I do not, unfortunately, get to rest for long, as I am soon brought screaming into wakefulness by the pain of getting immolated alive. I spasm, trying to run, but something grabs me and hauls me further into the flames!

“Shut up or I’ll shut you up,” Gladra snaps.

What…? Oh. The fire’s not real, it’s Gladra’s soul. It still hurts like hell though! She’d grabbed me and pulled me over her shoulder after I… well. No time to think about that! I have to get out of this searing pain!

“P-put me down, please!” I plead, flailing around a little.

She ignores me, turning and walking back towards the wagon. In fact, the horrible woman takes a deep breath, and the heat of her soul starts to increase! The pain licks at me more and more and more, until the sheer agony is all I can think about. I start to scream again, crying and begging for her to stop.

She stops, exhaling. The heat flows out into the world, disappearing from my senses as the great tempest of her soul calms into a warm breeze. I stop thrashing, relief spreading through me.

“Better?” she asks.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Much.”

“Good,” the High Templar grunts, tossing me into the wagon. I land hard on my butt. “Next time, just tell me you’re sensitive to mana.”

I blink. Is that what her soul storm is made of?

“I didn’t know I was,” I admit. “This has never happened before.”

She tilts her head, the chitin helmet shifting.

“Really? Sit still.”

Her hands move so fast, I can barely follow the patterns. The heat within her soul rises ever so slightly, gathers, and dissipates once more. I feel a pressure around me, the same sort of weight as when Remus drew his sword.

“Does that hurt?” she asks.

“No, not really,” I answer.

She scowls, and the pressure increases. The air is like a soup, but it’s still not painful in the slightest.

“Still nothing,” I tell her.

“Hmm. So you’re sensitive to mana, but only when it’s being channeled.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“It means you’re going to have a bitch of a time around me,” she answers. “Most mages don’t channel mana when they’re not casting. I do, however. It helps with prepared spells, it’s a good workout, and it brings me closer to the Mistwatcher. The danger is of little consequence to people with actual talent.”

Penelope, who had been politely eavesdropping behind her, scowls. Yeah, ouch.

So basically, mana hurts like hell, but I only feel it when it’s in someone else’s soul. That’s weird. Would I hurt myself if I channeled mana? No, that doesn’t make sense. If I’m a natural mage, presumably I’m channeling mana whenever I use my spooky stuff, right?

Wait, wait, wait. I need to back my thought process up a bit. What happened? Penta was in control so I started trying to look at my own soul, which prompted… ugh, maybe I shouldn’t think about this, I’m just going to want to hatch again. It’s like trying not to scratch an itch. I might need Penta’s help here. Wait, fuck, where’s Penta?

I put my hand over my pouch, and thankfully I feel the little slime’s soul safely inside the rat we brought. Oh, thank goodness. She must have fled in there to avoid the excruciating pain. I don't want her to stay in that rat for too long, so I poke at her. She flinches, retreating deeper into the pouch. I try again, more gently. Hesitantly, she oozes out of the rat and slips into my hand.

"How does channeling mana bring you closer to the Mistwatcher, anyway?" I ask. I doubt Gladra can notice Penta without really looking hard for her, but distracting her while the little slime moves seems like a wise decision anyway.

The High Templar chuckles in response to my question.

"Mana comes from the Mistwatcher, of course. Everything does, to some extent; the islands fly, the sky glows, the rains fall... all of this is done in accordance to its indomitable will. Mana is the physical manifestation of that will on the world, and when we use it for ourselves, we are merely borrowing."

She holds out both hands and her soul stirs. I feel the raging, horrible heat that burned me when I touched her... she pulls it in from outside, sucking it from somewhere I cannot see. It changes within her, becoming a storm of fire. I see a frozen, smoking crystal form above one of her hands. Above the other, the air wavers, shaking and wobbling like a mirage.

"When I cast a spell, I am taking a miniscule fraction of the Mistwatcher's power and shaping it. I tell the world 'Take all heat above my right hand and move it above my left,' and the world obeys, because the Mistwatcher's power is above that of the world itself."

She claps her hands together, and the resulting shockwave nearly shatters my eardrums. The spell ends, and her soul returns to tranquility. I never saw her move her fingers around... but I thought she’s a learned mage?

"All magic is like this," she continues. "This is a fact whether you worship the Mistwatcher or not. To me, worshipping the source of my strength seems only reasonable. Not that I suspect it makes one whit of difference."

I frown.

"Why not?"

"You'll see when we reach the edge. Lay back and rest for a bit. We need you in fighting shape so you can go poison my ex."

