The damn thing spoke in his mind.

Its speech was garbled at first. Insubstantial. Mutterings and musings in a whispered, scratchy tone, as though worried that it would wake Luevo. For a moment, the prince felt touched that it was so nervous.

Touched, if the thing's very presence didn't prevent his beauty sleep.

“Ro la la,” it whispered, “Ro la la,”

“Shut up,” Luevo growled, “Shut up or I'll throw myself off the balcony.”

“Ro la la,” the creature replied, “Ro lay lee.”

Even stuffing his ears with wax didn't help. The little bastard-

No, sorry.

This 'manifestation of life' was embedded in more than his body. It had drilled into his mind, festered in his very soul. His hatred for it burned, and he knew it could feel that venom.

He had hidden himself away in his room after the feast – alright, perhaps 'hidden' wasn't the right word. 'Locked' was the better phrase, as he had heard the door's lock click as soon as he had been thrown in. The guards had also fastened his window into place, preventing him from making an escape out of it like some princess in a folktale.

So he had done the logical thing, which was to lie down in his bed and cry himself to sleep.

And the creature had been there for that, too!

“Ro la la,” the thing whispered, “Ro lay lee.”

“Thou art as much a bitch as me,” Luevo muttered, his anger turning to sorrow, “Gods, I am pathetic, aren't I?”

He hated each hour that passed. Felt a harsh dread as he watched the moon sail overhead and the sky lighten into the early morning. Sleep was fleeting. The creature had ceased its mumbling, yet it still felt like a cake of heavy mud in his body. Luevo, while taking a study trip to Prime, had once felt the joys of a weighted blanket, the heavy, sand-filled thing covering his entire form and just constricting him enough to be comfortable. The manifestation of life was much as though the blanket had been stuffed into his body, wrapped around his arms and legs like a python, slowly suffocating the life out of him.

“Ro la la,” it said, “Ro lay lee.”

“Shut up and let me sleep.”

“Ro la la.”

He turned over. An awful thing to do, as he felt the creature, like molasses, slide down his body and settle on his side.

The knock on the door came far too soon. Two short raps, the signal from the servants that the old man himself was summoning him. Typical. The servant unlocked the door, walking in with a few of her peers. Traveling robes had been procured – shorter than the typical style, the sleeves still overlong to hide the hands, but the material was made so one could easily roll them back when needed. He hadn't worn such garish clothing since his studies abroad...

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Luevo lifted out his arms – an effort, he noticed – and presented himself to the servants, “Robe me.”

***

The king was waiting on his golden throne as Luevo came down the stairs. It had been moved from its place at the top of the palace and down to the reception hall during the party, and the servants had yet to move it back up to its customary place. So there Soluum sat, head resting in a hand, still adorned in his wine-sloshed robes from the night before. His eyes fluttered open as he heard Luevo come downstairs. They were bloodshot, and the way the king positioned himself, Luevo knew he had gotten very little sleep. The thought… made him uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Hard partying?” Luevo asked.

“Hard worrying,” Soluum answered.

“Well, you won't need to worry much longer,” Luevo said, “Here I am, your proud son, here to go out into the wide world. I'll be out of your short, penis-shaped beard soon enough.”

Soluum did not answer. He merely stared out towards the opposite side of the hall. Luevo let out a dry chuckle.

“Will you miss me, father? Miss your shameful boy? Oh, how he screamed and whined last night, bringing shame to his whole line-”

“Of course I will miss you,” Soluum said, “You are my son.”

Luevo went quiet. He tried to find a retort, but came up with nothing. Soluum gave a sad smile in the silence.

“You're surprised.”

“I didn't-” Luevo stammered. Then he composed himself. One deep breath. Then two. They were difficult words to force out, despite how much he wanted to say them.

“I don't want to go, father.”

“Of course you don't,” Soluum said, “I can see it in your eyes. Behind your every scream of defiance, every sly thing you say, there is one emotion pushing forward. You're afraid, Luevo.”

The words cracked at Luevo like a whip. He doubled over as though he had been punched in the gut. Soluum rose from his throne and walked over to his son.

“But fear is something we all experience, and it is not something we can run from.”

His heavy hand fell on Luevo's shoulder, guiding the prince back to his feet.

“We all must face fears, my son. We cannot run away from them. We cannot ignore them. You have pushed your fear to the side long enough. It is time to go out there now, and confront them on your own two feet.”

“My own two feet...”

“My King,” a guard said, “The Amber Foundation, they are here.”

“Are you ready?” Soluum asked.

“No,” Luevo said.

“That matters little. That always matters little,” Soluum said, “Very few things wait until you're ready.”

***

Luevo walked down to the outside of the palace alone. Joseph nodded to him as he walked out, getting a sneer in response.

“Alright,” Joseph mumbled, “That's fair.”

“Prince Luevo,” Shetavalk said, “Are you prepared-”

“Spare your questions,” Luevo said, “Let's just go. The sooner the better.”

And he walked past the Spioa without another word. Nole glared daggers at the prince's retreating back, before the five of them began following him. All of them were wearing warmer clothing now – woolen jackets and pants, along with night-colored cloaks. To better prepare themselves for the whipping winter beyond the valley. Joseph suppressed a shiver – he wasn't ready for that yet.

The prince himself was wearing similar clothing – though Joseph could see soft silks poking out of his jacket sleeves. He had bandaged his left hand with similar cloth, curling and un-curling his fingers, prodding the cut he had made during the ritual the night before.

