Chapter 6: The Path of Puddles

That night, she dreamed of a river. She submerged herself in its warm waters and let herself drift along with the current like a fallen leaf. Small waves, agitated by her movement, lapped against the rocky shore that gave way to gray cobbles and merged into a street. The square white houses of Carthia rose like a row of flat teeth to her left. On her right stood wild constructions of stone and wood.

Water gathered under her submerged wings and pushed her forward, carrying her deeper into the silent city. She passed a little shop to her right with a sign she could not decipher and as she turned her head back, there was a split in the river. The current dragged her to the right, towards the crowded marketplace in the distance, where the river ended and splashed onto the cobbles. Her mind raced. She did not want to go to the marketplace, not again. She kicked and paddled, but the water offered no resistance to push away from. It pulled her towards the now rapids on the right. Foam splashed and rose like a mountain in front of her and the water grew ice cold.

Something thick and slimy shot up from the depths and wound itself up her leg like a living rope. She shrieked in surprise and kicked. The slimy thing crawled higher, stopped as it brushed against her stomach and squeezed. Her leg pulsed with pressure and grew numb.

Sylph bent downwards, tried to see, but the water was black as tar. With her front claws, she struck at the thing on her leg. They raked through a soft, slimy substance and the thing pulled downwards in response, hard and fast enough to dislocate her leg. A sickening crack echoed through her body, followed by searing hot pain. She screamed out. Water rushed into her throat, stole her breath and burned like fire. Her other leg kicked once more, tried to push back and upward as she clutched her throat to stop herself from coughing and swallowing more water. She reached for the dwindling light above her one last time before her mind went blank and the black waters swallowed her.

Sylph gagged and wheezed for air. Her heart pounded in her chest as her eyes shot open and she surveyed the surrounding darkness. This was her room, her nest, her shelf, her books lying on the floor. It had been a nightmare. She wiped the drool away from her face, but only smeared a layer of sticky wetness all over the side of her snout. She lowered her pfod back to the nest and- Splat!

It took her another second to notice the damp, warm cloth beneath her and the puddle that shifted along with her weight. Her body stiffened and grew cold as she moved her digits through the hot liquid. “Ew, what? WHAT!?”

Sylph reached for the wall and fumbled around until she found the small, oval pointlight stuck above her nest. She tried to pay the liquid flowing down her arm as little attention as possible and clutched the tiny light globe hard enough to nearly crush it. She gave it a quick shake, and it lit her room with pure white light like a small and cold candle.

A piece of bed sheet had come loose, caught on her claws and wrapped around her leg. She untied it with shaking pfods, a hot wave of disbelief and shame rolled over her as she did. Surely she hadn’t- she was far too old to be drawing maps on the sheets because of a bad dream. It couldn’t- it hadn’t happened for years and never to this extent. She knew to expect a damp spot, but today it looked as though someone had dumped an entire bucket of water over her as she slept.

Sylph held her breath as she watched the puddle grow larger, now reaching the pillows on the sides. She was very sure that she was not the cause of its growth, not willingly. And it had never reached up to her torso and head. An unfamiliar sensation filled her body alongside the sickly warm embarrassment and confusion. Something heavy and light at once, pulling and pushing at her scales and insides, a feeling that she could not place.

She scrambled out of her nest and stumbled onto her four legs. The room spun as though she had a few too many bowls of ale, and a constant shiver traveled up and down her spine. Water hit the wooden floor in a constant pitter-patter and she bent downwards to look down the length of her stomach. Small drops of water formed in the ridges between her scales, joined up, and then fell to the ground. She pressed her pfod against her softer stomach scales out of curiosity. Water poured out of her belly in the same way as if she squeezed a sponge. In silence, she stood and watched her body’s impression of a rain cloud.

With her pfod still pushed against her stomach, she raised her head. The room spun before her eyes, her legs gave out and she fell forwards. Sylph explosively spread out all four legs and slammed them into the floor to regain balance. She caught herself in an awkward, wide-legged stance. She could balance on two legs in any combination if she wanted to. Falling over using three had her mind racing. Oasis had served no wine, so she wasn’t drunk. Not that this felt like being drunk.

