ã€ŠAll Who Wanderã€‹


 End and Beginning (Revised)

    End and Beginning (Revised)

    Darkness saturated the cave, obscuring the massive figure which kneeled in its deepest recess.

    Tiny glints of light from the surface reflected off shiny, gold-bronze imperfections in the walls, providing hints to the layout of the cavern and the form of the being within it.

    It was a creature that many would call a monster, terrifying and looming, twice as tall as the tallest human and menacing in its stature.

    It possessed both four, long arms and four horse-like legs, all extending from a body like that of a centaur.

    Its head and face, however, differed greatly from any man, three gems sat in the middle of their face which served as eyes, just capable enough that they could see clearly in the subterranean gloom.

    The top of their head was shaped similarly to a sedge hat, small, golden stars hanging from its wide brim.

    Yet most peculiarly of all, this being was not formed of flesh and blood, but of hardened, terracotta clay, accents of metallic bronze highlighting its body.

    Yet despite its monstrous form, there were no thoughts of death and destruction in that moment, its single, desperate task taking up all its attention.

    For at the very bottom of the cave, where the Golem now kneeled, a dwindling pile of soft clay rested.

    Four arms dedicated themselves with reckless abandon to shaping that clay into a large form, a process that should have taken months.

    Yet the statue in front of the Golem, was not the intricate craft of days and weeks, but only hours.

    Shouts echoed in the distance, sending their already rushed sculpting into further degradation.

    With every stroke of their hands, more and more imperfections infected the stoneware form, and while the Golem ached to fix them, they had no time.

    The shouts grew closer, the Golem knew they would soon be found, this would have to do.

    Picking up the soft clay figure, they began to call out, not in the language of man nor the creatures of flesh, but in the language of Spirits.

    They called out to the Spirits of Power, Pride and Revenge, who had guided and sustained their kind for as long as they could remember.

    But no Spirit of Power would guide a Vessel so weak.

    No Spirit of Pride would guide a Vessel so imperfect.

    No Spirit of Revenge would guide a Vessel so incapable of carrying out its eternal grudges.

    Desperate, the Golem cried out again into the Spiritual plane, asking, begging, anyone to guide their child.

    But one by one, all rejected their call.

    Voices echoed off the walls, soon their haven would be found.

    They called out one final time, a hopeless and pitiful cry.

    And they were answered.

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    A Spirit that was weak, but burning with inner fire, that found power not in itself but the world around them, that looks not to the past but races toward the future.

    A Spirit of Exploration.

    Now there was only one thing left to do.

    The Golem gave their child all they had left, not even enough to harden their soft clay form, and imbued them with a single message.

    ¡°Survive, my little Wanderer¡±

    And with that they turned to dust.

    The first thing Wanderer felt as their soul ignited was dust.

    They were smothered by it, from head to hoof, it felt almost comforting.

    For a long time, they lay motionless, happy to lay in ignorance of the world around them underneath the fine powder.

    Yet, from deep within them a voice emanated, from a place right next to their forming soul, urging them to get up and move.

    The Vessel wished to resist, to stay under the comfort of their motionlessness, yet their Spirit was insistent and the Golem¡¯s mind was weak.

    Slowly and with great difficulty, Wanderer moved their unfamiliar limbs, coming to kneel on their two legs.

    The Spirit pushed again, urging them to get up, to move, to survive, as if directed by some message unknown to Wanderer.

    Hurriedly, the Vessel attempted to stand on its clumsy legs, falling back down to the cave floor in an instant.

    Yet they were undeterred, and soon tried again, this time managing to stand for but a moment before being thrown off balance by one of their four arms, the lower left being shorter and malformed.

    Spurred on by their Spirit, they tried once again, this time compensating for their weaker side, and managed to come to a somewhat unsteady stance.

    Their hoofed feet nearly slipped on the dust-covered floor as they took their first step, but by some miracle, they did not crash to the ground and soon took another.

    Step by unstable step, Wanderer began to walk forward in the pitch-black darkness, unable to tell where they were going yet moving all the same, encouraged by the sense of urgency their Spirit projected upon them.

    In the corner of their vision, the black uniformity of the dark cave was disturbed, a glint of what Wanderer would come to know as light making itself present.

    In a fraction of a moment, a wave of awe and wonder overcame Spirit and Golem both, Wanderer not even needing to be directed before making their way toward the anomaly as fast as their unsteady legs could carry them.

    Their Spirit danced in admiration and wonder as the golden-bronze glint shined on the dark walls of the cave, purveyed by a peculiar ore.

    Yet the light did not seem to be coming from the metal itself, and so, after an appropriate amount of time admiring the mineral, the duo followed the source of the light.

    As they progressed further and further from the place of their creation, Wanderer was overcome with wonder and excitement as the singular glint of light multiplied, as frequent veins of shiny ore were lit by some unknown source.

    The reflected light began to light up Wanderer''s own body and they soon saw that similar veins of golden-bronze metal ran throughout themself, accenting their clay form.

    Unlike that of the walls, however, the metal in their body, much like their clay flesh, was malleable and soft.

    Now it was Wanderer who was dancing with wonder, delighting at how the light reflected off their own body and cast onto the walls.

    Eager to find the source of the beautiful light, and unable to resist the reignited hassling of their Spirit, Wanderer again moved forward, trekking up the slope to the mouth of the cave.

    Finally, on unsteady feet, the Golem came to gaze upon the world in front of them and a scene greater than anything their limited mind could have imagined.

    A great valley unfolded before them, one of many created by the spruce-carpeted mountains that spread out as far as the eye could see.

    Trees of pine and puddles of cool water obscured the lush grass, only the occasional boulder or cave standing out from the endless blanket of dense trees.

    Birds of all varieties sang in simple melodies, delighting Wanderer¡¯s hearing which had never before been used.

    Yet above all these things, one thing stood out above them all, towering far above even the highest of these mountains was a colossal pine tree.

    It grew atop a short mountain, surrounded by a lake that emanated a moat of mist and fog.

    Its massive roots trailed down the mountainside before drinking deeply from the obscured water source.

    The tree itself towered so high into the sky that snow crystallised on its highest branches, then fell in great clumps down to the earth as the tree swayed in the wind.

    That same snow was alighted a frosty blue by the azure sun rising behind it, which illuminated the whole scene with a cool, refreshing ambience.

    The Golem and its Spirit sat stunned by the scene, neither having seen anything of its like before.

    It was so utterly captivating that all previous concerns of escaping some unseen force had been melted away by the natural scene, as if its majesty would simply not allow anything but total awe.

 Discovery and Danger

    Discovery and Danger

    Wanderer walked in a haze through towering trees, overwhelmed by the beauty and majesty of the natural world around them.

    The Vessel could feel their Spirit bounding and leaping with joy within them, pushing them forward as Wanderer took in every foreign sight and sound.

    As they walked they passed over every leaf on every bush, every reflective puddle on the floor and heard the chirp of every bird, from within Wanderer, a wish to stop and take in the world around them came to be, to allow their still forming mind to process all it had seen, to review each beauty in detail.

    But their Spirit would allow no such thing.

    Already had the intricate leaves and needles of the trees around them, become boring and stale in its mind, the voice demanded more.

    And so the Golem walked, faster and faster as the pressure of the Spirit grew, the rocks of the ground began to cause damage to Wanderer¡¯s malleable body, forcing their already unsteady hooves to fall out from under them, crashing the Golem into the unfamiliar ground.

    Wanderer once again felt the push to discover more, but the Golem had seen the results of following without reason, and as the demands of the presence mounted once again, Wanderer directed a single thought towards a place deep inside them, right next to their soul where their Spirit resided.

    ¡°NO,¡± they thought and the voice fell quiet.

    Now afforded time to think, an uncomfortable sensation forced itself to the forefront of the Vessel''s mind.

    looking down towards their hoof-like feet, gashes and wounds ran throughout their length, caused by the splinters and stones of the forest floor.

    From them stemmed a foreign feeling, in opposition of the constant joy felt by their Spirit, smaller than the wonder the Vessel felt when they looked upon the forest, and sharper than the desperate feeling of being pushed forward.

    It was a feeling that was undeniably unpleasant and yet could not be without purpose, pain, they realised.

    The voice called to them once again, not demanding or forceful, but a quiet suggestion with a hint of apology, calling the Vessel to mend their wounds by melding their clay body back together, and in doing so, become whole again.

    Wanderer bent down, and with 4 soft hands, they slowly began to renew their damaged body, with caution and delicacy the Vessel''s hooves slowly became whole again, as the Spirit guided them with knowledge written deep with their forming soul till the Golem''s feet were once again unblemished.

    With their crisis averted, the Golem began to inspect the world around them, and as they did so, a thought passed through their head.

    ¡±look like?¡±, the thought was half-formed in their nascent mind, but it was enough, so, slowly they walked over to a small pool of water, in which they could see their reflection.

    Peering down, they first noticed their head, bands of gold and bronze ran down the sides of their face, which was framed by three golden jewels arranged like a pyramid.

    Atop their head was a clay sedge hat, its brim decorated by dangling, golden talismans hung on black string.

    Turning their gaze downward, Wanderer saw a long torso, shaped like that of a man and textured like armour, with uniformly patterned bands of gold and bronze.

    Four, long arms, almost long enough to reach their knees, hung from their upper torso and four, claw-like fingers came from each of their hands.

    One of these arms, the lower left, was half the length of the rest and lacked the golden bands and structures of the rest of their body, disfigured and unfinished.

    The Golem''s legs were like that of a horse, but thicker and more stable, they seemed, however, unsuited to bipedal walking and caused much instability in Wanderer''s gait.

    With the first of many questions solved, the Vessel''s mind fell to peace, their earlier desperation eradicated.

    And so they resolved to wander the forest once again, slower while occasionally inspecting things that caught their interest or the interest of their Spirit.

    As they walked down towards the lake, a dark fog rose from the ground, the fog slowly became thicker until the Golem could hardly see.

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    Droplets of water began to condense on their clay skin, and strange illusions danced throughout the vicinity as the light of the blue sun faded away, only to be replaced by unknowable shadows.

    The plant life around them slowly withered as they entered the mist, the once natural and verdant floor becoming barren and grey, only an occasional rock or puddle littered the area.

    As they peered forward, they noticed a small carcass of a colourful bird, now partly decomposed.

    Its bones were exposed to the outside world, slowly being corroded by a force the Vessel could not comprehend and the sight filled the Wanderer with a sense of sadness and foreboding.

    A simple thought passed through the mind of the Golem, ¡°Rest¡± and with that, they moved onward.

    As they waded through the gloom, the shadows began to grow longer, eerie sounds echoed from their depths, sounds of roars and growls that caused an unfamiliar sense of fear to well within the Vessel''s burgeoning soul.

    Throughout their journey through the mists, their Spirit projected an ever-increasing sense of unease, spiking at every muffled roar and twisting shadow and pushing the Golem to move at an ever-accelerating pace to escape the choking fog.

    Without warning, a scream erupted from the guide, begging Wanderer to dodge an unseen attack, but their warning came too late.

    A vicious creature came darting out of the swirling mists, its body a feline form, it fur a cool white.

    Four, tusk-like teeth extended from its mouth, intent on ripping its prey to shreds and ribbons of pale blue extended from its torso, trailing behind the monster and fluttering with abandon.

    Massive claws tore through Wanderer''s clay body, leaving jagged gouges in their back, forcing the Golem to the ground and causing them to flail as their Spirit screamed in their mind, imploring the Vessel to run away as fast as their feet could carry them.

    Despite the Spirit''s warnings, Wanderer could hardly get back up upon their feet before the beast came to finish its prey, in a split second the creature''s jaws had torn a chunk out of the Golem''s neck, resolved in ending the young creature''s life.

    In a moment of desperation, the Vessel¡¯s hands searched desperately for anything that could fend off their attacker, and in a stroke of luck, they grasped something long and hard in their bottom right hand.

    Without hesitation, Wanderer slammed it into the head of their attacker with a strength only a Golem could muster, feeling the monster''s skull take the entirety of the force.

    The monster, not expecting their prey to be capable of fighting back while so severely injured was caught by surprise, taking the full brunt of the attack and becoming dazed.

    Compounding upon their momentary success, Wanderer attacked again, harder than the first and as the hit landed a loud crack resounded throughout the fog and the beast went limp.

    The consequences of the Vessel''s actions did not register in their mind, the intense pain from Wanderer''s wounds taking far more attention, forcing itself once again into the forefront of their mind.

    And so they set to work repairing their wounds, slowly moulding their neck and back into its original shape, till the marks from their battle were barely visible.

    With their crisis averted, Wanderer was afforded time to think, a great number of thoughts making themselves present.

    Thoughts of shock made themselves evident, as their view of the world suddenly twisted, no longer a place of peace and wonder, but a terrifying realm where a fog-beast could be waiting around every corner.

    Yet most prevalent of all, thoughts of guilt and despair at having killed a living creature, even a terrifying and aggressive one like the fog-beast.

    But as their thoughts roiled in turmoil, the calming voice of their Spirit broke through.

    There was an element of discomfort to their voice, as if distressed, yet still, they guided Wanderer to leave these thoughts behind and keep moving, these things could be left for a better time, in a different place.

    Swayed out of their stupor, Wanderer began to inspect its luck-given weapon, it was a bone, long and straight and from a creature far larger than any they had ever seen.

    Blood stained one end of the old bone from where it had killed the Golem''s attacker and the Vessel began to think about what creature the bone had come from.

    At first, their mind wandered toward the beast that had attacked them, but it was far too large for that, the bone was too large to have come from any creature they had seen in their short travels.

    As they pondered the origin of their long-dead saviour, a dreadful thought overcame them, they were placed moments away from death by a beast that would be half the size of the one that their weapon had come from, what would happen if this larger monster found them.

    In this moment of realisation, the once-forgotten growls of monsters in the fog now became incredibly apparent, suddenly every shadow was a monster waiting in the darkness and each sound felt just a little closer than the last.

    With a sudden start, they began their journey once again, their top right arm clutching their makeshift weapon as if it were their only lifeline.

    The fight had ruined any sense of direction the Vessel once had in the choking fog and so, with a mild nudging from their Spirit, they cautiously but briskly progressed through the gloom.

    Gradually the ever-present growls of deadly monsters grew steadily closer, each one more terrifying than the last, causing panic within Wanderer and spurring them on even quicker than before, at some point abandoning their previous stealth and instead racing through the mist.

    A roar shook through Wanderer''s body, alerting them to the presence of imminent danger, without even turning they dashed forward as swiftly as their clay body would allow them, but still, the monster was fast approaching.

    At the very edge of their vision, they noticed that the rocky ground on which they fled dropped off suddenly, and so, urged by their Spirit they darted toward the edge.

    Wanderer could almost feel the breath of the savage beast on their neck as they reached the edge, and without a moment of hesitation, leapt into the depths below.

 Coral and Secrets

    Coral and Secrets

    Water enclosed the Golem as they sank to the depths, the already limited light from the clouded surface rapidly dwindled till they were blinded in the unending abyss.

    Eventually, their clay body sunk to the lake floor, still surrounded by the pitch-black void.

    The Vessel and its Spirit silently groped in the darkness, bone club grasped tightly in hand before they began to move forward across the soft, saturated ground, occasionally tripping over an unseen obstacle.

    After an indeterminable period, Wanderer''s eyes picked up a soft, eerie light, far away in the distance and with little else to do but wander in the dark, the Golem made their way toward it.

    As the Vessel approached, they began to make out the shape of a small fish, its scales glowed lightly in the gloom and its eyes were a milky white.

    With this new discovery, their Spirit once again bounded with joy, its previous worries forgotten.

    With a new sense of purpose, the Golem began to follow the small fish as it swam slowly away from the encroaching Vessel.

    Eventually, the bioluminescent fry faded behind an unseen ledge, causing Wanderer to race after it with abandon.

    Cresting the underlake hill, the Golem came across a magnificent sight, hundreds and hundreds of small, glowing creatures of every shape and colour swirled around colourful coral and reaching kelp.

    There were little red crabs who shone in calm blue, glowing seahorses and eels that chased each other like cat and mouse, even the smallest of the aquatic creatures had a luminous shine.

    Forested around these creatures were vast woods of rainbow coral, from the coral floated small bubbles of mist and fog, floating toward the surface to plague the land in a haze.

    Within the coral, the reef''s inhabitants swam in and out of the plant-like invertebrates, as if the spiralling towers were their own personal castles in which they could reside.

    In admiration, the Golem explored the naturally lit forest, their focus chasing every little detail, soaking it up like a sea sponge and inspecting it in their mind.

    They stayed in a state of admiration for some time, with only a hint of caution given by their recent near-death experience, their naivety overcoming their logic.

    The passing creatures and coral blended into a wonderful blur of exploration until they were forced out of their stupor by a familiar voice drawing their attention to an outcropping on the rocky floor.

    A rod of greenish metal stuck up from a strangely square stone, circles of plant matter floating around it, somehow undecayed even with the constant intervention of the lake.

    Wanderer quickly approached the oddity, enchanted that such a strange object could be found in such an unlikely place.

    Slowly, they reached out and touched one of the verdant rings, unaware of what was to come.

    In an instant, strange energy charged up their arm, burning and blackening it in a branching pattern and causing them to fly back into the soil at great speed, the water doing nothing to slow their momentum.

    Their Spirit screamed, seemingly shocked by the ethereal attack, and began emploring Wanderer to move away from the source of danger, but the Spirit''s cries fell on deaf ears, as the Vessel was busy trying to fix their arm.

    The energy had burned hundreds of branching lines throughout the Wanderer''s arm and where their clay body had burned was now hardened, becoming brittle and rigid, causing a great deal of pain.

    Desperately they attempted to mould over their burns, but the now brittle material cracked and splintered, burying itself in its neighbouring soft clay.

    Now panicked, the Golem realised that the burned clay had to be removed, unlike their previous wounds, these injuries could not be smoothed over, as their clay body had been magically destroyed.

    Slowly and with suffering, they picked every shard of their damaged body and threw it out into the deep until, finally, after a short eternity their top right arm was free of pain.

    But it was not unscarred.

    The once intricate patterns that covered the limb were ruined, and their golden-bronze branding was now reduced to random lines and shards of gold, almost unrecognisable compared to the intricate patterns it once possessed.

    Finally, with their pain much reduced, though not removed, they could focus enough that their Spirit''s cry to run from the strange artifact became readily apparent.

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    Heeding the call, they scrambled back a little, till the warning reduced enough for them to think through what had just happened.

    As Wanderer''s mind turned toward the rapid series of events that had just ensued, a trio of thoughts rushed through their mind.

    ¡°Danger, Caution, Curious?¡±, Wanderer''s forming mind thought.

    The damage inflicted by the relic was unlike any that the Golem had encountered before, having inflicted a wound that could not be merely moulded over, instead forcing them to permanently remove part of their clay body to rid themselves of the injury.

    Owing to this new injury, Wanderer felt the need to be more cautious, previously they believed themself invincible, resting in the knowledge that any wound could be fixed with ease and their ignorance in the matters of death.

    But now that feeling was banished with the knowledge that, in the wrong circumstances, they could dwindle away to nothing as more and more of their soft body was compromised.

    But even with the rise of these new worries, curiosity prevailed over them, so slowly, they fetched their dropped bone club, and, against the warning of their Spirit, they inched closer to the strange anomaly.

