Traveler watched Ashran levitate in the middle of his room, teeth gritted, his bansuri playing a loose, jittery tune.

The wind around him stumbled and faltered. It rose up around him, carrying him up, but the magics continued to buckle under his weight. The chief’s sorcery was weak. Especially under this particular weave. Ashran was of many faces—never wearing the same one twice—and it made the Name unstable. Not like Traveler’s own title, that the kid so often borrowed.

But the Traveler was the weave of another man. Khelios stole it. The kid borrowed it. It was not the same as an identity woven by his own hand.

And now, that particular weave was struggling with its lack of an identity. It was free from many rules, but its control over immortal magic was a flickering ember in a storm. After all, a single straw would never be able to channel the power of a lake. Ashran was like that—a fragile circuit, failing to draw on the vast reservoir below it.

Traveler shook his head and sighed, arms crossed.

“You ain’t getting anywhere with that, chief,” he said, watching Ashran crash into a wall from a lack of control, falling into a heap. The wind actively rebelled against his playing. It was almost sad, if not amusing to watch. Traveler stood over the groaning immortal, “Some things ain’t capable of being solved with just practice.”

“Music is a skill,” Ashran said, frowning. The chief stood and dusted himself off, “There has to be a faster way of improving this.”

“Music is a skill, aye. But what you’re doing is similar to playing a song on a lute without strings.”

“So what, then? I go out there and I fight in wars to get better?”

The kid glowered at him and Traveler rolled his eyes, unable to wipe the grin off his face despite the exasperation he felt. Even as a kid, the chief was damn annoying. And selfish. Two things that all immortals were. Traveler shook his head and watched Ashran stand up, “Wars are the fastest way to make a name for yourself, chief. Nothing spreads a Name faster than death. But it ain’t the only one, yeah?”

Ashran threw his arms up helplessly, “I know that, but the alternatives are terrible! If we choose those, this weave will barely be useful after years of effort.”

“You’re an immortal, chief. If you ain’t dropping into wars, you got the time.”

“I’ll figure out something better. Just watch me.”

The kid stood up, sighing, and he loosened his grip on the bansuri. He turned towards the door and opened it, stepping out and slamming it shut. Traveler turned into a shadow that flowed through the gap beneath. He reformed on the other side with an eyebrow raised.

“Is it a hobby of yours to be so contradictory, chief?” he asked, following the kid as he walked down the hall. Traveler grinned, “Complaining about my suggestions, then heading straight out to follow them right after. These are mixed signals you’re giving me, ain’t they?”

Ashran scoffed, “Just because the known methods are terrible doesn’t mean I’ll waste time ignoring them. Slow progress is better than none. I’ll use your means while I figure out mine.”

“Hunting with a bow while drawing blueprints for a gun at home, eh?”

“Of course. It would be a waste not to.”

Traveler laughed, “And here you are, ignoring the cannons I’m giving away for free. I ain’t getting in the way of your decision to avoid wars, though. M’just saying it’s the fastest way to a stronger reputation.”

“I’m a bard. The only reputation I want is one involving an amazing voice, great skill, and good looks. I won’t get that from a war.”

The two of them ascended a set of stairs after the next turn, leading them up to the misty airship deck. It was dark outside. And rainy, as it was during the Drowning Season. The roiling storm clouds around the anchored ship hid the twin moons overhead. Underneath the deck, Traveler heard the engines humming softly, generating magic in the ships batteries for the next morning.

They were stopped in the sky. And it was in times that they were that Ashran had the most freedom. The glamoured immortal in question walked up the edge of the ship and hesitated, looking down.

“Afraid you’ll go splat at the bottom with that shitty weave, eh?”

Ashran nodded, “The wind barely listens to me under this weave.”

Traveler waved his hand to the side, “Barely is more than nothing, chief. You’ll be fine.”

“And if not, I’ll be a red smear on the mountainside.”

“Black. Not red. Because of your blood. Then some gray chunks here and there for all the pulped up organs and shredded tissue. The rocks down there look rough.”

“Thanks for that.”

Shaking his head, Ashran clambered up the railings and brought the bansuri to his lips. He looked down, cold sweat beading his forehead, going even paler than he already was. Traveler watched in amusement as the kid closed his eyes.

Ashran stepped over the edge. He dropped. Played a note on the bansuri.

And then the wind didn’t answer, and Traveler laughed as the screaming began.