The point light blinked in the growing puddle like a singular star in the night sky. Had she been poisoned? She shook her head. Poison did not do this. Then she realized this was all a dream. A rather realistic one, but a dream.

She drew a deep breath to calm herself, brought her legs back to where they belonged and raised her pfod. She poked against the tough scales on her torso. If this was a dream, she could push her clawed digit inside. The tip of her claw pierced slightly into a scale, leaving a minuscule dent. She pulled it away, leaving an unsightly scratch on herself.

The first test didn’t work, but you could never be sure of a dream, so she tried another. She maneuvered her tongue between her blunt back teeth and gently bit down, just enough to feel the sting. Witnessing that come true too, she closed her eyelids, intending to see through them. That had never failed, even in the Veil. But, to her concern, the world went dark and her legs grew wobbly once more.

Her stomach sunk so deep she feared it might leak out along with the water. This was not a dream. She smacked the point light against her shoulder and it stuck to her scales like it did to a wall. If all common sense failed, there was only one answer left.

She came to a running start, but her legs didn’t. They started late, she fell forward, and smacked her head against the closed door. After carefully opening the door and rubbing her pulsating headache away, she tried again, this time concentrating on putting one paw in front of the other like a hatchling learning to walk. Her steps were as awkward as one too, legs stiff, paws unsure, and the feel of warm water running down her legs did not help either.

She forced herself to move faster and started a hobbling dash through the sparsely lit corridor, leaving a trail of droplets. The door to the other part of the house was unlocked, as always. “Dalian!” Sylph yelled, and barged into his bedroom. Her paw caught on the doorstep and she stumbled into the room.

The white Metia startled awake, his head shot upwards and hit the shelf right above his nest. A book tumbled downwards, bounced off his straight horns, flipped open and impaled itself on one of the spikes running down his back. Sylph couldn’t help herself and let out a singular, snorting laugh. She glanced at the other side of the large oval nest. It was empty, much to her relief. She liked Myrtha, but she didn’t need more panic.

Dalian stumbled out of his nest and blinked the sleep out of his blue eyes, shying away from the bright light pointed right at him. “Sylph? What are you doing here?” His snow-white coat of tough Metia scales scattered the light into thousands of points all across the room.

“It’s very late.” He lowered his head to be on eye-level with her. While he was a few inches larger than Veria and his head wider, he lacked the aura of authority and danger that made you feel small in comparison. Talking to him felt more face to face as a result, despite the size difference.

“I woke up in a completely wet nest,” she explained, and pointed to the growing puddle beneath her.

Dalian’s wings drooped down on his back and he sighed, rubbing the top of his head. “That happens to the best of us, Sylph,” he yawned. “Shouldn’t you wake your mothers instea-” He stopped mid-sentence and strained his eyes, instantly wide awake as he watched the puddle reach out towards the bookshelves next to her. “Why are you just standing there and continuing?”

“I didn’t- Not like that! It’s magic! I’m leaking water from my scales.” She lifted her front leg and nodded to the drops that gathered like a little lake between her tensed muscles. Water pooled around her tongue and she swallowed. A wave of dizziness washed over her. She lost a lot of water, she now realized. Dehydration was a dragon killer, and she had been leaking for quite a while now.

Dalian flicked his tail against the floor like a whip, and the lightglobe on the ceiling flickered to life. An orange glow flooded the room and drowned out Sylph’s small point light. She squinted for several seconds before her eyes adjusted to the bright figure in front of her. His shiny scales made him hard to look at in direct light.

He stretched his wings to shake off the last remains of sleep. “That is very curious indeed.” Despite what he saw in front of him, his voice remained calm and analytical. He eyed the water seeping through Sylph’s scales, then reached out with his pfod. He stopped a few inches away from her arm. “May I?”

Sylph nodded. Dalian was careful and gentle, even if his pfod fit around her entire underarm. His three digits and thumb had their claws neatly filed down to nothing. He closed his pfod around her arm with the softest grip he could muster. No matter how carefully he gripped her, needles pricked her skin where his hard scales scratched along hers and rested against them.

