Neiran was still in bed when he returned from the shop, only something was wrong with him. The boy was burning up so it seemed that it was not simple fatigue, like his grandfather thought. He called Maya up and she brought soup and a lot of liquid, tucking the boy in when she finished feeding him and instructing Tercius to leave him alone, until his grandfather came back. Her opinion was that it was just a common flu, that it would pass in a day or two with a bit of care and rest. She also offered for him and Ciron to take the room across the hall if they didn’t want to catch what Neiran had, but he decided to wait for Ciron to make that call.

So there he was now, in the late afternoon, sitting at a table on the ground floor, doing exercises of repeating the letters over and over again. He took to drawing them on pieces of scrap paper he took from his grandfather’s stash. For now the only intention was to get familiar with motions of the script. Tercis knew from experience how powerful muscle memory could be when employed properly and intended to start developing it for this as soon as possible.

He went over all 47 of the letters and most common signs multiple times, leaving behind pages full of whole rows of tightly compressed script. Then he asked Maya to write a few words for him and tell him what they are. In the process he found out that this would be a long endeavour, he always thought that spelling in English was weird but it turns out that he just didn’t know about this language before. It made English look like a piece of cake.

A few ideas for including some of his skills to help speed up the process came to his mind and he decided to try them. Language Acquisition was currently at level 20 and stuck with no way of moving forward, at least any time in the near future. It provided a benefit certainly, but the need for it would go down once he mastered writing and reading. Of course, the skill would be useful to learn a new language but so far this one was the only one he ever heard of.

Visualization might help with memorisation, now that he had it back, so he would certainly try an avenue there. Even books he only glanced at once could be summoned for a read, if he had enough time and focus to spare. Since he got the skill back continued to surprise him. When he "repaired" it with some assistance from a friendly wisp it started at level 8 and now just over two weeks later it was at level 15. A massive jump for a small time period.

He knew that the skill was supposed to be faster at levelling the second time around, but this was somehow over the top fast. The first time he did this it took him months to go from level 8 to 15. Closer to a year actually. Now it happened in a matter of weeks and if it continued at this going up with this lightning speed he could be looking at a level 20 skill within a month. Two things came to mind as possible explanations for this phenomenon: that the process of "repair" itself somehow enhanced the speed of recovery or that those whips had some influence on it. Since he could not do the repair without the wisps, he would test only the second one. All along the way his conservative nature kept gnawing a him, hollering to slow things down, to give some things more thought and should he fail to abide, terrible things could happen. He kept it suppressed as he had to take a chance now and get an answer. Tercius planned to find out, and he had an idea how. If this worked then he had a way to power level skills to heights unknown.

Meditation was still at level 21, even though he used it every night before sleep, hell he used it three times more than Visualization with no visible growth or any sort of change he could perceive.

Now if only these blasted children would leave him in peace long enough to think.

Maya’s grandchildren got so jealous when they heard that she took him out this morning that they kept pestering him, never giving him more that a half hour of alone time. Since his grandfather had forbidden him from leaving the inn unaccompanied, he had to endure this abuse for the past four or five hours, ever since he and Maya came back. He seriously wanted to reconsider taking up Maya on that offer instead of waiting for his grandfather. Even going up to their current room seemed like it would be an improvement, should he fall ill then it would be a small price to pay.

Compared to this at least.

***

His grandfather decided to take the offer of the second room because he couldn’t risk falling ill at a time like this. He was worried for Neiran and promissed to get Darina to come tomorrow to check on him. Tercius would stay and help Maya care for the infirm boy until he recovered, no matter how many days it took. That meant he had a lot of free time to get ahead with writing and reading, while he kept company to Neiran. His grandfather on the other hand had a time limit of a month to finish the construction. For now he estimated he would be done almost a week ahead of planned, thanks to his and Neirans help, yet he didn’t want to push his luck.

Petra, his mother was supposed to come to the town within next week and stay at the same building where she had him, up until she delivered. That fact also made things more complicated to predict.

Later that night in their new room, while Ciron slept, Tercius decided that it was time to try something. Meditation was so easy to slip in that by this point it took him mere moments. Maybe that is the perk of getting the skill across the barrier. he thought. I do feel a speed there that I am not sure existed previously. He had to find a way to keep the minutia of observations that he came across. Maybe a skill like Visualization, but leaning towards every kind of memory.

