March 25, 2019. 9:27 pm.

“Can you escort me to my companions?” I ask Atla as Thinnesq slips below the water behind me, our meeting over after the shortest of formal goodbyes. Only three sentences each.

He nods, leading me up a hidden staircase. Two stories later we emerge into a large vestibule with an amazing view of Pearlescent Summers. We’re housed at the peak of the tower, yet it’s still lower than where Pelwerd floats on the horizon. The bottom of the massive silver engines aren’t the smooth surface I’d been expecting. Instead, they’re covered in complex etchings that are visibly glowing even from kilometers away. If I was closer, I might be able to piece together what they mean.

Wait.

Focusing on my memories of Uthica’s primers I discover that they’re interwoven with my System granted memories. And those are mixed with my subclass. That… seems like it could be trouble if my System keeps getting worse.

Before I have time to inspect the issue further, Rufka and Tipan greet me.

“Took you forever,” Rufka complains. “Never knew slugs could sing like that.”

“It was a rather singular dining experience,” Tipan agrees, her healing talisman in hand.

Grinning I start toward a couch that looks like it’s more cushion than seating. “Time for another treatment doc?”

“Indeed. Though it is frustrating that it is working so poorly. I’ve never seen such stubborn resistance to healing magic. Unbonded mana-borne are easier to heal.”

“You’ve healed- Ow, Rufka, stop it,” I say, swatting Rufka’s hand playfully away from where she was messing with my hair.

“Sorry. It’s good to see you healthy.” Rufka kisses my head to accentuate her point before stepping back and letting Tipan work.

“Thanks. So, how do you want me?” I ask Tipan with a wink, emphasizing the movement to compensate for my missing eye.

Tipan just rolls all four eyes, not bothering to dignify my leading question with a response.

“Have to say, I’m feeling kinda excited. Enjoyed our visit a lot more than I expected to.” Rufka nods to the side, fur tickling my chin as she cuddles my left side. Tipan takes the opportunity to place her hand on my burned right, her talisman sparkling. The tingling resumes and this time I try to Focus on it. If I can consolidate a skill without the System, maybe I can help with healing my wounds as well.

At first it doesn’t seem to do anything. But then I infuse the healing with Twilight-tinted mana while using Focus. My Focus drops by over a hundred points as I concentrate on my skin healing and I feel the charred skin flaking off as an electric shock runs up my side. Bolstered by my success, I replicate the process but this time focusing on my hand. I feel resistance, as though there isn’t enough energy, so I pull. I try to imagine my hand regrowing, starting with the bone, infusing the healing energy with Twilight. But my attention wavers when Rufka shifts in my lap, her elbow digging into my thigh. And then the healing stops.

“That was quick,” I say, turning to Tipan who’s swaying on her feet.

Tipan collapses next to me as though she were… well, Rufka.

“Uh, Tipan, are you okay?” I ask, pushing an apparently already sleeping Rufka to the side.

Tipan pushes herself to her left elbows with a nod. “I think so. That just took… a lot. Not just my Mana either. For some reason it siphoned off my Stamina and most of my Focus too.”

“Sorry. I was trying to fix it. Was hoping to get my hand back,” I chuckle holding up my stump. Except… I can see a faint outline of my hand. It’s little more than the vague shape, but it’s visible.

Tipan’s hand passes right through when she pokes at it.

“That’s new,” Tipan and I say practically in sync.

“I’m going to take it as a good sign,” I decide, holding it out in front of me and flexing my fingers, and watching the outline respond. It feels like they’re there. Out of curiosity, I create a ball of fire and pass my hand through it. Instead of just passing by, like it did with Tipan’s fingers, where my hand touches the fire, the flame is sucked from the sphere into my hand.

“Huh.”

“That… I’ve heard of elemental prosthetics. But it’s an emergency Ability for Protector classes in the copper rank. I’ve never heard of- Wow, that’s hot!” Tipan pulls her hand back from where she was poking my hand again.

“I wonder if I can…” I will the fire away and it flows back into me, replenishing my mana by an infinitesimal amount. This time I summon a sphere of metal, pushing my hand inside. When I pull it out, the metal is semi-fluid, as though it were molten.

Tipan uses a fork taken from her inventory to prod my hand. The fork bends with the force Tipan expends pushing against the fluid seeming surface.

“It’s interesting. But I’m not sure how useful it will be,” Tipan decides after we’ve cycled my hand through all the elements. Twilight is the only element that doesn’t work with my new hand. I suspect it’s because the underlying structure is formed of Twilight. And my hand isn’t just capable of claiming my own energy, as I was able to snag some of Tipan’s wind mana during the experiment too.

“It’s wicked,” I declare, flaring the lighting currently infused in my hand upward. “I mean, you’re right, it's not useful. It even costs me extra Mana to use it for things like this.”

Swinging my arm about I send a lightning whip across the luxurious penthouse suite, weaving it between a pair of crystal decanters and a potted cactus-like plant.

While I could have effectively done the same thing before, having it extend from the end of my arm makes the experience more visceral. I start cackling as I draw the energy back into my hand.

