Chapter 7

“Are we supposed to be out here?”

“There’s no ‘suppose’ when doing this, Sophia.”

“But you said it's dangerous in winter!”

“Not if you are with me.”

Sophia progressed under Finny’s tutelage. It was an affair that could best be considered with the term ‘drudgery’ as the process of learning what Finny does was both complicated and surprisingly boring.

Most of it can be summed up to ‘walking’ and they sure did a whole lot of that.

The two walked amidst the snow, trudging up the hill. The village of Ansvil is located at a bay, one side extending out to the beach where they had been earlier, whilst the other rose on a hill and eventually onto a headland cliff, dozens of meters above the surf below. It was there that the two were making their way towards.

Over the few nights prior, the snow had accumulated atop the trees and rock, obscuring the path until everything resembled a uniform sheet of white. Each step was just as perilous as the last, hiding the tracks underneath where rocks, soil, leaves could no longer be differentiated. Even if one were to be some kind of mountaineering expert, they would be hard-pressed to scale this hill.

Unless you are Finny, that is.

The girl made her way up as easy as strolling through town, walking as if she had already known exactly where each rock or pit would be, gracefully gliding through the woods. Even with the large bag upon her back, she moved with inhuman certainty. In contrast, Sophia stumbled up with all the poise of a drunken pidgeon through a bush.

I suppose that if one were to train their skills at observing, which I guessed was Finny’s intention, the practice of hiking up and down hills wouldn’t be a bad place to start. Sophia, as expected, was having a bad time.

I, however, conclude that I’m enjoying the process. As someone that had remained bound to either a bed or a wheelchair for my entire life, the sensation of running, jogging and other strenuous activities was a welcome distraction. The feeling of air pumping through the lungs, the aches on her calves — it was truly wonderful, especially since it belonged to a human,

It wasn’t that the feeling of muscles of other races such as Iasgairean wasn’t welcome, it was just that it wasn’t the same Anyone who had ever boasted to swim like a fish had absolutely no idea what they were talking about.

With that in mind, I recently had a thought about the concept of privacy.

It was a curious one, one that hadn’t been prevalent until very recently where I gained access to a large host of perspectives. I hadn’t thought much of it when I was looking through Vrraet whilst he was spreading my [Name] throughout the Iasgairean Sanctuary, or when I sent them to build the faux-temple above at the beach. Simply put, the idea of wearing someone else’s flesh didn’t seem to bother me much — if at all.

That alone had several implications, chiefly: Why am I not grossed out? Why do I have no problem with thinking with several dozen minds at once? How am I still me when I am so many else?

The answers were simple — my [Safe]. When I first constructed it, it was meant to be a barrier that separates my mind away from the hub-bub swirl of souls I will be immersed in. With that, rather than being so many people at once, it felt like I was looking through many monitors instead.

Whilst the distinction may be vague, the effects were clearly there.

Now, that wasn’t the only concern. The main one would be if it was morally wrong.

The mere question made me want to laugh as it indicated that any part of it could have been righteous, which it frankly wouldn’t be. Most of these minds, I had drilled my way into and could be considered as extremely disturbing.

Of course, that didn’t stop me.

If I was fine with scrapping them to pieces, being lenient and piggy-backing their consciousness could be considered mercy, even. After all, death by having your [Spirit] torn asunder would probably be worse than simply having it controlled,

Right?

Most definitely.

That changed, however, when Sophia became my host.

Honestly, the reason that I found this disturbing wasn’t particularly because I’m a moral person, but because of the connotations that I’m inside a twelve-year-old. While not sexually, which would be disgusting, my practice of invading her mind should probably be considered much worse. Despite that, here I was, enjoying the sensations of her muscles burning and the way her lungs heave to draw in air.

Jeeze.

It wasn’t something that I really wanted to think of, but the rabbit hole turned out to be a slippery slide that ended in questionable decisions.

But hey, at least I get the front seat in observing what’s happening around her.

One important thing to note was that I could experience the state of her body with my own sight or her thoughts, all information that I perceive through her’s was strictly her’s. That meant that if she missed something, the information and thoughts I receive will also be lacking it. With that, it was astounding to see just how much an average person would neglect.