"...Wait, what?"

Gladra winks, then her soul flares back to a scorching inferno. She moves towards the front of the wagon, shouting at other Templars to get moving again. Penelope hops in beside me and the cart starts to move again, leaving me with Penta and Penelope, alone in the wagon.

I want to apologize to Penta, but she's taking her sweet time swimming up my arm. I'm curious about something else anyway.

"So... what do you think about all that Mistwatcher-is-magic stuff, Penelope?"

She scowls, huffing out a blast of air to flick a strand of curly hair away from her face.

"Well, I'm hardly one to argue with the Annihilator herself, but mana is more or less all-pervasive. The theory that it comes from the Mistwatcher is mainly substantiated by the fact that islands closer to the mists have higher mana density, while the higher an island is, the lower mana density it has. As much as that seems related to the Mistwatcher, I feel like it should go without saying that there are many other possible explanations for it. To me, it seems more likely that the Mistwatcher resides below the mist because mana density is higher there rather than the mana density being higher there because the Mistwatcher is present."

"Huh. Okay."

Penta finally makes her way into my neck and settles in, so I wait. She'll probably know I want to talk with her when she catches up on memory-reading.

"How do you not find it strange that your method of apology starts with me reading the memory of your intention to apologize?" Penta whispers, covering my mouth.

Rowan says I find a lot of strange things normal. But there are lots of things I think are strange, too!

"Rowan is... a very odd con artist. The way you and Penelope would interpret your memories on the matter are very different."

I don't doubt it. But, hey. Are you all right?

"I... yes. I'm as all right as I'll ever be, I suppose."

What does that mean?

My body sighs.

"Well, I’m held prisoner while my one lifeline rapidly loses sanity and intends to use me in a plot to commit genocide on my species, and then you start fucking with your own soul in front of a High Templar!"

Hey, you weren't exactly staying low profile when you were sassing that High Templar yourself. You keep breaking your own cover! I thought you were going to pretend to be me so you don’t get caught?

"I don't want to be you!" Penta snaps quietly. "I want to be me!"

Uh, I mean yeah. I want you to be you as well, Penta. I like you. But like, I'm just saying, if you're going to get on my case about doing something dumb in front of a High Templar—

"Wasn't this supposed to be an apology to me?"

Oh. Right. Yeah, it was, sorry. I don't know what that was, but I definitely lost control. I'm sorry for scaring you.

My body takes a deep breath.

"Thank you for meaning that. And for saying so. I... I was also scared I'd lost you, you know. The way you were thinking when you were in that fugue... that was the most frightening thing of all."

What do you mean?

My whole body shudders.

"Vita, the longer I stay in you, the more you become a part of me. But I don't want to be... whatever you are. I just want to be a normal person. I want to take my friends on shopping trips and take nice baths and eat good food and not worry about torturing anyone else to get it. I want to be human."

Well, you're not human. I don't know if I am either. We're never going to be normal. It's just not what we are.

"I know that! Do you think I don't know that?"

I think back to when I thought she was Penelope. To our bath trip and how good it felt, to being shown my own face and watching her and Norah laugh together all the way home.

Well, you're already better at being human than I am. I guess I just don’t understand why you want it so much.

"Vita..."

But that doesn’t matter! Maybe I... don't get people as well as you do. But I want you to have what you want! I want you to be happy!

"I don't think you see all the ways you scare me."

Then tell me! Talk to me! We can let you have more time to do stuff when it's safe. We can work on figuring out how to get you a body! We're friends, right?

"I don’t know! Are we?” Penta snaps, raising her voice a little. “You barely even know me, and I’m certainly not treated like your equal. You call us friends but then lock me up whenever I'm in the way! You call us friends and then threaten to murder me every damn day! If you only care about me when it’s convenient, you don’t care about me at all! Am I your friend, or am I your prisoner?"

"Keep it down," Penelope hisses. "If the others hear you they'll think you're talking to me! Besides, what makes you think you deserve to be anything more than a prisoner, you parasite?"

Blood drains from my face as Penta's horror mounts further.

"P-Penelope, I never wanted to—"

"I don't give a shit what you wanted. I hope you relive every torture in Vita's head until you die. Now shut up."

Oh, geez. Penta, do you want me to talk to—

She detaches from my neck, leaving me in sole control of my body again. I frown. Well, I have some things I want to say anyway, with or without her input. I stretch a little, looking at my teammate carefully before speaking.

"Penelope... do you know why I spared her?" I ask quietly.