    They noticed that the ever-present coral didn''t grow around the area the rod occupied, a hint toward the hazardous nature of the artifact.

    When they were only two steps away from the relic, they picked up a nearby piece of dead coral and threw it into the vine-like coils.

    Immediately, a spark of green lighting leapt onto the debris, attacking it with extreme prejudice and forcing what little was left of it to fly into the distance.

    The sheer force behind the assault caused the Golem to step back a little, and with this reminder of the danger the artifact posed, they grasped their bone weapon tighter and heeded their Spirit''s call to continue past the lake-floor curiosity.

    The Vessel slowly moved forward across the soft sea floor, until without warning, the floor collapsed beneath them, sending the Golem into a panic.

    Their dense clay body drove them into the darkness below and as they fell, the water of the lake abandoned them, stopped by some magical filter of unknown means.

    They noticed in a panicked haze that the walls around them were covered in vines and creepers, and through them pulsed a familiar green energy, identical to that which came from artefact on the surface.

    This was, however, the only thing the Vessel''s frantic mind had time to process before the lush ground finished its approach.

    For a time, Wanderer lay on the vine-covered ground, their still-forming mind attempting to grasp the previous turn of events, but after a short amount of time, their Spirit gently guided them to stand upwards and fix their gravity-dented body.

    After a quick fix to a damaged head and cratered leg, the Golem began to inspect their surroundings.

    Around them stood great walls of stone, intricately embellished with carvings of a war between plant-like beasts and strange, bipedal creatures that reminded Wanderer ever so slightly of themself.

    However, a great majority of these sculptures were covered entirely by the glowing green vines that prevailed within the temple.

    The energy within these vines pulsed upwards to the top of the hidden cathedral, where the rod on the surface extended downwards, halfway down the building, occasionally shocks of power would spark from the vines on the walls to the rings floating around the rod, causing the plants covering the walls to twitch and adjust themselves almost imperceptibly.

    Next to the rod was the impromptu hole from which the Golem entered, the everpresent energy holding back the invading water, keeping the temple dry and without interference.

    At the Vessel''s feet lay a perplexing scene, in contrast to the relatively stationary creepers on the walls, on the stone floor, vines of every length and thickness arrayed themselves in a circular pattern, runes and symbols shifted through rings of plant matter as the creepers adjusted themselves to create a new hieroglyph or rune in the formation, and from this ritual flowed the green energy that powered the wall-vines.

    Away from the writhing ritual circle lay six bipedal creatures in stone chairs, like the ones displayed on the walls but old and withered, yet still the Golem could feel a great power emanating from within them.

    Due to their age, one would assume these beings were long dead, if not for the slow, silent rising and falling of their chests.

    But while silent, their breaths carried magic in them, every time they exhaled, a dim red energy was carried by their breaths, which then floated into the centre of the writhing formation.

    Where the green energy had a direction, a purpose, this drive was lost once the breath touched it and its intent became errant and lazy, merely following the path laid by the vines but doing nothing when it reached its end.

    Wanderer crept up to one of the mystical creatures, until they were only a few steps away, careful not to disrupt the neverending ritual, and compared themselves to the beings.

    The Golem''s torso was the only body part truly similar to the old creature, whereas the Vessel''s body was made of malleable clay, the organism had pale skin and soft flesh.

    They were all shorter than the Golem, but not by much and their legs seemed suited to walking, unlike Wanderer''s own.

    Atop their heads and upon half of their chins rested great masses of hair, unkempt and unruly, causing the Vessel to be grateful that they had no hair to upkeep, their closest equivalent being the tassels that hung from their hat-like head.

    Their spirit issued a thought of warning towards them, that these beings may be dangerous or cruel, but also a notion of curiosity, that the Golem should go inspect one up close.

    And so, with caution, Wanderer approached one of the creatures, the tallest of the group, and poked it slightly with their weapon of bone.

    They were cautious after their encounter with the rod on the surface, but seeing as there was no reaction they got closer, instead prodding it with one of their four arms.

    It was this action that caused the creature to wake, bloodshot eyes flashed open and their once stationary arms shot forward, forming strange gestures far faster than one should expect for a creature so old.

    Behind their hands trailed red, floating runes that jumped and leapt in the air, whispering to the Vessel in a language they could not understand.

    Before Wanderer had any time to react, the hands rested upon their face, forcing magic deep into their mind and soul, images flashed and sounds raced in their head and so, for the first time in their life.

    The Golem began to dream.

 Visions and Plants

    Visions and Plants

    At first, the mass of foreign memories and vague impressions were indecipherable, always moving and jumping, in one moment there was a illusion of a child staring into the distance, another a dream of a roaring hearth in a well-warmed home.

    But eventually, Wanderer''s soul managed to latch onto one of the slower-moving visions in the whirlpool of thoughts, and they began to experience them as their own.

    Their first experience was through the eyes of a child, Emio, he was called, he was sitting bored in a room with many others of his own kind, his head resting on his desk.

    They were all being taught by a young human, (as that was the name of their kind) on the nature of magic and its use.

    ¡°Now magic,¡± the teacher declared, ¡°leaks from the Spirit realm, it is everywhere, in the dirt, in the sky, all around us at all times. It is naturally attracted to living things and it is by this attraction that all sapient races are able to use magic¡±

    Emio¡¯s head perked up from its resting place atop the desk, as the boy heard something that interested him.

    ¡°Now when a Magi wishes to perform a spell, they begin to repeat a series of movements, and as the magic chases their moving body, the specific movements form a series of runes that give a spell its effect, once the spell is complete, these runes instruct the magic to display the encoded effects in the real world¡±.

    After a moment, which the teacher used to catch their breath following their passionate speech, the teacher requested questions from the class, immediately the hand of a girl sitting in the corner shot up, and after receiving permission to speak, she asked.

    ¡°Is that why the powerful Magi dance when they use a spell?¡±.

    Immediately following the young girl''s query, the teacher became embarrassed, as if they could not have imagined that such a ridiculous question could occur.

    ¡°They are NOT dancing, they are performing spells of incredible intricacy, such that it requires their entire body to weave the complex runes necessary to complete it¡±

    The child looked confused for a second.

    ¡°But if they¡¯re not dancing, then why do they wear ballerina shoes?¡±

    She replied, their young mind still failing to comprehend how dance and magic could coincide.

    A round of snickers passed through the class, many of the children predicting the nature of their teacher''s reaction, Emio included.

    The teacher''s face turned red as flame, going from embarrassed and exasperated to actively offended.

    ¡°Ballerina shoes! Why never in my life!" They began "Magi do not wear ballerina shoes, especially not the Great Magi, the shoes of a true Magi are brilliant works of art¡­¡±.

    Slowly the memory began to fade, its allotted magic dwindling, losing momentum and clarity.

    And so, though confused and dazed by the sudden influx of information, Wanderer jumped upon another memory in the spiralling vortex, spurred on by an unknown force.

    As the second memory began, Wanderer noticed that Emio was a child no longer, but a young man of six or seventeen, sitting around a campfire with a small group of friends.

    Wanderer recognised that the girl from the previous memory was there, as were four more teenagers the Golem vaguely recognised from the previous vision.

    They were all chatting happily, their voices too blurred for the Vessel to make out, but as the memory came into focus, the familiar youngster made a comment that caused the rest of the group to fall silent.

    After a moment, Emio spoke up

    ¡°You know we are not meant to talk about the verdestry, it''s better to leave any mention of their existence unspoken.¡±

    Hastily, the young woman replied.

    ¡°But why? What good is there in letting something that threatened us so severely fade from our memory? Isn''t that just dooming us to fall to them again?¡±

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    ¡°The verdestry are gone, just leave it be¡±

    Despite their friend''s insistence, The girl continued,

    ¡°They are meant to be the ¡°ultimate enemy¡± of mankind and yet, they seem to be nothing more than some random plant monster¡±

    ¡°JUST some random plant monster¡±, Emio outburst, ¡°They killed half of the damn population! Is that good enough for you to stop asking questions?¡±

    With that, the whole group fell silent, and the scene faded away, returning to the once-whirling vortex of visions.

    Wanderer''s juvenile mind was in chaos, thoughts and memories not his own forcing their way in, confusion weighed so heavily on them that they hardly registered that the once seemingly infinite number of visions was now reduced to a feeble few, inching their way across the strange mindscape.

    But the Vessel had little time to sort their thoughts and feelings before they were thrust into a final memory.

    As the Vision came into focus, the Golem discerned that Emio was now sprinting through a forest, not unlike the one that the Vessel had previously explored.

    Emio¡¯s friends were following close behind, the now familiar girl was there, though perhaps she could be called a woman now, as along with the other four of whom Wanderer did not know, all of them looked considerably older.

    Disturbingly, the entire group had looks of intense regret and anger upon their faces.

    ¡°How could we let this happen!¡±, Emio growled in frustration, more directed toward himself than any of his friends, ¡±they hid right under our nose for four damn weeks, how the hell did we miss that¡±.

    A voice from the back of the group spoke up, unfamiliar to Wanderer.

    ¡°Nobody could have expected that anyone crazy enough to try and recreate the verdestry could exist¡±.

    In the distance, sparks of green magic could be seen striking the sky, bouncing off the trees and plants around its source, and a feeling of panic overcame Emio.

    ¡°Crap, they''ve started the ritual, we might not be able to stop them!¡±

    The familiar woman responded in an exhausted manner from the back of the group, having fallen behind the party.

    ¡°We will make a way, we have no choice.¡±

    The sentiment echoed throughout the group, and a grim determination rose within them, the final thing that Wanderer saw in the world of memories was the towering figure of the abbey in which they currently resided, before the scene faded once again.

    In the real world, the effects of the spell had taken only a fraction of a second, Wanderer barely having time to stumble before they were forced back to the realm of the living.

    Their head was screaming, thoughts and knowledge not their own attempting to settle in a mind that didn''t have the capacity to contain them, their Spirit was in an uproar, warning about danger and calling them to act, to do something.

    In their confused and desperate mind, the Golem did the thing their instincts told them to do and drove their club into the head of the reason for all their pain.

    The man¡¯s head shattered like terracotta, his withered skull not having been made to take the force of a Golem-propelled club, in an instant he fell limp to the floor, dead.

    As he fell, his magic died with him, the once purposeless energy now shot up their vine conduits and the other Magi who once barely contained the powerful ritual now lost their control, being woken from their slumber by the oncoming calamity.

    A dreadful power began to gather above the Vessel, spurring them to leap to the side of the temple and press themselves against the wall, hoping to avoid the oncoming wrath.

    The assembled Magi had only just managed to stir before the power reached its zenith, a bolt of green lighting descended at unimaginable speed, lighting the once-dark room brighter than the brightest day and causing the vines in the room to be whipped into a frenzy.

    The waking Magi were vaporised instantly, not even given time to realise the dire situation before their sudden demise, and their corpses not even having time to hit the floor before they were turned into fuel for the rapidly growing vines.

    As suddenly as it came, the power left, in its place a shining rune floated, jumping and transforming faster than Wanderer could track, its complexity outshone any rune or spell that they had ever witnessed, and, they realised, likely ever would.

    In the time it would take to move a single step, the rune began to pull, not on Wanderer, but the ever-present vines and creepers that smothered the walls and floor.

    They began to fly into the glowing rune, crushing and collapsing, smaller and denser until all the plant matter had been used, magi included, and the small ball fell to the floor with a dull thud.

    Carefully the Golem crept across the now empty temple, their mind once in chaos was brought to a precipitous calm by their near-death experience, the burdening knowledge and weight of their actions having relented for a moment, waiting for a better moment to strike.

    Having learnt from their previous mistakes, the Vessel did not approach the verdure entity, instead seeking advice from their Spirit, and receiving none.

    The Spirit having been stunned into a brief silence by recent events and so, Wanderer slowly bent down and grabbed a piece of debris from the barren floor, throwing it toward the intertwined ball.

    A tendril shot out from the creature, far faster than the Vessel could track, grasping the scrap and stopping it dead,.

    Eight other tendrils burst out, grappling the walls and lifting the creature up off the floor, a red-green rune appeared in the centre of its twisted body, a fragment of the one that Wanderer saw before but more stable, and this newly formed eye fixed Wanderer in its gaze, sending a cruel chill down their earthen spine.

    In the Golem''s pressured mind a single thought formed, a name taken from the memories of the Magi and a description matched to the carvings on the walls.

    ¡°Verdestry¡±

 Companions and Consequences

    Companions and Consequences

    The Verdestry began to creep toward Wanderer, its vine tendrils constantly shooting out from its body, pulling itself slowly forward.

    The Vessel attempted to escape backward, but they were blocked by the wall at their back and the tendrils blocked any path of escape forwards, they were trapped.

    As the creature approached, the Golem noticed red strands of magic occasionally appearing within its runic eye, flashing randomly before being smothered by the opposing green energy.

    Fear and desperation shot through Wanderer as the monster approached them, they grasped their club tight, remnants of the old Magi still clinging to its surface, as they readied to use it once again.

    Without warning, the beast abandoned its previous pace, speeding up suddenly and flying toward the Vessel, Wanderer was caught off guard and by the time they had raised their club to attack it was too late.

    Too quick to react, the creature wrapped its verdant limbs around the Vessel''s waist and neck, lifted itself high into the air, then planted itself on Wanderer¡¯s hat-like head.

    For a moment the Golem was stunned, expecting a brutal attack but instead being used as a pedestal for the strange monster.

    Yet before they could begin to act on the new development the verdestry let out a low sound, somewhere between the rustling of pine needles and the groaning of a tree in the wind, it sounded decidedly like the purr of a cat.

    Slowly, Wanderer reached upwards and pried the now loose vines from their body, encountering little resistance now the odd ball of plants had found its favoured perch.

    As they were doing so, water droplets began to drip from the ceiling, steadily increasing in frequency and number until they resembled the patter of rain.

    Searching for the source of the water, Wanderer''s gaze fell upon the hole in the ceiling from which they entered, and a bolt of dread shot though them.

    The power that held the lake water back from the hidden sanctum was failing quickly, in a matter of moments, the once light rain had turned to a brutal torrent, flooding the small chamber at incredible speed.

    Spurred by the rising waters, the verdestry rose from its resting place in a panic, its eye darting around the room seemingly searching for something.

    Eventually, it rested its daze upon the gushing hole in the ceiling, before grabbing the Vessel by their torso and pulling them upwards with an unsuspected strength.

    Strung along behind the verdestry, Wanderer burst through the surging liquid into the lake above, where they were unceremoniously dropped onto the lake floor as the small creature continued its frenzied search.

    Almost immediately upon its surfacing into the watery depths, the plant monster began to tear away at the long strands of kelp that rose from the lake floor, plastering and fusing it into its own body until, in a flash of green energy, the leathery flora became part of its own body mass, doubling the Verdestry¡¯s size and covering it in a strange, weaving pattern of vine and kelp.

    For a moment, the creature seemed satisfied with itself, before an abrupt change came over them, flowing red magic forced its way across its herbal body, until it coalesced in the centre of its from and, with a flash of power and heat, incinerated the residual vines within its body.

    For a moment the verdestry was still, seemingly exhausted by the unexpected interference, then it raised its body on four seaweed tendrils and hastily resumed its previous task of absorbing kelp.

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    Three more times did the verdestry attempt to grow in size, each time it was thwarted by unexpected interference, on the third time the reality of its situation set in and in evident sorrow, the creature resorted to reclaiming its previous perch atop Wanderer''s head.

    The Golem spent this time watching the monster''s antics, attempting to distract themselves from the encroaching feelings of guilt and confusion which had been briefly delayed by their near death experience and hoping that their Spirit would wake so that they may guide them.

    As the verdestry came once again to rest upon the Vessel¡¯s head, a thought struck them.

    ¡®Need name?¡±, they contemplated, if the small creature were to continue to follow them it would need a name, after all, they were Wanderer and Spirit was Spirit, but the Verdestry was not Verdestry, that was what they were, not who they are.

    Emio, , the name blossomed within their muddled mind like divine intervention, and somehow the name felt both appropriate and as if they had committed a grave sin even uttering it in their mind.

    The name came from the chaotic mess of ignored emotions and unresolved experiences Wanderer was harbouring, and from the name, these long-ignored feelings were forced into the forefront of Wanderer''s mind.

    The assault came thick and terrible, created not by some outside force or forced vision, but by Wanderer themself.

    Feelings and thoughts they were both unable and unwilling to face came forward, betrayal from their Spirit''s reckless guidance through the woods, fear from their encounter with the fog-beasts, disturbance at having their feeling of self-invulnerability shattered by the lake floor relic and fascination of the unfamiliar sights they had seen in the Magi¡¯s vision.

    But above all these emotions, one, in particular, made itself known above all the rest, Guilt.

    Guilt washed over the Golem in sickening waves, Guilt for murdering the fog-beast, even in self-defence, Guilt for awakening a creature capable of slaughtering half of all human life, Guilt for killing the five old Magi who rested in the temple, even if unintentionally.

    But above all, they felt Guilt for murdering Emio, for that was who the old Magi was, a simple fact their mind had hidden from them until now, and that made the guilt all the worse, not only had they killed a person, a thinking, caring being like themself, but they had killed Emio.

    They had forever removed the knowledge and wisdom they had cultivated throughout their life, all that they had accomplished and known was eternally decimated, by them, it was a mistake they regretted with all their being, and one they would not allow themselves to repeat.

    Their vision turned to the bone club that was clenched within their hand, remnants of gore now washed away by the lake''s cleaning embrace, and began to strengthen their grip.

    Vaguely, they could hear the voice of their Spirit, woken from their slumber, imbued with worry and strife, but their mind was elsewhere and they paid it no mind.

    Four hands now grasped the weapon''s hilt, each imbued with as much strength as the Golem could muster, slowly the compact bone began to deform under the immense pressure, splinters digging into the assaulting palms and inflicting immense pain, but the Vessel was undeterred.

    Further still they crushed the crude tool, until their soft palms began to deform under the immense force.

    But the bone gave way first.

    In an explosion of splinters and shards the club was destroyed, split in two by a harsh, uneven crack down the middle of the makeshift weapon, the likely deafening event drowned out under the dark waters.

    For a moment they stared downwards at the result of their outburst, before a thought passed through their mind that would define their entire existence, one more complicated than any they had previously reasoned, ¡°Never again will I kill¡±.

    Somewhere within their mind, they felt that with their declaration, the gnawing of guilt and fear should leave them.

    But little relief came, confusion still prevailed throughout Wanderer''s growing mind, barely quelled by their efforts to remove it, and the guilt of their actions still weathered away at their soul.

    But through their tormented psyche, the ever-familiar voice of their Spirit became clear, imbued with a force and volume far louder than they had heard from the ethereal being before.

    It spoke with comfort and authority, of understanding of their pain and its inescapable nature, it urged them not to try to force their feelings away, such emotions were stubborn, but to allow the cleansing passage of time to wash them away.

    And so, following the suggestion of their oldest friend, the Golem and its Spirit wandered once more, the newly christened Emio following along behind them.

 Fear and Kin

    Fear and Kin

    As the wanderers voyaged across the lake floor, they began to encounter the roots of the great tree they saw upon the surface and the objective of their travels.

    Taking it as a good sign, the Vessel and their new companion began to follow the colossal roots, intent on tracing them to their origin.

