August leaned back in his chair. He took off his glasses, setting them on the minimalist wooden desk. He propped his head on the back of his chair, looking up at his temporary lodging’s ceiling. He sighed, before leaning forward over the map once more. He pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning his elbow against the desk. After massaging his sinuses, he reached back over to his glasses.

It was a Saturday afternoon in one of the Guild operated buildings. This one was primarily reserved for visiting Guild employees. August had wanted to stay in the Mayor's Tower, but as always, Sam refused. There were ample rooms in the tower, but the Mayor never let anyone stay overnight besides herself. All the hired help and management of the city either worked in another building outside of the inner sanctum or worked from home.

August did not begrudge the woman. As the de facto leader of Fort Colon —one who was a natural schemer— it only made sense that she would be extra cautious. Even whilst their party of five had traveled in their youth, Sam always ensured her own sleeping arrangements.

August was working tirelessly even on a Saturday. The guild promised all employees weekends off, the inquisition likewise. Yet for the temporary head of the outskirt settlements, rest was for the weak willed. He was on a mission, a personal one.

A map was sprawled on the top of the small desk. It was recently made as per August’s request. It showed all the cities that had come under his guidance, as well as the nearby surroundings. Over half the map was demarcated by a swerving line. The line would be jagged at some points of its traversal over the map, only to swirl at the very next one. This was the border of the unexplored forest, the Misfortune.

According to what August sensed recently, the Warden, or whoever he sent, was in that very forest. How far, or in what location, was unknown. This is what he aimed to discover. Each scouting team had a special gem made to send simple messages. There were limits to distance, but that was why the relay teams existed. Some information would be lost in the process, as any classic telephone game can prove, but the main points would be delivered.

Replacing his lenses on their perch, August returned to pouring over the map. A series of lines, marks, and arrows marred its surface. August dipped his pen in the inkwell nearby, hovering it above the forest. As he was attempting to recall his previous train of thought, he suddenly paused. A smile slowly crept over his face. He mumbled a few words, and made a few motions with his quilless left hand. An illusion covered the area, superimposed over the map. Viewable to his eyes alone.

His smile started to slowly drop over the span of minutes. It went from a smile one would use for a picture, to a barely held laugh. A barely held laugh, to a smirk. A smirk to stoic. Stoic to disgruntled. Disgruntled to grimace. His hand danced over a large area. Eventually, he stabbed the quill into the desk, far above the map. He reached over to spare pens, stabbing it through the four corners of the map to ensure it moved under no condition.

The Warden had revealed himself once more. His location should have been obvious, yet there was some type of interference. Now that he was aware, the interference was always present. It seemed to be… two interferences. One was a type of dampening, that if he was not constantly focusing on acknowledging, would flee from his memory. The other was one that interfered with his class. One that flitted in and out of existence, interrupting the physical plane.

Neither of these were the cause of his disturbed face. August did not know much about the Warden, nor did he ever meet him. He had done much research on the Warden, once he had discovered the cause of this new era. However, he did not understand the personality of the man, nor his motives. Whatever the man’s reasoning, the knowledge that the Warden had spent a considerable amount of time accessing the Imagined Plane did not bode well for the parties he had sent in secret.

“So what do these ones do?”

“I will let you know, however, equipping them takes much more time than you would think.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. You first have to understand their properties, then figure out which slots they are allowed to occupy—”

“So there are limits to which slot? You can’t plug it into any of the fourteen slots and get some variation?”

“No, if you put it in an incompatible slot, it will do nothing. Once you put them in the proper slot, it takes a few minutes to integrate. The one from the larger salamander took about thirty minutes to be usable. I believe these smaller ones should be faster,” Isencia said, denoting the pile of crystals by her feet. Yuclaus and her had moved the memories ripped from the Birds of Purgatory to a spot between two vine chairs. Given some pointers by Yuclaus, they now also had lumbar support.