Throughout the trip, Finny had her pick out things in the environment like some elaborate game of Eye-Spy. A rabbit here, a plant there — it was constant drudgery and it didn’t help that Sophia wasn’t proficient at it all. While I could probably help, it was essential to let her traverse the path herself. Otherwise, I would be the one learning it, not Sophia.

So, instead, I content myself with observing how her [Essence] changed over time as she continued practising. Either way, it would be a fruitful endeavour for me just as well.

Eventually, after some hours of walking through the cold without bringing food or water, the two hit a point where the woods had given to bare rocks. As Sophia looked around, I could see the village of Ansvil far below us, the houses seemingly made of pebbles against the puddle known as the sea.

Sophia wasn’t fond of the height, just the wind blowing in her face atop the cliffside was enough to make her queasy. Despite that, Finny relentlessly led her on at a furious pace, scaling the rocks with ease. The two continued to hike, jumping from crag to crag until they were at the very edge.

Somehow, someone had installed a large, square-shaped slab of rock, free from the slowly drifting snow. It sat there conspicuously, looking as if it had just appeared there, or had perhaps always been.

At this point, Sophia was positively exhausted, her face red and her coat flapping in the wind. Finny too was breathing heavily, a single bead of sweat visible at her brow. The two took a short break before continuing, which consisted of Finny forcing Sophia to sit with her legs dangling over the edge of the cliffside and start pointing out things.

What things?

I wouldn’t know. Sophia couldn’t see it, after all.

Not yet, at any rate.

I could make some reasonable guesses myself — clearly, there must be some creatures of the [Beyond] flying about or crawling at the cliffs. Either way, it wasn’t something I could see until Sophia could or the egg I’ve given her hatches, whichever that would come first.

I myself was excited at the idea. It wasn’t because I couldn’t see it, but rather I would gain some insight into how I’m doing the things I could apparently do. The odd blob of [Essence] near my own [Core] was still there, untouchable and immovable, seemingly having completely grafted itself.

If I could understand the theory, then it would be easier to explain exactly what was going on.

So, I waited patiently, silently.

On the other hand, I was also busy with something else.

I do get bored eventually. One could only ever hope for a training montage to hurry up.

So, I busy myself with something else while time passes. I had several projects going right now, most of them handed over to the Iasgaireans to do the hard work of actually figuring out how things work whilst I oversee them — or things that only I could do.

Which is, to say, with the formerly nameless Zweitsian soldier I thought to be some inconspicuous recruit.

That was a mistake.

Occasionally, fate, of which I was sure to be a definitely tangible and malicious thing, could really make it all so horribly ironic.

As I began the procedures of carving him apart and begin reading through his past — just to see what he got — I began to realize that he was, in fact, not some nameless Zweit. His story began in a farming village, surrounded by rolling hills, boundless skies of blue and verdant forests that stretched out to the horizon. The buildings were made of yellowed bricks, tiled roofs and chimneys. The sun shone down gently, shining off the sea of corns and grains as the wind send waves through it all.

There was a chapel, a basin of water. Voices, parents, sibling.

He was young back then.

He was led up to the basin and within, he saw himself. This was his first memory of being himself.

Reiz Rutherford and his elder brother.

That was the first sign.

I scrolled through his memories, speeding through and sifting through the years of accumulated thoughts. There was his childhood, his friends, parents. There was his education, his village, his —

Ah, there.

Reiz blinked.

“Congratulations,” said Reinark.

There was a piece of paper in his hands. He read it again, just to be sure that he hadn’t misread it. Dumbfoundedly, he gaped, “I passed?”

“You did.”

He hadn’t expected to. His bags were unpacked, his clothing was still hung up on the racks.

“But - I —“ he stammered.

“Have some faith in yourself, kid,” Reinark patted him on the shoulder, his voice full of pride, “There’s no way a brother of mine wouldn’t pass!”

“Then… we are going then.”

There were more.

A girls face. Her lips, a first kiss.

A man’s blade, stern eyes, pride.

I could see a ship at dock, prepared to set sail.

Armour.

A flag, three swords on a shield.

He stared down at the palms of his hands. There were calloused, rough but shaking. It was the hands of someone that had trained but inexperienced. He was nervous.

