Ceyda was lying on the floor of the barn again, eating thin, tasteless crackers. Like she had been given when imprisoned in the basement.

The same basement which turned out to be the perfect place to cast more powerful spells.

She had learned this after spending an entire day breathing in toxic fumes, eyes watering, and examining the nook and cranny of every evacuated building in the town.

Ceyda was a tad exhausted, to say the least. Aster and Natalia had been nice the entire day. That was good. Lots of jokes, although Ceyda really didn’t understand most of them.

Feeling better?

“A little,” Ceyda said, as she ate the tasteless lump of food. “Maybe I should rob another house.”

How about we don’t do that, and you try another spell.

Ceyda sat up. Doc saying no made her feel a bit better, admittedly. Another confirmation that she should stay safe. “Do tell.”

Another Dorskina spell. I want you to try imagining a beacon. This can usually take a few years to learn, whereas everything else you’ve exhibited is pretty standard. So this is where we’ll get an idea of how well you do with advanced spells.

Ceyda stood up and stretched her hands up. “Dorskina! Beacon!”

A thin white tower erected around Ceyda, almost encompassing the entire barn..

...so you’re not a bad person, Ceyda, but gods, I really hate you.

Ceyda jumped in excitement. “That’s good right?”

The white tower disappeared.

Ohhh yeah. That’s really good. And I write this nonsarcastically. My week estimation was way off.

Ceyda giggled. “All right, plan. I’m going to try and take a nap, scope out Esterath’s domain, see if I get another vision. And if not, I either sleep into the night, or I wake up and seek the others out, see if they have food, and ask them if they’ve seen anyone like Rembrandt or Fontaine around.”

She paused for a moment.

“Also hang out with them. Because they are my friends and I like them.”

You don’t have to justify yourself to me. Sounds like a plan. Make sure to ask if there are any drugs that don’t damage your lungs when you do.

Ceyda shut herself in the basement of the barn. At first, it didn’t seem like it was working, as she flopped on the makeshift bed, waiting to dream. After a few minutes of frustration, she sat up to end it, only to find herself back floating amongst the pink clouds.

The door was gone. All that was left was a pile of wooden planks. Ceyda made her way over there, to see if there was some way to reconstruct it or anything. The planks felt unnaturally heavy in her hands.

But that’s all they were, wooden planks.

No more doorway.

No more Reiner. She didn’t really know the man, admittedly. Most of her affection for him was reliant on how useful he could have potentially been, but her heart tightened all the same. When her grandmother had died, Ceyda hadn’t shed a single tear. Hadn’t even been sad. But of course, her grandmother had been bedridden for months. It wasn’t a matter of “how” but “when.”

This was sudden. Abrupt. No time for her world to adjust.

A person she had talked to was murdered. A single life, cut short.

Others had died but she hadn’t known their names. Their faces. Their voices. And she knew enough about Reiner to picture him clearly in her mind.

The whole thing put her at a profound sense of unease.

The upper sky was darker than normal. Ceyda looked up, and to her surprise, saw that Esterath’s dream sky was different than it used to be. No longer blank and pleasant, it was dark and brown. Rumbling thunder clouds. She squinted, staring into the center of the storm.

A literal eye with red sclera.

They were looking for her.

They were looking for her locii.

Oh shit.

The shock of the realization forced her awake, and uneasy.

“I don’t think I should go to Esterath’s domain anymore,” she said quietly.

What happened?

“There was… this eye. I think it was looking for me,” Ceyda said. “Is there a way to just dream normally?”

Yeah, it’s pretty instinctual. I don’t really know how to explain it, since it's the sort of thing drilled into me by my entire surroundings. You just… choose not to go. On the bright side, it means they don’t know where you are.

Ceyda sighed, stood up, and readjusted her clothing. “Well, I guess that answers my question, even if I didn’t want it to. Reiner’s door is gone, that means he’s dead, right?”

Not exactly? The fact that there was a door there in general is inexplicable. If you mean, does someone’s locii go away when they die? No. They just sink. There used to be an entire field to study and preserve ancient locii, long since the dreamer had died. Ursomnology. I’m assuming you’ve never heard of it before.

“Correct.”