    As they followed the massive radicules, the soft lake floor began to slowly curve upwards, beginning with a gentle slope, yet it wasn''t long before the Golem and their companion were forced to half-swim, half-climb up the wooded slope.

    As Wanderer surveyed the underwater incline, they noticed in delight that while the prevalence of coral and kelp had sharply declined, the amount of glowing lake creatures had increased.

    Fish and eels of all sizes darted in and out of their root-made shelters while small luminous jellyfish appeared in such numbers that the dark waters seemed like infinite stars in a cold night sky.

    The sight caused his Spirit to leap with a familiar, yet temporarily forgotten, joy, as the new vista once again brought back their purpose of exploration.

    Wanderer felt the ever-persistent grief that followed them lessen slightly as they drank in the view, the miraculous scene washing away a fragment of their troubles, the world brightening ever so slightly as it did.

    As the group climbed ever higher, the once sparse strands of wood that they followed became gradually denser ,until the slope became a veritable wall of knots and tangles formed from colossal roots.

    Whilst they ascended toward the surface, the darkened waters grew slowly lighter, as blue sunlight filtered down from above, casting rays of glorious light in the vast black.

    Seeing the promise of the sun, Emio began to shudder in excitement, racing past the Golem with its herbal tendrils and breaking the quiet surface of the lake.

    A moment later Wanderer and their soul-attached Spirit followed, where they were all greeted by an awe-inspiring sight.

    The choking fog that permeated the opposite bank lessened significantly toward the central island, a light mist hardly reaching Wanderer''s knees was its only remnant, the absence of the obscuring fog allowing the Golem to lay its eyes upon a slowly setting sun.

    The once light blue sun had deepened in hue, now the colour of brilliant sapphire, though unbearably bright to look at even as it began to hide beneath the infinite mountains.

    Regressing from the setting sun, the sky was painted with a gradient of colour, cerulean blue to wine purple, before finally fading to a deep black, the first dull stars were beginning to twinkle, and surrounded the blue-painted moons.

    Moons, because there were multiple, a large central moon entertained a smaller one around half its size, and around that moon orbited two more, hardly larger than an asteroid, each planetoid was coloured blue by the setting sun and their differing orbits placed each of them in their own phase, from waxing to full.

    For a moment, Wanderer stood stunned by the unexpected beauty, remaining to watch the ever-changing sky until the sun had fully hidden behind the mountains.

    They would likely have remained longer if it were not for Emio, who snuck atop their head sometime in their dazed stupor, slinking their way over to the wooded mountainside and beginning to rip through the hardy roots of the monolithic tree with a great deal of noise.

    In a matter of moments, the contents of the Verdestry¡¯s body were replaced by the roots of the tree, and the leftover kelp incinerated against the creature¡¯s wishes, disturbing them for a moment before it recovered with their usual vigour.

    Seeing this occurrence as a sign to begin moving, the Spirit urged Wanderer forward, and the Golem, despite their wish to continue to watch the sky, heeded the suggestion and so the party began climbing the towering mountain once again, Emio latching onto Wanderer''s back.

    As they climbed, Wanderer began to notice even more of the world around them, the boughs of the extensive tree spread far above the Vessel, nearly reaching the edge of the lake.

    Occasionally snow would fall through the gaps in the branches, likely pushed down from the top of the tree by wind or animal, and would land with a splash in the fog-covered lake, before disappearing under the surface.

    In their ascent, Wanderer also came to be aware of snakes that would hide amongst the gnarls and nooks of the ever-thickening roots, chasing after birds that would land upon the roots in an attempt at a moment''s rest.

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    It was almost an uncanny parallel to the eels and fish that rested below the calm lake surface, occasionally, in the darkening night Wanderer would come too close to a snake burrow by mistake, inviting a frightened serpent to strike them in fear, which while mildly painful, did no true harm to the being of clay.

    A part of the Vessel wished to retaliate every time one of the snakes attacked, to crush the serpent''s head under their unrelenting grip, but as this thought passed through the Golem''s mind, they rejected it, their pact and the warning of their Spirit both forbidding such an action to take place.

    ¡°They are scared¡±, the Vessel rationalised, they struck not out of malice but of fear instead, fearing that Wanderer would do the exact thing that they were only now convincing themselves not to do, ¡°I will not hurt them¡±, the Golem resolved.

    By the time Wanderer reached the trunk of the tree and the small plateau it rested upon, the moons began to near its apex within the sky, and it was by their reflected light that the Golem could gaze upon the true majesty of the massive evergreen.

    Its colossal trunk rose high into the air, casting a great shadow over the mountains and valleys of the land in which the Golem awoke, the tree''s innumerable branches and boughs each decorated with tens of thousands of sharp, glimmering pine needles, each as large as Wanderer was tall.

    Yet despite its incredible majesty and power, the tree bestowed a sense of profound calmness and serenity upon its viewers, its swaying branches seeming to wash away the world''s worries.

    But their serenity did not last, human voices became apparent to the Vessel and a steadfast curiosity overtook them, at the blessing of their Spirit, they set off in the direction from which the shouts came, Emio following haphazardly at a distance.

    As the party approached the shouts became louder, and other sounds also began to become apparent, clashes of metal and cries of pain, all this punctuated with a great, dull clunk.

    Cresting a particularly large root, a chaotic scene lay before the Vessel.

    Before them rested a large clearing, absent from the ever-present roots of the tree, and within this clearing, under the light of the moons, stood a creature of true majesty.

    Built like a centaur, it was at least twice as tall as Wanderer, four sturdy horse-like legs held an armoured human torso, four long arms reached from the torso and each one held a weapon of unfamiliar make, a glaive, a mace, a scimitar and finally, a baton.

    Each and every weapon was made from a golden metal, with accents of black and bronze, the top of their head was shaped to be similar to that of a sedge hat, and three golden gem-like eyes rested in the centre of their face.

    But what was most apparent to the Vessel was that it was formed not out of soft clay, but hard terracotta.

    As they noticed this, a thought struck Wanderer, ¡°This is a true Golem¡±, somehow, deep within their soul, they realised that this is what they could have been, what they should have been, they were a golem but this was a Golem.

    For a moment Wanderer was so entranced by the Golem that they forgot what was happening, only broken out of their reverie once they realised that the Golem was injured.

    Its front left leg had shattered, now unusable, and for an absent moment, Wanderer wondered the cause until they were once more brought back to the cries of the humans.

    All around the Golem swarmed both man and woman, each one armed with a hammer, mace, or other type of blunt weaponry.

    Observing the assembled humans, the Vessel noticed that they were all clothed in rags and their skin clung to their bones in a way that screamed malnourishment even to Wanderer''s inexperienced mind.

    The Golem and the humans were engaged in a great battle, scores of men and women threw themselves at the mighty creature only to be slain with little effort, the Golem''s four arms worked with a coordination and beauty completely unmatchable by Wanderer, every stroke of every weapon felled an assaulting human, and every movement of the Golems massive body expertly avoided clumsily thrown attacks.

    For a moment, the Golem seemed to be winning, impervious to all damage, but their previous injury caught up with them, an unexpected attack from a mace aimed toward the right side of their body caught them, their crippled leg preventing anything more than a half-hearted attempt at dodging, the blow struck true and the dull sound of breaking terracotta echoed throughout the small clearing.

    A roar ran out amongst the humans gathered, their morale boosted by their minor success, and they resumed their onslaught with a renewed fervour, the increasingly injured golem having ever-decreasing success against its attackers.

    Wanderer turned away from the battle, not wishing to witness the slaughter of one of their kin, even if they knew them not, when they felt a great build of magic.

    Immediately, they cast their gaze back upon the clearing to see what they had not noticed prior, many steps away from the battle, a small group of people stood.

    They were all richly dressed and carried weapons of vastly superior quality compared to that of their fighting companions, all of them were looking with interest toward an additional figure within their small group.

    Toward the front of the group danced a Magi, nearly identical to the ones that appeared within the old man''s visions.

    They danced within a large circle on the ground, orange glowing runes followed them wherever their intricate frolics took them, often their dance would include movements that were harsh and jerky, throwing off the natural rhythm of the rehearsal, despite this, Wanderer could tell that the Magi was making no mistakes.

    The runes created by the Magi¡¯s spell slowly gathered themselves into a ball, compacting itself tighter and tighter until, with a final thrust toward the gathered runes, the ball ignited and flew with incredible speed toward the fighting Golem.

    In an instant the fireball exploded, reducing the unfortunate fighters around its target to little more than ash.

    Once the smoke cleared, Wanderer noticed that the golem appeared stunned although relatively unharmed, but this moment of weakness proved its downfall, like ants, the remaining fighters descended upon the Golem, hammers and maces struck the Golem''s brittle clay body with reckless abandon.

    By the time the creature came to its senses, it was too late, already their arms and legs had been reduced to rubble, and with a final blow to the head, the Golem turned to dust.

 Terror and Escape

    Terror and Escape

    Wanderer couldn¡¯t bear to watch any longer, the slaughter of their kin disturbing their soul too greatly, and so, to the mixed emotions of their Spirit who was conflicted between wanting to leave the place of danger and exploring more of the humans and the Magi, Wanderer left.

    As they walked, Emio, who had at some point wandered off as the Verdestry was accustomed to do, rejoined Wanderer, pacing a little ways ahead of the Golem on its long, wooden tendrils.

    Occasionally, without breaking stride, Emio would turn its runic eye backwards to stare at its companion for a time before once again laying its attention on the path ahead.

    As they followed their rough heading, Wanderer''s mind was in turmoil, how could the humans, whom they saw as benevolent creatures from Emio''s memories, so cruelly destroy an entity so majestic and beautiful as the Golem?

    But with that thought, Wanderer felt as if they were suddenly dunked within water far colder than the lake, as an idea held their mind hostage.

    ¡°Death isn''t beautiful?¡±, the Golem was a creature of power and majesty, yes, but it was also a monster of death and destruction, as Wanderer themself had once been.

    The Golem''s movements were refined and dance-like, but ultimately they still bestowed annihilation upon those in their way, their weapons of gold and bronze were stunning and powerful, but in practice, they were identical to the crude club of bone that Wanderer once wielded.

    These thoughts threw the Vessel''s already conflicted mind into a frenzy, both the humans and the Golem were bringers of destruction, and now that they thought deeper, could they truly be sure that it was the humans attacking the Golem and not the reverse?

    Wanderer was startled out of their musings by the sound of hard wood impacting the floor as a startled human dropped two buckets filled with fresh water.

    They were dressed in a similar fashion to the warriors that fought the Golem, clothed with rags, yet this one was armed with little more than the wooden pole on which they carried their buckets.

    A pole they were defensively pointing toward both Wanderer and Emio, in a panic-stricken attempt to ward the pair off and prevent their perceived aggression.

    The terror that encompassed the water-gatherer hurt the Vessel, that one would see them as such a threat to the point they would cower in fear at the very sight of them hurt.

    Once again the Golem was snapped out of their contemplation, not by an outside sound or force, but by the calling of the Spirit that resided right next to their soul, a desperate call to take action upon the ensuing scene.

    For a moment the Vessel was confused, but as they once again became aware of the world around them they saw the need for concern.

    Emio was towering over the human, a single root tendril was raised threateningly above the terrified human, worryingly similar in stance to a snake prepared to strike.

    On the ground lay the pole now snapped in half, presumably by an ineffective attempt to harm the verdestry, and one that ultimately did far more harm than good.

    With only a moments hesitation, Wanderer dashed forward in an attempt to stop the imminent attack, Emio¡¯s tendril shot forward with a power unbefitting of living wood, its point sharper than any spear, but its point found not soft flesh but instead malleable clay.

    Immediately the attack was rescinded, the Verdestry not expecting the sudden interference, and Wanderer not expecting to be hit.

    Wanderer''s shoulder was mutilated by the attack, the root-like pseudopod having penetrated it with ease, white-hot pain emanated from the site of the injury, a warning from Wanderer''s body about the severity of the attack.

    And though they wished to fix their damaged body, the Vessel had more pressing concerns, chief of them being to dissuade Emio from continuing their attack.

    Emio had propelled themselves several steps backwards from their previous position, cautiously glaring toward both Wanderer and the terrified human with their single eye.

    The Golem slowly approached and began to, by way of hurried hand gestures, attempt to stop the verdestry''s retaliation, emphasising that the creature was merely afraid.

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    Emio looked on in obvious confusion, as evidenced by the restless movements throughout their composite body, and after a few moments, the frantic pointing seemed to have the opposite of its intended effect, the herbal creature reluctantly raising its tendril for a follow-up attack.

    Wanderers quickly put themself in the way again, grabbing the offending limb and pushing it downwards.

    At this action, Emio finally understood, the ripples of confusion lessening, and with a passing guilty look towards the Vessel''s destroyed shoulder, took its customary place atop Wanderer''s head.

    It was at this time that a sharp scream rang through the forest, the horrified human finally coming to their senses and sending out a cry for help.

    Instantly the whole plateau came alive, camps hidden in amongst the nooks and crannies of the treacherous terrain suddenly came alive with men and women woken from their midnight rest.

    The Vessels'' mind immediately turned to the treatment of the Golem by these people, and how they would likely react to the presence of another amid their camp, and so, without even a second to repair their damaged shoulder, they sprinted off into the night.

    Emio rebelled at the sudden acceleration, but as the shouts from the camps intensified, likely a result of the water-bearer''s testimony, even the ignorant verdestry realised the emergency of the situation, removing itself from its perch and instead clambering upon Wanderer''s back.

    A quickly-heeded warning from their Spirit caused the Vessel to leap behind a thick tree root, a sharp spear of flames sailing where their head had been a fraction of a second ago proving to be a sound decision.

    The spell landed among a patch of verdant grass, setting it alight and lighting up the flammable ground.

    Scrambling from their position, Wanderer once again resumed their hurried escape, still hurt by their previous wound, they spared but a moment to gaze upon their attacker.

    The Magi from earlier was there, preparing another spell to make up for their previous failure, unlike before their spell did not involve a complex dance or ritual, instead, a few quick hand movements weaved together vigorous runes into a bolt of orange flames.

    Next to the Magi stood an imposing figure, taller than Wanderer and twice as menacing, they wore thick steel armour, with highlights of blue and white, at their side rested a sheathed sword and in their hand rose a massive steel shield.

    The shield had a similar colour theme to their armour, differing only in that the steel had a green tint, in the centre rested a large green gem and the closer they looked at it the more they were convinced they could see a creature moving inside, though they had little time to look.

    To either side of the gem sat a hole and inside the hole rested a ritual, similar to the one they saw in the underlake chapel, except many times smaller and formed of the same green metal, tiny runes were engraved within.

    At the sight of this shield, their Spirit cried out, an odd desperation in their tone, though Wanderer had little time to decipher its meaning.

    Once again a bolt of fire targeted the Golem, slightly late in their dodge, the bolt singed their deformed lower left arm, hardening and burning where it touched.

    But the most significant effect this attack had was upon Emio, the spell having set a loose tendril alight.

    Immediately the affected limb was shoved deep underground, extinguishing the flame in a moment.

    A number of emotions were conveyed through the verdestry¡¯s wooden body, barely visible in the night, the ripples of confusion, rigidness of pain but most of all, blatant even to Wanderer, was a grim rage that flowed through the monster''s body like blood through an animal''s veins.

    Before Wanderer could even attempt to stop them, Emio grabbed a passing boulder and hurled it toward the offending Magi at speeds far surpassing what Wanderer thought was possible for the little creature.

    Without hesitation, the massive bodyguard moved between the stone and their employer, slamming down the shield into the earth with an indecipherable certainty.

    The once dull armament came alive, the motionless ritual circles spun and danced as they were fed magic from the stone in the centre, the waltzing runes created by the ritual fled towards the ground, covering the floor at the shieldbearer''s feet with a dark green glow.

    Without a moment of delay, the runes pulled on the ground, and the ground followed, faster than Wanderer could track, a solid wall of compact earth appeared, at least twice the Vessel''s height and three times their width, the boulder, despite its speed, dashed harmlessly against the magically hardened earth.

    Wanderer didn¡¯t waste a moment of time to watch what happened next, they could tell they were outmatched, they once again dashed forward with all the speed they possessed.

    They passed quickly over a particularly large root, breaking line of sight with their pursuers and giving the trio a moment to strategies.

    ¡°must get away from the tree¡±, Wanderer reasoned, finding a route down from the plateau was their best option, where they could escape into the surrounding waters and be safe, but the protecting roots that hid them grew smaller around the sides of the plateau, and they would undoubtedly be revealed to their pursuers.

    With little choice, they resumed their escape, intent on discovering a safe place where they could climb to freedom.

    Racing around a corner, Wanderer almost crashed into a squad of soldiers, numbering in the thirties and well-armed, unlike the many that were slain against the Golem.

    With a loud shout and a few commands, the torch-wielding warriors were after them, attempting to catch the now-fleeing Golem.

    Unexpectedly, Wanderer was trapped, caught in a pincer, Magi to the right, Warriors to the left, any attempt to leave the plateau would undoubtedly be met with swift and likely deadly retaliation.

    And so, with all options exhausted and their Spirit unable to provide a better option, the Vessel did the only thing they could and began climbing up the colossal tree''s trunk.

 Goodbyes and Safety

    Goodbyes and Safety

    Tucking themself inside a groove in the trunk, in a hope to hide from further view, Wanderer began to climb their way up the trunk, a difficult and slow task with their injured shoulder.

    A slight relief came when Emio, sensing their struggle, left their position upon the Vessel''s shoulders and climbed alongside the Golem, their root-like tendrils slamming into the tree, creating their own purchase as they went.

    Their pursuers grew closer, their searching shouts louder by the second, if it were not for the darkness of the night cloaking their escape, they would have undoubtedly already been found.

    In the fear filled haze of their mind, the stupidity of their idea struck Wanderer like a fireball, they had willingly put themself in a situation where they had less ability to dodge anything thrown at them, and, at the pace they were climbing, they would surely be found before they could escape into the maze-like branches of the pine.

    But they had committed and there was no turning back now, so the Golem redoubled their efforts, trying their hardest to push through the increasing pain.

    The safety of the first of the collosal branches was nearly within reach, when the squad of warriors found their hiding place.

    It was an event heralded by a cacophony of shouts and instructions and within moments the Magi and their guard had arrived as well, a great feeling of dread settling over the Golem at their arrival.

    They were so close, the comforting boughs of the great tree within only a few steps of their current location, but their wounds were too debilitating, their body too weak.

    The moment the Magi started up another spell of fire, they knew they were doomed.

    There was no chance of surviving the spell, it was not the meagre fire bolts that they threw in the darkness of the night, this was a true fireball, the incinerating, destroying spell that caused the greater Golem¡¯s doom.

    The Golem was merely stunned by the attack, but Wanderer was different, they were soft and small, the fire bolts thrown by Magi would have had no effect on the hardened creature, yet even in grazing they charred Wanderer''s clay flesh black.

    Time seemed to slow as the spell neared its completion and a feeling of acceptance flowed over the Vessel, they said goodbye to their Spirit, who had been with them since the beginning and was still desperately searched for a way out of their doomed situation.

    They said goodbye to Emio, while they had only been in their little group for a short time, they had already become a constant and endearing presence.

    ¡°Thank you, my friends¡±, they thought.