His fellow Swords matched up on the ship, their helms and armours gleaming. His brother was at the front, arms crossed.

These were the surface-level parts.

His destiny laid on the ship, the expedition.

They were at sea.

Iasgaireans. Blood.

A village, seaside.

Quaint.

And then, me.

I happened.

I had many thoughts.

I’ve read somewhere that each person’s life is their own greatest story but here I was, reading through, claiming them, taking it apart for myself. It definitely wasn’t moral — not at all.

I’ve done worse, much worse.

I’ve taken Iasgaireans apart with nary a thought. I’ve mangled souls and bodies for the sake of finding out where and what I am. I’ve killed and done so many wrong things for so many reasons.

But yet!

But yet I hesitated.

Why?

Was it some misguided sense of empathy? Was it because he was human? Was it because these emotions mirrored my own? Was it just because I’ve seen his life, lived some part of it and I suddenly had regrets? Lives should be important.

Why now?

He’s gone.

Right.

It didn’t matter anymore, yes?

His life was gone, severed. I’ve snipped away all his connections, the [Links] between him and his loved ones, friends, acquaintances. The man no longer existed other than with me, forever, the books will have words that bear not his name but letters without meaning, his parents would have no child but one and his lover will long for no one.

If he were killed, his brother wouldn’t know. His childhood sweetheart will be waiting at shore for someone she no longer knew. History would not have his name and no one would care or remember.

At this point, wouldn’t letting him waste away in a world where no one knew him to be such a cruel act?

Would I be justified enough?

Even if he wasn’t Reiz Rutherford, even if he was just some recruit from some village on the backside of nowhere, would his life worth less than others?

I could dig into him, if needs be, to truly take his life as mine.

If he were to be part of me, was he dead at all?

It was a troubling thought.

So, I left it alone for the moment so I may revisit it at some other time.

Perhaps it was time for a pause, some introspection — that was if I had intended to fully remain sane by human standards. I had already made it a point to be someone, something that would go beyond.

So, the guilt was unnecessary.

Right?

I pulled my mind away from Reiz.

Zweits.

Yes, they were the point.

Not some person named Reiz, he wasn’t important at all. It was always a struggle to focus myself and not go off on tangents, yes.

Zweits, empire. Zweutaland, to be precise, was a coastal-spanning empire that supposedly dominated the north-west continent for somewhile. Four, five centuries, at least, and under the same monarchy, same family.

Could it even be possible?

The Chinese did it.

Europeans most certainly failed miserably at it.

The Zweits current emperor, which was somehow called the Crown despite the vassals he had, was named King Fredrick Gottzwei — the thirteenth of his lineage, apparently. I wasn’t sure exactly how the perception of the Common Tongue had affected the translation, but there were several things that immediately jumped out at me despite the lingo confusion.

Gottswei.

God.. Or something similar to that, German?

Perhaps I was looking a bit too deep into names but I had a feeling that it wasn’t mere coincidence that the name was… well, named that way. Furthermore, he was apparently Gottzwei the Thirteenth! Thirteen generations on the same throne, ruling over the equivalence of Rome? And without any apparent corruption?

There was something definitely odd with that, even with the general impression of the Zweit’s seemingly undaunting, ruthless bureaucracy machine that had a habit on hammering down upon any that dared revolt or worse, incompetence.

Knowledge wise, I could conclude that the administrative capabilities of the Zweits were terrifyingly efficient. Under the Crown, there were three Lords (with a capital L) that rule over the three central regions and cities. There were the three Ministries — of Fire, Coins and Blades, each respectively managing over domestic planning, trade and protection.

What they do, Reiz only knew it in the vaguest terms, but it seemed that they had branch offices in every city and town, while their Officers would aid the local, Lord-appointed Barons of villages in management.

In every sense, if some idyllic version of the book 1984 were to be set in some sort of fantasy medieval Europe, this would probably be it.

Either way, the Swords, which the Rutherford siblings were a part of, was some kind of organization under the Ministry of Blades that exists to ‘explore’ issues of the unnatural sort. It seemed that the concept of monsters was rather spread out through this world, of which I was becoming increasingly sure of. Somehow, this task concluded in this particular group heading towards Ansvil and their subsequent run-in with the Iasgaireans.