There are spells that take the form of doors, but it would have to be one on his end to get you into the locii. Someone can’t just barge into someone else’s locii. So if there was an empathic link? Of some kind? Maybe it broke when he died. But the issue is we don’t know why it was there in the first place. The only thing I can guess is that it has something to do with me, the magic book.

Ceyda nodded and started walking away from the barn. Same ol’ same ol’. More information to use, but none of the context. It was a pattern that she was already becoming annoyingly familiar with.

“Oh, Doc. Are there creatures in the dreamscape?”

Yes. They are called nightmares. They are mindless amalgamations of humanity’s worst fears that roam the borders of the dreamscape, attacking unsuspecting individuals.

“Huh,” Ceyda said. “The two mages I met, I think they knew about them. But they called them ruminations.”

Like your toxic ruminations.

“Yeah. They called the dream world the world of rites too,” Ceyda continued, her eyes darting at every movement across the grassy fields of Bricketfriar.

It was getting darker and the busy hustle and bustle of the morning had faded. People were smoking on porches, while others were inside candle lit buildings, no doubt eating dinner or getting ready for bed.

It occurred to Ceyda that she had. No idea. Where anyone was.

She probably should have thought of that. She had gotten lucky with Merlin, the other time, but she didn’t know if she could particularly count on getting lucky twice.

Well, getting lucky three times if one counted the fact that she currently touted a magical spellbook.

She returned to Whiskey Road, since it was her only sense of where they could be. The building was abandoned, and just as dark as it had been in the day time, if not moreso. She was honestly surprised she had spent a night there, it was flat out spooky now.

“Dorskina,” Ceyda mumbled. Her senses expanded, but to no avail.

She shook her head. She needed it to get bigger. Needed to increase her range.

“Dorskina!” Ceyda invoked forcefully. The louder voice did the trick, and she found herself able to see for miles. The mice and rats underneath her, the old man sleeping in the attic of the brewery across the road, and the miles and miles of cobblestone and road.

But not quite enough.

“Dorskina!” Ceyda invoked again, putting as much physical force she could into a word. In that moment, she saw the entire town. All of it. Every person. Every noise. Every conversation. Everything she wanted, and about a thousand times as much stuff she never wanted to see.

Ceyda gave a bit of a yell, and promptly fell onto the ground. It had been a tad overwhelming. Absurdly so.

...I hate you. So much right now. How far could you see?

“The entire town?”

Karani’s grace, that’s absurd. That’s not a range anyone should be able to cast.

“I only do it because of you, Doc,” Ceyda replied.

I know. I’m getting terrified of me. You better make sure I don’t fall into anyone else’s hands. If that Rembrandt guy gets me, you can just assume it’s the end of the world. Or at least, the end of you. You will die.

“Well, good news, I didn’t see him, Fontaine or any mage anywhere,” Ceyda said, not particularly excited by the safety. “Do we even know if someone else could cast with you? Like if someone tried to make you their spell book?”

Well, Ceyda, that’s a bit of a wonky question. When I grew up, there was no such thing as picking a spellbook. It was just. Your spellbook. The magic came from you, the spells came from you. The grimoire is just the conduit. Some people even generate their own grimoires as a faction of their soul. These aren’t magical amplifiers. They’re not… things that do what I do.

And it bothers me. Because it means there is something deeply wrong with me.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just something you don’t know about! Maybe you died and Teractus saved your life so you could live on forever in a spellbook!” Ceyda suggested randomly.

...that doesn’t feel very comforting. That actually sounds stressful. Living forever as a grimoire isn’t something I want to do.

Ceyda frowned, as she walked off Whiskey Road. While she had been overwhelmed, she was pretty sure she had caught a glimpse of Opal and Lyle somewhere, so she just had to figure out where that was.

“Why? You don’t like being a spell book?

Would you?

“I think I would. Never have to go to the bathroom again. Never age. Get to see the future. Just cast magic and know things,” Ceyda said. “Do you ever get tired?”

Admittedly, no. But it’s dreadfully monotonous. I don’t have pain senses, pleasure senses, or any senses. All I have is my knowledge and my communication with you. I exist for you, and no one else. And that’s… fine. It’s fine. But I don’t want to spend a hundred years like that.