    And as they felt the magic building to a crescendo, they took one final look around the beautiful world they had been placed in, they saw the infinite hills and valleys of the forest they had found themself in, the whirling and dancing magic of the spell that the Magi was weaving.

    And the wooden tendril tied around their waist.

    Wanderer laughed.

    Not a true laugh of course, Wanderer had no mouth to do such a thing and it was not a laugh borne of happiness or mirth, it was a laugh that comes when one who expects themself to die suddenly finds there was never any danger, as a great relief comes over them.

    ¡°I am a fool¡±, was the thought the Vessel had as they were lifted like a bird through the needled branches, the fireball hitting little but bark below.

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    Had not Emio demonstrated their incredible strength time and time again, why then could they not save them from their own perilous situation?

    The verdestry carried them far, far into the dense branches, only slowing their descent when their attackers were completely out of sight, bringing them to a stop outside a massive hollow in the tree.

    For a moment both Golem and verdestry fell still, and Spirit unusually quiet, all exhausted by the recent events.

    In silence, Wanderer fixed their wounds, the burnt part of their arm having to be discarded, ruining their already deformed lower left arm even more.

    After a time, a question passed through the Vessel''s mind, ¡°Why did Spirit dislike shield?¡±.

    As they were sifting through the memories of their escape, they remembered the agitation that their Spirit faced when they layed their vision upon the bodyguard''s shield, agitation mixed with grief, they realised.

    And so, Wanderer did something they had never truly done before, they posed a question to their Spirit.

    Feelings of mild shock and confusion prevailed through their bond, the guide unused to being directly addressed, but after a moment their reply came, an explanation in the feelings and emotions through which Spirit spoke.

    There was a Spirit trapped inside the shield, different from themself, but kin nonetheless.

    It was forced to provide the magic needed for the shield''s enchantment and because of this, it had been reduced to a fraction of its former power and was slowly dwindling away every time the shields power was used.

    Spirits gain magic from their concept, Wanderer parsed from the flurry of emotions that made up their guides message, and when they are removed from it they are unable to regain their power, as such, a starved Spirit will dwindle away until they are consumed by the spells they are forced to create.

    Throughout the Spirits explanation, Wanderer felt a deep, want to retrieve the enchanted shield and set the trapped Spirit free, and for a moment Wanderer almost wanted to attempt to climb back down the tree and take the armament, yet the memories of their near death still stung fresh in their growing mind and they refrained from their instinctual reaction.

    And so they sat deep in thought until a idea came to them, and in a act of consolation, they made a pact with their spirit, ¡°I will set Spirits free, when I can¡±, and so, the Golem made a light promise to help their lifelong friend, and release their kin from their magical prisons.

    Feeling the conversation finished , they turned their attention to their plant-like saviour, who was tucked into a corner of the large hollow.

    Meandering toward them, Wanderer noticed their runic eye lazily focus on them, obviously unconcerned by their approach and too busy recovering their energy to worry about the Vessel''s next actions.

    The Golem scooped the herbal creature into their arms, an action met with a degree of mild uncertainty, then, as if by instinct, began to pet the small monster, their bottom two arms holding it and the top two caressing the weaving roots that made up its body.

    The effect was instant, the slightly stiffened limbs of the Verdestry relaxed immediately, hanging limb in Wanderers arms, and a light but deep sound began to emanate from the creature, that of the shuffling of leaves and the groaning of trees, and Wanderer couldn''t help but think that the little monster was in a state of pure bliss.

    The two stayed like that for a matter of hours, passing the night away in each other''s company, broken only by the rare happy comment from the Spirit.

    Eventually, however, Wanderer and their Spirit both found themselves restless, deprived of their much-beloved exploration, and so, the trio set out from their hollow and slowly made their way along one of the many branches belonging to the massive conifer.

    At their height, snow was common, it was not quite cold enough that snow would form on the branches themselves, but cold enough that the snow that fell from the branches above would cover the bough in many places and remain there for some time.

    The snow made their path slippery in many places, requiring Wanderer to latch onto the surrounding pine needles for stability, which were often as long as the Vessel was tall.

    After half an hour, Wanderer and the party had reached the edge of the massive bough, an effort much delayed by random gusts of wind that would shake the entire tree like a rattle, but as they reached the very tip of the branch, a great reward unfolded before them.

    Lit by a violet sunrise, a view of not just the hills and valleys, but a great black desert and a massive mountain spewing deep red fire unfolded before them.

 Spectacle and Crossroads

    Spectacle and Crossroads

    Before Wanderer lay a view far surpassing any that they had so far encountered, the high altitude allowing an unparalleled perspective of the land.

    Directly in front of them lay the familiar hills, mountains and valleys of the forest they found themselves in, the features of the landscape seeming in competition to reach the highest heights or the lowest lows.

    Upon some of these ascents lay large trees much like the one on which they currently stood, their own conifer, however, dwarfed any other by an order of magnitude.

    The moat-like lake was also unique to the tree on which they stood, its choking mists and diverse wildlife were likely the reason for the tree''s unusual growth.

    To their left lay a city of man, something the Golem vaguely recognised from Emio¡¯s visions, built into one of the shallower hillsides.

    Short, cylindrical buildings of white and blue shone in the rising sun, and paths branched off from the city in every direction, each one disappearing into the surrounding forests.

    And to their right lay vast, dry plains, in which dark soil sprouted massive fields of long, thick grass, only the occasional tree and mound of insect-created earth stood from the veritable sea of blades.

    But the greatest sight of all lay past both of these landmarks, as far as Wanderer''s perception would allow a desert of black sand rested, glittering blue and purple in the sunrise.

    Spotted in amongst the extensive wasteland were golden cities, their make unfamiliar to the Golem, each one had a massive, inward-curving wall surrounding it completely, making it so that, even from Wanderer''s viewpoint, they could see nothing inside.

    The only thing that revealed itself from each of the citadels was a long, golden tower that stretched far above the rest of the city.

    As the Vessel looked closer toward the volcano, they began to see great pits in the black sand, each one so wide and deep that Wanderer had little trouble spotting them all, even from their current position, with the desert far in the distance.

    But the desert wasn''t entirely sand, rarely, black, marble mesas rose from the sand, veins of golden ore running in between them.

    Interestingly, the colossal formations of rock stayed a great distance from the fiery mountain, seeming to almost form a crude ring around it.

    But of course, most noticeable of all, a great, active volcano rose from the blackened sands and from its mouth spewed deep, dark-crimson lava, far darker than one would expect the molten rock to be.

    Despite its colouration, it flowed like water down the side of the mountain before pooling at its bottom, where it hardened into a sea of black obsidian glass.

    Wanderer had seen marvellous sights before, the rolling hills and mountains, the coral forest and the changing sky, but this?

    This was New.

    Somewhere in their travels, the forested ascents became a little duller, the once breathtaking colours, texture and sounds, all a little more, familiar.

    The place still excited them, of course, new things still lay around every corner, and they felt they could stay here for a long, long time without finding everything, but similar to their Spirit, they were a creature of adventure, of exploration.

    The unfamiliar excited them, the want to learn what they didn¡¯t know drove them forward, so as they lay their vision upon a landscape, a world, so new and devoid of anything they were familiar with, their soul almost cried with excitement.

    But they would not rush there, despite their want to, they had to be careful, the fog, the temple, the Magi, all these things taught the Vessel that while this world was beautiful, it was also dangerous.

    And another fear entered their mind, suggested by their Spirit, the fear that one day, they would stop finding wonder in the world around them, and instead blindly rush to the next place, uncaring of all that they could see, could know.

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    The thought scared them, their Spirit shared their fear, and so they resolved to be slow and mindful in their travels.

    ¡°I will enjoy my journey¡±, they thought.

    The party sat in awe of the view until the sun had risen beyond its previous hold, and shed its azure light plainly across the land.

    But their revelry was ruined by a terrible, yet familiar, sound, the shouts and yells of pursuing men.

    Hurriedly turning their gaze toward the trunk once again, Wanderer beheld a dreaded scene.

    Already advancing toward them was the imposing bodyguard, intent on finishing their prey, behind them their Magi employer, along with five other men who were still advancing up the tree trunk, aided by thin climbing picks.

    Where their passage across the branch took the party half of an hour, due to their careful pace across the icy surface, the armoured man descended upon them in minutes, aided by firm, unbreakable steps.

    All the while Wanderer was retreating further down the branch, the floor beneath them growing more and more unstable.

    For a moment, panic began to consume the Golem, but the memories of their near-death experience and its resolution stood strong, and they tried to signal Emio to lift them away as they did before.

    But the verdestry had other plans, on five tendrils they rose in the air, the other four all purposed with the single intent of destruction, all posed like a snake and ready to strike.

    Facing the challenge, the warrior drew their sword, long and brutally curved, and charged toward the party, shield raised.

    Now truly panicked, Wanderer questioned if they should intervene in Emio¡¯s attack, stop them as they did before, or break their own promise in order to save themself.

    But the Vessel never had to choose, the branch underneath them, overburdened by the weight of man, golem and verdestry, snapped.

    In an instant, the group was falling down from the massive tree, pine needles whipping them as they fell.

    With a single tendril wrapped around Wanderer''s waist, Emio desperately tried to latch on to the passing branches, but their weight and momentum were too much, anything they grabbed tore and broke off in their grip.

    Realising the issue, Wanderer grabbed at the weight-bearing limb, trying to tear it away so that Emio may save themself.

    Yet by the time the Verdestry realised their intent, much less decided upon following their request, it was too late, the branches had passed and they fell with little chance of escape.

    The mighty trunk of the tree passed Wanderer by, and to their relief, the rooted mountainside did as well, fateing them to land in the misty lake.

    ¡°The waters will be kinder¡±, they hoped.

    Their Spirit began to speak to them with urgency, directing them to move their body into a more streamlined position, instead of the wild one in which they currently resided.

    As their position shifted, their vision, which had been directed upwards, as they were falling with their back toward the waters, allowed them a greater view of their destination, the rapidly approaching lake surface.

    Yet this was not their focus in that moment, the horrified face of the warrior taking up the majority of their current attention.

    Quite far below them, their metal armour and bulky build having increased gravity''s effect, flailed the once stoic bodyguard, their mouth was open as if they were screaming, yet if they were, the howling wind was drowning their cries.

    In contrast to the now stable Wanderer, they flailed and struggled against the howling wind and grasping gravity, their panic caused them to spin and rock in the air, their heavy armour and still firmly grasped shield worsening this effect.

    Before Wanderer could even think of a way to help them, the man hit the water, a cruel slap audible even through the rushing gale, a moment later both the Vessel and Emio dived deep into the water, their superior stances taking much of the water''s sting.

    The Vessel took a moment to collect themselves, the force of their fall having disorientated them.

    As they came back to full awareness, however, their vision found the drowning bodyguard, forced unconscious by their brutal entry to the lake.

    The Golem¡¯s body began to move in a subconscious effort to help, yet their mind drove them to hesitate.

    Had not this very man attempted to kill them, pursued them high and far in their chase with the goal of their destruction?

    ¡°Should I leave him?¡± was what Wanderer thought.

    It would be so easy for them to let their transgressor sink to the depths, their heavy armour dragging them deep into the water, it was no stretch to say that the Golem''s inaction in helping the warrior would not go against their oath.

    After all, they had hardly caused their would-be murderer¡¯s current situation.

    An errant thought appeared in the Vessel¡¯s mind, ¡°Why did they try to kill me?¡±.

    ¡°Because I am a Golem¡±, they deduced, but why would the humans wish to hurt Golems?

    Memories of the greater Golems¡¯ brutal efficiency in killing came back to Wanderer, images of how the Golem cut and tore their way through their opposition with little care to the lives that they took.

    ¡°They are scared¡± Wanderer realised, just as the snakes on the mountainside struck them in fear, so too did the humans, and so too did the figure slowly sinking in front of them.

    And as the realisation struck them, they raced forth to the unconscious body, hoping they weren¡¯t too late.

 Failure and Blessing

    Failure and Blessing

    They tore the pieces of armour off the man, caring little for whether it was carefully removed or torn from their body, speed being their only concern.

    A cry of distress arose from their Spirit, as they threw the once grasped shield into the depths below, only slightly appeased by Wanderer¡¯s hurried promise to fetch it later.

    In minutes, the heavy armour had been removed completely, and their thoughts stilled for a moment, hoping that they had been quick enough to save the bodyguard from their demise.

    They had not.

    The body did not begin to rise to the surface, unladen as it was, there was no sudden wakefulness, the corpse was cold and dead.

    ¡°I have failed¡±, they realised.

    Maybe it was their hesitation, maybe it was the fall, maybe they had died from shock before their body even hit the water, yet nonetheless, Wanderer¡¯s actions had doomed a thinking, knowing being to die.

    And the fact crushed them, in an instant, the guilt and doubt they had tried so hard to suppress came forcing its way back, an unstoppable beast that ate any rational thought that came to their mind, leaving room for nothing but pain.

    Their Spirit applied rationality to their situation, saying that even if the bodyguard was saved, the snakes or fog-beasts would surely have finished them off.

    Yet unlike before, their advice fell upon a deaf mind, the Vessel¡¯s failure leaving no room for anything but what ifs and broken promises.

    Almost catatonic, the Golem sank to the familiar depths, even Emio failing to break them out of their stupor.

    Even as their hooves touched the soft lake floor, the wondrous sights of glowing fish and vibrant coral had little effect upon their mental state, nor the sudden flash of Emio changing form.

    For a long time their thoughts remained in the vicious circle, the cycle only broken by a morbid scene, the corpse, cold and blue, slowly floating down before resting precariously upon a spiral of coral.

    Wanderer stopped and stared for a moment, their mind catching up with the scene in front of them, before they crept over to the body, and as if holding a sacred artefact, removed it from its perch and rested it on the floor.

    As if by instinct, they used their four arms to dig a shallow hole in the lakebed, Emio joining in after a moment, wanting to help, even if they didn''t know why.

    Between the two of them, a grave was dug, shallow, as they soon hit compact earth underneath the soft silt.

    Once Wanderer was satisfied, they reverently placed the body within and began to search the surrounding area for the discarded pieces of armour, so that the warrior may be buried with them.

    And so the Vessel wandered across the lakebed, picking up scraps of metal and cloth until they came upon the bodyguard¡¯s most prized possession, the enchanted shield that held the trapped Spirit.

    At the sight, their Spirit once again beseeched them to destroy the armament and set its kin free.

    ¡°Later¡±, they told their guide, they would face their current issue and deal with that one later.

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    Leaving the shield where it lay, Wanderer returned to the burial and having collected all the destroyed armour, began to fill in the grave, the body slowly disappearing from view.

    And as the final handful of dirt fell into place, the Golem stood slowly, and as if a great weight was lifted from their shoulders, relaxed.

    With a reassuring word to their worried spirit and a quick pet of reassurance to Emio, they made their way back to the abandoned shield.

    Despite the recent stresses, the shield appeared undamaged, its green metal wholly unscratched.

    In the centre of the shield lay the green gem which they had seen from far away, now being able to peer closer, it became apparent that inside the gem struggled the forespoken spirit, appearing as little more than a swirling ball of dark green light.

    Unwilling to force their Spirit to wait any longer, they raised one of their hooves and brought it down with all the force they could muster upon the gem.

    A single crack ran through the stone before it shattered like glass, freeing the enslaved Spirit and causing a cry of joy to burst from the Spirit deep within them.

    The moment it was freed, the Spirit became invisible, going back to a different plane, yet it didn¡¯t have to be visible for the Golem to sense it.

    Wanderer could feel it, could feel its tremendous presence and power, if their own Spirit was a trickling stream then the one that rose in front of them was a great waterfall, the likes of which Wanderer was yet to see.

    Power radiated from the place it occupied, magic that didn¡¯t need to be distinguished with colour or light, but the burning feeling of cold metal and deep earth.

    The Vessel beheld its incorporeal form for only a moment before it dove deep under the ground, gaining even higher power as it moved, like a meteor becoming brighter as it burned through the sky.

    For a spell, the Spirit seemed to forget about its liberators, the ecstasy of being free and exposed to their source of magic reigning over all other thoughts in its ethereal mind.

    ¡°How long were they trapped?¡±, Wanderer wondered, their shield prison seemed new, but it had not taken damage from the fall nor anything else that the Golem had seen it encounter, and try as they might, they couldn¡¯t find even the slightest imperfection on it, with exception of the now shattered crystal.

    As they were pondering the question, the freed Spirit paused their rapid circles and came to a stop in front of Wanderer.

    Yet the Spirit did not lay its attention on Wanderer, nor on the disquieted Emio who raised their tendrils in an offensive position, yet could see no target to attack.

    They looked through them, at the helpful little guide who occupied a space right next to their soul, their own Spirit.

    Without a moment of hesitation, the two phantoms began to speak in their way, through emotions, yet unlike the guiding voice they were familiar with, the two Spirits spoke at a speed far beyond Wanderer¡¯s comprehension.

    Feelings flashed between the two with such speed that the Vessel never had a chance to scry the larger Spirit¡¯s intentions, their comprehension of the conversation was limited to what little they could tell from the passing moods of their own Spirit.

    Joy, Greetings, Confusion, Humility, Acceptance, Honor.

    Wanderer sat on the lake floor intently attempting to decode the nature of the discussion, until a lull came over the participants, the Vessel¡¯s own Spirit thinking deeply and their partner awaiting an answer.

    After a few moments that Emio capitalised to lay in Wanderer¡¯s lap, disgruntled with the perceived foe and their lack of substance, their companion gave an answer, one slow enough for the Golem to pick out.

    Yet they never had the chance to decode it, in a instant, a tidal wave of dark green magic washed over Wanderer, locking them in place before it started to seep into their body.

    The vast power filtered through their clay flesh, lighting up the inside of their body like a star, before it began to condense inside the Golem.

    Neighbouring their Spirits spot next to their soul, it crushed and precipitated until in a final burst of power, it took form.

    For an instant, Wanderer thought that they had gained a new Spirit, a new guide to take them along their path.

    Yet, upon closer inspection, the ball of magic was exactly that, a lifeless, unintelligent ball.

    Despite the great ceremony, the mass of power seemed to do little, but with one finishing burst of magic from the earthen phantom, its true purpose became clear.

    It was a Blessing.

 Power and Passage

    Power and Passage

    Magic flowed through Wanderer¡¯s body like blood would flow through an animal, it reached across their form, soaking every part of it and empowering everywhere it went.

    In an instant, Wanderer felt stronger, quicker, tougher, their previous thoughts felt sluggish compared to the speed in which they passed now, the great reef in front of them seemed to gain in colour, their eyes now able to pierce the dark depths just a little bit more.

    But most immediately noticeable was that their clay body felt tougher, not hardened or solid, but denser, more viscous.

    In shock, they hurriedly turned their vision inwards, to the blessing that provided this newfound power.

    A slow yet thick stream of magic flowed out of it, despite this, it never shrunk in size or intensity, it remained constant, producing magic at the same speed as it lost it.

    Feeling their payment complete, the greater Spirit sent a flash of emotion indicating their departure, before once again hurtling through the floor, soon reaching a depth where they could no longer be sensed.

    After the feeling of shock passed, Wanderer tuned their vision to the world around them, the reef looked darker, the light-giving animals having been scared away by the massive influx of magic.