Joseph also noted the prince had been crying, but he decided not to bring that up.

“This is going to be a problem, isn't it?” Joseph said, shuffling up to Shetavalk, “If this guy's like this the whole trip-”

“I know, Joseph,” Shetavalk replied, “Best to keep your chin up about it. Nothing we can do.”

“I mean, we could talk to him.”

“We are guardians. Bodyguards. Whatever turmoil is roiling in his soul-”

“Yeah, I get it,” Joseph said, “Guy's having a bad day.”

The Spioa nodded.

The city was still celebrating as they made their way down the main road. It was a veritable parade – the citizens of the city were throwing handfuls of rice their way, music from a thousand different instruments were blaring, and the strong scents of rich food wafted in the air.

“Oh yeah,” Joseph said, “I could get used to this.”

But Luevo seemed to disagree, slouching more and more with each step forward, as though the music and cheers were physically weighing him down. A man was waiting at the gate, adorned in bright, almost offensively green robes and a large smile on his pudgy face. He held in his hands a platter of cake.

“My Prince!” he called out, “On behalf of the Eastern Trade Guild, I present you-”

Luevo walked past the man without a word. Joseph gave him an apologetic smile.

“Here, I'll take it. Maybe he'll, ah,” he glanced over as Luevo stomped through the front gates, “I'll give it to him later.”

The merchant, looking despondent, sighed, “Indeed.”

Joseph glanced down at the cake, “'Happy Birthday Leonard.'”

“I got the cake personally ordered from Prime,” the merchant said, “It's said that they're so good at cakes, they have stores that mass produce them, and you can put stock phrases on them.”

“I'll make sure he gets it,” Joseph said.

“Noodle, come on!” Nole called back, “Yer guardin' a prince, not a fattie!”

“Right!” Joseph ran after them, the platter held carefully in his hands.

The honeycomb-shaped farmland rolled onward for half the day. The roads were well-kept, stretching all the way to the edge of the valley, climbing towards the mountain and ending in a tunnel through it.

“Better to go through than over, then?” Joseph asked as he helped Shetavalk pitch a tent.

“Indeed,” Shetavalk replied, “This Landscape is known as Sensuhen – 'Shivering Peaks.' The very tips cut along the bottom of the sky.”

“They go into the atmosphere?”

“In a sense,” Shetavalk said, “There is no transition between sky and space here – one moment, you are climbing a mountain. The next, you are in the void, and gravity has no power there.”

“So if we were to climb too high...”

“You can imagine the outcome,” Shetavalk finished.

***

The next morning had them going through the tunnel – another day's worth of travel. No one joined them, though a few merchants were making their way into the valley as they passed by.

“Pretty big storms out there,” one of them said during a break. He had made for them a small fire from a few bright orange rocks in his bag, dashing them against the ground to produce a cheery flame, “Some of the folk I've met say it's the fiercest blizzard we've had in a good long while. Say that the Weatherfolk base is reporting record winds.”

“Weatherfolk?” Joseph asked.

“A guild from Izen's Rall,” Shetavalk said, “They specialize in weather.”

“Hence, the name,” Joseph said.

“Yeah, regardless, you all be safe out there,” the merchant said.

When they had finished and were on their way, Luevo glared back at the merchant.

“Didn't even recognize me,” he said, “That man should have given me the boots on his feet and the hair on his head, yet he didn't even glance my way.”

“Are you recognizable?” Joseph asked.

“Of course I'm recognizable,” Luevo huffed, “I am Luevo, crown prince of Ionica. How could I not be recognizable?”

“Prince Luevo, we are moving on,” Shetavalk said. Before he could object, the Spioa turned to the rest of the group, “Come. We have much more ground to cover.”

It didn't help that the torches disappeared halfway down the tunnel, leaving them in a bitter darkness. Shetavalk turned to Joseph.

“Mind giving a bit of light?”

Joseph nodded, letting his soul circuit through his body. It felt good – though that feeling faded somewhat as he remembered the events at the space station. Perhaps his soul felt his anxiety, as he noted it was dimmer than usual as it molted out of his back.

“Oh, gods,” Luevo said, “It's like a big blue beetle.”

They at least had light – and drew stares from the last few merchants they passed. The soul hung over Joseph like a lantern, its azure light painting the cavern walls a bright blue as they walked.

“Didn't even look at me,” Luevo said, “Perhaps you should snuff out that ugly bird of yours.”

“They won't be able to see us regardless, then,” Joseph said.

“Yes, but at least my senses won't be assaulted by that... thing,” Luevo said, waving a hand at his soul, “Please, snuff it out. Make it go away.”

The eagle crackled a bit, sparks flying and popping like a firework. Joseph continued walking, hands clenched.

“Not happening,” Joseph said, “Come on, let's go.”

Fortunately, they were near the end of the tunnel. They set up camp one last time, Shetavalk taking out those same orange stones to create a fire. They were beside the tunnel's exit, the ferocious howl of wind acting as a chorus to their work of setting up the tents, of cooking the food over the fire, of Nole 'accidentally' tossing Joseph's portion into the flames. The roar was disconcerting, and Joseph was not relishing the fact that they would soon be out there the next morning.

Nor did he relish the hunger as he plotted his revenge on the damn troll.

“We should sleep in shifts,” Shetavalk suggested, “Despite our apparent lack of danger, better safe than with sorrow.”

“Agreed,” Joseph said.

“And methinks the prince should join in on that,” Nole growled.

“Agreed,” Joseph repeated, groaning, “I can't believe I'd say it, but agreed.”

