Almost an hour later, Elach had told Prisoner everything. It felt good to get everything out into the open, and hopefully get a second opinion on all the weirdness that had recently plagued his life.

“So you’re sure Resthollow’s a livin’ city?” Prisoner asked for the second time just after Elach had explained them to him. “You’re not misrememberin’ anythin’? They ain’t an extremely powerful vassal that’s actin’ as a public face for the real city or somethin’ like that?”

“I’m pretty sure they aren’t. It’s been called Resthollow for as long as I can remember, and from what little I know about living cities that’s kind of their whole thing.” Elach said, and Prisoner turned his head in a random direction with a forlorn look in his eyes.

“If what you’re telling me is true, then my old home is gone. Or it got swallowed up by what’s now known as Resthollow.” Prisoner rolled up his sleeve, revealing that the purple lines ended at the top of his shoulder in a circle with four dots inside of it, all connected by a single thread of purple. “This is the mark of Cavress. Or it used to be. Most of their practitioners got a manifestation like this, and I was no exception. Cavress was a little mining town run by a manifested wisp of the same name, and it was exactly where you say Resthollow is now.”

“Uh, well, I’m sorry about your home.” Elach offered, but Prisoner just shrugged.

“Nothin’ you coulda done about it. A couple centuries changes everything.” Prisoner took a sip of his drink and swung himself so his legs were over one of his chair’s arms and his back over the other. “Now I know a little somethin’ about you, and you know as much about me as I’m willin’ to tell. So let’s start fryin’ the bigger fish, yeah? You must have a buncha questions about how the hells you’re alive right now, considerin’ where you came from.”

Elach raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know the forest was that dangerous. Was some Issi beast trying to eat me?”

“No, it’s just a forest. A forest that’s currently bein’ used as the stagin’ ground for a small-scale war.” Prisoner pointed at the tree cover the way Elach had come, and even if he squinted really hard, he couldn’t make anything out. It was forest all the way down. “Right, you can’t see through my wards. I’ll just do this….”

Prisoner snapped his fingers, and the trees disappeared. Elach was suddenly staring at a blasted wasteland. Scars of fire rolled across the land in herds, decimating and being decimated by long diamond-thorned vines that lashed like a living creature at the battalion of people in the distance covered by a haze of black and orange. And then with a shudder, the forest popped back into view only to be reduced to a wasteland once more in a matter of seconds.

“Dyin’ over and over like that will mess anyone up, especially someone who’s just a little bit unbound. Like you, for example.” Prisoner said, and all Elach could do was gawk and stare.

He’d died?

“How can I still be here if I died?” Elach asked in a quiet voice, not wanting to believe Prisoner’s words. But deep down, he was terrified they were true.

“Because you’re still anchored to this world. Well, this part of the world.” Prisoner said as if that explained everything, then he shifted his posture and his demeanor changed completely. “But you wouldn’t know anythin’ about that. And if you go back out there, you won’t remember any of this either. You’re just a bundle of potential, ain'tcha?”

Elach didn’t know how to respond, and Prisoner was happy to take over for him. “I really don’t feel like explainin’ everythin’ to you right now, since there’s a good chance you’ll walk out there and forget everything, but I’ll give you a few key points before you make the most important decision of your life. And just to make sure, you really don’t have any Issi bonds, right? You ain’t hiding them from me out of shame or nothin’?”

“Nope. I’m as useless as you think I am.” Elach said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Good, that makes things easier. Alright, so, first thing’s first; your entire life has been written out from beginning to end by a being so far above you that you use their names as curses. Or blessin’s, I suppose, if you’re into that kinda thing.” Elach started to argue, but two purple lines ran down his cheeks pulsing with Issi that stopped any and all sounds he tried to make.

“There’ll be time for questions at the end, so just sit tight.” Prisoner assured him. Elach crossed his arms and begrudgingly slouched down further in his chair. “I know havin’ your reality shattered ain’t fun, but brother, believe me when I say that this is the least of your worries. Because factoid number two is that there are people, Issi beasts, manifestations, and other things that have found ways to exist outside of the eternals’ infinite power. Like spiders spinning their webs in the dark corners of a rarely used room. Or that damn squirrel that keeps running off with my socks.”

Prisoner chuckled at his own comparison before continuing. “And both of those things combine to form fact number three; when one of these outsiders interacts with anything still on the eternals’ track, it snaps back to what it deems as right sooner or later. Usually sooner, though. Those holes in your memories you told me about? That’s because you had that little touch of the unbound in you while the eternals’ grasp pulled you back. Erased your memories, but they couldn’t put anything there to replace em’. And you probably have quite a few more that were in the heat of the moment, so they hit you harder and faster without you realizin’.”

“So the reason I’ve been struggling for all this time is because I keep dying and getting revived by the eternals?” Elach laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “And since I’m a little immune to their power, but not completely, they can’t put anything back in to replace the memories? If that’s true, then why do I remember the headaches and pains? Why did my headspace get infested with cracks and holes?” Elach asked, the disbelief melting away as he ran back through his memories.

“You dyin’ over and over is the catalyst, not the reason. And you got the whole ‘a little immune’ thing one hundred percent right. But I can’t explain why you remember the pains, or why your headspace got all messed up. I never got the chance to die constantly for eternals know how long.” Prisoner said that last part in a way that made it seem like he sort of wished he had, and Elach shuddered at the thought. “But there might be someone who could explain just a little bit more to you. If you’re willin’ to risk everythin’, that is.”