The sensation of his grip mixed with dull numbness spreading out from her stomach and she grit her teeth. Wave after wave of stings traveled up her arm. Dalian’s expression did not change as he tightened his grip ever so slightly, watched the water pool between his digits and flow down the side. She had turned into a sponge. “And?”

He nodded several times and mumbled variations of “mhm”. Unlike Brandon, who described every step of alchemy as he worked, Dalian never talked much, and being the object of study unnerved her.

“Just make it sthooopfffff!” Sylph begged and sneezed as water tickled and flowed from her nose.

“It is magic,” Dalian said.

“I got that far myself.”

The needles in her skin turned to icy tendrils sliding around her arm and she pulled it out of Dalian’s grip. His tail flicked against the oval mattress behind him. The tone of his voice changed, the sudden excitement palpable. “Do you feel any different?”

Her tongue felt like a pelt resting in her mouth. “Thirsty, really thirsty. And as though I am in a weird dream?” Sylph stamped down in the puddle. She did not have time to stop and feel.

Dalian shook his head, then cracked a wide smile. “You have a new sense, one you have yet to uncover. Something new, deep inside your head.” His smile widened. Sylph knew he said those exact words to new students, but- “You can stop the water,” he said without a hint of surprise in his voice. “You are a pathwalker.”

The answer forced the air out of her lungs like a tail slam to her chest. “Excuse me?” It couldn’t be right. She would’ve accepted poison, somebody’s ability, or even the bathtub that haunted her for the horrors it had to witness and endure. It knew she lied about the source of the scratches.

Her being a pathwalker was impossible. But Dalian would never joke about that, he barely made jokes at all. “Me? A pathwalker? Seriously!” A full bucket of emotions fought for her attention at once. Instead of pouring out one by one, they all washed over her. Her grin could be a mistaken frown, her nervous laughter genuine joy. It all mixed and poured out in a string of questions. “How? I was asleep. I am too old, or am I not? The paths don’t do this.”

The only way to walk one of the six paths was to be born with it. You either figured it out as a hatchling or whelp, like Dalian did, or you had a parent that showed you. The proverbial rock in her head got into motion. Could that be the secret her mothers hid from her? She snapped to attention at the sensation of water dripping from the top of her mouth and out through her grinning smile. “Anf hofw do I makfe it ftop! Fis can’t be goof can if?” she asked, or tried to.

Dalian approached the shelf opposite his nest and browsed through the rows of books. He picked up a tome bound in old, gray wyvern leather. “The first thing you have to do is calm down.” He placed the book on a small desk attached to the side of the shelf and continued to skim through the pages. “Abilities seldom harm their users, especially not if they can’t control it.” He looked up from the pages to the puddle. “Maybe your age blurs your mind to a new sense. Hatchlings don’t think too much. They find something new every day, so a new sense is easily discovered. Which is why they suddenly wake up one morning and have basic control over their growing ability.”

Sylph twisted her head, allowing the water to leak out the side and for her to talk. “I very much felt like a hatchling when I woke up. Didn’t help much.”

“Pretend we are trying to enter the path of souls.” He evidently hadn’t found what he looked for in the book as he kept skimming page after page. “Even if the path of souls is not one of the six, the relaxation techniques will help you find your new sense.”

Sylph struggled for a deep breath past the water in her throat and closed her eyes. Be calm, become heavy. The water tickled, her heart pounded and her concentration slipped with the water drops. Focus. She slipped into her favored fighting stance, Tia’s stance. Named after the unwavering goddess, it made you plant your feet on the ground, lower your center and stand as firm as possible. Against all logic, she wobbled like a slab of fat. How could she relax and calm down if she couldn’t even stand straight? If this stance didn’t help her keep her balance, nothing would.

“Lying down may help.”

Sharp footsteps echoed through the hallway and interrupted Dalian. A heavy strut like that could only belong to Veria. A big grin formed on Sylph’s face, and she turned to face the open door. The familiar pair of yellow eyes glowed in the darkness and a second later, Veria emerged. “What’s with all the water?” Her sentence ground to a halt and she went silent as she realized she stared at the source.