My bansuri shrieked. The sound howled out of the holes, desperate and uncontrolled. The winds that answered were much the same.

A breeze rammed into me from the side and the world flipped and spun and tumbled and I played another note. The wind came from below this time, buffeting me up, slowing my fall, then disappearing as quickly as it came. I spread my mass around and fell flat, slowing my fall. I played another note. Reached out to Galesong again.

No answer.

Another try. Success. The wind slammed into me from above, making me fall faster.

Not success. Traveler flew beside me, laughing. As a glamour construct anchored to me, he didn’t have to worry about splattering across the ground after a fall. I did. The hooded bastard gave me a salute as the ground neared.

“It was nice knowing you, chief!”

“Shut up!”

I twisted in the air, facing the ground, my bansuri gripped tight. The treetops clinging to the side of the mountain blurred close. It would only take a few seconds now. Just another moment, and I really wouldbecome a splatch of black on the ground. Gritting my teeth, I set my fingers over the tone holes and focused.

The world was just an idea. And every idea was a strand woven around a whole. So I closed my eyes and sensed. I reached for the sensations that weren’t there, in the small blips of chimes and calls dancing in the wind.

I felt connections form at the tips of my fingers, channeling into my lute, waiting to emerge. Hooks, ready to grab onto the tapestry of reality.

I played a note. The world finally listened.

Galesong.

Wind rushed towards me, lightening me like it always did, but it failed to buffet my fall. A powerful gust blew past me, inches away. Most of it missing. My fall slowed but it didn’t stop. I saw the treetops approach and I crossed my arms over my head and—

Snap!

I crashed.

A flurry of leaves brushed against me and I hit a branch. It cracked. I kept falling. I hit another branch and it bent and slung and I tumbled off, spinning, the world whirling. My back slammed into another. The air left my lungs. I kept falling. Two more branches. One hard impact, then another snap. The last branch broke. The leaves disappeared and I crashed to the ground with a thud.

I laid there, groaning. Already, I felt the bruises forming underneath my cloak. Sore bruises. The ugly, purple kind that pulsed and glared back at the mirror.

Being in pain was better than being dead, though.

Traveler landed beside me without a sound, grinning as always. “Thank the void you’re a half-troll, eh? Comes with all the nice, strong bones. A normal amarid probably would’ve fractured an arm from that.”

I staggered up, wincing as I dusted myself off, “A normal amarid doesn’t have to worry about jumping off an airship.”

“Well, you were the one that insisted on only using Ashran, eh?”

“Using you as a weave would make this pointless. Traveler is powerful, but it isn’t mine. No point practicing with something I can’t rely on all the time. Namely you.”

“Hurtful, but true. I do enjoy being unreliable for dramatic flair. But poisoning yourself, coming back to talk to a Hag you just escaped from, then jumping off airships…” Traveler nodded as if there was something he suddenly understood. He put a weightless hand on my shoulder, “I get it, chief. You’re one of those people.”

I glared at him and swatted the hand away, trudging off from the tree. I headed west—if I weren’t mistaken, I’d seen a road there from atop the airship.

“Whoever those people are, I’m not a part of their group. Not when mentioning them puts that smug look on your face,” I said, pushing past a part of the underbrush. After getting used to months of flying, walking felt straight up weird. But it was a sacrifice I had to make if I wanted get practice with Ashran. I glanced at the glamour projection behind me, “How much time to we have, Traveler?”

He shrugged, “Four hours, thereabouts. The ship started charging its batteries an hour ago. Take that road up by the way, chief. The one up ahead.”

I frowned, “Why?”

“You got anywhere else to go?”

“Fine. I won’t drop my weave until we have to go back, then. Not unless I absolutely have to.”

“That’s the spirit! Trudge on, chief.”

I trudged.

Within minutes, I found myself walking along one of the highways leading towards the Heartlands. It was an uphill climb, cutting through the side of the mountain, full of slippery rocks and splashing mud. I crested over a part of the uphill stretch, panting even despite my troll physique. With my weave on, I was away from my endless stamina. My access to all my powers were limited to a straw’s access. So by the time I reached a flatter section of the road, my calves were screaming at me to rest. I didn’t. Not when I only had four hours to use. It was a miserable climb, to say the least. But the Ancestors were kind today. They gave me and my misery what we wanted.

Company.

