Jasper sat at the sorcerer’s table, numb fingers clutching a cup of something that tasted like peppermint tea. It would have been comforting and homey– except that it had been brewed from dried insect husks, their translucent wings dissolving into the boiling water.

He’d refused to tell Sarabas what had happened. No doubt word would spread quickly in a town this small, but he didn’t need to let the cat out of the bag early.

Whatever had happened…

He couldn’t be sure if the temple had responded to his presence as an outsider, or as a servant of Bell…

“Hmm." The sorcerer was examining a glass case of samples; colorful earths, liquid metals, shining flower petals. So far none of the tests Sarabas had tried yielded any results– Jasper's mana alignment remained unknown.

The first test was a four-pointed white flower. A prickling drop of blood should have caused one of the petals to transform, aligning him to one of the basic elements. Ninety percent of people would find their alignment on this first trial.

For rarer alignments, the tests got… weirder.

Sarabas placed a small cage containing a mummified cricket in front of Jasper.

"Sing." He commanded.

"Just one girlie at the tourney and its kill or be killed, the Dungeon Master is the bastard known as Pliny the Ill…" Jasper half-sang, dredging the song out of ancient memory.

The cricket half-twitched and Sarabas swept it away with a scowl.

"No. I had thought– Song alignments aren't unknown, and you do seem to have talent in that direction..."

Next up was a plate of sparkling red powder. As Jasper put his hand over the dust, it swirled up, forming into a strange swirling mass– before collapsing back down into nothing.

"No, not Creation either." His frown making the faint lines of age at the edge of his eyes dig in, Sarabas left and returned with a tiny, translucent golden scorpion sat calmly in the nest of his palm. "Put it on your tongue." He commanded.

Jasper looked down at the scorpion and back up, disbelief on his face. "How 'bout no?"

"You don't have to swallow." The sorcerer clarified

"Yeah, I've tried that line too. Didn't work then, won't work now."

And on it went. Jasper tried whistling through a spring-green leaf, scorched his hand on a heated fragment of blue-steel alloy, and let a shard of chocolate melt on his tongue. Sarabas grew increasingly frustrated–

"It's not… impossible… that you have an Alignment we've never even seen before. One native to your Earth…" He stroked the manicure pyramid of curled beard that extended from his chin.

"Doubt it." Jasper replied, to an exasperated sigh. "We didn't have magic at all."

"And yet you have magic now. That means you have an alignment." Sarabas paced in front of the table. "Think. Is there anything you can do, anything unusual, any small talent that might be the precursor to cosmic power?"

Jasper paused.

Thought for a moment…

“Man, I got to Platinum once, but I don’t think toxicity is an alignment.”

With a weary sigh, Sarabas leaned against the table and cradled his face in his hands. Jasper rose, pacing around the room, examining the leather case of active elements the sorcerer had brought out. Within the glass vials were the eyes of marids, the tiniest fraction of dragon scale, the red-gold wings of a true monarch among butterflies…

And something that glinted.

Something that gleamed.

There was nothing especially special about the stark white powder in the bottom of the vial, but Jasper felt drawn to it anyway, drawing it out of the leather loop and lifting it up. It was humming, faintly, a vibration running through the glass.

He held it to his ear and there it was– music. Faint, beautiful music, like the song of a crystalline chime.

Without even thinking, Jasper began to hum along.

Sarabas lifted his head. “What is that?”

“Nothing. Just… It’s the song this is making…” He rattled the vial between his fingers.

“No. No no no. Don’t you dare. That’s stardust. Astral ephemera, crystallized…”

“Is that…” Jasper lifted an eyebrow. “Does that mean something? Is ‘Stardust’ an alignment?”

“Yes. You shouldn’t be hearing anything.” The sorcerer looked equal parts fascinated and disgruntled.

“Okay, explain to me why you’re not happier, then. We’ve found it. I’ve gotten my alignment…” Jasper rattled the vial again, enjoying how the music spiked and sung. “So, why no happy?”

“Because humans can’t be Star aligned.” Sarabas hissed. “It’s poisonous to terrestrial life. If you’re really hearing something from that vial, if you’re really Star aligned, you’re…” For a minute it looked like Sarabas would explode into anger, but when he finally spoke, it was with a tone of total defeat. “... Worthless.”

Here we go. Jasper rolled his eyes.

“... Not really human.” With a long sigh, the sorcerer sunk into a heavy-stuffed chair, slumping until his legs hung over the edge and his head was barely above the arms.

“... Just human shaped.” He flicked his hand, as if dismissing the whole issue.

“Now, hold on a second…” Jasper jabbed in. “Who said you’re human? Maybe I’m the human one, and you’re the funny-looking ape.”

“It doesn’t matter…” Sarabas groaned. “You are no longer proof of humans beyond the Seven Lands. Just…” He groaned again, sinking further into the chair. “Just a particularly interesting starspawn. For all I know, there’s no such thing as ‘Earth’– and what a ridiculous name for a planet, to begin with– and I’ve wasted my time listening to the fanciful imaginings of a deluded extraplanar homunculus.”