    The darkness prevailed to such an extent that the Golem could only barely makeout Emio a few steps away, by the light that their runic eye provided.

    Emio stared at them intently, having sensed a change in their friend, but being unsure of its nature

    Slowly the verdestry approached, cautious of the unseen change, getting closer and closer until, finally, the creature placed itself upon its favoured perch and, seeing that it had not been altered, let go of their caution.

    All the while, Wanderer was sending messages of thanks and joy to their Spirit, who eagerly returned with emotions of acceptance and humility, deeming the simple task of convincing their kin to give a reward worth little.

    Yet to the Vessel, it was worth the world, the speed and power accompanying their movements set their mind alight with thoughts of the new possibilities.

    Without hesitation, Wanderer began to half swim, half run across the lake floor, newly improved agility and weight making the once difficult task one of relative ease, causing them to nearly approach the speed at which they could run on land.

    Much to the disagreement of Emio, the small party set off in the direction of the shore, as dictated by Spirit, and sure enough, after an hour or two of weaving through spiralling coral and tangling kelp, they arrived at the rigid rock wall that marked the opposite shore.

    There was a small degree of trepidation within Wanderer¡¯s mind at having to face the fog and all its dangers once again, yet they were different from when they first entered the mists, more mature, they would trek through the fog safely, quickly and most of all, without bloodshed.

    Between the weight-bearing water, four hands and Wanderer''s newfound strength, the climb up was a smooth one, Emio not even bothering to leave their perch.

    As they ascended, precious light began to filter from the surface, banishing the bioluminescent lake life below, white light with only a tinge of the blue that the sun carried across the watery surface greyed by the choking fog above.

    After a hesitant moment, Wanderer surfaced, feeling the cool mists upon their sculpted body, yet in that same moment a sound like the breaking of great trees and whipping of a thousand vines screeched from Emio, and within an instant, they dived back under the water.

    Immediately, the Golem dived back under the water, catching only a glimpse of the verdestry before they threw themselves across the lake floor.

    On contact with the fog, the small creature had decayed, its outer body becoming reminiscent of decayed food scraps and half-decomposed compost.

    ¡°Fool¡±, Wanderer admonished themself, had they not seen the half-decayed bird and had they not noticed the lack of plant life within the gloom?

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    Clearly, the fog was poison to all but those who adapted to live within it, and their ignorance of this fact had nearly cost them a dear friend.

    They let themself slowly float down towards the lakebed, waiting for Emio who returned not long later.

    As Wanderer saw the small monster''s glowing eye lethargically crest a hill, they ran towards them, mind filled with anxieties and apologies.

    As the Vessel approached Emio tiredly raised themself up in the water, the small creature now towering over Wanderer.

    It raised one of its tendrils in the snake-like position that signalled imminent attack, a motion that sent immense fear through Wanderer, a fear only marginally calmed by their Spirit''s assurance that there was little to fear.

    ¡°But how could there be?¡±, Wanderer had seen Emios power, had it demonstrated to them again and again, even if the Vessel had not taken an oath of pacifism they thought little of their chance in combat.

    Before any true decision could be made on their part, the threatening limb came down, water rippling in its wake, before slamming into the edge of Wanderer''s hat-like head.

    Yet the damage was light, little more than a light dent remained at the impact site, a far cry from the crushing blow they had expected, a light-hearted punishment.

    Before the Golem could begin to process the recent happening, Emio had slinked over and plunked themself upon the Vessel''s head, grumpy wrinkles coursing throughout its body.

    At the invalidation of Wanderer''s worry, an almost smug feeling followed from their Spirit, along with a vague notion that the trio should follow along the rock wall, with the hope of finding a way out of the fog-capped lake.

    They circuited the cliff face, searching for an exit that they could abuse to escape their misty prison, and just as they began to contemplate returning to the wooded island in the centre, despite how unreasonable it sounded, their Spirit hurriedly drew Wanderer''s attention to the base of the rock wall.

    At first, in the gloom of the lake, they didn''t notice anything different about the rocky outcrop, even their recently enhanced eyes struggling to pick out a variation.

    Yet as they got closer they saw their target, there at the base of the wall existed a hole, just large enough for Wanderer to fit, that quickly widened up into an underlake cave.

    The natural imperfection was hidden behind a curved stone outcrop and a small wall of sand, disguising it from all but the most attentive watchers.

    It was this that caused Wanderer to contemplate the nature of their Spirit''s vision, they had seen the fog-beast and firebolt approaching before Wanderer had any knowledge of it, surely they must be able to see something Wanderer could not.

    ¡°How do you see?¡±, the Vessel asked and, after a few moments of contemplation, they received a reply.

    What they received was not the customary emotion or thought, it was like a vision, a whole concept to which their mind struggled to comprehend.

    Flashes of information struggled to make themselves known, forced into a mind which couldn''t fit them.

    In the chaos, Wanderer beheld a vague feeling of light and glow, organised into reaching streams and stagnant ponds, in a space that went beyond all they knew.

    As fast as it came, the vision left, the Spirit quickly realising Wanderer''s turmoil, and ceasing their answer.

    Wanderer was left reeling.

    ¡°What was that?¡±, they questioned.

    Yet they received no answer, their Spirit too afraid to even talk about the foreign concept, lest they break Wanderer''s already fragile mind.

    But the Golem was determined, with every thought they made there now existed a blaring hole, a deep vacuum of curiosity that could only be sated by the knowledge they could not have.

    Again they sent their question, receiving nothing but a refusal.

    An odd desperation grew within Wanderer, suffusing their message as it was sent again.

    A hint of worry could be felt from the Spirit, yet its refusal was as stubborn as before.

    With an emotion almost rivalling anger, Wanderer demanded an answer, all pretence of kindness gone.

    Yet before the Spirit could send a charged reply, a long, kelpen tendril curled around the Vessel''s arm, Emio snapping the two out of their argument.

    For a moment, Wanderer almost thought that Emio had picked up on their internal argument, but as they observed them they discovered their real intention, they were bored and wanted to leave the lake.

    The Golem laughed a little within their mind, ¡°It can wait¡±, they decided.

    Already, the gaping hole of curiosity seemed a lot smaller than it was a moment before, and a hell of a lot smaller than Emio''s increasing insistence on leaving.

    Not knowing what to say to their Spirit, they sent a small but meaningful thought of apology and began their way down the opening cavern.

    What minuscule light that existed on the surface vanished as they entered the under-lake cave, Emio''s glowing eye being the only thing illuminating the jagged walls, walls that were gradually widening as they slowly crept under the water.

    Turning a corner in the now wide tunnel, the party came to see an exit in the roof of the shaft, indicated by a subtle, pinkish glow.

    This perplexed Wanderer, "where could this light be coming from", they questioned.

    It was not the blue light of the sun and moons, nor the eerie light of the coral reef, this light was subtle like the glowing creatures yet with a strength of colour and tone that indicated it could not possibly be them.

    Rushing forward, it didn''t take long before they had surfaced through the glowing exit into an air-filled cavern, the light coming not from the sun or an animal, but a great carpet of glowing moss and fungi that blanketed the entire room.

 Moss and Mine

    Moss and Mine

    Wanderer wasted no time surfacing onto the moss-carpeted ground, careful to avoid crushing any colourful fungi underneath their feet.

    The whole room was carpeted with glowing pink moss, spotted with colourful yet mundane mushrooms of all kinds contrasting the environment.

    The mushrooms themselves came in all shapes and sizes, deep green fungi grew out in layers across the walls, while massive, almost tree-like conical mushrooms rose from the floor and trails of spores floated in clouds out of grey puffballs.

    Looking back to the pool from which they surfaced, grey spores floated on top of the water attempting to find their root on land which was not present.

    The room was large, perhaps two or three times the size of the under-lake chapel, and while at first, one would expect such an overgrown area to be a natural cave, it was not, as evidenced by the straight walls and sharp corners the room possessed.

    Fascinated, Wanderer and their Spirit began to make their way around the room, peering under every mushroom cap and inspecting every tuft of moss, a mutual excitement consuming them both.

    After a few minutes of wondrous exploration, the group came upon proof the cavern was artificial in nature, there, on a set of half-rusted rails rested a barebones mining cart, sections that would have been once wood completely decomposed by fungi.

    Approaching the anomaly, its hard edges standing out from the natural environment, Wanderer noticed a silvery-white metal had fallen through the bottom, now laying on the ground next to the head of a pickaxe.

    Grabbing a piece, the Golem recognised it as the same metal that formed the armours and weapons that the humans used, its reflective white body distinctive.

    Stepping back a little to get more perspective, Wanderer noticed a peculiarity, the rails on which the cart rested led directly into a wall of moss, as if it wasn¡¯t even there.

    Yet, before the Vessel could begin to investigate the irregularity, Emio unveiled the secret first, as they tore patches of moss away from the walls and floor to feed their growth.

    In only a few moments, a significant portion of the wall and opposing floor had its carpeting moss stolen away, leaving only the bare stone underneath and damaged mushrooms scattered.

    Emio seemed to care little for the blaring eyesore they had created in the glowing paradise, being much too happy with their vibrant new form.

    Yet for all the beauty it had destroyed, Emio¡¯s actions had solved Wanderer¡¯s mystery before they even began to contemplate it, where the tracks seemed to once disappear into the wall, a tunnel in the stone was now visible, once covered up by moss.

    The tunnel was tall yet thin, and at one point it was likely that there were support beams or other structures, yet now there were little left but massive fungi.

    The tunnel went straight for almost as far as Wanderer could see, until, at the edge of their vision they made out a split that went to both the left and right.

    Yet the Vessel¡¯s vision failed them not only because of distance but because of deep darkness that existed throughout the tunnel, as the glowing moss disappeared the further Wanderer went from the water source.

    Despite the lack of plants, the mushrooms lived on in prevalence.

    A moment of hesitation surfaced in the Golem, a half wish to find another way out of the lake, yet they could risk no other way, and even if they could, their curiosity would not let them leave.

    And so they began to creep their way across the long hallway, dodging the stalks of giant fungi and being careful not to crush any mushrooms underfoot.

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    As the light dimmed, Emio went ahead of them, their now glowing body lighting the tunnel handily, illuminating the unstable walls.

    Their journey to the end of the shaft lasted far longer than one would expect, the constant dodging and swerving needed to pass the mushrooms combined with the caution that Wanderer held for the unsupported walls caused the journey to take hours of time, though time was hard to tell in the artificial cave.

    More than once Wanderer¡¯s already glacial progress was halted as a deep rumble echoed throughout the stone, a threat that caused their Spirit to cry in a warning and put even the invincible Emio on edge.

    With their nerves thoroughly racked, the group finally came to the split that they saw from so far away, the entrance from which they came seeming like little more than a speck of light.

    Ahead lay two passages, one to the right, and one to the left.

    To the left, Wanderer could see that the moss had come back in full force, covering the walls and ceiling and the shaft had been blocked by a cave-in, one somewhat recent judging by the comparative lack of plant life on the rubble.

    Down the sides of the hall lay many smaller passages, small enough that the Golem would likely have trouble traversing them.

    They followed a regular pattern down the sides of the hall, meaning that any unoccupied space was likely a doorway covered by moss.

    This was their preferred route, moss meant water and water likely meant escape.

    To the right lay a shorter, yet darker, tunnel, the tracks went down this way, turning right at the end of the hole, down an even deeper shaft.

    Embedded right at the start of the tunnel, only a few steps away from Wanderer, lay a great metal door, tarnished but not rusted, it seemed to be made of the same white metal that this place''s inhabitants were once mining for.

    At the advice of their Spirit, Wanderer fought against their curiosity, their wish to turn right and enter the deeper, darker depths of the mine, forcing themself to remember that despite the unique nature of the shafts and tunnels, the area was dangerous and unstable, its use should remain limited to a passage.

    Yet there was little reason for them not to investigate the door that stood only steps away from them.

    The door was a little shorter than Wanderer and made of the now familiar silvery-white metal, it had tarnished grey around its edges, marring its natural reflective nature.

    A large handle went down one side, and unwilling to wait longer, Wanderer pulled on it.

    Yet the door hardly budged, moving a slither from its previous position.

    Undeterred the Golem put all their strength into their next pull, a non-insubstantial amount, yet still, the door refused.

    By lock or degradation, the door was static in its position, and at this point, the Spirit urged Wanderer to leave it be, yet Wanderer had one last card to pull.

    They began signing to Emio, who had been watching the scene with amusement, trying to convince them to try their luck on the barrier.

    After a few minutes of awkward charades, Emio finally placed 2 mossy tendrils on the door handle, and at Wanderer¡¯s reassurance, pulled.

    without hesitation, the door slammed open, the old metal no match for Emio''s might, and a loud, metallic bang echoed throughout the tunnels.

    For a moment everything was silent before a deep, guttural groan began to echo from the walls, a deep rumble accompanying it as pebbles and dust fell from the ceiling while the shaft threatened to give way.

    The complaint reached its crescendo as the loud cracks and bangs of a cave-in reached Wanderer, the whole area becoming smothered in a veil of dust.

    Even after the avalanche ended, none among the party dared move, even the Spirit fell quiet in irrational fear that its voice would upset the earth.

    None among the group could tell how long they stayed frozen in fear, yet by the time Emio made their first delicate step with one of their tendrils, the dust had settled.

    The crossroads that had once rested in front of Wanderer was now entirely blocked off by heavy rubble, the final pebbles and stones of this cascade just touching their hooves.

    Both their entrance and the left tunnel had been blocked by the cave-in, their route of escape from the tunnels blocked, and even a cursory glance over the now accessible room showed that there was little escape to be found.

    Perhaps, between Emio''s strength and Wanderer''s new blessing, the blockage could be cleared, but they had angered the unstable mine once and had no wish to do so again, lest they were less fortunate the second time.

    Their haze was cut through by the quiet yet forceful words of their Spirit, directing them to seek safety in the room that Emio had opened.

    In no condition to argue, they carefully made their way into the room, fearing that every step would bring retribution.

    Yet by some miracle of which their mind had not the clarity to process, the beams and supports that had decayed throughout the rest of the mine had been preserved within.

    The moment Wanderer realised the safety that this bought, they collapsed onto the nearest object that would hold their weight, too exhausted to even look around.

 Fear and Darkness

    Fear and Darkness

    Wanderer lay there for a while, Emio taking a place beside them while their Spirit sent a slew of half emotions, attempting to work out the near-death experience in their own mind.

    The Vessel was no stranger to near-death experiences, having faced quite a few in their short life, and, they reflected, will likely face many more.

    Yet the unexpectedness of the event shook them, that there would be such harsh reparations for such a simple mistake drove a deep fear within their soul.

    They knew, of course, that the tunnels were unstable, and the threat of collapse had scared them and put them on edge, but somewhere within them, they felt that as long as they were cautious the mine would not hurt them.

    After all, the walls had stood for an unknowable amount of time, why would they not hold longer?

    It took the Golem a while to claw their way out from under the hold of their anxieties, the fear of another collapse, even protected as they were, caused them no end of terror.

    Yet they could not remain scared forever, eventually, their mind calmed enough for them to take in their surroundings.

    The party lay upon a couch, covered in fine leather and a thick layer of dust.

    Across from them lay a desk and chair, half-rotted and barely stable, much like the couch they sat on, upon closer inspection.

    The supports which they put so much faith in to protect them had decayed as well, wood rot consuming much of the exterior, yet the beams were thick and would likely hold without the intervention of the outside fungi.

    Yet while the wood had been spared from the greater ravages of time, much of the metal in the room could not say the same, anything that had once been made of iron or steel had now been reduced to little more than vaguely shaped debris.

    This degradation was what caused Wanderer to reflect on the quality of the slivery metal that the door was made out of, to have survived all this time with only a little tarnishing was an amazing power.

    The Golem knew little of the decay rates of wood and metal but even they could tell that this mine had been abandoned for a great time.

    In the corner of the room lay two last items of furniture, a great wardrobe and a bookshelf stood proud.

    The bookshelf had a vast row of colourful books, though most had been destroyed by the ravages of time, there were still a few that could be salvaged.

    The wardrobe was deep, its wood was dark mahogany and nearly entirely protected from decay by its quality, clashing with the broken aesthetic of the room.

    Slowly Wanderer approached the cabinet, carefully and cautiously opening it, the rusted hinges causing the door to practically fall off.

    After a moment of panic that involved catching a thick slab of wood, the Golem appraised the contents of the wardrobe.

    There in front of them lay an immaculate suit of armour, with blue and white colours that reminded the Golem quite significantly of the armour of the bodyguard.

    To its left lay a medium-sized box with a large leather satchel laying on top of it and just above it, in a weapon rack, lay a short yet handsome, curved blade.

    For a moment, Wanderer had fantasies of donning the armour, its hard shell making them invulnerable to the attacks of blade and Magi alike, yet this dream was quickly crushed by their own unconventional body type.

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    There was no way that the enclosed helmet would fit over their hat-like head, nor the chest plate accommodate the Vessel''s four arms and the leggings and boots were not made for the horse-like stature that Wanderer possessed.

    The Spirit, sensing their mentee''s disappointment, sent an idea to help raise their mood.

    Seeing the humour in their Spirits suggestion, Wanderer picked up the helmet and inched their way over to Emio, who was lounging lazily on the couch, thoroughly unimpressed by the contents of the room.

    Once within striking distance, the Vessel put their devious plan into action, lunging forward at the unsuspecting verdestry and snuggly fitting the helm over their small body.

    Emio immediately stiffened, confused ripples echoing throughout their body before attempting to take their restraint off.

    Wanderer laughed in their mind, a true, proper laugh, there was something about the little glowing creature, (who could easily rip them limb from limb) struggling to remove the snuggly fitting armour that carried inherent humour, one the Golem couldn''t help but react to.

    The joke raised all their spirits, even the disgruntled Emio seemed a little more relaxed, once their tendrils managed to rip the helmet off their body, that is.

    When the mirth finally died away, Wanderer turned their attention back to the other contents of the wardrobe, picking up the satchel.

    The leather was old and stiff, yet nonetheless, in good condition, it showed signs of wear and tear yet they seemed to be more from prior use than the ravages of time.

    Opening the bag revealed it to be stuffed with coins of three colours, a dull crimson marked the smallest kind, the largest, a deep chromatic blue and the most normally sized was formed of the now familiar silver-white metal.

    All of the denominations were minted with a symbol, it was a single line that split into two, and down the sides of the new lines were ones angled downwards, like barbs on an arrow.

    On the back side of the coins were lines of text that Wanderer was unable to read, their only experience with the language coming from the old Magi¡¯s visions and the shouts of their pursuers.

    ¡°Maybe if it was spoken?¡±, they contemplated.

    in the visions they had understood the words said to the Magi, even though they had never learned them, perhaps they could decode it if they had time?

    They turned their attention back to the coins, the largest and rarest (judging by the relative lack of the particular type of currency), of them standing out more than the rest, its blue splendour reminding Wanderer of the rising sun.

    It was obvious why this metal was highly valued by its creators, even as Wanderer looked into it reflected their face in its shiny surface, yet it went even beyond that as their visage almost seemed to be morphed into something greater.

    It was at this time that the use that the satchel could provide struck them, no longer would they have to carry something they wanted in their hands at all times (or be forced to stick it into their soft body, a thought that repulsed Wanderer).