“Oh,” Ceyda said awkwardly. She placed her hands on her hips and thought for a moment. “Can you stop being a book?”

I don’t know.

“Well, what if I learned a spell to free you?” Ceyda asked.

Would you even cast it, if you knew you could? You seem to be enjoying my services, with all due respect.

“I’d be freeing you from the book!” Ceyda said. “Not destroying the book itself. All I have to do is figure out where the Teractus artifact ends and you start!”

Do you have any idea how you would even begin to start doing that.

“Admittedly, no. But I’m going to try, I promise.”

Don’t do that.

“Don’t do what?”

Don’t… make promises. It’s not a good idea. Promises get broken. They shouldn’t be spoken lightly. You could end up in a very dangerous situation.

Ceyda rolled her eyes. “I guess.”

No. Ceyda. Listen to me. Don’t promise something unless you seriously, actually, mean it.

Ceyda picked up Doc and stared at her. “Doc. I wouldn’t promise something if I don’t mean it. Not because I think promises are sacred or anything, just because I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

You’ve lied before. Listen, Ceyda

“--stop!” Ceyda yelled. “Stop writing! Doc! I seriously, totally, promise, that if you ever figure a way to break free of that book, I will definitely do everything in my power to free you. All right? And I mean that seriously, not lying. Promise.”

...thank you Ceyda. Please stop speaking so seriously.

Ceyda found what appeared to be a tavern of some kind. The area looked familiar. She shut her eyes and expanded her senses. Sure enough, the entire group she had grown some fondness for were situated in the back, talking and laughing.

She brightened, and strolled over. They were behind a fence with a locked door. Ceyda stared at the fence door, not knowing if it was a good idea to climb over or find someone to unlock it.

Not knowing what else to do, she knocked on the fence.

Our hero, ladies and gentlemen…

“It’s rude to just open doors without being invited!” Ceyda insisted.

That never stopped you befo--wait, how many doors did you walk in uninvited before that was drilled into your head.

“...only a few.”

Ceyda, if I could laugh, I’d be on the floor. I guess I could write it. Hah! Hah! Hah! No that looks creepy. Ignore those words.

Ceyda knocked on the fence again. To her surprise, she could hear footsteps, and the gate was opened by Gilbert.

“Hi, hello!” Ceyda said cheerfully.

Gilbert coughed awkwardly. “Oh, uh, hey, Ceyda. How’d you find this place?”

“I used magic, you should have told me you were going somewhere else, I can’t keep track of all these secret hideouts,” Ceyda said, as she started to walk past Gilbert.

To her confusion, the boy didn’t budge.

Mmmm I don’t like this.

“Can I go in? I have information I’d like to share,” Ceyda said.

“Uh--um--” Gilbert frowned, and looked behind him. “Hold on.”

He closed the fence gate, blocking everything from view. Well, that was weird. But distinctly familiar.

The din on the other side immediately quieted. Ceyda could no longer hear laughing and yelling, but only the vaguest of hushed whispers.

Ceyda took a deep breath, planning to invoke Dorskina, but stopped mid syllable. That was weird, right? Spying on people she wanted to be her friends? Yeah, that was weird. She probably shouldn’t do that.

The fence door was opened again, this time revealing Opal, clad in her usual full black. She quietly shut the door behind her, and was staring at Ceyda.

“So I heard you used magic to track us down,” Opal said curtly.

“Correct!”

Oh, Ceyda, no. No that wasn’t an information seeking question.

Ceyda blinked a few times. Was it supposed to be an accusation? “I uh-- I didn’t do anything rude. I just have no idea where anything is, so I used this spell to expand my senses, and when I saw you guys in this area, it was pretty easy to find you.”

Opal smiled, but not in a way Ceyda liked. It was a small smile, with pursed lips. Ceyda had seen that smile before, on her mother.

Ceyda wilted a bit. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for,” Opal pressed.

“Uhhh… I guess… using magic to find you guys?” Ceyda asked.

Opal rolled her eyes. “So are you really this stupid, or are you just playing dense?”

Ceyda blinked thickly. She didn’t know how to answer that.

Just leave. Just walk away. This isn’t worth it. Gods.

Ceyda did no such thing.