Luevo shot glances at Joseph and Nole, then raised up his nose, “I refuse.”

“You're outvoted, is what you are,” G-Wiz said, “Right, Arc?”

Archenround nodded.

“I hold the light of the land within me,” Luevo said, “Life itself, and life needs his beauty sleep.”

“He raises a point,” Shetavalk said, “He does need rest.”

“You're outvoted, Sheets,” Nole said, “Right, Arc?”

Archenround nodded.

“Please, sir, ah...” Luevo looked at Shetavalk.

“My name is Shetavalk.”

“Shetavalk, yes,” Luevo said, “Are you not the leader of this group? You should have the final say.”

The Spioa let out a weary sigh, “Very well. The prince may sleep tonight. We'll take shifts in pairs. Save Archenround. I trust you're alright on your own?”

Archenround nodded.

“Doesn't talk much, does she?” Luevo chuckled.

“Doesn't have a tongue,” G-Wiz said, “Got it cut out.”

“Oh,” Luevo said, “My, ah, condolences, I suppose. Does it hurt?”

Archenround shrugged.

“I see,” Luevo said, “But I thank you, Shetavoln, for allowing me rest.”

Joseph saw one of the Spioa’s eyes twitch at the misnaming.

“Of course,” Shetavalk murmured, “Of course.”

“And with that,” the prince rose, “I retire. I would love to say that this was a riveting conversation, but it really wasn't.”

“Uh huh,” Joseph said, “Whatever.”

The prince went into his tent, leaving the five around the fire. Nole leaned in towards Shetavalk.

“I tell ye, Sheets. We gotta get some ground rules set here about this damn prince,” he said.

Joseph felt an odd sense of disgust agreeing with Nole, but he nodded, “I don't want to sound rude, but he's walking all over you.”

“I am aware,” Shetavalk whispered, “But it is to keep the peace. We need the prince to be as affable as possible. He's already mutinous as is.”

“Oh come on, Sheets, that's bullshit,” G-Wiz said, “You're raggin' us, here.”

A hand fell on her shoulder. G-Wiz turned to see Archenround's somber face staring at her. The serpent-woman shook her head. G-Wiz sagged in defeat.

“Yeah, you're right,” she said, “Come on, Nole, let's lay off him.”

“Aye,” Nole said. He turned to Joseph, “Quit naggin' the Spioa, lad. He's had enough as is.”

“I wasn't-” Joseph said, “I didn't-”

“Ah, just shut up,” Nole got up and sauntered into his tent.

“Joseph,” Shetavalk said, “Get some rest. G and I will take first watch.”

“Alright,” Joseph said. He shot one last venomous look at G-Wiz, who jabbed her tongue at him, before he got up and went into his tent. Sleep came fleeting for him as he drifted, the sounds of the fire, of the quiet chatter between G-Wiz and Shetavalk, and the strange whispering coming from Luevo's tent kept him awake.

***

“Ro la la, ro lay lee,” the creature said, “I begin to speak as thee.”

“Oh dear lord, please don't,” Luevo groaned, “I have enough thorns in my side as is.”

“Ro la la,” the creature whimpered, “I am the life of the land.”

“That's very nice, but Papa Luevo is trying to get his beauty sleep, and he can't do it with his beloved son weighing down his stomach like a brick.”

“Ro lay lee, 'tis where food be.”

The prince's eyes slid open and glared down. The creature was rising up out of his jacket and robes, poking and prodding at his stomach, many eyes glancing around. Most of them were unfocused, glancing this way and that, though a few of them were looking down at his belly, while one stared unnervingly at Luevo's face.

“Are you-” Luevo stammered, “Are you eating my food?”

“Just a little, just a pinch,” the creature answered, “Just enough, just an inch.”

“Well, stop it,” Luevo said, “That food is mine, and it's in my stomach. Digesting and turning into my waste, not yours.”

“Ro la la, ro lay lee, I do excrete as much as thee.”

A cold, realized fear gripped Luevo, “I'm not the one who- I'm not-”

“We are bound, ro la la,” the creature said, “My form is yours. Yours is mine. Ro lay lee, be kind.”

“No,” Luevo said, “No. This is something I refuse. I've made concessions to you, but-”

The creature melded back into his body, “Ro la la.”

“Don't 'ro la la' me,” Luevo's voice rose, then he noticed the shadows of the Shelvotak and the girl looking at him through the tent's cloth. He simmered down, “Don't, alright? This is my body.”

“'Tis the deal, 'tis the stake,” the creature said, “I am you, you are me, ro la la, ro lay lee.”

Luevo glared at where the creature had been, feeling it worm its way up and rest in his ribcage.

“If I do not eat, I hunger. If I do not excrete, I thunder.”

“You... thunder?”

“It is difficult to rhyme on a dime, ro la la.”

“So you'll die if you don't eat, and cry if you don't do... that other thing,” Luevo gave a smile, resting his arms behind his head, “Looks like we're at an impasse, then. I just won't shit.”

“You... will not...?”

“Your waste isn't mixing with mine, creature,” Luevo said, “I hardly tolerate your presence as is. I never agreed to this whole ritual at all. So best you simmer down, else I may as well throw myself off the mountain.”

Its response was to twist. Curving itself around his body like a serpent, constricting him. Luevo let out a gasp of pain, though that was snuffed as the creature continued to sink into every part of his body, red-hot agony shooting up his spine and down into every bone, every muscle, every ligament that he called his own. Its misshapen head drew out of his throat. All of its eyes bore down on him.