“Ihm a patfhfalker!” Sylph half-yelled and half-whispered through torrents of water gushing from her mouth. Several emotions played over Veria’s face, the frown Sylph noticed the most. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, and a lump formed in Sylph’s chest. Pathwalkers had pathwalker children. They kept this important and life-changing information from her.

Veria snapped around to Dalian and spoke in rapid words. “You are ruining our floors, that much is sure. What is going on? Can you make it stop? That is a lot of water.” She paced around Sylph, tail twitching. “This does not look safe.”

Dalian looked up from the book and headed towards another shelf near the second door. His voice had barely more tone and force to it in the wake of Veria’s rapid questions. “She is a pathwalker.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that. Tends to happen at night, so this isn’t too surprising,” Dalian answered.

“Sylph is already flügg, an adult in all but size and age, it is not supposed to happen after that.” The end of Veria’s tail twitched dangerously close to the wide-leafed plant displayed in the corner. Dalian kept slightly wincing every time it did.

“That is a generalization. Some get flügg early and are ready to face the world on their own. Some get their ability early and are ready to walk the paths. Others need a little more time for either. These milestones are guides for somebody’s development, they are not set in stone.”

“If you say so.”

Sylph had never seen Veria behave like that. She never could sit still before an important match, but walking in circles and forgetting where her tail was? It was very obvious that something weighed on her mind. Veria reacted, lived in the moment and only ever planned for the short term. Dalian was the one that planned, pondered, and he predicted, only things that did not go to plan got a reaction. Watching them both it made perfect sense they knew more about her than they were willing to let on. Maybe they had guessed this would happen at one point, that her past would catch up with her and reveal her ability. Veria figured it was too late to happen, and so did Sylph, but then it did anyway.

“What do we do now?” Veria asked. The tone of her voice, it felt as though the question was not aimed at Sylph’s new ability.

Dalian reached upward and pulled a sizeable piece of white chalk from the shelf. “We? We do nothing.” He pointed at the puddle below Sylph. “It stagnated in size. Her ability has reached an equilibrium of loss and gain. She is safe.”

Sylph took a shaky step backwards as Dalian squeezed past her and the bed. He traced a rough circle on the surrounding floor. Sylph watched him add a hexagon in the middle. She recognized the symbol as the rune for pathwalker. “This should make controlling it a lot easier.”

There was nothing more magical than runes, all good books had them. Although she could not recall using one whenever Dalian practiced entering the Veil with her. But the path of souls did not need her to be a pathwalker, either.

“Dalian, you got a book stuck on your spikes.” Veria pointed at the tattered book and finally settled down in the doorway. She seemed content with whatever was on her mind before. Her gaze focused on Sylph and admittedly, it made relaxing a tad harder.

“I know,” Dalian answered, unbothered by the book. He focused his gaze on Sylph, too. “Close your eyes.” Sylph closed her eyes. Her mind followed the sound of Dalian’s voice, as she had done so many times before. The calmness seemed to quell her stirred mind with every slow breath she took. “Follow my lead.” Sylph imagined the darkened room they used to practice entering the Veil. The slim beams of sunlight that came through the drawn curtains, the soft carpet beneath her and the weight resting on her head, forcing herself to relax and ease all tension.

Something still nagged at her focus. She stood in a puddle; the water tickled as it trickled from every part of her body, and Veria’s expecting gaze felt burning hot on her back.

“I want you to guide the water. Pay close attention to your senses as you try. You have a new one. You just need to find it.”

She turned her attention inward, to her dragonheart growing hotter, the feel of stale night air rushing through her nostrils and the wet wood beneath her pfods. She spread her front legs further and fell into Tia’s stance. The entire point of the stance was to be immovable as a rock, easy to fall into, and hard to be pushed off balance. She could hold out and wrestle against somebody far stronger than her, but today, today she swayed.

Sylph dug deeper, concentrated on every muscle, every joint and bone and how it all connected to form her stance. The patter of water against wood grew distant. Her sense of balance had always been impeccable until today. There had to be a connection. She focused on shifting her balance and a shiver ran upwards from the fins of her tail. For a moment, she stood as if frozen.