And just in time for me.

Damn you, fate.

As it went, the Zweits seemed rather terrifying.

Curiously though, they did not seem to have a centralized religion other than praise the Crown. What that could mean was beyond me, but I would have to keep in mind that the thing they call Crown seemed to be rather powerful...

After all, they did steamroll Bvurdrjord into the dirt.

One step at a time, Elisa.

Raw knowledge wasn’t the only thing that I’ve gotten from the sneaky raid the Iasgaireans conducted on the ship, though. Beside Reiz’s misfortune of being my unwilling guests, Vrraet and Elst had also successfully retrieved a good number of Zweitsian goods and items.

They were now being processed and catalogued within the newly-created Chamber of Innovation, where the ‘land strider’ things will be deconstructed and repurposed. A certain Bygail was having the time of his life within the laboratory, assisted by his squadron of fellow researchers and contributing their knowledge to my [Library].

Black powder, armours, silver dust, oils.

Hopefully, this would give them an edge in terms of technology despite its rather dubious potential for an underwater race.

Ah well.

After a brief flittering of attention to my other projects, just to check in on all of my [Proxies], I focused back onto Sophia.

On the cliffside, the sun had begun to slowly descend from the peak, the shadows gradually lengthening. Finny had set up a small, metal tripod, creating a small fire underneath it with twigs that seemed too wet to burn. A small pot of sat above the brewing flame, filled with snow that was rapidly melting.

The two sat crossed-legged, side by side. It was a curious scene, two girls sitting far out of the village and atop the headlands. Wind buffeted the small camp but it seemed as if it none were reaching them at all, curving around them visibly as snowflakes veered off. In their small bubble of warmth, they waited for the water to boil.

Sophia watched as Finny grounded some herbs with a stone mortar and pestle, creating a gooey, green paste. Unceremoniously, she dumped the contents into the pot, stirring it. Her stomach rumbled intermediately as she set there, the missing lunch starting to take its toll.

In Sophia’s opinion, this was most definitely witchcraft.

Time crawled on as the soup turned green, small puffs of steam rising atop. Finny retrieved two cups from her bag — clay-baked and set them onto the stone ground. With a ladle, she filled each with the frothing liquid and presented one to Sophia.

She picked it up gingerly, sniffing. It smelled of mushrooms, plant, somewhat minty. She couldn’t quite place what she was smelling and it wasn’t of herbs that she was familiar with.

“Drink while it's warm,” Finny said, “It tastes better that way.”

Sophia looked down at it dubiously, mustered up her courage an took a large swig.

It tasted horribly bitter. She blenched, then forced herself to swallow it all, her face a shade paler than it was earlier.

“So, what did we learn?” Finny asked, taking a long sip with her eyes closed.

“This tastes horrible?”

“Sophia.”

“Alright… Well, I… can’t seem to see them.”

“And the reason that you cannot see them is that you do not know what to look for. What is them?” Finny asked, setting down her cup, looking every part serene and content with the world around her.

“Spirits and monsters?” Sophia hazarded a guess. She hadn’t had the time to read through the tomes yet and this was all unfamiliar territory.

“Hm, no, not quite. They are very different things, I’m afraid,” Finny explained, “If we are to look at them academically, we could split them into three different categories — or at least as far as we understood them. Do not take these words as absolute, even we know so little about them as they do to us.”

“Oh.”

“Generally, there are three that we know of but as of today, we shall focus on only one. There are those which we would refer to as the ‘Spirits', which consists of beings without bodies. Ghosts, spirits, wraiths, things that exist beyond the flesh, beyond what could be seen with mortal eyes. These are things that the most numerous ones you would most likely encounter.”

"... You mentioned the word 'Spirits' twice.'

"It's a naming quirk amongst the ones in the know that had yet to disappear. Some would prefer to use the word 'Ethereal' but I think that detracts from the point," Finny shrugged, "Try not to confuse the names."

Sophia took a moment to digest that.

“And they can’t be seen?”

“They do not exist in the same world as we do,” said Finny airily, “Their beings are as fleeting as the wind but even air can become storms.”

“Mhm.”

“Yes?”

“How do we know they are there, then?”

Finny smiled again, “We look.”