Up and over the road’s crest, I found a gaping cave’s mouth by the side of the road. There was a ransacked wagon parked outside of it, and beside the shattered wheels at the front, a pack crawler’s bull-sized corpse lay bloodied in the mud. I lowered myself, sucking in a breath.

I drew closer.

Passing the trees, I stepped into a shadow with my new boots. I sunk into it and reappeared atop another tree, emerging from a second shadow. My eyes scanned the ruin.

“Stupid, blasted fish! You’re lucky my employer isn’t here!”

Shouting. I turned my head towards the source, and I found a red-leafed woman in black courier’s uniform cornered against the cliff face. A quadrupedal fish-ghoul paced about in front of her, snarling with its piranha’s head. It swiped at her with its webbed, claw-tipped hands and she shrieked. Raised her hand.

A barrier of shimmering force flew up and deflected the blow. The drownstalker snarled, snapping at air with its toothy maw. It couldn’t reach her.

From where I stood, I relaxed as I saw what she held in her hands.

It was a glowing cube of bronze, covered in runework and circuitry. Magitech, clearly. It shone through the roaring rain and protected the woman with a thick dome of force. It was surprising to see such a powerful item in the hands of a random merchant, but… no, perhaps not.

“Keep snarling, ugly! I hope your ugly nose smells the fish stew I had for dinner last week! You’ll run out of breath way before this force cube runs out of power!”

Watching the woman curse at the creature, I sighed. I had to remind myself that a sight like that probably wasn’t rare now, twenty one years later. Magitech was no doubt a more common sight now. I glanced at Traveler, who sat on the branch beside me. The cursing below us continued.

“…Do you know why the Fae took me to the future, Traveler?” I asked, frowning.

“No idea."

He didn’t look at me. I narrowed my eyes.

“You know something.”

“A baseless accusation, chief. What would I know of the Fae's agenda?”

“You—”

The woman below shrieked again, and I turned to spot three more of the drownstalkers emerge from the side of the road, crawling up the rocks from the flooded river below. Four of them surrounded her, snarling. Leaping at the barrier. It was slow, but I watched the glowing cube dim by a small amount.

I grit my teeth and glared at the hooded construct beside me, “We’re not done talking about this. You’re telling me what you know. Later, understand?”

Traveler waved his hand aside, “Get to work, chief. We only got four hours.”

“Damn you, Traveler.”

I spat and jumped down from the tree, straight towards a shadow below me. I didn’t hit the ground. My boots sank into the darkness and all was dark for a split second until I emerged. Out of the rain, right behind the merchant woman and her barrier. I laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Need some help?”

The woman shrieked, jumped, and whirled. She punched me in the face.

I didn’t budge.

Instead, I stood there, sighing as I pushed her fist away. I glanced at the four ghouls outside and pursed my lips. How the hell was I supposed to get her out of this? I turned my eyes towards the woman in question and she blinked at me, looking at the bits of stone protruding out of my skin.

“You’re a half-troll,” she said. “You surprised me.”

“I am,” I nodded. “And I did. Sorry.”

“Where did you come from?”

A nearby tree, after I jumped out of an airship to look for trouble. I shook my head at the absurd truth. She wouldn’t believe me if I told her that, so I just gave her a tired smile.

“I don’t have a clever reply ready for that, and I’m too tired of hiking the roads to think of one,” I said, stepping past her to approach the edge of the force dome. “So just pretend I said something cool and mysterious and that I’m here to help.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Did my employer send you? I told her I could deliver the letter myself. I don’t need to give you an excuse to deduct from my pay. This is the deluxe service! You trust, we deliver!”

“Calm down, lady. I don’t even know who your employer is.”

The woman gave me a searching look, before sighing. She smiled in exasperation, “Just a helpful stranger, huh? Well, I’m Feena. Are you sure you weren’t sent by anybody, mister…”

“Ashran,” I replied, and she nodded. “I take it you’ll accept help now?”

“Now that I’m sure I’m not getting a deduction from my pay? Yes,” she grinned, walking up and casually slapping me on the back. “So—you a learned mage or something, Ashran? Here to blow the monsters away and save the day?”

I shrugged, smiling wryly, “Something like that. But we’ll need to negotiate first.”

“You want gold? I thought you weren’t here to reduce my pay!”

She glared at me and I shook my head. Grinned.

“Keep your coin, Feena. Let’s make a trade.”