Penelope just glowers at me, raw hate burning in her gaze. Her soul tells me more than that, though. Her song is painful and afraid.

"I know she's a monster," I whisper to her. "She hurt you, and she would have kept hurting you if I hadn't stepped in. She’s scary, and she’s dangerous, but she can't control what she is any more than I can. I could be killed just for existing, and I've killed people to keep that under wraps and stay alive. I don't want that, but it's how it is. How can I condemn her for the same?"

"I’ve said it before, Vita," Penelope hisses back. "We're doing it your way. But let's be perfectly clear: we're doing it your way because I owe you, not because I think it is even a remotely intelligent decision. If you expect me to like it, you're going to remain disappointed. And if that monster keeps trying to talk to me, it's going to earn you a week of heartburn."

I swallow. I don't know what heartburn is, but it sounds really bad.

"Okay. Sorry. Is it alright if I go back to talking to her, though?"

"Just make sure your puppeteer stays quiet. You may have forgotten that we're surrounded by fucking Templars, but I promise that after your showing earlier they have not forgotten you. Collapsing in the forest like that… why they haven’t turned this cart around and declared you mentally unfit for the job, I haven’t the faintest idea. I owe you, Vita. I was almost growing to like you. But there is only so far I will tolerate this flight of fancy."

I nod, poking Penta with my finger, smooshing the skin under which she is currently pouting. She slithers back into my spine again, taking over.

"What?"

We were talking about how you feel like a prisoner.

She takes a shaky breath.

"Right."

I'm sorry I keep scaring you when I think about killing you. You know I don't actually plan to kill you, right? I don't kill most of the people I think about killing.

"The fact that you were legitimately trying to reassure me there just makes it even more terrifying."

I groan internally.

Penta, have you heard the phrase "beggars can't be choosers?"

"Well, you have, so obviously—"

I am sorry that I am scary. I scare me too! I'm also sorry that your life sucks! But you know what? Get over it! You’re stuck with me now, and I’m not fucking sharing my body with you because I have to! You don't get to be a rich girl anymore! You don't get to go on shopping trips or take nice baths or eat good food! You're not Penelope, and you never were! Quit lamenting losing control of someone else's life!

"I just give up on being human, like you have?"

Is that what you're so afraid of? You're! Not! Human! You are a fucking mind control slime! And you know what? I think that's cool!

"Well don't!" Penta hisses.

I feel my soul squirm in irritation.

Why shouldn’t I like who you are? What do you want from me!?

She takes a deep breath.

“Time to myself. To be myself, even if it’s not convenient for you.”

Okay, we’ll work things out. Anything else?

"To feel safe."

Yeah, well. You and me both, Penta. But unfortunately...

"...I know. We never will be."

Not unless we get stronger.

She chuckles humorlessly.

"Stronger? You think we're going to stand up to Gladra the fucking Annihilator one day? We will always be small fish in a big pond, Vita. One day, we're going to get swallowed up."

Not if we swallow enough other fishes first.

"And at what point do those fish become people?"

Oh damn, if only I had someone worried about that who could always watch my back...

"You can't seriously be asking the mind control slime to be your moral safety net."

You know exactly how serious I am.

She sighs.

“How are you so okay with this?” she asks. “This is far beyond abnormal. Giving me your body, your memories… you are trusting me with so much. You know the kind of things I can do to you.”

When people go out of their way to do good things for me, I’ve yet to go wrong from extending them trust in return. This is just… a lot more trust than usual on account of the alternative being your death. I don’t think you should die. Is that really so weird? Like, sure, you having all of my memories is a bit scary, but the body control stuff? Meh. If we weren’t in so much danger because of it, I wouldn’t care. It’s just a body.

"Just a body, huh? Well, when you discard your ‘pathetic trappings,’ can I have them in your stead? I don’t really have any pathetic trappings to call my own.”

Did I really think that? Hm. Well, yeah, my body kind of sucks, you know? If I could live without it, that’d be neat. I don’t think that’s what I meant, though.

“I have to disagree with you. Your body might not be perfect, but it’s infinitely better than being an ooze. Though I’d still rather have my own."

And we'll still work on it. In the meantime, wanna see how long you can walk around without me trying to perform some kind of terrifying self-soul fuckery?

"...Yes. I'd like that a lot."

Then go have fun, and be sure to smack me if I try to eat a Templar.

She chuckles and scoots out of the wagon, smiling on the outside as I smile within. She stretches my arms as I try very hard not to stretch anything.

It's been a weird day, but by my standards? Still not a bad one.