“But we can’t see them!”

“Of course. It's difficult to see the air, isn’t it?”

“Then what was that all about?!” Sophia demanded, “Why did you ask me to look for them when you know I can’t see?”

“To teach you just what you are missing, of course,” said Finny, taking another long sip from her cup, “Once you know what you are looking for, once you start seeing them, you will find that it is impossible to not see them. Drink.”

“Can I not?”

“Just drink it, Sophia.”

“... What’s in this thing anyway?”

“Moonsliver leaves and moth pupa.”

“Ew.”

Sophia looked down at her cup dubiously. It was half full, somewhat lump and dubious-looking, the green liquid shimmering with hints of silver within. Thankfully, there weren't any signs of wayward shells or worse, crunchiness.

What's Moonsliver? It wasn't a herb that she had heard of — moth pupas, however, was disgusting.

“We don’t have a full moon to work with, so this will have to do,” Finny shrugged, “It could have been worse. My mother used to make them with cat eyes.”

“...”

“So start drinking and stop complaining.”

Sophia drank.

Reluctantly.

It sunk into her stomach, sitting like a ball of warm refuse that had a minty aftertaste.

With a small hiccup, Sophia managed to gurgle out, “... Why Moonsliver?”

“The moon is a special thing, Sophia, and one that has powerful properties. Under the moonlight, magical effects have… amplified properties, along with the power to reveal the unseen, to blur the lines between what is and what isn’t. The moth pupa, on the other hand, will help guide you towards it,” Finny explained, her head cocking to the side, “How are you feeling?”

“I fell… tingly. And a bit sick.”

“Good. That’s why we didn’t eat earlier. Now, it will feel strange for a while, try to bear it.”

Sophia obliged with all the willingness of one being told to not hurt.

“What is important now is that the things around you and what you think you can see now does not represent the whole truth. Know that even if you can’t see it, they are there.”

It's hard to imagine that, seeing that she had spent the entire morning looking for them and saw not even a single trace. But then, she did remember how Thread came into existence from literally a tapestry, so the idea of things hiding in plain sight wasn’t too absurd.

“After a few moments, you’ll start to… well, see things,” said Finny, her voice serious, “I will warn you that it would feel disorientating, alarming and whatever you do, listen to my instructions and do not do things on your own, do you understand?”

“Yes…? Wait, just like that?! This —”

“Just like that.”

“...”

“It's not that complicated, Sophia.”

She took that at face value. At this point, she couldn’t even protest against it anymore. With a deep, dramatic breath, Sophia gave a single terse nod.

“Close your eyes for a moment and follow my instructions. Breath in, breath out. Feel the heat spread out… Yes, that is it. Breathe in, breathe out.”

Sophia followed through, listening carefully. As she focused, gradually, a new sensation came into being within her. It felt as if there were strings of fire within her, warming as her heart pumped blood around her body. There was a strange weight at the back of her head, each sense tingling as the briefest draft danced across her skin.

Even so, her breathing began to even out, paced.

“Focus on your each body part, from shoulder to elbow and to finger. From your back to your legs. Feel how the air flows around you, feel the way the rock sits under you. Can you feel it?”

“Yes.”

“Think of everything that your body is doing. Feel the way you breathe, feel the way every piece of your body moves.”

“Yes.”

“Now, understand that there are things that cannot feel what you feel. That there are things everywhere, just as they are beyond you and you are beyond them. Now, open your eyes.”

Sophia did.

White, black and shades of grey in between, colours of the sky and the ocean and the trees and snow dancing. She sat there, frozen and something inside her just shifted. The world felt sharp, acute, things popping into focus where there once was not, each colour seemingly more than what they were.

There was a fog that wasn’t, a rain that made no sound and a blizzard that failed to bring cold. She felt acute nausea for a moment as her world seemed to flip and tumbled, a thin metallic scent reaching her nose.

And she saw.

They were in the air. They were on the ground.

They floated, moved, crawled, like swarms of phantom insects, a blizzard that exists only in the mind.

They were everywhere, coagulating, squirming over each other like dew drops on leaves during Spring.

She couldn’t put a defined shape to them, it was as if trying to picture a round square, its very existence vague and only possible through representations. But despite her blinking her eyes, they remained.

