We ate a light, simple, half-crushed lunch, and I felt immersed in the hum of chatter. People’s eyes drifted toward the weather and wildlife. Reed wondered if the animal population here—which had just lost a fraction of its members to a sudden huge gaping maw, plus lots of magic fire earlier—would recover anytime soon. And while they were relieved that so many had escaped back to Outlast, the idea of a huge dungeon hiding even greater threats hung over us like a ghost.
But, also like a ghost, it seemed to flit away. The call of the water and the promise that we had done reasonably good was tempting us. I held off on Evolving. Everyone changed who hadn’t already. Most did so in magical clouds of de-Inventorized modesty.
“HOW DOES EVERYONE DO THAT?!?!?” I cried, swatting my hand with all the flustered bluster of a clueless four-year-old. They made it look so easy!
Bayce could not answer. She was too busy post-transformationally posing in a suit that was two-piece in name only. The navy suit exposed a huge lozenge on her stomach and back, and the, uh, lines were really high. You know, the V-lines. That was the best word I could come up with, much like how my best word for the round chest things was “rib softs.”
After like ten seconds of showboating and windmill-type dancing, Bayce did answer. “It takes a lot of practice. I recommend you just climb over a sand dune and hope we don’t come running.”
“Bayce!” Reed barked, with a hint of real anger. “Nobody is doing that! No privacy-infringing perversion please!”
“Okay, too far!” Bayce held up guilty hands. “Just climb in a tent and…wait, Reed, why would you own a plaid swimsuit!”
“I like plaid,” she said, frowning and crossing her arms. “Plaid is good for all occasions.”
“Nobody says that.”
“I’m a trendsetter. Besides,” she said with a bit of a spin, “what about this color?” Black lines over blue—much more vibrant than Bayce’s.
“SO COOL,” I tapped out. “BAYCES OUTFIT IS TOO BLAND”
“What part of my stomach-hole is bland?!”
Meanwhile, Heidschi and Chora were strutting by towards the water, Chora still in her sporty gear and Heidschi in that lacy bikini that, I have to say, was truly small. Seeing them pass was a great reminder of the reason we were all here dressing skimpily: to feel water on our human legs and/or midriffs.
Suddenly I was desperate to impress. Impress who? Unsure. Maybe just myself! I scampered off for the tents.
With a jolt of surprise, I noticed the one I’d just skidded into like a baseball player racing for home was five times bigger on the inside. Also, there was exercise equipment scattered about—what, Chora, did wads of kelp not make for good weights? that fitness fiend—so that I nearly slipped on a dumbbell. Quickly, not wanting to infringe on a friend’s privacy more than I had to, I donned my sarong.
Tying it around my neck, patting hands down my back and front, I did my best to look tidy without a mirror. Then I looked down, watching the sunset cast rain down my form. I did my own spin, spinning long, holding my arms out wide. A ballerina I was not, but a fiery red really suited my wild moves.
Sigh…goodbye, Solar Soldier.
I put my game face on (a ridiculous smile) and darted out the tent. My running was dancing, and I fluttered around Reed and Bayce a second before looping past and flinging myself into the surf. This time without a boogieboard!
I spat out a mouthful of instant kelp and kept my eyes open despite the salty sting. A warrior, I swam straight out, driven by a sudden mania to go out as far as I could, see how much swimming I could swim before my breathing grew shallow.
The sun beat down on hypnotizing waves. I caught myself before I truly lost myself to sheer movement and energy. Shifting from a swim to churning my arms and legs, I marveled at how naturally it came to me. I didn’t trust my natural Intelligence and Wisdom enough to do that on their own—I would blame it on the hand-eye cantrip.
All the people near the shore were mere specks now. Specks tossing a ball back and forth. Specks bobbing and playing and waving smaller specks and lines. They had called out to me when I’d started swimming away, but they trusted me not to be dead.
Had I overdone it? …No, it hadn’t been that long. Just a few minutes. I was getting better at holding myself back.
Over my shoulder was the other shore of the tiny lake. A shore I couldn’t see.
Instead of going that last stretch, I decided to simply play, on my own, in the water. I tried random things I had never thought of before, much less in a human shape. I balled myself up to see if I could float without panic, I did a terrible take on the butterfly stroke, I got on my back and looked at the sun.
And while I stared, questions about the future seemed to surround me like a dim cloud.
I was interrupted by a splash of water.
An attack?!
I whirled upright and looked around. Nothing. I dunked my head in the water. Here it was cloudy and dark, even for me. Fish, dim and distant, had been actively leaving me me this whole time.
The most horrendous thing about this water was that because it stung my eyes, it made me want to rub my eyes. But my eyes, they also had water on them! And if things were really dire, they’d be salty and gritty, which had resulted in three separate occasions of me giving myself sobby sandy eyes.
But I was determined to endure these minor pains, to stop griping about my own challenges. Instead, I refocused. I paddled myself upright and peeled my red eyes open.
