“A new age,” August said. “What marks the change from one to another?”

“The age distinction is based on events that fundamentally change Gaian society,” Melon said, “I’m not familiar with every individual one, but Age IV was predicated on the initial success of the Life Record System—although it took almost a decade for the change to be codified.”

Considering that the date Rittan had given him for the Voithos decommissions had been two-thousand-and-sixty-four, there must have been Gaians running around that had been alive for two-thousands-years—Gaian years, as well, which were about three times as long as a Human year. At that point, each of them must have died and come back to life several times over.

“That gives us a lower limit of three-hundred-and-four years having passed, but no real way of figuring out the upper limit because we don’t know which year Age IV actually ended,” August said, glancing back over his shoulder at the sound of water splashing. “I suppose it doesn’t really change our situation either way—if they haven’t made any attempt to help us or stop us yet, they probably aren’t going to start now.”

He couldn’t quite see them because of the bamboo wall, but he could hear both Kalter and Boko’s voices amongst the shallows, along with the sound of an Efkini’s chain—they were already hunting for dinner. A check of the sky made him realise that he’d taken way too long to get the outer structure of the new fire finished. He’d just have to use the thing in its unfinished state, or they were going to run out of light.

“Considering how much time has passed, Junil has probably used the Life Record to relearn who she was before, right? So she’d know all about you again,” August wondered, moving on to stacking up sticks and kindling for starting the fire. “I don’t suppose you know any runes that would allow us to contact her and ask for help?”

Then again, contacting the Gaians might be the worst thing they could do if his inexplicable arrival on Devil’s Nest had managed to escape notice somehow—

“I—I could attempt to carve a rudimentary message system, with reference to her old contact information, but I’m not sure if it is still in use or how well that will work with the distance, and I don’t have the ability to power it—or even activate such a thing,” Melon said, sounding a bit panicked. “I don’t even know the reference rune for the system you’re already connected to or how it would interface with a message itself, so we wouldn’t be able to interpret anything we received in return, and—and—and—I shouldn’t even possess the knowledge of how to do such a thing and actually using that knowledge would be completely forbidden.”

August had turned to look at her during the almost frantic attempt to explain herself, taken aback at how badly the question had set her on edge. He reached out to touch her on the shoulder, in an almost unconscious reflex to calm her down—she snapped her head around to stare down at his hand with wide eyes. The speed of the movement actually triggered the attention pull of her mental render, hard enough that he actively felt it for the first time since he’d upgraded the skill.

“Melon,” August said, aborting the motion at the last moment, not quite touching her. “I’m sorry—I was only curious about whether or not it was an option; I’m not telling you to do it, and there’s no expectation for you to figure out how right at this moment.”

“Oh,” Melon managed. “You even say things like that?”

The question—completely disconnected from the content of what he had said—actually took him a moment to connect back to the almost unconscious apology he’d just given her.

“Not a Gaian, by the way, just in case you’ve forgotten again,” August said, “Attempting to contact a Child of Gaia would be something we would need to talk about as a group long before we actually tried it, and it’s probably a bad idea anyway—so don’t worry about it right now.”

This time, his attempt at reassurance seemed to actually work as he intended, although August wasn’t sure if it was because he’d done a better job or if she was starting to get a better read on him. He waited a few moments to see if she could actually build herself back up enough to respond, and just when he thought she couldn’t manage it, she spoke.

“The decisions here are made as a group?” Melon murmured.

August was more than happy to put a bit of distance between him and the conversational landmine he’d just stepped on.

“Anytime there’s a decision that affects the group in general or that seems relatively important, we vote on it as a group—there aren’t that many of us right now, so it seems to be working pretty well,” August said with a nod. “It might not work as well when the numbers get too high, but that’s something we can figure out if we actually make it that far—you get a vote, too, in case you weren’t sure.”

“I do?” Melon said, sounding unsure. “I don’t really know how to do something like this; perhaps I shouldn’t do any voting until I understand the situation better.”

“Melon, I’m not sure the others would feel very good if you didn’t get a chance to vote alongside them,” August said, keeping his voice light. “Besides, you’re a member of our defiant little community now, and part of that is being burdened with an equal share on how it’s governed.”

Melon made something of an affirmative sound—an acknowledgment that he had spoken, but not really a confirmation that she was accepting of the responsibility he’d placed on her— but August was fine with that. He turned his attention back towards the process of lighting the fire—and soon, the first curls of smoke were rising up from the mess, as the embers began their work to drive away the rapidly falling dark.