I saw them too and it was a sight for sore eyes.

Behold!

The [Blobs]!

Well, it wasn’t exactly as I remember seeing them for myself. For once, looking through actual human eyes while perceiving things within the [Beyond] was quite different. First of all, I wasn’t sure why but through Sophia’s perspective, these things felt… muted, unrefined.

Like snow rather than entire snowglobes — The colours that she sees weren’t the kind that I could see.

It was a good first step, I suppose. I didn’t know what I expected, to be honest, but its a good confirmation about my own vision. I was somewhat disappointed, of course, though I was somewhat glad that I had a superior version of this Sight thing. At the same time, I was exceedingly interested in knowing what I had missed — I hadn't spent much time mortals that weren't Iasgairean.

I’m shallow like that.

Either way, I kept silent as Sophia sat there, mouth agape and iris dilated, her heart beating hard. Astonished, her mind struggling to comprehend what she could now see, a small giggle made its way out of her.

“Do you see them?”

“Y-Yes, I think I do,” Sophia whispered, her eyes darting about, “What- What are they? There are so many...”

“They are errant thoughts, dislodged from their previous owners,” Finny said in a matter-of-fact manner, her voice calm and even, “They are the dreams of the world around you, those of trees, rocks, grasses, insects. Generally, these are what we would call Spirits.”

“They think?!”

“In their own way, yes. If left alone, they will fade away into nothingness, lost forever and forgotten. There are many theories about why that is, of course, but we will not go through that for now.”

“And animals?”

“They think bigger and with slightly more complex,” Finny took another sip, “And are capable of… volition. Mostly, they would follow what they did in life — eat, grow, mimicking life in the most shallow fashion. The Spirit of a rabbit, perhaps, would spend its fleeting existence chasing after grass that is just as fleeting. These two kinds of Spirits are what we call Lesser Spirits. These are the most common and most basic denizens you’ll see.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“Only dangerous to their own kind — unless they somehow grow strong enough, that is,” she smiled, “They cannot see us, just as we could not see them.”

“Oh,” Sophia replied lamely, “Is this what you see all the time?”

“What you are seeing? No,” Finny gave a small laugh, “I see a lot more than you do. You’ve but only scratched the surface of what there is to be seen.”

They sat there quietly for a moment, watching as the [Blobs], both grey and red, flew about in the air and rolled around in the dirt. One errant [Grey Blob] came close to the two, its shape floating gently against the wind.

Sophia gave Finny an inquisitive look, to which she said, “Go on, try touching them.”

Gently, Sophia reached out and waved, her index poking at the blob. To her surprise, her hand went straight through the [Blob] as if it weren’t there at all. Unperplexed, the [Blob] continued on its merry way, phasing through her without making contact. Soon, it disappeared into the mass of [Blobs] that tumbled their ways out of view.

“Huh.”

“The reason that we can’t touch them is that we do not exist together, just as why we couldn’t even perceive them normally” Finny explained as she poured herself more of the brew, “Our earthly bodies are firmly grounded, our thoughts protected. Furthermore, these thoughts are too weak to affect us in any meaningful way. Perhaps if one were to drift into a Lesser Spirit of a wolf, they might have the urge for meat that night. But besides that, the interactions between us and they were quite… distant.”

“What do they do then?”

“Do they have to do anything?” Finny raised an eyebrow.

“Well, if they are thoughts… then what about ones from humans?”

“Ah, that’s where things get complicated,” Finny made a grimace, “Human thoughts and dreams are much more complicated. They also have an annoying habit of manifesting themselves as well, drifting and forming into Spirits that are much more immediate. For good and for bad, but most of them are malevolent — humans are not nice.”

“Uh…”

I listened carefully just as well. I, for one, hadn’t seen them.

“Just like animals, our thoughts can take root, especially if directed at something. From love, joy and hope, but also from things such as jealousy, hatred and grief. They will turn into things that exist only to carry out their nature,” the girl elaborated on the topic unprompted, “There are many names for them throughout the long history of Bvurdrjord, be it Grudges, Nightmares or whatnot but most times, we will refer them to be Sufferings. Whichever the case, you may see much of them when we arrive back in Ansvil. Try not to be alarmed.”