“Ro la la, ro lay lee, you will not do such a thing to me.”

He couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe...

“I am the vessel of life, ro lay lee, and you carry me. But further, you are precious as me. You will not throw yourself away, ro la la. If you do such a thing, I will ensure you live. But ro la la, it will be a painful way to give.”

He felt one of his shoulders begin to dislocate. The creature, realizing this, began to retreat, “Ro lay lee, ro la la. Remember my words, they are law.”

“Not even a rhyme,” the prince gasped, “How did you learn to speak, anyways?”

“Ro la la, your mind is filled with sweet things.”

***

Joseph was the first to wake up in the morning. He rose out of his tent, stretching, and realized the time as he saw the mouth of the tunnel was much brighter than before. The storm was still raging outside, a solid wall of white and cold.

“Awake early, then,” Shetavalk said. He was tending to the fire, a pot of white soup boiling over it.

“You took watch for the whole night?” Joseph asked.

“Archenround let me sleep for a few hours, but yes,” Shetavalk said, “The others were right. It is not fair that the prince gets to rest while we have to interrupt our sleep. So I took the best option.”

Joseph wasn't sure how to feel, “Are you sure...?”

“I got enough rest, Joseph,” the Spioa said, “You needn't worry about me. No one is up yet, and we still have another hour or so. Would you like more rest?”

“I think I'm fine,” Joseph replied. Then, at Shetavalk's eyebrow raising, “Really, it's alright.”

The Spioa nodded at that, lading out soup for the two of them. They ate in silence, Nole's snores the only sound that rose over the din of the storm.

“The Breath of Nesona, they call it,” Shetavalk said.

“What?”

“The wind,” Shetavalk put his empty bowl down. He rested his hands on his crossed legs, a serene look on his face as he continued, “It is said that a Spioa's physical body is born when the winds of the world congregate and debate on who will get a chance to live a new life. They then form, from the bits of dust and sand and glass they've picked up blowing over the land, a body. A body in which the chosen Spioa awakens in.”

“That's what you are,” Joseph said.

“Spiritfolk, windfolk,” Shetavalk said, “My family is the wind.”

“So it's a comforting sound, then.”

“Yes,” Shetavalk nodded. Then he chuckled as he raised a hand. Small figures – pale white, their limbs ending in points, their features marred by the swirling storm, began curving around his fingertips.

“The wind on other planes does not live like they do here,” he said, “The air does not speak. It was... strange, when I first left home. Lonely. It still is. Yet when I am on Nesona, I am here with the world. Parts of my mind reconnected to the greater whole.”

As he said this, the other Spioa whispered away, leaving them alone once more.

“Why leave Nesona, then?” Joseph asked, “It seems like everyone you know is here. You seem more... relaxed. More than usual.”

“Because all Spioa must leave the fold at some point,” Shetavalk said, “The urge to move, to wander, to find new lands... That is a Spioa's dream. Even if I went a bit further than most, even if I am alone, away from all I hold dear, I am still myself. I am still Shetavalk. I am still at peace.”

Joseph thought on his words, unsure of how to answer. He was quiet for the rest of the morning, even as Archenround slithered out of her tent, accepting food. Even as Nole got up, shouldering him aside as he took his bowl – and cursed as Joseph shouldered him back, knocking the soup into the fire.

“Ye damn little-”

“Kimao,” Shetavalk announced, “It is time to move on.”

Luevo dragged himself out of his tent. He was clutching his chest, Joseph noticed.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I am fine,” Luevo said, “Just... bad dreams of ugly things.”

His eyes fell on Nole, “I wonder why.”

“Watch it, lad,” Nole said, “Just 'cause I'm bringing ye to the Deadlands don't mean I got to bring ye in one piece.”

“Oh, just shut up,” Joseph said, “Everyone knows you've got a big dick, no need to flaunt it.”

“Enough, both of you,” Shetavalk said, “Pack up the tents. It is time to depart.”

***

To say the storm was bitterly cold was an understatement.

It was as though Joseph's coat wasn't even there. The blizzard was ferocious – constantly battering on them as they tramped forward, snow hilled up to their knees. Any footprints stomping into the white blurred away as the snow piled up. Their cloaks were sodden to the point where they no longer blew haphazardly in the wind, now dragged like heavy tails on top of the snow drifts. Nole took the lead, trudging a rough path forward. His long nose was beet red, and Joseph could see green lines of snot lining his gloves as he wiped his face. Archenround was not far behind. She slithered over the tops of the snowy path, though Joseph could see her suppressing shivers. He hoped she wasn't cold-blooded. Joseph himself had powered up his soul, the great eagle sweeping aside the snow as he walked, trying to beat down a path for the rest of the party. Shetavalk was beside him, his breath heavy as he trudged forward. In the winds, Joseph could see other Spioa dancing about. G-Wiz was behind them. Occasionally, she would turn back to glare at the prince, who brought up the rear by a considerable margin.

Prince Luevo was not having a good time. He was wrapped up, having taken all six of the spare cloaks that had been provided, carrying Shetavalk's spear like a walking stick. He was slow-going, each step taking an eternity as he shivered and cursed and froze.

“Ro la la,” the creature whispered, “You must continue.”

“It isn't my fault,” Luevo whined, “You're too h-heavy, it's like carrying a boulder on my- on my back.”

“Ro lay lee, do not accuse me. Thou art weak.”

“I am not weak!”