“And what’s the other choice? Going back out there?” Elach motioned to the outside, where a vine crashed against the invisible barrier and simply disappeared. “Not much of a risk, is it?”

Prisoner studied Elach with a small smile. “Now you’re gettin’ it. Follow me, we’ve got one long walk ahead of us.”

-------------------

“And here we are!” Prisoner said, flourishing his hands at the executioner’s axe embedded in a stump as if he hadn’t just walked fifteen paces. “Don’t bother being overly polite; this thing,” Prisoner smacked the axe with the back of his hand, “don’t care one lick for pleasantries. Just like anyone with true power, flowery words won’t make a dent in their recognition.”

“So this thing is an Issi forged weapon?” Elach asked, running his hand along the axe’s long handle. It felt like metal, and nothing else.

“Ehh, sort of. It didn’t get its manifestation the same way mythic weapons do, but the end result is pretty much the same. You can ask them if you want to know more, because eternals know I don’t got anythin’ else to tell you. And not ‘cause I’m keepin’ it from you.” Prisoner patted Elach on the shoulder, his fingers pushing just enough to be uncomfortable. Just like his piercing gaze.

“Seriously, don’t piss them off. He’s a good sort, and as much a prisoner as I am. If I get visitors once every couple of centuries, he gets one every five. Blank canvases are hard to come by, especially ones made of good material. Like you. You’re good material.” Prisoner patted Elach on the back. “ The others, though? They’re usually blank because nobody wants to paint on ripped or stained material, if you catch my drift. Hells, sometimes they’d been scoured clean of paint. But I still send ‘em all axeward, just in case their standards have lowered over all this time.”

“So how many rips do I have?” Elach asked.

Prisoner chuckled and lightly clapped Elach on the back. “None that can’t be patched. When you’re ready to meet him, hold onto any part of the axe and go into your headspace. I’ll make sure you don’t starve or dehydrate to death while you’re in there.”

“So It’s a long one, then.” Elach muttered.

Prisoner thumbed over his left shoulder at the table filled with food and drink. “You can stuff yourself before you go in.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Elach agreed, taking his hand off of the axe handle and joining Prisoner in one last meal for however long he would be stuck negotiating with the axe’s manifestation. It would be pretty miserable being stuck in his little headspace for so long, but it would be worth it to stop the snaps and the pain.

Elach grasped the axe handle once more with a full belly and an empty bladder, sitting in a silver wood chair with a deep purple cushion Prisoner had brought over for him. The man gave him a wide smile and two thumbs up from right beside him, and Elach shook his head with an amused exhale as he closed his eyes. He pictured his little headspace closet, with it’s fountain in the center and Flow preening themselves in their floating perch, and the surfaces of all it’s walls carved with a pattern he knew all too well; five clawed lines converging from above to a single point. He’d left them in his fugue state, and even though they weren’t there the last time he was inside his mind, they were as much a part of it as the fountain or floorless floor. He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself, so he accepted it.

“You’re gonna have to let go of that little image you’re fixating on.” Prisoner said. “You’re keepin’ your headspace locked up tight. No way in or out for the person you’re tryin’ to meet.”

“So I should clear my head?” Elach frowned. “I can’t get into my headspace like that.”

“Don’t clear your head, just don’t lock your thoughts so tight together. Be flexible.” Prisoner said.

“Right, flexible.” Elach rolled his eyes behind his eyelids. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t be snippy.” Prisoner sighed, and Elach heard him scratching what he hoped was Prisoner’s chin. “Think back to the first time you bonded; not with Resthollow, cause we don’t have a keystone like they did, but with your wisp. With Flow. How you got into a headspace you physically couldn’t visualize, because you had no clue what it was going to end up. Try doin’ that again.”

Elach clenched the axe’s plain metal handle in his fist. “I’ll try.”

He really didn’t want to, not with his mind and emotions under control this time. He’d skipped over some of the worse details when he recounted the tale to Prisoner, like the awful states the invaders had left the kids in and how he’d had to work elbow deep in blood and viscera to get them all out of there alive. And even then, two of them didn’t survive the week. Their blood was on his and Kayvee’s hands, but only one of them would ever even consider that. He forced down a wave of nausea as he tried and failed to skip over the cries of the one conscious teenager that he’d had to operate on, his wails echoing in his mind as he spread a concoction of blood, bone, and rejuvenation Issi on the kid’s exposed ribcage. And once he’d finished, sewing the kid’s chest cavity shut, he thanked Elach and promptly laid on his side and passed out. As if Elach had sewed a button back onto his shirt.

And then he had held Flow’s bud in his palms, raising it to his forehead in bloodsoaked hands and whispering the words that had triggered his bond. “What you need for what I want.” Elach repeated. His heart was heavy at the implication of the words, that he had no need for the wisp and simply wanted power. That was no longer true, he realized, since his entire life had unfurled into pain and confusion since he’d bonded Flow. But, right now, he was making his own choice. He no longer simply wanted this. And his mother’s old words no longer carried the same weight they once had.

“What you need for what I need.” Elach said with confidence, no longer a whisper. It was a challenge to the world, a promise that he would keep to himself and everyone that would ever need or challenge him. He didn’t feel anything major change, no dimensional shift or even that same feeling of moving he’d had whenever he went into his headspace. But he heard a fire crackling off to the left, then an old chair creaked and heavy footfalls of someone who no longer cared to be unheard tramped towards him.