“... Why?” Sophia questioned warily.

“Oh, they tend to look rather monstrous. Suddenly seeing them would be rather… unsettling for a beginner. That’s why we are out here, after all,” Finny gestured at the stone slab beneath them, “Oh, and go take a look at Ansvil from here, tell me what you see.”

“Uh, sure.”

It took Sophia a moment to find her footing again, her nerves having gone dead while she was sitting on the hard floor. As she looked over to the village she grew up in, she immediately paused in her tracks.

“What’s… that around the village?”

“That’s," Finny answered with a small smile, "a Barrier.”

Around the village, almost synching with the wooden palisade that wrapped around it, was a glowing wall of light that reached up to the sky. It shimmered ephemerally, layering across with a distinct feeling of protectiveness, billowing like fire. The waves that splashed across the shore were completely white, with only the vaguest shapes of shadow to even suggest that there were waves at all.

“I’ve told you, even simple actions have meanings,” Finny took another sip from the cup as if it was merely tea, “As humans build walls, its an announcement, it’s claiming the land for their own, it’s about creating a world where other things are no longer welcomed. Thus, by pure intention alone, there’s a wall.”

Uh.

“Obviously, it wasn’t effective against all things. The Spirits of man began there, thus evil born of man cannot be kept out. That’s also why they can interact with us,” Finny continued on her lecture, “We’ll see more of them when we’re closer. Until then, try not to touch anything.”

“We’re going back now?”

“In a little bit. We can afford to stay a little longer, I think.”

“You said these are… Lesser Spirits. Then what about Greater Spirits? Will you tell me about them too?”

“Yes.”

“... And they are?”

“Spirits that have gained enough cohesion to have a body and a mind. As they gain strength, they also gain the ability to interact with the world around them — us, for example. You could imagine that they are much more dangerous than Lesser Spirits, even if they do not look like so. If you see one, run.”

“Uh.”

“I’m serious, Sophia. They are called Greater Spirits for a good reason. Of course, some are more powerful than others, but as you are now, you couldn’t even hope to tackle the lowest of the low.”

“... Then, they can be killed? You said they take on… forms?” Sophia questioned uncertainly, her mind racing as questions sprouted like mushrooms after a spring rain.

“In some manner, yes. However, you’ll find that weapons — those of mortals, at least, have little effect on those that aren’t truly present in the mortal world. It's difficult to harm an idea of a creature with mundane crafts,” Finny elaborated, “Furthermore, even as they take on the form of something — let's say, a wolf Spirit, they could just as easily become intangible again, spread their influence across the world through inciting violence, aggression or even possession. In most cases, they are amplified, something greater than just any mundane creatures.”

“Ah... “ Sophia breathed out, “Alright. Dangerous,”

“Not all of them are aggressive, however,” said Finny, “I have yet to see one for myself, but I heard that there are those that can reason — or perhaps even converse with us.”

“Truly!?”

“I haven’t seen proof of their existences yet, but my mother had dealings with some,” Finny shook her head, “Looking for them would be unwise, however. They could have formed from the Spirit of a tree, of a bear or in some cases… humans.”

“Uh…”

“If that happens, run. You could imagine that creations of literal suffering would not be kind.”

Sophia decided not to question any of that.

“Well, you wouldn’t be seeing them any time soon. They seldom appear unless they are either bound by some powerful spell or had ample… environment to grow,” Finny shrugged, as she always did, “But that’s enough for today, I think. Too much more of this will start to hurt.”

With a startle, Sophia realized that there was something wet on her lips. She wiped at it with her fingers and it returned bright crimson — blood. The trail of red had begun to drip from her nostrils, splattering the stone below. Hastily, she wiped it away, soaking her gloves with it.

Over the horizon, off to one side, the sun was beginning to set. Even through the cold winter clouds, the feeble rays somehow managed the barest tinges of orange.

“Come on, let’s start packing,” Finny said uncaringly, “The sooner we return, the sooner we can get some food in you. Besides, the effects of the tea will wear off soon and there's much you need to see.”

The two began their journey back.