“Prove it, ro la la.”

He took another step forward, a sniffle escaping his lips.

“I want to go h-home,” he muttered.

“As do I,” the creature said.

“Let's turn back, then.”

“My home is out there, ro la la,” the creature said. Luevo felt it shift, a hand winnowing its way out of his jacket and emerging out of his cave of cloth, pointing forward, “ro lay lee, beyond the mountain, it be.”

“Great,” Luevo said, “So if I'm to be r-rid of you...”

“You must walk forward, yes.”

The prince grimaced, and continued forward. He glanced up to see that the guildmembers had gone far ahead of him, waiting beside a cliff.

“D-don't know how they do it,” he wheezed, “Even the blue jacket one, he's much of a r-reed to make it out here...”

***

“The storm's leavin',” Nole noted.

“Really? Didn't notice,” Joseph huffed. His soul carved away another pile of snow, dipping it over the mountainside, “Still feels strong.”

“Ha!” Nole said, “Ye learn to feel things as these. Storms toughen ye, lad. And yer relyin' too much on your power, there. Yer blue bird's doin' all the work for ye.”

“I still feel it,” Joseph countered, “So don't say I'm not doing my part-”

“Sounds like he ain't doin' his part,” G-Wiz noted. She stood beside Nole, “How much more of this do we gotta get through?”

“Not too much,” Shetavalk said, “A few more passes, and we arrive in Koma.”

“Koma?” Joseph asked.

“The next Landscape,” Shetavalk replied, “A vast jungle, one of the larger regions of Nesona.”

“At least I won't have to wear this cloak anymore,” Joseph said.

“Complaining about cloaks now, eh?” Nole chuckled.

Joseph glared at the troll, before turning his attention towards the edge of the cliff they were resting on. Perhaps Nole was right – the storm was beginning to die down. Joseph wasn't really sure of the time – it felt like they had been pushing forward for hours. He was starting to see holes being poked through the storm as it ebbed away – the occasional peaks of mountains in the distance, high and mighty and capped with white.

“Four valleys, altogether,” Shetavalk said, “Within each valley is fertile land, like we saw before. In between...”

“Nothing but blizzards,” Joseph said.

“Not the most comfortable way to live,” the Spioa said, “Travel is difficult – there is never a season without snow. But it is better than the alternatives.”

“The Deadlands, right?” Joseph said, “Wakeling told me about it.”

“You'll see it when we arrive,” Shetavalk said, “I do not wish to speak of such things so deep in living land.”

There was something in his voice that gave Joseph pause. He nodded.

The prince finally caught up with them.

“You people are ridiculous,” he cried, “A break, please – f-find me a place to rest. A cabin, perhaps? I'd s-settle for a cave. Even a hole in the ground-”

“Can it,” Nole said, “Ye gotta suffer like the rest of us.”

“Oh!” Luevo fell face-first towards the ground, sinking into the snow and laying still. Archenround rolled her eyes and slithered over, hand clenching the back of the prince's sixth coat and pulling him up.

“That's a good way to catch your death out here,” G-Wiz admonished, “Snow kills, prince.”

“'Your majesty' would suffice,” Luevo grumbled, “If I'm to suffer out here, at least let me suffer with my station intact.”

“Your ass ain't that big,” G-Wiz said, “Seriously, quit your whining. Can't you see we're all in the same boat?”

The prince went quiet at that, eyes scanning each and every one of the guildmembers. Then with a huff, he sat down.

“I still want a break.”

“For the love of-” Joseph rolled his eyes, “We might as well find somewhere, if he's gonna keep going on like this.”

“Wanting a break too, Noods?” Nole challenged, “Want to let that bird of yers get some nice rest?”

“I'm asking because if we don't do anything, we're going to have this lousy shit whine the rest of the way,” Joseph countered, “Has nothing to do with me, pal.”

Archenround raised a hand. The group – minus Luevo – turned to her. She began signaling, a form of sign language that Joseph was unfamiliar with – hell, he hardly knew ASL back on Earth.

“I don't need a rest,” Nole growled, “Let's just pick up the prince and keep walkin'. If Noods wants to trail behind, let him. He needs to toughen up, anyways.”

Joseph felt his face burning as he turned to Shetavalk, “What did she say?”

“A cave is ahead of us,” Shetavalk said, “Archenround can sense it ahead.”

“Sense it...?”

“Part of her nature,” Shetavalk said. There was a tone of finality to it, and Joseph noted that Nole was giving him a warning look. He decided to keep his mouth shut about it.

“G-good,” Luevo said, “A cave. I can g-go a bit further.”

“A bit further it is, then,” Shetavalk said, “Come, let us be along.”

***

The cave – and resulting rest – was a welcome reprieve. Shetavalk struck another fire (“Enough crystals to last us the trip,'' he said) and passed out lunch.

“What time is it?” Joseph asked.

“I am not sure,” the Spioa said, “Though it feels close enough to lunch time, wouldn't you agree?”

“Hmph,” Nole growled, “We could've been over the mountain by now.”

“How much further?” Luevo groaned, “My legs hurt.”

“Another day, maybe two,” Shetavalk said, “Then we're in Koma.”

“Good,” Luevo muttered, “The sooner we leave this place, the better.”

He was swaddled in yet more cloaks and robes, looking like a cocoon as he glared at the fire. No one said a word to him as they ate.

The storm had abated by the time they resumed their journey. It was still overcast outside, though Joseph could now see the tops of the mountains, just barely, scratching through the gloom. All of them were caked in snow, the entire scene a miasma of whites and grays.