A pressure surged through her abdomen. Water gathered inside her and formed a tight, yet flexible ball that pushed against her scales from the inside, bulging outward like a solid mass. She felt no pain, not even discomfort, just full like a bowl that had been filled to the brim and only the water tension stopped it from spilling.

Her mind was a haze, and she leaned forward just a little. The mass of water followed her motion, crawled along the bottom of her body, just inside her scales and then, without warning, popped. Water cascaded down her legs and stomach and the ball of liquid slimmed down. The earlier tension left for a satisfying emptiness that only lasted as long as it took the water to race up her legs and rejoin the mass.

Her new sense took hold in an instant and became second nature in another. It surfaced as a tiny point inside of her, heavy as metal and malleable like clay. She could move it like a small ball on a flat plane by raising or lowering either side. Water followed as if drawn by an invisible attraction. It formed a new mass near her stomach, but as she relaxed her hold, it dissipated.

Her body sobered up from her clashing senses of balance and she stood as sturdy as ever. Sylph shifted the center of water further upwards. Her legs tickled as the puddle beneath her got into motion and flowed back into her. It made its way upward and dissipated into somewhere.

She opened her eyes and stared wordlessly at the magic rune. This was the power of someone knowing what he did. Dalian’s rune made it so easy to find. It barely took her a minute.

“How does your new sense feel?” Dalian asked and watched the last drops of water race up into her pfods. The drops disconnected from the large puddle remained where they were.

“Like I am balancing a strange ball inside of me,” Sylph answered and tried to grab hold of the remaining droplets, but they refused until she physically touched them with her body.

“It feels, strange but also as if I was supposed to have it, it feels natural.” She lost hold of the center for a moment. It fell downwards and a squall of water erupted from her chest before she balanced it upward again.

“That makes no sense.” Veria scratched her ears and continued to stare.

Dalian nodded. “They rarely do. I’d describe mine as kneading imaginary dough.”

Sylph stared at the last water dissipating the chalk. “I hope I don’t need that rune where ever I go now.”

Dalian burst into laughter. “It’s chalk. It does nothing. But on novices it works wonders.” He held up the piece and admired it. “Such a simple trick to make you believe that somebody is helping you. Pathwalking depends entirely on your way of thinking, conviction, and the right state of mind. It will take you some time to get comfortable with your new sense and a long time to find the state of mind and the true extent of your ability.”

Dalian placed the chalk back on the shelf. “It will differ from the state of mind needed for the path of souls, of course,” he added, as though she had accomplished that even once. Without him, the path of souls was as accessible as a lock-box in the depths of a volcano.

“Shouldn’t you know that already, Sylph?” Veria stood up and inspected her all over like she had grown a fresh coat of scales. “Or are you just a terrible teacher?” She smirked at Dalian.

He returned the smirk. “The path of souls has nothing to do with being a pathwalker. It’s,” he gestured around with one of his pfods, “different.” He turned away to dig through yet another shelf. “And you should know that, too. You’ve spent enough time in the Veil.”

“It’s a dream, and you put me in it. Speaking of which, now that you are awake, I have a favor to ask. Can you bring me into the Veil and, more importantly, Oasis’ dreams?”

Dalian sighed. “Time really flies, doesn’t it? Really been a year once again. Your anniversary is coming up too, right?”

“Next month,” Veria said. Their conversation was barely a whisper, not meant for Sylph. She could still hear them, but she tried to pay little attention. She balanced the center of water to where it belonged and tried to keep it there as she took some careful steps.

Dalian drew in a large amount of air. “You know how I feel about using the Veil for that. But if it helps her, who am I to say no. Won’t hurt anybody.”

“Thank you Dalian. Oasis really appreciates it.”

He sighed once more. “Don’t mention it. But first, please help me remove that book from my spikes.” He reach for his back but could not quite grab the impaled book. “Be careful, it is expensive,” he said, but Veria had already removed the book with a swift and strong motion. She handed him the ripped remains. He eyed the torn pages for a long second before returning it to the shelf.