“Wow, all right, so I’m going to assume you really are that stupid,” Opal said, taking a deep breath. “What you’ve been doing, these past few days? It’s not cool. It’s not fun. It’s not cute. In fact it’s kind of sick and gross. It might be fine in noble land, where you can do whatever you want, but we have moral standards here.”

“I said I was sorry about the spell!” Ceyda insisted. Her heart was racing. Why wasn’t Opal listening to her?

“Sacred Skies, shut up, it’s not about your stupid little spell,” Opal snapped, taking a step towards Ceyda. “It’s how you’ve been fucking your way through every guy you can get your grubby hands on.”

Ceyda blinked.

Then, for good measure, she blinked again. And then another time after that.

Oh gods kill me now. I’ve died and gone to the bad place. This is really happening again. I swear I’m back in college and everyone’s calling dibs on the hottest professors.

“I don’t fully comprehend,” Ceyda squeaked, as she pushed up her glasses.

Opal’s expression did not change. “You flirted with Merlin, you fucked Lyle and then went straight for Aster, what, were you gonna try and go for Gilbert next? Or Julian, maybe?

“I uh, I don’t think I’ve met Julian,” Ceyda mumbled.

“Seriously?” Opal spat. “That’s how you respond? Real fucking mature, chatelaine!”

“I didn’t--I think you’ve been gravely misinformed because I definitely didn’t flirt with Merlin. I didn’t even know he liked me until Lyle said something. And I didn’t--”

“--ugh, are you kidding me?” Opal interrupted her, getting an inch closer. Now she was standing over Ceyda, close enough to spit at her. “Why are you being so evasive?”

“I’m not being evasive! I’m just-- I’m just very confused--” Ceyda stuttered over her words. Several things were happening at once and she didn’t know how to reply or explain or respond. Opal was mad at her! And so was Gilbert? And--the others. Lyle. Aster. Merlin. All of them were in there. And so was Danette and Natalia and--

Did they all think this? Who had--no one had debunked this?

What?

Ceyda. Leave the situation. Walk away now.

“So you really are that fucking braindead,” Opal said. “All right, I’m going to spell this out in words that even an airhead like you can understand. You don’t own any of the boys here. They aren’t yours to go through. Normal people? Like us? Consider that cheating, and being the worst kind of person. So why don’t you actually think about what you’ve been doing, for once in your life, hm?”

Ceyda hiccupped. “I-- I think there was a mistake here--”

“No! No there wasn’t. Everyone told me what happened, you’re just mad that you got caught. No one wants to talk to you tonight. We’re all sick of whatever game you’re playing. So please, just let us have a night to ourselves. You might still be the little beloved chatelaine, but we deserve some privacy, all right?” Opal said.

“Um--yeah but--”

“No! Shut up! You’re not welcome here! Go spy on other people with your creepy magic!” Opal insisted.

Ceyda, please, I’m begging you, leave.

Ceyda looked at Doc, then back at Opal. She wiped the wetness off her face. As she talked, her voice hitched. “I’m sorry…”

With that, she turned and left. She made it down one street corner before she collapsed on the corner of the road, and began to sob.

The emotional weight was too much. She thought she had made friends!

“I hate boys, I hate them,” Ceyda spat. Merlin, Lyle and Aster. They were the ones who had been there. They were the ones who had given Opal information.

Hey, hey there, it’s all right.

“No it’s not! I hate all of them!”

Which is good and fine. You’re feeling embarrassed and humiliated. That was rough. But we need to talk.

Ceyda wiped away the tears from her blubbering face again. “About what? That everyone hates me, and I don’t even know what I did wrong?”

Yes, actually. You were trying to talk to Opal about something. I want you to walk me through what happened through your perspective.

“Why?” Ceyda asked. “Why does it even matter? Weren’t you watching the whole time”

Look, no one deserves getting bullied like that. And besides, she’s not even correct. Plenty of well to do people will-- you know, not the point. None of this is the point. I just think it was very rude that she kept interrupting you, and I don’t know how to help beyond offering you someone to talk to.

Ceyda sniffled. “Okay.”

You wanna talk about it?

Ceyda nodded. She muttered Dorskina’s name, jumped upwards, and lightly glided to the nearest rooftop. They were alone.

All right, let’s get to the bottom of this bullshit.