The way back was just as treacherous as the way up, perhaps even more so. As the sun began to set, the shadows began to lengthen can cast odd shapes across the snow. All around her, the world took on a new spectrum of life. [Blobs] of indeterminate shapes and sizes began to appear more frequently, some even seemingly moving around with intention.

And eventually, the two made it back to town.

It wasn't very interesting.

Once or twice, the vague, billowy forms of dark shapes could be seen, stalking their way through the empty streets like sentient clouds of smoke. Even with Sophia's limited ability to perceive, she could tell that these things were intrinsically wrong in some fashion. Just by laying sight upon them, their white, circular eyes that resembled holes in a mask, she felt bile rising up from within her stomach.

Finny swiftly led her away. With gusto, they retreated back to the safety of the Corners, relieved to be out of the cold and snow. Inside the building, there were various customers — ones that had made their way here regardless of the cold, served with food and drink by —

No one.

There was food on their plates, the fire was burning at the stove, small candles were lit and conversations were had. Yet, there was no hint of servers anywhere, the men calling out to phantom beings for refills. Sophia stared for a moment and headed straight for the counter instead.

It was too much for her to handle for the day. Feeding herself had her priority.

With that, I looked away.

That's enough from them for a while.

Then, there’s the third thing I was working on.

I’ve already known that from Evelyn that there will be local Gods hanging about in this land. I do not know their power, their strength or what they could do. So far, it seemed that the idea of monsters was credited to the god of the sea — which I now inhabit — Guviar. Even though I should be living in his domain, I had yet to see or hear any signs of who they were.

In some way, I’ve gotten a tad nervous about the complete lack of responses and with that, the complete lack of information from beyond this little village. With that in mind, I had instructed my servants … minions? Worshippers?

Whichever.

I had instructed them to start working on capturing various creatures so I could have access to more samples to work with. Specifically, Vrraet and Vahisk had been the one to work with the basic designs of what we should do with them. A proposal was made — sentries, scouts, something to serve as the eyes of the Iasgaireans without risking the whole.

They were very excited with the prospect, of course.

Somewhere, within the depths of a carved stone tube, suspended within a multitude of membranes and sac, I coaxed life into the figures. They moved, their small, streamlined bodies vague and unnatural, a multitude of eyes opening across their scaled flesh. A rudimentary intelligence lit up within their heads, not quite sapient or self-aware, but more than enough to carry out its purpose.

Their initial twitches were slow, crawling over the slick bodies of each other as I cleared their minds, seeing through their eyes. Gently, I prodded them forward.

Go.

With a frenzy of limbs, they scrambled out of their sacks in a burst of movement, their fins carrying these Iasgaireans away into the oceans. Over time and with my help, Elst and Vrraet had helped design a series of beings, something beyond any they had ever had. Sewn together from the bodies of beasts, jaws and eyes blending together to create this new thing.

They were crude, simple, but it was a start. For something that we had started just a week ago, it was something extraordinarily horrible.

There was a horrific pride as he watched his creations spiralled their way into the water, disappearing beyond the limits of his sight. He shuddered as he gazed upon their form, the embryonic juice from their Vessels flooding outward and fading away. I suppose that in some way, he had achieved some manner of success in his desire to reform the society of Iasgaireans.

These newly created beings, monstrous in form, shall spread out through the coast of Bvurdrjord. Within them, they shall carry my [Proxies], to increase my reach and sight. While the Iasgaireans had been interesting, I believed that I had been stalling for a little while. With some luck, these ‘scouts’ will allow me to contact a much greater number of beings or at the very least, explore Bvurdrjord.

They were expendable and they were fast.

I didn’t need much of anything, after all. While Sophia was my way of connecting with the locals, to learn about the humans of the land… well, but some measures had to be taken to understand other things.

Ghosts. Spirits. Monsters. Gods.

A small chuckle made its way out of me, as muffled as it was under the fleshy body of the Sgnirmah.

Information, that’s what matters.

With a flick of my will, I pushed the sight of the Iasgaireans onto the side, monitoring their movements, guiding their actions. At all times, the [Essence] gained from faith continued to trickle into me. I had a good power base now and it was clear that staying at the bottom of the ocean, waiting for life to things to go by… But however!

It wouldn’t let me achieve my goals if I just stood still and wait.

Progression. Initiative.

It was time to expand, after all.