He pulled out another small, brown book with no visible title. “This is a history of the path of Sia. This book might help you get a finer grasp on your abilities and figuring out their exact nature.” He handed Sylph the book. “It also features the history of its discovery and accumulated knowledge from several famous pathwalkers.”

They both faced Sylph. She stood and stared wordlessly with a book in her pfod and looked at her legs, expecting more water to burst out if she lost her concentration for a second. To say that she had been overwhelmed in the last day would have been an understatement. She had not expected this to happen in her life, especially not now.

Nobody turned into a pathwalker overnight, and all books she read that started like this ended badly. It had to be her parents. Her dragonheart sprung to life for a second. Maybe she was destined to be a bit special after all.

“Now you get a fancy blue scarf too, right?” Veria joked.

“It’s a uniform. You should join me in the guild tomorrow, so we can be sure. I’ll tell the guards we are expecting you.”

“If you want to.” Veria stepped up. “It’s not mandatory and, well-” She looked at Dalian. He rose to his full height a few inches above Veria. “It’s not a bore to figure out the true nature of the paths. Don’t listen to your mother about the paths. See for yourself.”

“But now you should go back to sleep. Both of you. It’s the middle of the night,” Veria said and eyed Sylph.

“But-” Veria glanced at her in a certain way, the better go back to your nest right now or I will drag you by your tail, kind of way. “Being sleep deprived will not make a great first impression at the guild. And we can talk about the other thing tomorrow.”

The other thing, Veria now degraded her parents to being the other thing. “Fine. I’ll go sleep in the tub. My nest is wet. Good night.” Sylph headed towards the door, shook the pointlight to activate it, and made her way through the corridor.

She had just stepped through the door towards their side of the house and Veria could not hold back any longer. Her voice echoed through the building. “I don’t believe it.” Sylph stopped in her tracks and turned her ears backwards.

“It’s amazing, but we do not know why. Yesterday, that old man. And tonight it is Sylph,” Dalian said and finally sounded somewhat surprised. “You noticed nothing different about her lately, did you? Something that could’ve led to this?”

“I do not think amazing is the right word for something this important to happen to random citizens. Isn’t the guild concerned? And, to answer your question, maybe I was a little harsh when she plunged the training field into chaos, but that would not turn her into a pathwalker, right?” Veria said.

Silence filled the room. “That was Sylph? I heard someone ran around flashing people-” Dalian started and Veria broke into a hearty laugh.

“Paint on her wings, Dalian. Her friend made a paint that produces a bright flash of light.” Veria regained her composure. “I should try to suppress that rumor as quickly as possible. Can’t have people running about claiming Sylph is some sort of degenerate.”

Sylph dared to take a few steps backward as their voices grew quieter. Her ears didn’t have the time to adjust this fast.

“I am concerned. What are the chances that it could have been her,” Veria hissed.

“You think one of her parents might be a pathwalker?” Arastra’s hollow voice joined the conversation. She had probably seen it all happen too, keeping quiet inside of Veria.

“I’m not sure,” Dalian mumbled. “She never met either. But there is no way of knowing if they were. By all means, it could be that. But it could also be the surge of random people getting random paths. Maybe both. Maybe neither. The origin of her abilities does not matter, does it? What matters is that she is now in full control and can not harm herself by accident.”

“You say that, but Sylph seems to be eager to learn the truth about her parents right now. I am not sure she knows about pathwalkers and them having children that are also pathwalkers.”

There was a second of silence. “Veria, everyone that does not live under a rock knows that. Of course she does.”

Veria cleared her throat. “Not all of us are this interested in the paths. The story remains the same either way. We agreed and thus that is what we say. She won’t like it, but it is for the best. And now I am off to magic dreamland.” That last part had Veria’s voice brimming with excitement.

“I’ll stop helping you if you keep calling it that,” Dalian sighed.

“Please spare me the details. I’ll be out on a midnight hike. Don’t go looking for me,” Arastra answered and Sylph decided it was time to head to bed, or bath in her case.