    This pouch would allow them to carry whatever they wished, anywhere, any memento they found in their travels could be carried along with them.

    The thought brought great joy to both the Vessel and their Spirit, who was never opposed to something that would benefit their exploration.

    Slinging the satchel over one of their shoulders they investigated the box under it.

    The small, ornate chest would have been at one point locked, but time had made short work of those measly defences, the lid pried open with hardly a lift.

    Yet it seemed that time had destroyed its contents as well as its protections, what was once likely letters and papers was now nothing but dust, having disintegrated with age.

    Only a single letter could be salvaged from the mess, even still fragile and half destroyed, it went swiftly and safely into their new-found satchel.

    They spent the next few minutes stuffing the least destroyed books into the bag as well, thoroughly looting the bookshelf of anything that didn''t crumble within their hands, which equated to about four books.

    Unfortunately, they could avoid the fact no longer, the group would have to go deeper into the mine hoping they could escape, a coming event that loomed over even the fearless Emio.

    They had all seen how cruel the earth could be and no one wished to challenge it a second time.

    Wanderer''s vision fell upon the only item of any worth in the room that had not been taken, the decorated sword which rested over the armour.

    ¡°Perhaps it could be used for reasons other than death?¡±, a part of them argued, yet their mind turned to how much destruction they had already caused even without intending to, they would not tempt fate again.

    And so the group crept out of the abode, Emio leading in front to light the path, before slowly and carefully following the rails toward the gaping abyss that led deeper into the mines.

    And with a sombre note, Spirit, Plant, and Golem entered the darkness.

 Teeth and Chase

    Teeth and Chase

    The darkness was all-consuming, somehow different to the transitory darkness that stretched across the long tunnel between the crossroads and the mossy room.

    This darkness seemed to smother even what little light was produced from Emio''s glowing form, as if declaring that the presence of any illumination was not welcome.

    Even the ever-present fungi shied away from the depths, the few mushrooms that lived down there, piddly and shrivelled.

    However, the lack of mushrooms, though it harshly reduced what little beauty the area had, did benefit them. The deeper they went the more intact the once non-existent support beams became, it started with rotted lumps of dirt, little more than compost, yet gradually it evolved into full, yet unstable, supports of wood.

    This gave a spot of hope to the party, all of whom were dreading the descent down into the deeper mines, for fear of a cave-in.

    As they sank deeper a faint sound reached the edge of their senses, a sound that grew until it was constant static in the background, emanating from strange uniform holes that peppered the walls.

    It sounded like the clicking of insect legs on stony ground, combined with the occasional sound like the distant crack of a whip.

    The trio had been crawling forward in the darkness for some time when the Vessel¡¯s Spirit drew their attention to a point in the darkness.

    There was a moment in time where Wanderer could not see Spirit''s focus, the dim pink light that Emio gave off leaving little to look at.

    Yet slowly a small shape, about half the length of one of Wanderer''s arms, came into their vision.

    It resembled a centipede and it moved in starts and stops, the creature lacked a defined head or tail, as well as the eyes and mandibles that would accompany them, instead having a pair of antennae on both ends of its body, which consisted of a solid black shell.

    Hundreds and hundreds of legs went down the length of its body, moving in waves as it drew closer to the Golem.

    When it drew within a meter of the Vessel, it hesitated for a moment, then attacked, leaping high onto Wanderer.

    Its leap revealed a new, grotesque side to the simple creature, underneath its rows and rows of legs lay an even more numerous set of teeth.

    Teeth that went all the way down its body, each tooth hollow, and leading into one long, gaping mouth that made the whole creature feel as if it were empty.

    Before Wanderer could react the monster let out a sound like a whip cracking, before latching onto one of Wanderer''s four arms and biting.

    The moment the teeth latched onto the Golem''s body a sound like popcorn began to emit, as bursts of air and sound exploded through its teeth and into Wanderer''s soft arm.

    The monster had only managed to latch on for a fraction of a second before Emio slammed it into the ground, turning it into a dark-coloured paste on the floor, yet the damage was done, Wanderer''s arm had been mutilated and ruined.

    The pain was the most intense Wanderer had ever faced, even beyond the green lightning from the temple, mere burns could not compare to the pain of having their body imploded from the inside out.

    Wanderer''s arm had practically bubbled from the attack, their clay body containing the air until it grew too powerful and the bubble popped.

    Instantly they went to fix the injury, the pain allowing little other thoughts to go through their head.

    By the time their arm was healed enough for rational thought to resume, Emio was tugging them to start running and their Spirit was stewing in terror, and it only took a moment for them to realise why.

    The once quiet murmuring of clicks and snaps had risen in volume, until it became a deafening cacophony that was only growing louder, closer.

    The Golem didn''t need a second warning, heeding the call of their comrades they sprinted down the tunnel as fast as their horse-like legs would let them.

    Emio had little trouble staying ahead, almost leaving the group behind before they realised and slowed down a little, a necessary action as their pinkish glow was their only source of light.

    The sounds only grew louder as Wanderer began to see black antennae and eyeless bodies stick out of the small holes that covered the walls, a fact they had hardly paid attention to before.

    It wasn''t long until insects of all sizes began nipping at their heels, some half their height in length, others barely reaching the size of their finger.

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    Yet their size didn''t matter much, they were catching up and deep inside, Wanderer knew that not even Emio could save them if they were caught by the stampede.

    For some time, their Spirit had been yelling with their usual urgency, to escape in some way, yet their directions only repeated the thoughts the Golem was thinking, and Wanderer had paid them little mind.

    Yet now the Spirit''s voice cut through even the deafening calls of the approaching horde, the urgency behind it making it obvious that they believed their directions were the only hope of survival.

    It was a simple message, to turn left.

    It didn''t take long before Wanderer saw what they meant, as out of the gloom was revealed a crossroads.

    To the right the tunnel continued, the wooden supports marking it as a man-made shaft, yet the tunnel to the left was different, its very existence causing a pit of dread to form in their stomach.

    It was practically identical in form to the many small holes that covered the walls, the same that the centipedes originated from, yet there was one critical difference, while the mining shafts could barely fit their height, this tunnel was big enough to fit two of the Golems on top of each other.

    ¡°Terrifying¡±, Was the only thought that forced its way past their chase-induced panic.

    The Vessel''s interactions so far had been limited to centipedes no larger than half their height, yet to be large enough to make a hole this wide, the insect would have had to have been big enough to swallow their entire group whole.

    Instantly, their mind rebelled at the mere thought of entering the tunnel, the very chance of running into such a creature causing a simmering panic to rise in them, yet their Spirit was determined, this was the only way.

    They had little time to think it through, the swarm hot on their hooves, yet in a show of trust for their lifelong guide, they turned and sprinted down the left path, grabbing Emio as they went.

    As they turned the corner the Vessel immediately saw the escape their Spirit proposed. just a few hundred steps in front of them, lay a beam of light from the surface, easily recognisable as the blue light of the moons.

    Yet this same light revealed a horror that brought far more dread than the exit gave hope, as the tunnel opened into a chamber.

    The walls of this chamber were smooth and curved, indicating that it had been made by the same massive centipede who had made the burrow they were currently in.

    Yet it went beyond that, holes of many sizes covered the walls, each one housing its own insectoid resident, and anywhere these miniature tunnels were not, tiny, sickly-coloured eggs covered, engulfing both the floors and walls.

    In their haste, one of Wanderer''s hooves made the mistake of crushing one of the egg sacks, the following verdestry doing the same.

    At the death of their children, the monsters fell still and silent, as if their primal brains were only just managing to comprehend the extent of the offence the intruders had caused.

    Yet before the Golem had managed even another step, the cavern had exploded into a new cacophony of mind-melting sound of such extant that, if Wanderer had ears, they would have been deafened long ago.

    If Wanderer had been running before, they were flying now, dashing out of the chamber and down a smaller tunnel that led to the exit, chased by a tide of carapace and black chitin, crawling and scrambling over one another, each attempting to exact revenge and claim their meal.

    Yet even with the new level of effort the Golem put into their escape, their attackers were gaining, all the while screaming threats of violence in their primitive language.

    Not even a fourth of the way to the exit, Emio decided that the Vessel wasn''t running fast enough, wrapping two tendrils around Wanderer and yanking them through the tunnels.

    Yet the insectoid threat came not only from the pursuing tide, the walls of the monster-made tunnel were filled with smaller holes, holes which centipedes poured out of like water.

    One of the insects pounced at the quickly passing verdestry, before being quickly turned into a paste by one of Emio''s many limbs, yet it set a precedent for the oncoming attackers and soon Emio had to slow their speed in order to free more of their tendrils, so that they could slay the oncoming enemies.

    Somewhere inside of themself, Wanderer knew they should be deterring the verdestry from their extermination, yet against the unlimited horde and their current panic, they couldn''t truly bring themself to do so, knowing that any attempt would surely bring their doom.

    By some stretch of unimaginable luck, the exit appeared before them, and looking into it, they came to realise that the shaft to the surface, and their saving grace was an abandoned well.

    Moonlight lit intentionally placed stones that led to the surface, no more than a hundred steps above, Wanderer could just piece out the limbs and branches of a tree, just peering over the rim of the waterhole.

    Without even a moment of hesitation, the party clambered up the shaft with all the speed they could muster, heedless of caution or safety.

    But it was this recklessness that cost them, as the well walls were not built to handle the weight of a Golem and verdestry, and one of Emio''s tendrils latched onto a loose stone, slipping off as the rock fell.

    The setback was momentary, yet costly, the slight dip in speed caused Wanderer, who was being hauled by the glowing creature, to fall just within the range of one of the swarmlings.

    A centipede took the chance given, gaping mouth closing like a vice around a horse-like leg.

    White hot pain lanced up the Vessel¡¯s entire body, as sonic explosions were injected inside their body.

    At that moment, Wanderer didn¡¯t think of their oath, the pain prevented any chance of that, instead, they slammed their leg into the wall with all the blessing-given strength they could muster, causing the armoured bug to let go and fall to the bottom of the pit.

    For a dreaded instant, Wanderer feared they had broken their oath scarcely a day after making it, yet even with their new blessing, their strike did not equal that of Emio, and the injured centipede followed with renewed vengeance.

    But before they could even begin to feel some twisted relief at their almost murder, they burst out of the well and into the glorious open air, hoping to all hope that the monsters would not follow.

 Exhaustion and Grasslands

    Exhaustion and Grasslands

    The two practically collapsed once they made it to the outside world, even the fear of the incoming horde doing nothing to keep them pushing forward, either too injured or too exhausted to keep going.

    Emio tiredly braced themself for a final stand against the creatures, mossy tendrils assuming their attack position, while Wanderer tried their hardest to crawl away from the well, their leg too injured for them to stand.

    And as the first swarmling poked their head (or tail) over the rim of the well, luck favoured the trio, for the centipedes were creatures of the deep.

    In the darkness from which the centipedes came, there was no need for eyes, instead their long antenna and loud snaps combined to allow them to see by the reflection of sound, not light.

    In the cramped, crowded caverns, this suited them perfectly, sound bounced and refracted to create a perfect image of the surroundings in their insectoid minds.

    Yet when, in their rage, they breached the surface, they saw not their familiar, dark home, but nothing at all.

    Their clicks and snaps were sent into the sky, never to return, what little bounced off trees or the ground was so unfamiliar that their primitive minds struggled to comprehend it, and it scared them.

    In an instant, their heedless charge turned into a reckless retreat, each swarmling telling another to run, each too singleminded to question another¡¯s orders.

    Emio, Wanderer and their Spirit sat in fearful anticipation for a long moment, each too scared to hope that their enemy had retreated, yet when the roar of their pursuers died down to little more than a whisper, they each collapsed in complete exhaustion.

    Emio¡¯s small body fell to the ground, mossy tendrils stretching far and wide, their subtle glow visible in the light of the moons.

    Wanderer followed in kind, laying motionlessly on the ground until the pain in their mutilated leg became too much to ignore, and they set to fixing it.

    Even Spirit had become fatigued by the chase, the magnitude of their worry and fear creating a weariness even in their incorporeal body.

    And so the group rested there on the ground for a while, slowly watching the moons follow their path downwards.

    As the night passed, Wanderer thought of the monsters in the cave, and how unwilling they were to stop Emio¡¯s slaughter of them.

    They knew that they should have, according to their oath, yet for some reason, Wanderer couldn¡¯t find it within themself to care for the deaths of the terrible creatures, nor the eggs they crushed under their feet.

    Perhaps it was because of how numerous the centipedes were, or maybe it was their single-minded aggression, perhaps even it was their apparent lack of intelligence, but even though they knew they should, the Golem could not muster anything but apathy toward the blind creatures.

    ¡°Does this make me bad?¡±, they questioned, even when they had directly hurt one of the monsters themself, their dread was only born of incidentally breaking their oath.

    Perplexed, they sent their query to their Spirit, who had always been a faithful guide, and a moment later received their answer.

    Their attitude toward the monsters does not band them as good or evil, their Spirit explained, merely normal, most would have hated the centipedes for that they had hurt them.

    Though the advice calmed their turmoil a little, Wanderer still felt dissatisfaction toward their own thoughts, and so they pushed them aside for the time being, as they had done so many times before.

    Just as the smallest of the moons was about to fall under the horizon and surrender its domain to the sun, a soft creaking sound made its way to their ears, coming from behind them.

    Curious, Wanderer managed to push themselves into a sitting position and took their first real look at the area.

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    It seems the group had travelled a lot further underground than they had thought, because they were currently resting on the backside of a great mountain, which rose behind them, the tip of the colossal tree just visible over it.

    Away from the sheltered valley of the mountains, the landscape changed dramatically, where there was once lush pine trees and verdant grass was now nothing but shrubs and scraggly evergreens, the grass now a lighter, yellowish colour.

    At the base of the mountain began the great sea of long grass which they spied from the treetop, stretching as far as it could before the great black sands began.

    And just across from where they were sitting, clinging to the side of the mountain, was a modestly sized shack, its timber construction was old and worn, yet Wanderer could see that it was well cared for, and well loved.

    It had a little garden next to it, with a clothesline a few steps away and a cart sat next to a dingy little stable, an anxious horse its sole resident.

    Cutting through the grasslands like a gash against the earth was a long, straight path that led into the desert, and presumably back to the human city they had seen from the treetop.

    It was only after seeing all this that the source of the sound became apparent to them, the door to the shack having been opened, a man cautiously walking out.

    He was dressed in modest yet tough clothes, and while old, his body spoke of a life of hard work.

    He had a pitchfork grasped between his shaking hands, slowly but surely approaching the trio with evident fear in his grey eyes.

    Wanderer looked on with confusion, it was evident that this man was approaching to attack them out of fear, yes, but why would they not hide in their home instead?

    Their question did not stand for long, peeking their head around the door frame was a young girl, a child of about six or seven, who was watching their guardian face the Golem down.

    Perhaps the man had seen the shift of Wanderer¡¯s head or had simply checked behind them, but the man noticed the child and without taking their eyes off the Golem, reprimanded them.

    Unlike when they were being chased by the magi, Wanderer had time to attempt to decode the man''s words, working off Emio¡¯s visions.

    The man yelled, ¡°Carrere, not safe for wartigag chemfo, carrere quickly hide hemifo!¡±.

    Working off the words they knew from the old magi, Wanderer managed to pick out a few words and phrases, yet even if they could understand nothing, the intent behind the message was obvious, they were telling the child to hide.

    Logically, Wanderer knew that people would be scared of them, that fact had established itself in their mind, yet still it hurt them to be so harshly judged for something they had not done.

    Instantly their mind tried to think of ways to calm the man, show him they were friend not foe, yet they could not speak their language, had no mouth even if they knew it, and any action toward them would result in further fear.

    But like so many times before, their faithful Spirit provided an answer, and directed them to search their pouch for a gift.

    Wanderer began scouring the satchel, which by some miracle had survived the chase, and picked through the items inside.

    The books may make a good gift, but the Vessel wished to keep them, to learn the human¡¯s language, and by extension, more about the world.

    The next thing they picked up was one of the great blue shimmering coins, it was undoubtedly of value, even to Wanderer who had little use for money, its azure reflection entrancing the Golem.

    Finally, they grabbed a handful of the silver and red coins and decided them to be their gift, they had plenty and were likely still of worth to the man.

    Wanderer held out one of their hands, filled with shimmering coins and instantly the man tensed, hands held ever firmer on their weapon.

    Yet the Golem kept their arm ever static, and slowly, and with extreme caution, the man slowly approached.

    Taking a trifle of initiative, the Vessel moved their arm forward, swiftly yet gently.

    Expectedly, the man flinched back, yet quickly resumed their cautious approach, before finally snatching one of the coins out of Wanderer''s hand.

    The Vessel stood as still as ever, unflinching, until all the precious metal was gone, and the man backed away once again.

    Yet now he had a different look on their face, one still riddled with caution and confusion, yet it lacked much of the fear and hatred it possessed before.

    The man bowed once, coins still clutched in his fist, and backed away, stopping in front of the door to their little shack, and uttering a phrase, ¡°Sestrio¡±, something Wanderer could only assume translated to thank you.

    Before the man made their way back inside, Wanderer returned the bow, eliciting a bout of shock and confusion, delaying them a second before they closed the door and retreated inside.

    A great deal of joy flooded through Wanderer, not every human was against them, even if they started with a prejudice.

    ¡°They can be reasoned with!¡±, Wanderer proclaimed in their mind at the very thought that not every man had to be a foe, perhaps with time, they could even turn around the human''s view of them!

    Thoughts brimming with joy, the Golem and their friends began their trek down the steep mountain path, starting their long voyage toward the black desert.

 Reflection and Road

    Reflection and Road

    The party trekked down the mountainside, Wanderer with a spring in their step, Emio, having lacked a heartfelt experience to lift their mood, still rather tired.

    They found themselves traveling down a thin little trail pathed with loose gravel and stones, which led to the great paved road which struck through the sea of grass.

    Emio became a little more lively after they skulked off to find a different form, returning as some kind of tough shrubbery with dry leaves sprouting over their wooden body.

    Having little else to think about, the Golem¡¯s mind inevitably turned toward their travels, first examining the cave where they were created.

    They laughed a little in their mind at how naive they had once been, how unknowing of the world around them, finding unlimited wonder in a simple trick of the light.

    But their reflection brought with it a question, ¡°How did I come to be?¡±, they had no parent nor caregiver, (a concept they had gathered from the animals around them) and this fact caused them to feel a little inadequate, even the swarmlings cared for their young, protecting them to the last.

    What was even the point of a parent, they asked themself, to protect and nurture, guide and help, and if so why did they not have one?

    They thought back to the many trials and tribulations they had faced throughout their journey, the fog-beast, Magi and centipedes, perhaps if they had a parent they would never have been in those situations, have to bear the scars they gave.

    Their Spirit spoke to them, suggesting an answer to their question, urging them to review two memories they had accrued.

    The first was at the very beginning of their life when they had first come to consciousness and their Spirit had made itself known, the second was at the base of the great tree, where they had seen their kin fight and fall.

    Initially, the Vessel found little connection between the two memories, confused as to why they were chosen, yet with time, the reason for choice became clear.

    Dust.

    When the Golem was killed, their terracotta body shattered into dust, collapsing into a small mountain of fine powder, and when Wanderer awoke, they had to crawl out of a fine dust that covered them completely.