Isencia had been going through one of the crystals for a few minutes as Cause had been attempting to juggle a couple. Couple in the very definition of the word. Yuclaus could only manage to juggle two at the moment. A less than impressive feat, but one he aimed to amend with practice. Until he forgot about it that is, and pushed it onto the pile of other hobbies he never got around to. In his defense, trying to learn to fight, improving his Soul Spore, and figuring out the Slot System were much more important hobbies.

After a few more minutes of juggling, Isencia spoke up.

“Yeah, this one is not that impressive. It can only be equipped to the skin slot, and it can only slightly accelerate the healing of lacerations.”

“Well. That is unfortunate. We have so many of them too. Imagine if we went through all this effort, notifying our hunters of our location, only to get useless baubles. They are all from the same creature right? Can you put multiple fragments of the same type into one slot?”

“Hmmmmm. Let me try.” Isencia grabbed another gem off of the stack, and closed her eyes for a breath. She opened them soon after with her results, “No. It seems it only allows for a single fragment at a time; there is a blocking mechanism.” Yuclaus stopped his juggling, and looked at the crystals, one in each of his hands. Something he had said earlier gave him an idea.

“So, the slots are typically much larger than these fragments right?”

“Mhm.”

“What if I just…” Yuclaus put his two hands together, and squeezed. The spheres pressed against one another with enough force to shatter them —were they glass. After a minute of straining, the orbs showed no change. “I thought that would work. I guess it would be too much to ask, if you could just merge them together to make a more powerful ability.” Yuclaus put one down, then cupped the other in his hand. He looked at it as Isencia talked.

“I believe we can just store them in our mindscapes. In the future, they may be useful.” Yuclaus didn’t hear what his companion said. He had the urge to crush the gem. Like a child who had a precious object; he wanted to break it. Not in the sense of taking it into his mindscape. He wanted to squish it, like putty. This was not a mental breakdown on Cause’s part. No, it was an instinct. You could say it was one developed over countless years. Soon the wisp —what we will call the abnormal circular memories from now on to avoid confusion— started to look like clay rather than a gem.

Yuclaus held the clay in his hands. It was slightly rough, and mildly damp. He put his left hand over his right and started rolling it into a sphere. Bringing it up to his eye, he noticed it was a light brown color, like fine dust. He leaned down to the pile of clay, and grabbed another orb. Without hesitation, he pushed the two balls of clay together. The putty smushed into a flat pancake. Cause folded it over itself multiple times, ensuring the two become inseparable.

Once he deemed it one coherent bunch of clay, he started rolling it between his hands once more. Some of the clay got stuck in the divots between his fingers. He rolled the clay over to ensure he got it all. Finally, when he felt the clay was a perfect sphere, he released his concentration. As if reality snapped, an almost imperceptible shudder preluded the swap of clay for crystal. One moment a light brown ball of clay was in his hand, the next, a larger faceted wisp.

Yuclaus smiled to himself, despite the light throbbing in his skull. Isencia, across from the memory-molder, had her mouth visibly open.

“Yu what did you just do? That makes absolutely no sense. You took that gem and then it was brown, and then squishy! Then somehow you merged the two? What skill did you use? How is that even a skill someone can have —ahem. Yu, what happened?” Sen abruptly ended her energetic dialogue with her usual façade. Yu noticed her slip up, and though the gem was an achievement, he felt getting her reaction was much more impressive. One of these days, he thought to himself, I’ll get you Sen.

“Well,” He went on, deciding to not comment on her word vomit, “I took the gem, believed it was clay, and then it was clay.” He explained succinctly. He was purposefully vague. A little revenge for Isencia’s occasional withholding of information. It seemed Sen had come to the same conclusion.

“That’s it? You decided it was clay, hence it became such?” She asked the Figment.

“Yup,” he replied. The nymph and man watched each other. After the last few weeks since their meeting, they had a general read on one another. Both knew Yuclaus would eventually tell the nymph, it was just a matter of when.