The Sapphire Queen was standing on the water right in front of me, with krigries lifting the train of her dress. Her features were lightly obscured, I realized now, by a shimmering mist.
My reaction to this was a much duller surprise. She’s back to wearing glittering gowns, I guess. For a nonhuman, she is so dramatic.
Or is that gown her designated swimwear? If I asked…would she even understand the question?
Wait, where’d she even get this stuff? From that one person she killed? Or were there more, who all wore her size? Did she…buy it?!
I squinted. I can’t even ask her important things. I’d drown!
“MEOW,” I told her, meaning, Get me a boogieboard now.
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">I don’t exactly want you to talk back. Sorry I’m just really excited
I have to get this out</td>
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“M-maow!” I said, meaning—roughly—Ugh!
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">Okay, so, I think you did it on accident, but you revealed so much about the dungeon yesterday. And suddenly I want to thank you. I am seriously overflowing with new info and you need to know it all.</td>
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I was not convinced this was the place or ti—
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">Pooh pooh, Taipha. You’re floating just fine</td>
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Oh no, she really could read minds?!
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">Reading expressions is surprisingly easy, with some people</td>
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…No, she was just socially acclimating. Shoot.
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">Can your System write things down?</td>
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Well, it could, but right now I didn’t want to devote the mental energy or Map space to—
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">You will want to write things down.</td>
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I rolled my eyes.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
As it turned out, that was like asking the proverbial centipede not only how it walked, but also to write down detailed instructions while walking. Obediently I started a fresh System document and started mentally scribbling. That made my arms spasm out of control. Immediately I sank.
A second sploosh followed me into the water and dragged me back up. Suddenly Logy was in front of me, gripping my shoulders. By the looks of the fabric now covering her arms, she was in a full-body wetsuit.
My forehead burned. Again, where did she get that?!
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">So there’s a few different entrances to the dungeon, one of them being the one you just uncovered by killing all those plants and especially that big flytrap
There’s also one in the northwest by the pit formerly known as the Pit of the Corrupting Sword and the one in the southwest nestled in the Kaugs
Average power levels appear to be BY FAR lowest in the one here. That is amazing news.
It means we have a good on-ramp and you may even be able to train against the weakest dungeon monsters. Are you getting this?</td>
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I nodded begrudgingly, then realized I should’ve paused first just to not get a deluge of new info right afterward.
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">Okay, the dungeon itself
Dungeons have rules. These rules can be bent but I’ll get back to you on that
You can go in with a maximum of four people at a time, so I was thinking we would just take you and me and two of your friends servants people and have one alternate. But now I see you have more options and that they might cooperate. And some of their powers are very interesting
The more cooperative alternates we have, the better our chances, as long as they don’t mind high risk of death</td>
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Wait, what? “Cooperative alternate”? And, wait, who wouldn’t mind high risk of death?!
Oh no, Logy…you can’t just eagerly send people to their doom. Not unless they’re me, sadly…
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">Get everyone’s strategies and record them so I can do some analysis. Figure out what parties are best and whose powerset is best for which type of enemy. It is of the utmost importance, so stop rolling your eyes, because yes I do know what that means
Do you have any questions.
Question mark.</td>
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With my most furious grimace, I summoned the spirit board. It splashed into the water, dipped underneath Logy’s right arm, and bobbed away.
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">…Okay my krigries can get that</td>
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I sighed. Pretty much everything she mentioned sounded like research that she should be doing. This was her mission, after all. All I wanted to offer was a strong arm.
As the buzz of krigries reentered the periphery, I broke away from Logy and started swimming to shore. She swam after me, knifing through the water.
My forward glances during the swim were interesting. First I saw specks, all contentedly playing. Then I saw hotdog-sized figures turning our way. Relief, pleasure. Then disgust, horror. And a new pleasure that was obviously papering over that horror.
Only one face refused to hide its displeasure. As we hit the shore, Chora came after us with a shocking vengeance. Then she did something that sent a pang of fear through me—she grabbed Logy by the wrist, spun her around, and tapped hard on her chest.
With one of my folded-up spirit papers.
“I’m sick of seeing my friends tolerate you,” she said. “Talk to all of us or don’t talk at all.”
Silence.
Slowly I held one arm between Logy and Chora. I didn’t have to, because Logy didn’t make any moves. Instead, she took the page gingerly in her hands—she had to, with how damp it was and we were—and sat down crisscrossed on the hand. She began to spell out words, and Chora watched intently.
The rest of us gathered one by one, simply watching her say what, to me, she had already said. I took a soul-deep sigh of relief.
Minutes, then an hour passed. Bayce wandered away again, then Heidschi. Chora was taking all the notes Logy had wanted me to take, with a serious interest that I sensed the lepidot appreciated. I wanted to apologize for the turn this beach party had taken, but…it wasn’t on me to apologize, it was on her. Plus, we had gotten off to a bleak start, with that mass destruction yesterday and all.