    There was little light when they first witnessed the world, not enough for their unenhanced vision to make out the nature of the dust that surrounded them, yet it was fine and copious, much like what was left from a Golem would be.

    Their mind was quick to jump toward the obvious conclusion, that their parent was dead, but on further review, another option presented itself.

    ¡°Perhaps all Golems are born in dust¡±, yet if this was the case, why had their guardian abandoned them so young?

    These thoughts plagued their mind, useless worries repeating over and over, for a moment they almost turned around and attempted to march back to the cave where they woke, though it was an idea that was quickly refuted by a simple contemplation of the dangers that rested in their way.

    Their Spirit interrupted their anxieties with a addition to their thoughts, that while in all likelihood their carer was dead or gone, they were not without guidance or companionship.

    From the beginning, Spirit had been there, always watching and guiding Wanderer forward, even if their own guidance was not perfect.

    More recently, Emio had joined their fold, saving the Vessel''s life time and time again, proving themself to be reliable till the bitter end.

    A well of gratefulness rose up inside Wanderer, only partially managing to cover the hollow feeling their parent¡¯s absence provided.

    They once again felt a great benevolence for their friends and took solace in the feeling.

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    The snap of a dry stick under their hooves drove Wanderer back to reality, and it was only now that they had realised that while they were walking in a new place, they hadn¡¯t even bothered to observe the environment around them, too caught up in their own mind.

    Instantly they set to work taking in their surroundings, every sight, sound and texture.

    Beneath their hooves, they walked on a small gravel trail, old and overgrown with weeds and speckled with half-rotten twigs and shrivelled mushrooms.

    The area around them was populated with dry shrubbery and large boulders resting on dry, green-yellow grass and tree bark.

    Towering above the group like monoliths rose massive, twisting, off-white trees that shed their bark much like a snake, rolling off them in tight sheaths.

    Despite their difference in structure, the robust trees shared the pine needles that came from their cousins, who rested just on the other side of the mountain, hidden away in their damp valleys.

    Constantly, the area was filled with a light groaning and rustling, as consistent yet potent wind dashed itself against the mountain face.

    It is because of this wind, Wanderer realised, everything on the mountainside was so robust and scraggly, as everywhere it touched it seemed to whip moisture away, forcing the plantlife that could survive on the mountain face to become tougher and more conservative than its sheltered neighbours.

    There was animal life here too, possum-like creatures leapt from tree to tree, carried by the constant winds on furry wings, on the ground, Wanderer caught glimpses of tiny, little lizards, darting from rock to rock, seemingly afraid of some coming danger.

    And it wasn''t long before this danger revealed itself, moving like a blur, an insect the size of a cat, so camouflaged that even the Golem didn''t see them, leapt at the skink like an envoy of death, before stuffing the unfortunate creature into its mandibled mouth.

    A little shocked by the sudden appearance, the Vessel resurveyed the area and discovered that on every fourth or fifth tree, one of the camouflage creatures waited in ambush.

    So engrossed were they in counting the arthropods, that Wanderer didn''t notice that their verdestry companion had grown curious of the creatures, slowly approaching one and raising a shrubbed tendril to poke at it.

    Initially, the stickbug moved away, calmly taking itself a step or two away from its previous position on the tree trunk, before camouflaging with its new environment and resuming its ambush position.

    Yet a curious Emio was a relentless one, and after several more pokes, the insect fought back against the offending pseudopod.

    It leapt quickly onto the thin tendril, struggling to find a grip before sinking its mandibles into the branch-like limb.

    Despite tempting fate, the verdestry was not expecting such sudden retaliation, physically propelling themselves in the air a little from the shock, before panickedly waving the creature around, trying to shake the thing off.

    Wanderer had to step in the prevent the insect from being smashed into the floor, managing to pull it off after only a moment of struggle, where it then retreated to the same tree it was taken from and resumed its position.

    Despite Emio¡¯s adverse reaction, the bug had done very little true damage, its mandibles built to eat small, squishy lizards not tough, magically animated shrubbery, and so the whole incident caused a great deal of mirth within the group, Wanderer and their Spirit both sharing a light laugh about it.

    After they all calmed down from the debacle, the Golem set their sights on the road ahead, quite literally, just a few hundred steps before them lay the massive road they had seen from afar, sprawling like a river.

    To their left lay the ocean of swaying grass, swelling like waves as it got moved by the wind, only the rare insect mound breaking up its natural splendour, and past it lay the massive desert they had seen from afar, the rising sun¡¯s azure rays reflecting off the black sands.

    To their right, the stone path wound its way up the mountains, through the valleys and peaks before reaching the city of man they had seen from so far away.

    Clustered together like rocks in gravel, stark white buildings with blue accents rose from the mountainside from which they were built, each one cylindrical with domed roofs and small yet numerous windows.

    The sight of all this baffled Wanderer, just from the sheer scale of it all, the city covered nearly the entire mountain on which it was built, and the road they were now standing on stretched far into the distance in both directions, the fact that this was all built by humans made it seem all the more impossible.

    ¡°That might not even be the greatest of the cities¡±, they pondered .

    The very thought that the massive town that lay to their right may even be considered small to some was hard to grasp, yet, if humans could build that, why would they not make something greater?

    ¡°I suppose the road must lead somewhere¡±, why else would they build such a grand and massive structure if it only lead to one city, it was near certain that other cities existed.

    A part of Wanderer deeply wanted to see them, even from a distance, the one they could see appeared full of new wonder and intrigue.

    Yet they knew that entering it was a death sentence, they were unlikely to be able to give gifts to all the humans before they attempted to attack on sight.

    And so, with a heavy heart deprived of an adventure, they began their trek down the empty stone road.

 Fields and Parasites

    Fields and Parasites

    It was only after a quarter of an hour that Wanderer realised something rather peculiar, the road they now stood on was a massive construction, likely requiring hundreds of people to build, yet despite this, the path was nearly entirely empty.

    This perplexed the Vessel, the road was wide enough for ten people to walk side by side, yet as far as Wanderer could see there was not a soul in sight.

    Even more perplexing was that there was evidence that the road was regularly travelled, all down its sides were torches of a strange make, closer to candles than anything else.

    Every single torch, however, had only recently burnt out, some still lightly smouldering in the breeze.

    It was a odd conundrum, one even their Spirit was unable to decipher, their best guess being that those who used this road had a fear of the dark.

    ¡°But it is daytime, why would they not cross now?¡±, Wanderer proposed, only to be met with no answer, their guiding Spirit clueless.

    That was a foreign concept to Wanderer, that their Spirit, who had almost always shown them self to be a force of knowledge, might not know something.

    They had always come up with the best solution or the most logical idea, this was the only time in their short life that they had known them to be clueless.

    A pang of remorse flowed through the link between the two, the Spirit apologising for their lack of knowledge, and sending a word of advice, suggesting that they were not all-knowing, nor infallible and that the Golem should always remember as such.

    Humbled, Wanderer left the conversation as it was and turned their sights to Emio, who was silently slinking along behind them, their single runic eye staring intently into the grass.

    There in front of them, half hidden by the grass lay the corpse of a long legged, horse-like creature, its black and white stripes breaking the pattern of the field.

    It had long, long legs almost tripling its height, the whole lower part of these legs were bony and hard, seeming one giant hoof more than flesh and bone.

    Yet it was hard to tell what the dead animal would have looked like in life, as it was sucked dry of all its blood, becoming a shrivelled husk of what it once was, body full of puncture wounds where the zebra had been drained dry.

    ¡°What could have done this?¡±, the Golem thought.

    In their travels they had encountered all kinds of predatory creatures, yet they had all been quick and efficient in their attacks.

    But this murder was the opposite, it was a process that would have undoubtebly involved pain and suffering as the zebra was drained of its lifeblood, unable to escape.

    A quick glance over showed that Emio had now entered their attack position, wooded tendril raised like a snake would rear its head.

    Its single runic eye was surveying the grass intently, searching for something hiding in the field.

    They stood there stock still for a long moment, until a small area of grass shifted ever so slightly, unnoticeable if they weren¡¯t looking for it.

    A readied tendril shot out so fast the Vessel could barely track it, Emio latching onto the offender and fishing it out from its home, before holding it high in the air for all to see.

    It was a tick, almost the size of Emio, although much of that was due to its egregiously large body which was engorged with stolen blood.

    Its tiny head had a long, drill-like proboscis which was undoubtedly used to drain its victims dry and its legs were long and thin, frantically spasming in all directions in a futile attempt to escape the verdestry¡¯s grasp.

    Somewhere within themself, Wanderer was beginning to dislike insects, the swarmlings having started the prejudice and these ticks compounding on it, their parasitic, predatory nature creating a well of animosity.

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    ¡°But predators are part of nature, aren¡¯t they?¡±, the Golem realised.

    No matter where they intended to go, they would encounter predators and prey, they couldn¡¯t hate every animal they came across just because they followed their nature.

    And they didn¡¯t, Wanderer realised, the fog-beast, snakes and humans were all predatory, all having actively harmed Wanderer, and yet they didn¡¯t hate them, fear them perhaps but not hate.

    ¡°Then why do i dislike the ticks, when they have yet to harm me?¡±, the swarmlings were more traumatic and inflicted more pain than any other threat before them, so the prejudice against them was logical.

    Yet the insectoid parasites had yet to even acknowledge their existence, let alone harm them, so why did they have such an innate resentment against them?

    An image flashed through their mind, one of a zebra gracefully exploring the tall grass, before being dragged down by a swarm of ticks, before slowly and agonisingly drained of their blood, trapped.

    Perhaps that was it, the reason why Wanderer was so against the parasitic monsters, those that they killed were trapped, unable to move, unable to explore, only able to reflect on their misery.

    The very thought of it opposed the Golems'' nature, an insult in all but words.

    Wanderer reached up and took the bug from Emio¡¯s grasp, it would be a simple action to end the creature''s life and the Vessel was sure there was no shortage of them in the grass.

    Yet they wouldn''t, even if Wanderer had not taken an oath of pacifism, the arachnid didn''t deserve to die just for its nature, the creature was merely following its instincts.

    The Golem set the creature down on the floor, watching cautiously to make sure it didn¡¯t turn around and attack them.

    Once the tick was freed, however, it didn''t attack, nor run away, merely slowly wandered off into the grass like nothing had ever happened.

    That was peculiar to the group, the insects did not appear to be particularly intelligent creatures, yet Wanderer would have expected them to at least acknowledge their existence.

    Perplexed, the party travelled on, Wanderer always keeping a cautious eye on the field surrounding them, half expecting a ravenous horde of parasites to break out at any moment.

    And so the party trekked forward till the sun reached high in the sky, lighting the sea of swaying grass with a light blue tinge and heating the air till it became a pleasant warm.

    As they walked the scenery changed a little, the grass remaining much the same, yet now, great, rotund baobab trees rose from the ground, their trunks as thick as their canopy was wide.

    Eventually, Wanderer worked up the courage to wade through the grass, and while they occasionally caught a glimpse of a tick moving around its home, neither they nor Emio caught any resistance from the arachnids.

    Further inspection of these trees showed that they were covered by tiny little termites, their bodies a metallic green, these creatures spilling from one of the numerous insect mounds that rose from the field.

    Yet these insects, while fascinating with their rigid trails and orderly work, were over-shined by the herd of zebras standing under the shade of a nearby tree.

    While much of their features could be gained from the shrivelled corpse, it didn''t truly compare to the real thing, each one a towering, kind-looking creature with their long legs allowing them to remain safely above the grass and the enemies it harboured.

    The Golem slowly approached, careful not to scare them away, yet the horse-like creatures seemed just as curious of the Golem as the Golem was of them, as they approached in much the same way.

    ¡°Why aren''t they scared?¡±  they wondered.

    Nearly every other creature Wanderer had encountered was at least cautious of them, why then were the zebras approaching them so casually?

    They thought on it for a moment, as the friendly mammals strode over, before their Spirit provided an answer, stating that they did not fear Wanderer because they have never had to fear.

    The Golem had yet to see any true threat to the herd, besides the ticks which they avoided with their innate height, as such it is likely they had never had to fear other animals, and as such had no reason to fear Wanderer.

    A bolt of joy shot through the Vessel, causing them to abandon their previous caution and run up to the long-legged creatures, who, with only a light flinch of shock, became receptive to the Golem and began to sniff them, determined to work out the new arrival.

    A tiny shot of jealousy coursed through Wanderer, an new emotion to them, they had no nose and as such could not smell causing them to wonder what it was like, a whole new world of sensations that they could have been explored.

    Wanderer raised a single hand toward the beast''s side, and seeing no adverse reaction to it, began to stroke the short fur of the zebra in front of them.

    A delighted neigh erupted out from the creature, as it greatly enjoyed the contact and before long, half the herd had gathered around to receive pats from the Golem.

    Even Emio tried their hand at the action, with debatable levels of success, their shrubbed body making for a rather scratchy rub, and seeing their relative failure they grumpily resigned to take their traditional place atop Wanderer''s head.

    But just as Wanderer had relaxed into the blissful state they found themself in, fate felt it right to intervene, ripping the group''s attention away by a terror-filled scream.

    Immediately they turned toward the source and came upon a terrible sight, just a few hundred steps away a carriage, towed by two horses and filled to the brim with candles and torches, sat next to a group of humans, one of whom strayed too far into the grass and was being descended upon by the ticks.

 Cruelty and Anger

    Cruelty and Anger

    The man was dressed in tattered rags, much like the humans who killed the Golem, and had a dark skin tone which stood out amongst the pale tall grass.

    Unlike Wanderer, the ticks had not seen it fit to leave the man be and were brutally descending upon him, heedless of the soul-wrenching screams, plunging their drill-like mouths into his body.

    In the grass, where they were dispersed and far apart, it seemed that the ticks were few and far between, yet now the true scale of the infestation became apparent, in just a few moments ten of the creatures were upon the man, and lines of parting grass signified that there were more arriving.

    Wanderer didn¡¯t even have time to question why the ticks would attack the man but not them, they sprinted toward the source of the screams hoping they weren¡¯t too late this time.

    As they ran, a sound broke through the pain-filled screaming, one that seemed an antithesis of the events in front of them, a raucous and hearty laughter.

    There, sitting in a cabin at the front of the carriage, sat a rather large, burly man, in his left hand he held a cruel whip, in the other a flask.

    He was doubling over in malicious laughter, only disturbed by the occasional sip of some unknown liquor, a few steps away from him stood a woman of a similar state to the injured man, also dressed in rags, they looked onto the unfolding scene with evident pain yet did not attempt to help.

    After a moment, the laughing man seemed momentarily disturbed by something, resulting in them banging with one arm on the back of their booth, an action which caused a final person to hurriedly begin cranking a lever that led into a complex contraption.

    The machine reminded them of Emio''s ritual, always moving and shifting to create an ongoing spell, little pieces and arms of a copper-coloured metal twirling and dancing with dizzying precision.

    So far, Wanderer had happened upon many different types of magic, the violent chaos of fire, the stalwart power of earth and the ever-growing wildness of plant magic, yet the runes flaring from the curio showed a new kind of magic, ice.

    A part of their mind itched to stop and analyse the scene, to work out why there were signs of merriment from the man as his companion was being devoured across from him, or to stop and wonder at the miraculous contraption that was whirring only a few steps away from them, but they had no time.

    They had arrived at the man, still weakly crying in pain, yet much reduced from what it once was.

    The Golem set to work, ripping the parasites out from the man''s body with reckless abandon, caring little for the damage it did, the ticks would do more if they were left alone.

    Yet as fast as Wanderer could take them away, more came rushing out of the grass, each ignoring Wanderer and Emio and darting directly toward the human.

    After a few precious seconds attempting to fight the tide, Wanderer realised that they had to move their patient somewhere out of the reach of their attackers.

    Carrying the human in their four clay arms, they rushed out of the tall grass and toward the carriage, eliciting a yell from the woman in rags and a sudden stop to the laughter.

    While Wanderer''s only thoughts were on saving a life, those on the road saw a massive monster of clay, splattered with blood while holding a dying man in their arms and a many-limbed demon of branches and leaves looming behind them.

    Yet their screams and yells fell on deaf ears, Wanderer''s mind much too focused on the task at hand, too focused to even notice the sharp drop in temperature.

    By some miracle, the ticks did not pursue, only a few managing to make it onto the road before they scurried back to their home.

    Yet their absence did not place the dying human out of danger, the monster''s savage mouths having ripped holes in the man''s body that were currently leaking deep, red blood.

    ¡°I must stop the bleeding¡± Wanderer realised.

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    Wanderer did not think they would be able to sculpt the human''s flesh like they did their own, Humans were strange creatures with things like bones and skin, both of which weren''t particularly malleable.

    A flashed image of cloth shot through the Vessel''s mind, a bolt of inspiration from their Spirit, causing Wanderer to rapidly look around for some kind of fabric.

    Their first thought was the books and scraps of paper in their satchel, yet they were old and brittle, more likely to dissolve than absorb.

    The Golem¡¯s gaze turned to the rags that partially covered the man, too tattered and destroyed by the ticks to be of much use, yet they gave Wanderer an idea.

    The Vessel turned toward the other humans around them, all were terrified but Wanderer had no time to rectify this, the man on top of the cart and woman were wearing little better than the dying man in front of them, but the burly human who had once been laughing was ripe for the picking.

    In opposition to the others, he was wearing a thick cotton coat, (likely to combat the cold that covered the area), it was in good condition and would likely work well to staunch the bleeding.

    Wanderer turned around and started running toward them, unwilling to waste what little time the wounded man had left, hardly even noticing when their target started shouting to the woman next to him.

    ¡°Keep tesiko dertag away from kio, keep kio safe, quickly¡±, the man barked, whilst shoving the damsel in front of him, taking refuge behind her.

    The woman had been cowering before Wanderer had even arrived in her line of sight, but now she was trembling with fear as she was forced into a collision course with a very determined Golem.

    Wanderer didn''t quite understand why she was standing in their way to begin with, when compared to the likes of Emio, Wanderer could be considered still quite weak, yet a single look toward the woman¡¯s emaciated body showed that the Golem could push her aside like a feather.

    As Wanderer approached, the woman seemed conflicted, their mind warring between unknown possibilities, all involving a great deal of fear.

    At the last possible second, just as Wanderer was preparing to push her out of the way, she leapt to the side, slamming into the cart as she did so, then dashing and hiding in the protected booth.

    Now the Vessel''s target was abandoned of its forced protector and standing somewhat helplessly in the middle of the road with an expression of pure rage on their face, their only protection being the whip they brandished in their hand.

    The man attempted to fight, slinging the long cord at Wanderer, and while it certainly hurt it didn''t do anywhere near enough damage to stop them.

    A wrestle ensued, the man fighting for his life and the Golem only trying to rob him of his coat, it was a struggle for both parties, the human being no pushover in terms of strength, but the Golem was four-armed and spirit-blessed, allowing them to win out in the end.

    Leaving a terrified and bruised man in their wake, Wanderer rushed back to their injured ward, finding them unconscious and pale from the blood loss, running out of time.

    The Vessel set to work, tearing the cloth into strips, and tightly wrapping them around the man''s many wounds.

    Wanderer didn''t know of any knots or bindings, having to settle for wrapping the fabric around the wounds as many times as they could manage and hoping the bandage held.