“Not a bad look,” Joseph said to himself.

If it still weren't so damn cold. At least it was no longer constantly snowing. The party hugged the side of the mountain, making their way uphill. Shetavalk led this time, the occasional Spioa fluttering down and resting on his shoulder. He chuckled as they whispered to him, speaking in his native language to them, a series of light inflections and whistles.

“Well, if it's any consolation, it won't be raining in Koma,” he said to the rest of the party, “I've just received word that the next storm won't be rolling through for another few days.”

“Defeats the point of a rainforest,” G-Wiz said.

“Yes, it does,” Shetavalk admitted, “But it will make it easier for us to get where we need to go. It's several weeks worth of travel to get out of Koma, anyways.”

“Weeks without rain?” Joseph said, “In a rainforest?”

Luevo snorted, “Koma's the oldest Landscape on Nesona. I'm surprised it hasn't died out already. Not surprised it's not getting rain.”

“It's old,” Shetavalk said, “Old lands... they tend to stop working after a while.”

He glanced over at Luevo, “All the more reason to finish our quest as soon as possible. Nesona is relying on us.”

Luevo did not return Shetavalk's look, grimacing as he stared out towards past the peaks.

***

Nole raised his nose up into the air, sniffing deeply. Joseph suppressed a dry heave as he saw the troll's mucus had frozen around his nostrils.

“Hey, Noods,” he said, “Yer soul's a bird, right?”

“No, it's an elephant.”

“I'm serious here, lad. Ye got good vision?”

“Good enough.”

“Why don't ye get it out, eh? See what's around.”

Joseph stopped, his eyes narrowing.

“What's wrong?” he said.

“Are ye gonna do it, or what?” Nole grunted, “Come on, I thought Wakeling sent you here for a reason.”

Joseph rolled his eyes. The eagle's head twisted out and upwards, a line of electricity connecting it to the back of his neck as it went as far as it could upwards like a periscope. He hadn't attempted this before, and he felt a wave of disorientation roll over him. Joseph clenched his eyes shut, letting his soul do the work as it surveyed the landscape.

“Not seeing anything,” he said, “Sorry, haven’t done this much before.”

“Useless,” Nole muttered, “Arc, ye feel anythin'?”

She shook her head.

“Is something wrong, Nole?” Shetavalk asked.

“Just... somethin's off,” the troll was glancing around, “Are ye sure ye don't see anythin'?”

“I would've told you,” Joseph said, “This is... getting a bit much, one sec.”

His soul snapped back into his body, though his circuit still pumped as he glanced up at the top of the mountain, “Yeah, I didn't see anything.”

“We're bein' watched,” there was a definite tone to the troll's voice, “I can feel it. I can almost smell it. I know none of ye can, but that's 'cause ye ain't me.”

“How humble,” Luevo said.

“Takes one to know one,” G-Wiz retorted.

Joseph looked around. The trail was in the middle of the mountain pass, having been cut into the mountain long ago. He could just barely make out the peak through the fog, and the snowdrifts continued below them quite a ways to the bottom. Not a steep incline, thankfully.

Yet something had set him on edge now...

“If this is your idea of a joke, it isn't funny,” he said to Nole.

“Ye think I'm jokin', lad?” Nole snarled, “I don't joke about this-”

“Quiet, both of you,” Shetavalk said.

“Sheets, enough with the 'quiet'-”

“I said quiet!” Shetavalk ordered.

Nole shut his trap. Shetavalk nodded to Archenround, who slithered upwards up the path a bit, hand pressed against the ground, sinking into the white as she closed her eyes. Joseph felt his soul quicken its circuit through his body, an electric tingle running up his spine.

“I'm hearing something now,” G-Wiz said.

The group turned to her.

“It sounds,” she strained, cocking her head, “It sounds like...

“Punching.”

“Punching?” Luevo asked.

“Oh dear,” Shetavalk said, “G-Wiz, make a wall! Now!”

The sheet of snow on top of the mountain cracked. Joseph made out something dark glower down from the peak's top, before the layer of snow sloughed off as though the mountain was shedding its clothes. The layer began tumbling down – nice and packed at first, then as it broke up it turned into a roiling cloud of snow and ice.

“Avalanche,” Joseph said, “Avalanche!”

“No shit!” Luevo screamed, “What did I do to deserve-”

“G-Wiz, the wall!” Shetavalk shouted.

G-Wiz took out her keytar, fingers frantically playing, the electric sizzle muted by the sounds of the oncoming wave. Joseph watched as a neon-green energy began emanating out of the keytar's top, which G-Wiz pointed at the ground. The energy began coalescing into a solid wall of green.

“Archenround!”

The serpent-woman made her way over, great tail ringing them in as they took cover behind the wall. G-Wiz was still playing, adding more to the wall, turning it into a small dome of green energy.

“Brace yourselves,” Shetavalk's voice echoed off the wall, voice calm and measured. Joseph felt his stomach tighten.

And they were awash in a sea of snow. A thousand drums battered against the dome, wave after wave tumbling down around them, the world outside the dome billowing into white. For a few moments, they were quiet, watching it roll over them. To Joseph, it was as though they were mere observers, and nothing would hurt them...

And then the first crack appeared.

“I-it's not going to hold,” Luevo said, “We're dead, we're gone. That's it-”

“Shut up, it'll hold,” G-Wiz snapped.

Another crack, this one spreading like a spider's web. And another, this one larger, reaching from the top of the dome to its bottom.

