

Yeah, if I am being honest, I’d probably have to try and coin it myself.

Tina still looked like she was having doubts, so I hurried to her side and snatched her fidgeting hand with my own.

“Thanks for doing this for me, mom,” I said, not having to feign the gratitude in my voice. I squeezed. “I know it was a big ask.” Tina startled slightly at my touch, so momentarily lost in her own thoughts that she failed to register my closeness until I made contact. I felt her squeeze my hand back.

“You are most welcome, my Will.” I couldn’t be certain, but I think what I said helped. She called me her Will, after all. I noticed in the last few months she’d started referring to me as just ‘Will’ on occasion, like she was weaning off of the affectionate moniker. Some part of me knew that it would never quite leave her vocabulary though, no matter how old I got.

We walked hand-in-hand for a while, after that, drawing strength from each other’s presence. I wasn’t voicing it since I didn’t want to give Tina cold feet, but I was nervous too.

We were finally going to see Jusep.