“Ah I see,” Isencia broke the stalemate, “truly, you are a man of many talents.”

“Why yes, yes I am,” Yuclaus responded with faux confidence. She was up to something.

“I’ve been wondering if you could show me your amazing spore again. Its glass like leaves are truly beautiful,” oh shi— “There’s a pond over there we can use,” Isencia finished. Yuclaus knew he was doomed. How could he recover from this? Bold lies.

“I would Sen, but Gourami has had a long day. It was keeping watch over us during the —uh— training we were doing. You know, with the Birds of Purgatory?” Cause had never told Isencia the name he had designated the demon birds as. Her eyebrow slightly twitched at its mention. Truly, she must have gotten the knowledge of the Bird of Paradise from Yuclaus, understanding the joke.

“So you see,” Yuclaus continued, “I would love to, but I have already asked so much of it. The big lug needs a breather.

“Understandable. I will make it a hammock so that it can rest after its long day. Bring it by our camp.”

“Well. Uh. Hm. So. You s—” Cause was saved when a crash was heard in the distance. A flock of birds let off a cacophony of noise, blocked from view by the canopy above. A few moments of silence. Another crash. Isencia got in a ready stance for a moment. That moment passed, and she looked unblinkingly at the smug Yuclaus. An indecipherable aroma filled the air between the two.

“Ask,” Yuclaus said with relish, “and ye. Shall. RECEIVE!” The moment Yuclaus said receive, a massive tumbleweed bowled between the two. Its size far eclipsed its previous area by a margin of a few times. Meta-Gourami had arrived. The massive tumbleweed smashed into a tree at the other side of their camp —after flattening their stack of wood— destroying it in a spray of splinters before finally stopping. Gourami did not reach the treetops above, but the beast of a dried mangrove made the casual viewer lean back.

Yuclaus placed his hands on his hips, pushed out his chest, and let out a hearty guffaw into the forcibly silenced forest. Isencia looked on, defeated. The nymph only lasted a brief instance before her canopy rustled along with him. The fake laughter soon turned into genuine chuckling. Which by the end of their bout of joy, left Yuclaus on the soft loam of the forest, and Isencia taking a moment to catch her breath.

“What were the odds,” Isencia mumbled loud enough for Cause to hear, “For around two days you forgot about your Soul Spore. Two. Days.” To say Sen was exasperated was an understatement. “How did your Spore even get that far? It should have been recalled after our first few minutes of travel,” She reasoned.

“Isencia, I have absolutely no clue. I am more curious as to how Gourami arrived so fast! I only told it to come back maybe…” Yuclaus looked up at the sky above. It was right before Overcast when they stopped. He assumed their mind battle took them past Overcast, then their banter, subsequent bird fight, and then butchering and collecting the spoils. By now the dying rays of the sun were barely filtering through. “Half a day ago?”

Isencia looked at Yuclaus. Yuclaus looked at Isencia. Another scent filled the miniature glade.

“Half a day,” She started, “And it already caught up to us?”

“Yup.”

“Well, it seems we have a solution for our awkward travelling method.”

“No way! You thought it was awkward too?”

“Of course! Do you think I want to carry you like a rag doll Yu? It is unwieldy, awkward, and demeaning.”

“Demeaning for who?” Yuclaus asked.

“I am glad we have an alternative. We need to learn the limits, but if this is somewhat consistent, we can focus more on collecting items for Gourami, training, and discovering rare items.” Isencia had not broken her self-created shell again, but Yuclaus could sense her excitement.

“Since you’re in a good mood, the memory clay thing was just as I said. I got into a kind of concentration —a funk? It was strange, it felt both natural and alien. At one point I truly believed it was clay. Then, it just acted like clay.”

“Is it something you can reproduce?”

“Probably?” Cause hesitated before continuing, “we will have to experiment. It also gives me a mild headache. I say we stay here a few days? We can see if you can do it too, train a little more, and test Gourami.”

“If Gourami is as fast as I expect, shall we make it a week?”