“Hmm, not so loud,” Rufka murmurs, wrapping herself around my leg and trying to topple me over. Or so I thought, but no, she’s just cuddling my leg.

“I’m not sure I want my hand back,” I admit, sitting roughly on Rufka as Tipan settles on a chair across from the couch.

“Understandable. If only for the intimidation effect,” Tipan nods.

“Intimidation?” Glancing at my hand, I look back to Tipan confused.

She nods, coating her hand in Wind-mana. “An elemental hand implies you have incredible control. And especially with whatever yours is doing. See how stable your mana is within the construct in comparison?”

Copying her, my hand becomes a solid barrier of air, with only the mana to indicate it’s there. Inspecting the flows, I find she’s right. It’s less chaotic. Which I’m certain is the Twilight-mana’s influence. Even so, I can feel that the Twilight is fading. The effect seems to be temporary.

“I’m not certain what you did. But if you can replicate it with your System, maybe you can repair it?”

“Hmm,” I hum noncommittally. It’s not a terrible idea, if I can make it permanent. And if I’m able to isolate my skills and abilities outside of the System… then I don’t have to worry about losing them if my System goes completely wonky.

“Anyway, it’s late. I’m going to retire to my room. Do you want my help getting her to-” Even as Tipan speaks, I hoist Rufka up in a wave of Wind-mana. “I’ll take that as a no. Good night, Lex.”

“Good night, Tipan. Thanks for the help,” I say, grabbing her in a hug before she sneaks away.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

“You too.”

I float Rufka onto our bed as I contemplate what I’m about to do. Sleep is off the table. I’m still not tired. And none of my regeneration seems to be affected. Rufka's soft snores fill the room as I turn my attention inward, prepared to save what I can.

As much as it’s painful to admit, consolidating my ability to repair and build Ripple-drives is critical. Even more important than my ability to control the elements.

So that’s where I'll start.

First, I look over the crystalized knowledge from Thinnesq’s instruction. It’s far simpler than Uthica’s primers, even discounting the connections to the System interface. But there are clues to how the information needs to be contained. And I realize I subconsciously infused it with Twilight-mana as I was originally forming it.

I start by taking a simpler ship, a Juniper. It’s a small ship, but the codex indicates its approximate worth is one Chaos infused Candle. I have no clue what that means. The important thing is that the ship is amazingly complicated. Which is why I feel okay using it here. There are too many systems that are redundant or non-functional.

It’s the perfect candidate. Slowly, I disconnect the strands leading from the Juniper to the System. But I underestimate how deeply the System is rooted into the codex. With a crumbling flash of Twilight-mana, the codex dissolves, snuffed out before I’ve barely began.

The dissolving codex disrupts several of the codices forcing me to accelerate my plans. With careful manipulation off the table, I start hacking at the connection to the System itself. It proves effective, leaving the codex floating in my mind, its only connection leading directly to Uthica’s primer. When I attempt to Pause time, my entire System shakes, another codex disappearing and my skills leaking wisps of Twilight mana. So, I continue my hack job with increased urgency. For each primer I salvage, one is lost, disrupted by their proximity.

But when I open my eyes at two in the morning, I’ve been successful. In fact, it feels like the knowledge is more deeply ingrained, much like a System skill. The real success is in cutting my Voidcraft Engineer off completely. I can’t access it, but it’s kept safe from the leaking parts of my interface.

When I attempt to stand to satiate my gnawing hunger, I’m stopped by Rufka shifting to trap me in place. She mumbles incoherently when I set her gently to the side. Strolling to the lounge, I search for anything resembling a kitchen but admit defeat. If I want food, I’ll need to risk taking if from my inventory. But that might cost me skills or knowledge.

So, with my hunger grumbling in the background, I return to Rufka, closing my eyes to delve within once more. The next skill I work with is Twilight-manipulation. Without it, I can’t even attempt these edits. Losing it would mean losing everything.

With a great deal more finesse, I study the skill. It’s almost completely linked into the System. So, instead of trying to break it free, I copy it. One memory and insight at a time, I copy the structure to a new node. But… it lacks permanence. How can I integrate it with myself more complete…

That… no, it would be too simple. Searching through my interface, I find the store of Integration Points. I still have hundreds of Iron-rank points from Atun’s Arena. And they’re… they’re similar to Twilight, but more… robust feeling. When I pull on them, I’m able to break one down and use it to infuse my new Twilight skill. It takes two hours, but I’m left with a perfect copy. Okay, not totally perfect. It takes up nearly ten times the space in my mental landscape. And… I don’t know if it worked. It seems to be integrated yet I feel the same. There’s no way to test if I succeeded without breaking my existing skill.

Which would be idiotic. I’ll test with something less important like Climbing or even Stone-Sculpting. But that can wait.