Visual, audio, tactile ... something like eidetic memory! Oh that would be so useful. Visualization was already a half a step in the door kind of thing, with only two things keeping them separate.

Visualization only worked on things he remembered with the sense of sight and he had to spend time and focus to recall the details. Eidetic memory, at least in the way that he understood the gist of it, was instantaneous on the recall part and worked with more senses, if not all of them. In a way he imagined eidetic memory as a passive skill, always working in the background keeping track of everything. Only he feared what a thing like that would do to his sanity.

I don’t have all night, if I want to do anything tomorrow I better start this soon. he thought to himself. Tercius was pretty confident that he was on to something here. A secret that if true, could mean the death of me if it ever got out.

When he felt comfortable be began with conjuring the visual representation of the skill Meditation and then working on it’s details until he felt the connection bridge the gap between this "voodoo doll" he created and the real thing. As he previously experienced whatever happened to this thing here, also happened to the real skill. Up to this point everything was standard procedure for the evolution of a skill, from here on out it got it was no man’s land.

Tercius hypothesized that when that wisp passed through Visualization that it left a part of the "heat" it possessed, or in other words it left some of it’s energy. Since those wisps practically radiated the stuff, at least those on the positive side, maybe inviting them to spend some time with him and the skill could get the same result he saw with Visualization. He did have a problem here, concerning the opposite ones of the wisp pairing. If those positive ones radiated, did the negative ones absorb? Would he lose a level if too many negative ones gathered and latched on, draining the skill?

This is something that will probably require multiple tries to figure out. thought Tercius. And he still wasn’t sure if he should use Meditation for this. He stood there, his mind undecided, questioning the risk this posed, wondering if a better solution would present itself in one of those books he saw earlier in the day.

The decision was ultimately unneeded. All around him like a dust devil wisps emerged in their multitude of colours ranging from infrared to ultraviolet. They appeared from the void and swirled around him, making him the eye of the storm. The skill that stood next to him weathered collision after collision, hundreds upon thousands of times, which worried him initially but only for a fraction of a moment until he felt it there, unchanged and undamaged. He could feel the wisps go into it and exit leaving no damage behind.

Then a thought hit him, almost as if someone whispered it to him. He acted on it completely forgetting about what was the original purpose of coming here. But this could answer more question, including that one! He made his awareness as small as possible and joined the storm, in all of it’s twisting and turning glory. Direction and speed kept changing at first slow then faster and faster, he was carried by the moving mass, just one small part of the spiral. Tercius didn’t do this to have fun, although it proved immensely satisfying in that regard, enough that it had merit for a repeat. No, he did it to maybe just maybe gain an opportunity.

If the wisps could enter this skill "portal", then maybe so could he, if one of them would gave him a ride. He tried previously but it wasn’t possible, there was something keeping him out. But there little ones can, so what would happen if I went as a stowaway? Would I get in?He had to try, now that it occurred to him. Many times he came near the skill, but never close enough so he jumped from one wisp to the other, latching on, in the hopes that in the next pass that one would be the one to enter. He felt a connection with these tiny beings, a rare thing for him.

Tercius didn’t know how much time he spent doing this, he just got lost in the sensation of being carried, being part of something else, reminding him of some games he used to play with his father and mother in his past childhood, how much joy he felt at the time. How much warmth. It didn’t bother him to indulge these melancholic emotions that spiked on occasion, but something else soured the moment. These people that called him their child, their grandchild, they never got THAT with him. Those moments of connection where time stops and all is right, no matter how briefly.

He did like them and respected them, but he held himself back, a distance between them set on his side. Now he knew where it came from. He left his old name behind, got a new one without a second thought, but he never let go of the people that used to be his family. That still were. His original family. On occasion, it still felt like a betrayal when he called Petra mother and Septimus father. So he kept his distance, making use of his time in a way he thought productive. It was that, no question about it, but it was also more. If I let them in, will I have to let those out?

It was an escape, one of those he knew how to pull off, that allowed him to forget about those he left behind. To forget, because even though his life was a wreck, there were people in it for whom he would put his hand in the fire with no questions asked. Just like they did for him time after time. That guilt kept him back so much he never allowed Ciron, Rona, Septimus and Petra anything else than his most honest friendship and respect. Now feeling it again with these being stung so deeply.