“Oh dear,” Shetavalk whispered, “It won't hold.”

And it didn't hold.

***

“Ro la la,” the creature said, “Luevo, thou must survive.”

He wasn't sure where he was. All he could see was white. Snow weighed him down, and his entire body was aching.

“I don't want to do this,” Luevo said, “Just leave me here. It's alright, I've made my peace with the world-”

“Luevo, thou must survive.”

The creature was slithering up his spine. Luevo felt it begin pouring out of the pores and onto his shoulders, mud-brown hands reaching out to claw at the snow in front of his face.

“Breathe deep, and hold thy breath,” the creature said.

He complied, watching as the creature began to claw at the snow in front of him. It was slow going, with how small its hands were. But it was enough to get his arms free. Luevo began to dig, pulling himself into a fetal position, his hands in front of his face, scratching at the snow, making a small hole for himself. The creature joined him, widening the hole into a bare and minuscule tunnel. Luevo felt his legs and back cramping.

“I don't know which is up or down,” the creature said, “We could be digging deeper into the snow.”

“Great,” Luevo mumbled, “You're going to get us-”

“Silence, Luevo,” the creature said, “Thy breath is important. It sustains us. Without it, we are dead.”

“Then how-”

“How come I speak?” the creature let out a slight chitter, “Ro la la, air is wasted on me.”

Lucky you.

“Ro la la, ro lay lee, I hear your thinking be.”

Doesn't even-

An ugly green claw carved out the snow above him. Luevo glanced up to see the troll hovering over him. What was his name? Joel? Brole?

“Nole,” the creature provided helpfully.

“Thought I smelled something rank,” Nole growled, “Come on, lad. Grab me hand.”

He extended his mitts down. Gods, they smelled like the swamp. Luevo's stomach roiled, and he found his nose curling up at the sight of them.

“I'll climb up myself, thanks.”

“Suit yerself,” Nole turned and began to crawl through the tunnel he had made above. Luevo positioned himself so his feet were now aligned to the floor, and he began pulling himself up.

You're making us too heavy, he whined.

“Ro la la,” the creature said, “I be growing.”

Oh, how nice. My little shit's becoming a big boy. When do you move out?

“Ro lay lee, thou are not very funny.”

Grunting, Luevo heaved himself into the tunnel Nole had made. It was much more sizable than his own – the troll must have been working on it for a while. Luevo could feel fresh air hitting his face, and saw the guildmember pushing his great green ass up a hole to the surface a few yards away. Luevo made his way over. His breathing was ragged and raw, and his entire body ached from the effort. As he made it to the tunnel, he glanced up to see that it was a four foot climb to the surface. Luevo collapsed.

“Come on, lad,” Nole said from above, “Just a bit more to go. Are ye just goin' to sit there?”

“I... I think I need... just a moment, please-”

“We don't got a moment.”

The troll's hand reached down, his head and shoulder going into the hole as he grabbed the back of Luevo's cloak and pulled him up towards the surface. He tossed the prince aside, grunting out a mumbled curse. The rest of the guild was there – the girl was polishing that keytar of hers, the Earth kid with his blue bird fully out, scanning the white waste around them. The snake was off to the side, inspecting her gear. Shetavalk stood forlornly away from the rest of the group. The trail was gone – and Luevo noted they were closer to the bottom of the mountain, the snowslide having carried them down.

“Shetavalk!” Nole shouted.

“A raised voice can trigger another one,” Shetavalk said, “Quiet, Nole.”

The troll complied, stomping over to the Spioa.

“What the hell was that all about?” he grumbled.

“I am... not sure,” Shetavalk turned to the earth boy, “You said you saw something, yes?”

“I'm...” the boy – Joseph, that was his name, said, “I'm not sure. I thought I saw something up on the mountain top.”

“Do ye see it now?” Nole asked.

“Well, I think I'd mention if I still saw it,” Joseph said, a nasty look painting itself on his face, “As of right now-”

The blue eagle turned to survey the horizon. Its bright, neon blue form camouflaged by the blinding white of the snow.

“I don't see anything now. Except, you know, the mountains.”

“This isn't good,” Nole said, “Sheets, who was that-?”

“We don't know if it was anybody,” Shetavalk said.

“If it was someone,” G-Wiz said, “They were strong enough to punch the mountain and trigger a landslide.”

“Snowslide,” Joseph said.

“Shut up, Noodle.”

The serpent made a series of hand gestures – High Federation Sign Language, Luevo recalled, though he hadn’t used it in a while and was having a bit of trouble at first translating it.

“Right,” Shetavalk said, agreeing with her, “No other choice. Archenround, Nole, be on your guard. Joseph, how long can you keep that soul going?”

“I don't know, to be honest,” Joseph said, “Another hour, tops. Then I have to-”

“Make it two,” Nole said, “And quit yer excuses.”

The troll began making his way back up the mountain, ignoring Joseph's sharp look, the way that bird of his crackled with annoyance. The rest of them began to follow.

Luevo piped up, “Is no one going to help me up?”

Joseph shot an irritated glare his way – which was rich coming from him, considering how whiny he was being. G-Wiz just looked over at him, her face inscrutable.

“We're lucky to be alive, pal. Just get up and walk like the rest of us. Isn't hard.”

And she turned away.

“Some servants these are,” Luevo muttered.

“Ro la la,” the creature said, “They are right. We still have two feet.”

“Shut up. And they're my feet, not ours.”