With a backup of Twilight, I repeat the process with Temporal and Spatial manipulation. Each one going slightly quicker. But once I’ve finished them, I realize I have a new issue. My mental landscape is getting full. Just these three skills and my knowledge of Ripple-drives takes up half my available space. The Seed from my class sits here as well, a surprisingly stable node, already detached from the System. As I evaluate what I’m guessing is my soul, I acknowledge the truth. I won’t be able to keep all my skills, not unless I can compress them.

It's as I’m copying over Mana-manipulation that I realize there are large portions that are shared with Twilight. By using more of my Integration points, I’m able to build the two together.

Then I realize a similar pattern amongst my movement skills, and they end up as a sort of hydra-esque skill all centred around a single core. Which is when I’m able to confirm my copies are effective. At least, I’m pretty sure I’ve retained most of what I gained from having the flight skill after doing a quick lap around the bedroom.

My salvaging efforts are interrupted by Rufka in the morning, but I put her off, informing her that my System issues are acting up. An understatement but I’m assuming that Thinnesq is watching us. I know Wyonna would be watching her if she visited us. My statement is met by a grunt, and some sort of sweet meats that I eat without really tasting. And then more.

Tipan informs Alta I’m indisposed as I continue, which is for the best. Things are holding, but I can still feel everything trying to fall apart. Lightning and Fire manipulation are saved together, the final touches on Fire tied off when suddenly the original Twilight Manipulation collapses. The implosion shakes my mental landscape, jostling the connections. When I reach for Twilight, I’m delighted to find my ability to wield it remains intact. I think.

And I have another problem. I’m out of room. I either need to start causing my skills to implode or wait for them to collapse on their own.

I can hear Tipan and Rufka talking in the living room as I hesitate, my hunger worse than I can ever remember. Didn’t I just eat? I call out asking for food, but don’t take the time to register their answer before focusing again.

Now, I could try to repackage the first skills I did. I’ve gotten better as I’ve been going. But I need room for that too.

Maybe I should try converting one of my low importance skills. I turn on Stone-sculpting. If there’s a skill I want to keep but don’t want taking up space, this is it.

It’s not the rational choice. It’s an emotional one. Smoulder and I have created so much with this skill. Hell, this skill is probably half the reason I’m referred to as the Rabbit-Queen.

…

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I lose it.

Chuckling to myself, I start picking at the System connections. After copying half-a-dozen skills, it’s possible to identify where the core of the skill lies. It takes twice as much effort as copying, but I finally disentangle the last of the System-mana from Stone-sculpting, as I do, I realize I’ve recovered a small amount of Integration energy. Not even enough for a point, but it’s there. Even as I feel relief surge through me, Lightning Manipulation implodes.

Realizing that I’ve saved Stone-sculpting without saving Stone Manipulation, I don’t even consider which skills to concentrate on next, binding Earth, Stone and Metal together. Unfortunately, I’m less than halfway done when the original Stone manipulation skill starts to wobble. This is the first time I’ve directly observed one of my skills as they implode. As I’m wrestling with the System to keep as much of the skill as possible, I see a flash of Uthica bent over, her stomach heaving as knowledge is forcibly injected into her mind. Then I’m back. The new version of the skill is stabilized. Stone manipulation itself is greatly diminished, but I can still manipulate stone. And the others are intact.

My stomach practically screams at me as I turn toward my remaining skills.

When I finish merging Water, Wind, and Ice manipulation, I run into a different problem.

I… might be able to merge Water, Wind and Ice without any further implosions. I seem to have the room. And they share a lot of System direction. None are critical. Not technically. While Wind provides my flight spell, I have several others now. And my innate flight, which doesn’t seem to be at risk of collapsing. My abilities seem to be more stable than my skills. But Ice… I have to try to save Ice. Because if I chose not to, I’d be running away from what I did to Papa.

As I begin merging them, I realize that Ice has almost no System instructions. Instead, it forces me to watch that day again, as I weave Wind and Water to rely on it. But the day is… it’s… different.

I watch as the ice follows our car. But it’s not just ice. There’s another car. Papa is constantly looking in the mirror. There’s a moment where I look into the mirror. Instead of focusing on papa’s friend, Mr Thompson, I see the person following papa in the mirror. The unfamiliar shock of wavey brown hair framed by a much more familiar face nearly causes me to disrupt the merged skills myself.

Spending half my Facet, I Pause time. I can feel something shatter in the background, but I hold my newly merged skills separate. I sever the link to the System, leaving the skills and the associated memories untouched. I double check, and I confirm the face in the mirror. I know it well.

There was no sign of tampering on papa’s car. I remember the paperwork. Thompson explaining he’d checked it himself. Apology after apology.

How many times did he tell me it wasn’t my fault. And I didn’t believe him. Even as I blamed him, I didn’t believe him.

But for the first time in a decade, doubt creeps in.

When I open my eyes, I see a platter of meats, cheeses and fruit on a stand next to the bed. I reach for an apple to sate my hunger. But I don’t make it that far. Suddenly, the empty stomach and days without sleep demand their due.

The unfamiliar brown hair framing Beth’s face, still haunting me from that memory, is the last thing I see before falling to the floor, the apple rolling away.