Yet this unity he felt right now, while another being carried him amongst it’s brethren made his eyes wide open. His notion of love and care came under question. It felt so foreign how these tiny beings cared for each and every part of the swarm and accepted new ones with open arms. In his mind love and care were special because they applied to a small group, like family, a group that meant something to you and you to them. It was special beacouse it was kept small. On a larger scale it would get diluted so much it would leave no trace, only something ... neutral. Completely bland.

He also came to realise why he felt guilty. It was because somewhere along the way, his new nominal family clawed themselves near and dear to that place inside of him that only seldom accepted new additions. And they found a barred door. He felt guilty because he barred that door and angry on their behalf because it happened to them. Through no fault of their own did they deserve it. He had to change somehow. They deserved that. What are these beings doing to me? What ---

In a flash of light he was somewhere else, his previous journey at an end. He looked around at the grey mist drifting about in all directions. The skill? I’m in. I did it! We did it! he thought. The only thing visible other than the mist was something in the distance ahead so he moved towards it. As he moved towards it he passed through something yet he barely felt it there passing with no difficulty, only a barely felt difference in pressure of some kind, a clear boundary between there and here.

He kept moving forward once nothing occurred and every few steps he passed more of those boundaries with no change. Every once in a while he passed one that made him stop, the difference too much to acclimate in a moment, but once he did he kept going. The blurry thing in the distance, his only clear waypoint in this world of mist, waited for him while he approached and midway there he knew what it was. It was how he pictured Meditation. So I did enter. he thought to himself. He started doubting it in the hours he spent here.

When he finally came near the edge of the mist, just a step away from the skill, he was able to see that the insides were made of the same mist with just one difference: across the next boundary colours existed. In the middle of concentric circles stood a shifting outline of Meditation, slowly expanding outwards. Large balls of light floated around and at closer inspection he recognised them. The wisps. Their size magnified closer to a basket ball, they moved about pulsing, flickering, appearing and vanishing. Only here he was able to see something else on them.

All of the wisps were chained.

Big twisting chains of interlinked light bound wisps, moving where they moved, never letting them shift too much from the centre of the prison.

He took a step forward, crossing the last boundary.

Outside of this oasis the world had no smell yet inside it was vibrant and ever-present, much like the colour was. He got the impression as if that step he took made him cross into the real world, or at least one that would soon be it. Once he made that observation, the grey mist from before looked like one where infinite possibilities could hide and be revealed.

He tentatively took steps, his senses on alert even though he didn't expect an attack of any kind it felt prudent to be on alert. Around him coloured mist parted, letting him pass unimpeded while he made his observations. Only one thing stood out in this bizarre environment and it was near where the two mist met. An anomaly he could feel existed, yet with what sense he knew not. In a circle the anomaly went around, equidistant from the centre. What is it? he asked.

The out of nowhere a wisp came near his face, blinding him in passing. His eyes didn't water or burn from sudden exposure, but he still instinctively tried swiping away the thing from his face. He didn't even know he did it and then he knew pain. "AHHHHHH!!!" rang the scream, piercing the void. It started in his hand and then spread all over making thinking impossible. His voice never going hoarse, he screamed for what felt like days. His legs gave way and he fell twitching and seizing, finally curling around his knees he screamed until it became bearable.

And then he did it some more.

Once the gut wrenching pain faded away enough for him to make sense of the surroundings, his eyes looked for that wisp but it already went away nowhere to be seen. Something stayed behind though. A small piece of rapidly degrading chain, it unravelled at a visible speed, like a sand castle under a rising tide. In a WHOOOSH all around him the mist condensed becoming more liquid like and took the fallen chain link enveloping it inside itself and like an acid dissolved it greedily in a mere moment.

The gathered mass of mist stayed there hovering over him, giving away a look of a nebula on the verge of explosion, a description that proved true just a second later. It dispersed with the same speed it came together, his senses barely keeping up. When all settled, or at least seemed that way, back into the original setting he sat up and tried to take stock of what happened.

I entered my skill, took a long walk in a zone of constant change of pressure that has precise borders between them, preventing them from evening out. There were two clear forms of environment, one with colour, scent, sound etc. and the other without...

All of a sudden he felt to terribly weak, the energy required to keep his eyes open too much of a burden on him.

His eyelids fell and he knew no more.