“So what am I, then?” Jasper asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“For all I know? A simulacrum. Maybe, maybe one of my enemies made you out of stardust to fuck with me…”

Jasper paused.

“Yeah, no. As funny as that would be– believe me, I’d be laughing– I don’t think I’m just here for your benefit. I asked you a question. If I’m not human, what am I?” Jasper repeated, his tone rising, challenging the magician.

But Sarabas just slumped deeper.

“Right. Okay.”

With a disappointed sigh, Jasper put down the two Shards he’d borrowed. “Thank you for these.” He said. “When you’re ready to pull up your big boy pants and answer the question, I’ll be back.”

“Oh, I doubt it.” Sarabas mumbled behind him.

Jasper half-turned. “And what’s that mean?”

“Oh…” A grim, sneering smile ran across the sorcerer’s features. “Star mana is poisonous to us humans. But to aberrations, who live off it, terrestrial manas are just as deadly. And they’re everywhere, all around us. You’ll dissolve over the course of a month, maybe two…”

Jasper paused, and shook his head.

How spiteful could you get?

“For what its worth, Earth is real, and I’m pretty sure we’re the same kind of human– shitty ones.”

And Jasper stepped through the door.

He shook his head again, head tilted upwards towards the desert sky, feeling a familiar sense of spite boiling up inside him and coloring his world black. He walked right past Thorn before he realized she was standing there, leaning against the doorway.

And then he froze.

For a moment Jasper just stood there, and then, drawing a breath into his paralyzed lungs, he turned around. “How much did you hear?”

She shrugged. She was leaned against the wall, blonde hair falling over the stringy ruin of her burned left side. “Enough.”

“Mm. Fuck.”

“Fuck.” She repeated in over-pronounced sarcasm, nodding slowly, agreeing with him. He was screwed. But she only stepped forward and past him, down the courtyard path towards the door. “C’mon.” She said.

“Where?” Jasper asked, still feeling the urge to run building up in his chest.

“A salt-farm outside the city. Hired us to clear some pests. Amun is off politicking, Teysa is busy working with the town doctors. That leaves you and me.”

Finally, Jasper jolted into motion, hurrying to catch up to her as she passed the ivy-strangled gates of the wizard’s estate. “So…” He felt the question burning inside him, but tried to play it casually. “You don’t care?”

“Isn’t my business.” Was all she said.

— — —

They made their way out of the city on rented horses, Jasper awkwardly clinging to the saddle and reins, Thorn riding steady with just her knees and a hand on the back of the horse’s neck.

“So…” Jasper said awkwardly. The anxiety in his chest didn’t like the silence of the desert, the long scraping of the wind against endless sand and empty sky. “You’re a mysterious person.”

She grunted. “Guess so. Other people talk too much.”

“Y’know, people always say that about me, but you know, deep down, I like to think they like me anyway.” It was maybe a touch optimistic, but right now, optimism was all Jasper had. Maybe she wouldn’t tell Amun and Teysa. Maybe the secret meant nothing to her…

Maybe the desert sand was as sweet as sugar.

All this optimism was making him sweat. “I’m curious why you became an adventurer.”

“I told you, I don’t like questions. Or the people who ask them.” She answered bluntly.

“And, you’ll note that wasn’t a question. It was a statement of curiosity. Very different.”

She snorted– Jasper hoped it was a laugh. “I don’t like semantics either.”

“No, but a second ago I wouldn’t have guessed you knew what they were. So that’s one more thing I know about you, now.” One tally on his side of the board. “See? We’re getting along like a house on fire.”

There was a long silence, but Jasper let it go this time, stilling the worry in his chest and waiting…

Waiting…

Until she finally spoke. “I was good with a bow. That gives you three choices. You can hunt game and make no money, kill people and make some money, or fight monsters and never be short of money again.”

“On behalf of people, I’d like to thank you for being greedy.”

“I tried people first.” She said. “Less risky. Boring, tho’. You sit by abandoned roads waiting for merchants with no luck…”

Her voice trailed off.

“Who taught you to hunt?”

“That was a question.” She accused.

“Hunt, who taught you?” He repeated, in his best Yoda-voice.

And for a moment he thought there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

“You can’t just rearrange the words.” She frowned, the expression coming to a halt at the paralyzed side of her face. “Look. I know what you want to ask. So just ask.”

“If I had scars like those, and people kept asking me about them…” Jasper said. “I’d tell a worse story every time. Make people regret asking.”

“My father locked me and my sisters inside the house and burned it down. Three girls wouldn’t do him any good– and he had all the reason he needed. We were cursed. He said we were devils.” The blunt way she said it… “But mostly he didn’t want to feed us.”

Jasper felt numb for a long while, and it was easier to focus on any little detail but what he’d just heard; the horses trotting relentlessly across the sands; the wind scraping the desert clean; the clouds moving slowly through the sky; the heat of the day hot on his face.

“I’m sorry that happened.” He said eventually.

She shrugged. “He was right.”

“I ain’t human either.”