A second hour later, Chora gave a final nod, then Reed. Logy bowed her head on her own time, several seconds after. She was giving me the vibes of a movie character, a certain dark invader, not an automaton yet always willfully inhuman.
As Chora disappeared to her tent, Reed set a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for letting us in.”
My head flailed back and forth! “WHAT??? I WISH THE EXACT OPPOSITE! U SHOULDNT HAV TO!”
“But I’m starting to want to!” She bit her lip. “I do love these woods. And I’ll…I’ll chase you and fight to get on your level. I want to do just as much.” She attempted a smile. “So don’t hesitate…if you know ways I can do better.”
I gave her a soft chop on her own shoulder. “MAKE WEAPONS. BE MORE YOU! AND, UM, UNCOVER UR MYSTERIES. ALSO JUST BE CONFIDENT”
“Ha, thank you…it’s easier said than done, for me.” She began flexing her guns. “I am confident! I am…um…me!”
A laugh bubbled out of me. I wanted to rope her into a hug, run back with her to the water where Bayce and Heidschi played, but I felt something unresolved with Logy. So I kinda…brushed her cheek with my knuckle, not knowing quite what I was doing. She locked eyes with me.
“U GO BACK. ILL TAKE TO LOGY SOME”
“Take care,” she murmured.
“THX. I MIGHT NEED IT”
As she left, I turned to Logy, who hadn’t moved from her seat in the sand. Ever deadly serious.
I stood over her and cocked my head. “DO U HAVE A VOICE?”
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">HA. Ha. No. Thought you knew that</td>
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She pointed to her weirdly mouthless face. It was as mouthless as the mask of that dark invader. I wondered: if she got splashed in the face and water got into her extremely small facehole, would she…cry it out? I physically cringed at the thought.
“HAVE U EVER WANTED A VOICE?”
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">Philosophical question?</td>
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“JUST QUESTION”
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">I have never had to think about it. Everything and everyone I would want to communicate with shares the same condition
None of us have a voice. We use written words, a power I have had since I appeared in this world. And words are the voice of the System. We are linked via the System, and the System is my second life itself</td>
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This stirred something in me, but I couldn’t tell what… I felt moved, like I could relate. The System was an odd artificial heart, putting us in touch with the best thing since deities.
Still, the answer didn’t satisfy me. It was probably wrong to pity Logy for not being able to communicate well with my friends—what am I saying, it was totally wrong, she both didn’t want to be friends with them and was a jerk—but…I pitied the fact that she had never considered it.
Had it actually been a choice for me to become my cabinmates’ friend? My Arkmagus had pressured me into it, but I could have stayed a lone wolf and toughed it out. What I hadn’t needed to pursue were eyes that could read. Speech.
Logy did have krigries to provide her with company, but considering how dronelike they acted around her, they probably doubled as the reason why she kept taking my friends for servants…
“BUT I LOVE THE IDEA OF CHATTING WITH OTHERS. JUST ASKING AND LEARNING STUFF.” I gave her a pointed look. “DONT U LIKE THAT?”
Logy stared off elsewhere, at the waves.
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">I find myself filtering out most information. Tunnel vision is what keeps me relaxed. And motivated.</td>
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I put on a grin. “U AT LEAST LIKE TALKING TO ME?”
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">It’s a fun challenge</td>
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I squinted. “UM THANKS”
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">Um you’re welcome.</td>
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“WELL…LET ME UPDATE U ON MY PLANS. I THINK IM GOING ON A BIG TRIP AROUND THE FOREST. BASICALLY TRAINING A BUNCH WHILE I GET MORE CANTRIP INGREDIENTS. HOPEFULLY FUN! LIKE EXTENDED CAMPING”
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">You’ve really turned so human that you think of survival as “extended camping”?</td>
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I…felt weirdly attacked.
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">It’s not you, though. It’s your Arkmagus. I suppose cats and humans are more similar than butterflies and humans. Things rub off.</td>
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“OK LOGY,” I said with a sigh of fresh frustration. “THAT’S LIKE ALL I HAVE TO SAY TO YOU SO PLEASE LEAVE”
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<td style="width: 100%; background-color: rgba(71, 72, 162, 1); text-align: center">Fine, but what part of the Map are you exploring next?</td>
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“I DONT KNOW YET AND U CAN JUST FOLLOW ME ANYWAY!!!!!” I said, hammering the exclamation mark so hard it secreted fluid.
Energetic pointing: a language we all understand. Without warning, Logy poofed into a butterfly and sailed over my head, over the lake, toward the very outermost reaches of the Vencian Wood.
Logy reminded me of what I was doing this all for. Whether I wanted to know it or not, I was, literally, training to beat this strange underground foe. More importantly to me, I was training and exploring for these woods, and for myself. Maybe I did only want this next cantrip because I wanted to have fun with these shameful, dirty humans, but darnit, I was going to speak.
Everyone was back in the water now. My friends were out there, and I needed only to follow. Throw apart the curtains, dive into the mystery. I took a breath, then drifted back.