***

The Federation communication device was an old model. Used for Listening Worlds in the early days of interplanar travel, it was older than most planes of existence. Becenti was surprised it still worked. Box-shaped, it was more rust than metal, a thin rod extending from its top. The bottom had the monitor. Tek had replaced the old typing device with a keyboard from the 80s. The large, shaggy mass accompanied him now. Becenti wasn't sure what plane Tek hailed from – he was from a distant place. But he had a way with technology that made him the envy of other guilds.

Beritale Landmass extended out before them, but the two of them were here for the Traveling Point. It rippled and shimmered as Becenti approached it, communication device in hand.

“Right,” Tek gruffed, “Put it right there.”

A vague outline of a horn-like finger extended from the mound of fur. Becenti complied, placing it down.

“It will be alright in the sand, Mr. Tek?” he asked.

“This thing was used in the Ripening Wars, see those plasma scars? It can survive a bit of sand.”

“Very well.”

He had placed it on its side. Tek shambled down, adjusting his glasses ever so slightly as he typed a few word phrases into it, claws ever so gently poking at the keys on the keyboard.

“Now, what plane?” he asked.

“Methusaleh,” Becenti said.

“Methusaleh?” Tek said, “Let me guess, Blue Sky Waiting?”

“The very same,” Becenti said, “They owe us a favor.”

“And what are you calling it in for?” Tek asked.

Becenti went quiet. Tek continued clicking on the keyboard.

“Ah,” he said, “One of those favors.”

The rod on top of the communication device flashed a light, and then began extending into the Traveling Point. A few moments passed as Tek continued making calculations and typing them into the console.

“You're a lucky man, Methusaleh is leaving forecast with the Silver Eye very soon,” Tek said.

Becenti nodded at that. The Silver Eye was home to thousands of Traveling Points – and while interplanar communication was next to impossible, putting a communicator inside a Traveling Point and having it talk to a communicator in the Silver Eye was an effective workaround.

Tek clicked a few more buttons, before huffing in satisfaction.

“Now it's a waiting game,” he said.

“Indeed,” Becenti replied.

“Think they'll pick up?”

“Aldr knows me,” Becenti said, “They have an outpost in the Eye. It'll pick up our signal and relay it to Methusaleh.”

He could almost imagine the signal now, reaching out from Everlasting Truth and warping towards the Inner Reach, on a small Listening World that Blue Sky Waiting had an outpost on. The signal hitting them, their communication device dipping into the Traveling Point into Methusaleh, making its way towards Stormkeep, their guildhall.

A few hours passed. Tek took out a bottle of coffee and began sipping at it. Becenti opened up a book and sat down in the sand. Occasionally a line of code would read out on the communication device, Tek would look at it, click in a few corrections, then continue his waiting. No words passed between the two of them – neither of them were much for conversation.

Then a crackle from the communicator. Tek looked over.

“What do you know, they picked up,” Tek said.

“I said Aldr knows me,” Becenti said.

They were too far away from the Inner Reach to have an image, but they didn't need one. Aldr Fatebreaker’s voice was seasoned, calm, and above all memorable, just cracked and dry enough to be witty, just rich enough to be wise. Becenti could imagine the three-eyed old man, spear in hand, a small smile on his bearded face.

“Is that Myron, or Vyde?” Aldr asked.

“Myron.”

“Ah, Myron. Good to hear from you. How's the guild?”

“In good spirits,” Becenti said, “We picked up another metahuman.”

“Ah, good. Company for the road you walk, hmm?”

Becenti's eyes narrowed, just barely, at the veiled meaning behind Aldr's words.

“Yes,” he said at length, “He's proven himself... sufficient.”

“I hope he's pulling you out of that crab shell of yours, old friend,” Aldr chuckled, “Now, what do you need with an old guildmaster like me?”

“Straight to business, then,” Becenti said.

“You were never much of a socialite, Myron. I know you aren't talking to me for old time's sake. You would have visited, for that.”

Becenti rubbed his temples.

“I need,” he thought of his words, “I need to call in that favor.”

“Which one?” Aldr asked.

“I didn't recall we were keeping count,” Becenti said.

“I owe you one, you owe me three. Wakeling owes me forty-five.”

“The one, then,” Becenti said, “From Naragos.”

“A large favor indeed, and one that Blue Sky Waiting owes your entire guild. Wakeling is alright with this...?”

“I need to get in contact with Captain Kristandi,” Becenti said.

“That's Admiral Kristandi now,” Aldr said, “And I thought you still had his number?”

“I...” Becenti sighed, “I lost contact with him.”

“'Broke off' contact, more like,” Aldr chided, “Wakeling was right. You can't outrun your past, Myron.”

More dimensions to those words. Was Aldr aware of the communications? He was more in-tune with the Silver Eye. Perhaps the old man was letting more than he let on.

No. Best not to think on that now.

“I need to get in contact with him,” Becenti said, “Please. I need to-”

He glanced over at Tek. Tek was listening intently, the great mass stooped down by his shoulder. Becenti's eyes narrowed into a warning glare. Tek returned it, though Becenti could only see the glasses barely poking out of his hay-like fur.

“Very well,” Tek said, “But you owe me a drink.”

He rose and ambled away from the Traveling Point.

“Teknogan, I take it?” Aldr mused.

“Forget about him,” Becenti said, “Aldr. This is important.”

“It seems like it is,” Aldr said, “So, what do you need to get into contact with Kristandi for?”

“I need to get to Avro,” Becenti said, “I need to check the prison there.”