    Wanderer stopped to observe their handiwork, luckily the man no longer seemed to be openly shedding blood, yet they still seemed pale and wouldn''t wake up, the Golem simply didn''t know enough about humans to tell if they would survive.

    The Vessel was disturbed from their worries by the crack of a whip and the newly familiar scream of a human.

    Behind them, the burly man had dragged the woman out of her hiding place inside the cabin and threw her to the floor, brutally flogging them with a look of unrighteous rage.

    It didn''t make sense to Wanderer, ¡°why is he doing this¡±, they questioned, were the two not friends?

    Emio protected the Golem because they were friends, the woman protected the man, so they should be friends too, and friends don''t hurt each other.

    It was then that Wanderer noticed the fact that wounds covered the woman¡¯s back, old wounds from before the current day.

    But if the man regularly hurt the woman why did they not run away, no one would want to remain around someone who abused them.

    Their Spirit provided an answer, they stayed because they had nowhere to run.

    What could they do, they were weak and starved (likely intentionally) they stood no chance of escaping on foot.

    It was then that Wanderer understood why the wounded man was being attacked in the first place, he had likely taken his chances and tried to escape into the grasses, the ticks having cared little for how righteous their cause.

    And it all clicked into place, the cruel laughter was because of the failed escape attempt, somehow funny to the imprisoner and the whip was not needed to kill people, but to cause pain and fear in its victims.

    By all means, the people around Wanderer were trapped, by terror instead of physical barriers.

    And as this terrible realisation dawned on the Golem, a new emotion surged through their clay body.

    Rage.

 Restraint and Justice

    Restraint and Justice

    Throughout their short life, Wanderer had felt a lot of things, fear, joy, confusion, wonder, all these emotions were now familiar to them, but as they stood looking upon the imprisoner, slaver, a new emotion crashed like a lightening bolt upon their soul, suffusing them entirely.

    It felt like fire and brimstone had welled within their soul, not content to be contained, it felt like the volcano they had seen from so far away was concentrated inside of them, it felt like fear, except they did not need to fear anything, they were the one to be feared.

    The Golem didn¡¯t even notice themself move, one moment they were standing still and the next the slaver was attempting to crawl away in terror, leg bending at an unnatural angle.

    Their escape attempt was as futile as the attempt of the man they had imprisoned, in an instant Wanderer was upon them, four arms preparing to fall.

    The first punch was the weakest, coming from their deformed lower left arm, being only half the size of the others it could only manage to reach their shoulder, forcing their arm out of place but not having quite enough force to break it.

    The next punch was not as forgiving as the first, landing squarely in the man¡¯s face, Wanderer felt the crunch as the slaver¡¯s nose crumbled underneath their fist and heard a cry of pain emanate from their victim¡¯s throat, but they did not stop.

    The third punch came in with just as much power as the last, forcing the man thoroughly into unconsciousness as a few teeth flew from their mouth, and Wanderer knew that the next punch would be the last.

    Yet it never arrived, as wrapped around Wanderer¡¯s final arm was a steadfast vine of wood, one of the many tendrils of Emio.

    ¡°How dare they¡±, was the Golem¡¯s first thought, the human deserved what he was getting and the world would surely be better off without him, so why would Emio get in their way.

    Yet the emotions flowing through the verdestry (as shown by the movements of their body) were not those of righteous smugness nor want for pacifism, rather, Emio felt betrayed and angry that Wanderer was doing the very thing that they themselves had forbidden.

    And with that realisation, the Vessel felt as if they had been thrown in a body of water far deeper and colder than any they had ever imagined, their whole body freezing as they came to terms with the ramifications of what they had done, how close they had come to breaking their oath, and how quickly they had been willing to throw it aside.

    Horrified, Wanderer threw themself off the unmoving body, only now noticing that their own figure was coated with blood, much of it from the man they rescued, yet some of it was from their own efforts.

    The Golem collapsed on the ground, back leaning against the cart as they entered a state of panic, mind whirling with conflicting emotions and uncertainty.

    There was anger that they did not show restraint, fear of what they could be capable of, acceptance that humans were scared of them for good reason and a tiny piece of their mind that said that what they had done was right, was fair.

    But life isnt fair, their Spirit provided in a resolute tone, as if they themselves had only just made up their mind on the situation.

    At no point in Wanderer¡¯s short life had anything been fair, not since the moment they had walked out of the cave, if the Golem truly wanted to be fair, they should show mercy to offset the injustice nature had shown them.

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    The Vessel slowly stood on two shaking legs, ¡°That makes sense, I suppose¡±, They thought.

    Wanderer loved nature, it is what provided them with the greatest sense of adventure and exploration that they thrived upon, but they did not need to follow in its footsteps.

    As much as nature was beautiful, it was cruel as well, constantly propelling those beholden to it to kill and destroy to survive, and if they did not submit, they were killed themselves.

    Yet why would Wanderer have to take that example, already they had defied it with the oath they had so nearly broken, why not act as a stabiliser for its cruelty, to aim to aid instead of destroy.

    Yet how could they say that, when not five steps away lay the broken body of the man they had so nearly beaten to death, one who had been consumed in well-deserved fear only moments ago?

    ¡°Perhaps it is my nature to destroy¡±, they dreaded.

    The only other they had seen of their kind was a near embodiment of power and devastation, cutting down foes like grass, and the instant fear the humans felt when they faced Wanderer showed that the larger Golem was not a singular case.

    And had not Wanderer resorted to violence every time they didn¡¯t know what to do, they lashed out instinctively time and time again, against the magi, the fog-beast and the swarmlings.

    Wanderer looked down upon their blood-covered arms, three long with armour-like banding and one shorter and  inconsistent, all but the top right slightly deformed by the force of their blows.

    The Golem spent a moment just standing there, clenching their hands into fists and relaxing them again, studying them as their mind slowly made its decision, a decision that involved the Vessel opening their satchel and taking one of the large, blue coins from inside.

    They left it on a box on the cart, careful not to scare the two uninjured humans into doing something stupid, and stepped back ten steps, trying their hardest to look unthreatening.

    At the sight of the coin, the human¡¯s eyes lit up, apparently it was worth enough that the man atop the cart could overcome their fear of Wanderer and snatch it after just a few seconds of hesitation.

    While their cautious eyes still rested on the Golem, they bowed once and began to leave, they didn''t trust themself to not be a danger to others, it was best for them to remove themself from the situation and work things out as they did what they had always done, wander.

    Without so much as looking back, Wanderer began down the long road, mind turning over recent events and filled with unresolved emotions.

    Emio, who at some point abandoned their previous form and now resembled the grass surrounding them, took a place wrapped around Wanderer''s shoulders, intently looking back onto the scene behind them.

    The torches which were all burnt out before were now lit, and giving off an acrid smoke, replacing them likely being the intention of the slaver.

    Feeling that they needed a distraction, Spirit brought a fact to notice, now that the roadside torches were burning, the telltale signs of ticks moving in the grass were nearly erased.

    Wanderer chuckled a little in their mind, a grim chuckle, it seems the reason humans had deserted the road was because there were no torches to keep the ticks at bay.

    Of course that raised the question of why those in the carriage were unharmed, likely something to do with the cold-generating ritual, the Golem guessed.

    A flash of memory flowed through the Vessels mind, that of the slave''s hot blood running down their body as they carried them to safety, hot blood dripping on cold clay.

    ¡°They sense heat¡±, Wanderer concluded.

    At all times the creatures had ignored both Emio and the Golem entirely, yet when the man, who possessed the heat of his body was unprotected by the area of cold, they didn''t hesitate in their ruthlessness.

    But this solved mystery brought their mind back to the slave they had left behind, badly bandaged and unconscious, Wanderer had no idea whether they would live or die, and they could only hope their comrades would help them.

    But they couldn''t go back now, couldn''t bring themself to, they needed to work out their mind and their actions.

    And as the road stretched out before them, the group pressed forward, all in a great deal of turmoil.

 Extra 1: The Thoughts of the Liberated

    Extra 1: The Thoughts of the Liberated

    For the tenth time that day, Shreshka both cursed and blessed their saviour.

    Cursed them because they had undoubtedly made them outlaws from the simple-landers, likely to be hunted down by all those who would take the bounty.

    Blessed them because they had beaten the Orsha-obeying hell out of their captor.

    She turned her eyes to the heavily bandaged man lying in the coach, another person who owed a debt of gratitude to the odd creature.

    ¡°Assuming he will live to repay it¡±, she thought grimly.

    The man was named Hureheh, and even from the relatively few interactions they had shared with each other, she could tell he was one of those people who was a little too brave for their own good, searching for struggle instead of letting Orsha provide.

    Currently, he was lying in the protected cabin, no longer openly bleeding but running a high fever and thoroughly unconscious.

    Their mutual saviour had undoubtedly saved him from bleeding to his death, yet their hasty bandages had not spared them the sickness that followed.

    Retlafeh, her only other companion Shreshka had who was still in the realm of the woken, was the child of a doctor in their home city, and while they were sold to slavery when they were young, they still picked up a little here and there.

    He said it was unlikely Hureheh would survive and even if they did they would forever be scarred from the event.

    All in all, there were worse situations for an Orshaka to be in, if they died then they would be judged by Orsha, and likely pass through due to their death fighting to the bitter end.

    And if they survived, then they would bear the marks of their struggle, and if they ever managed to return home, be celebrated.

    The escaped slave shivered a little, the cold emanating from the intricate machine next to her causing the scars on her back to twinge with just a little bit more pain, but it was still better than the alternative, that being the heat-seeking bloodsuckers descending upon them like ants to nectar.

    After cranking the lever a few more times, Shreshka got off the back of the carriage and walked alongside Retlafeh, who was driving it forward with the two stocky horses at the front.

    Retlafeh was a quiet man, rarely saying anything beyond a few stoic words at a time, whether this was because of the many years of harsh servitude they had served or if it was merely their nature, Shreshka did not know.

    Grasped in his hand was the gift the Golem had left, a coin made of Star-Silver, or Andromio as they had heard it called by the Earliag.

    That coin was another reason the woman had mixed feelings toward their saviour, it was a gift more valuable than any she had ever received, and one many, many people would kill for.

    The asteroid-mined metal was likely worth enough that even spilt between the three of them, it would be worth enough for them all to live a life of luxury for the rest of their days.

    She never thought she would ever see one, it was something only talked about in the context of legends, that only the richest magi and kings could obtain.

    Some part of her mind wanted to deny that such a valuable artifact could fall into her hands, but there was no denying its otherworldly shine, a facet that had been shared by the metal in all its stories.

    She was interrupted from her musings by a groan of pain from the bound man sitting next to Retlafeh, their former captor who was still unconscious.

    The mere reminder of the man¡¯s existence soured the woman¡¯s thoughts, turning her mind back to the many beatings and worse she had endured at the vile bastard''s hand.

    Shreshka would be the first to admit she felt a spark of joy at seeing his bloodied face and missing teeth, the man had been avoiding the command of Orsha for likely his whole life, protected by the misty valleys and colossal trees of his homeland.

    Many a time she and Retlafeh had deliberated about what to do with the slaver, and while neither disagreed that he deserved to be killed, the disagreement rose about whether he should be.

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    Shreshka didn¡¯t have a second of hesitation in her mind, feed the Earliagio to the ticks and watch him scream like Hureheh was forced to.

    But while Retlafeh enjoyed the thought, he believed that the Golem had spared the man for a reason, even if he didn¡¯t know what it was, and that leaving the slaver alive would help pay off their debt to the Vessel.

    The woman didn¡¯t know what to make of that, how could he possibly make out the intentions of a creature that showed up, saved a man¡¯s life, beat another to the brink of death, gifted them a priceless artifact and then left as fast as they came?

    Their companion didn¡¯t have an answer to that, but he did have an argument in favour of the Golem¡¯s intentions.

    ¡°I was on a Golem hunt¡±, the stoic man recalled, a fact that shocked Shreshka, not many of the unfortunate slaves and prisoners the Earliag ¡°recruited¡± into their hunts came back alive.

    ¡°What few friends I had gathered during my life were felled like wheat under the blades of the Golem¡±, Retlafeh began, ¡°It was a symbol of death and destruction, taking lives with no care for the effort that had led up to that point.¡±

    ¡°A golem, a true Golem does not save lives, yet this one did. Why? I do not know, but I know there must be a reason and a major one at that¡±.

    Shreshka didn¡¯t have a rebuttal to that, because of the argument and the grim subject in equal measure, and so they swallowed their hatred and kept silent.

    Eager to keep their mind off the situation, she reviewed for what seemed the fourteenth time today, the many peculiarities of their saviour.

    Firstly was their size, standing a little over even the tallest humans, and while large, it was nothing close to the size she had heard about in the many tales she had heard of the creatures.

    And while she could dismiss that as the overblown ravings of storytellers who had heard it from other overblown storytellers, the fact that the Golem had two legs and not four was a little hard to dismiss.

    What¡¯s more, Retlafeh had directly confirmed that that was not how a Golem should look, it would be enough for Shreshka to doubt that the creature was a Golem, if not for the distinctive hat-like head and four arms.

    And then there was the mysterious monster that had prevented the Golem¡¯s attack, it looked to be made of the same hardy shrubs she had occasionally seen on the mountainsides, some type of camouflage no doubt, because surely it couldn¡¯t actually be made of plants.

    Unlike the Golem, Retlafeh could provide no help in identifying the creature, even with such unique traits as its singular glowing eye.

    The best guess they had was that it was some strange creature that hailed from the untamed jungle south of the lands the Earliag had claimed as their own.

    Shreshka let out a chuckle, the rainforests were used as a catch-all for any creature that was of unknown origin, but there was no way such a creature would be able to travel through half the empire without being found.

    Retlafeh called out to her, drawing her attention to a winding path leading up a mountainside, straight through the now much lower and more sparse grass.

    The path, hardly more than an animal trail, wound up the rugged mountainside before resting at a small shack, where a man was working in a humble garden while a child was trying to feed an old horse a carrot.

    ¡°This is probably our best bet for escape¡±, Retlafeh offered ¡°Too much farther and we will begin running into Earliag patrols¡±.

    Shreshka agreed, but quickly brought up other concerns, ¡°What do we do with the carriage and the Earliag?¡±.

    ¡°Leave them, let the horses free and take the machine, it might sell for a bit.¡± Retlafeh replied, ¡°As for the slaver, leave him here, if someone rescues him so be it, if not, then the ticks will get their second feast today.¡±

    The woman wasn''t sure what she thought of the idea, it solved the issue of whether or not to kill the man, taking the issue out of their hands and leaving it to nature while also allowing them to say they gave the slaver a chance.

    But it also felt impersonal, risky, not knowing if the slaver would die there or if the bounty hunters would be after them.

    She voiced the concerns to Retlafeh, who pointed out that as soon as the carriage was found empty, the knowledge of their escape will be known to all anyway.

    The sturdy ex-slave was already hoisting Hureheh onto his shoulders when Shreshka thought of her final issue with the plan.

    ¡°How are we going to convince some random Earliag to help us, let alone not report us to the cities?¡± she questioned, ¡°There are few of the simple-landers who have any sympathy for escaped slaves.¡±

    But Retlafeh only let out a chuckle at their concerns, ¡°Shreshka¡±, he started while holding the shimmering star-silver coin to the light.

    ¡°Those are a poor man''s problems.¡±

 Beliefs and Questioning

    Beliefs and Questioning

    Wanderer felt a little jealous of Emio.

    While Wanderer was being swallowed by an all too familiar pit of turmoil regarding their actions and beliefs, Emio was happily hanging off their shoulders, letting their many tendrils sway in the light breeze.

    Occasionally, their runic eye would be drawn to the grasses as a zebra walked by or to the great branches of a nearby baobab tree when their leaves rustled in a certain way.

    The zebra herds had tried several times to interact with Wanderer, yet the Vessel''s soul was too heavy for them to regain the previous joy they had at seeing the creatures, and so they passed them off.

    A pitiful chuckle rang out through Wanderer''s mind, far too often had they found themself in this same inner turmoil, whether it was guilt over killing an innocent man or shame over being unable to save another, their travels had been saturated with mental hardship of all kinds.

    They didn''t know what to think, ever since they had taken the magi''s life, they had vowed to a pact of pacifism, preached that to Emio and were encouraged by their Spirit.

    Yet while their mind was set, time and time again their actions had not followed.

    They hadn''t even attempted to stop Emio from killing the swarmlings, nor themself when they had attacked the one that grabbed onto their leg, the creature only living on merit of their own durability.

    But the mountain peak of their failings was their rage-driven attack against the slaver.

    There was no excuse for that one, no attack or frantic chase, just an idea, just another''s actions, they didn''t think or consult their Spirit, they just attacked.

    How could they preach peace when they didn''t even bother to mentally justify their own actions, let alone try to talk to the man, before rushing to end his life?

    It sickened Wanderer, that they so easily abandoned their beliefs when faced with strife of any description.

    ¡°But what even are my beliefs?¡±, they thought.

    How could they begin to restrict themself if they had only a vague direction?

    ¡°I believe that everyone should be free¡±, free to explore, free to think, free to live their life without others controlling them.

    Their Spirit agreed with the sentiment, fitting well within what they themselves propagated.

    ¡°I believe that death is wrong¡±, after all, how could one be free if they are dead, nothing should ever have to die.

    Their Spirit, however, did not sit idly on that assertation.

    As Wanderer had observed before, death in nature was inevitable and for some creatures to live, others had to die.

    Would Wanderer just prevent every animal from following what nature had told it to do, maybe killing the creature in the process?

    The Golem struggled on this for a while, eventually succumbing when they could find no better compromise, they resolved to let nature run its course when it did not involve those they cared for or other people.

    Again the Spirit approved, stating that not everyone can be saved, and it is not the Golem''s responsibility to save everyone.

    Wanderer wished they could come up with some method or idea that would allow everyone to be helped, but they couldn''t, nobody could, their Spirit was right.

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    Yet they were above the simple rules of nature, they had no need to eat and no reason to fight, meaning they didn''t need to kill and destroy.

    ¡°But if I am given a reason, should I fight?¡±  they questioned.

    It was reasonable that if they were in danger of death themselves they should be able to defend themselves.

    And perhaps someone greater than Wanderer could follow such rules, yet they had shown themself time and time again that they could not be trusted to judge when to fight and when to flee.

    They could not risk it, they could not kill nor fight, even if they had never made their original oath.

    ¡°But what about Emio, should I prevent them from doing the same?¡±

    While it was true that Emio was more bestial than the Golem, more beholden to their instincts, they were intelligent enough to at least realise what Wanderer wanted and didn¡¯t want them to do and feel offended when the Vessel did those very things themself.

    In the past, Wanderer prevented Emio from killing other organisms (with exception of the swarmlings) yet if the Golem was going to let other creatures follow their predatory nature, why not Emio as well?

    Their Spirit cut in, saying that the Golem had decided not to intervene in the affairs of predators because of the necessity to death to their existence, Emio did not eat nor need to kill and as such, should be actively discouraged from killing, especially without reason.

    The Golem felt a small amount of ease as one of their many problems was solved, yet there was one last issue Wanderer could not afford to lack a resolution to, what should they do if they encountered slavers again?

    For a long moment, both Vessel and Spirit were stumped, imprisonment of others was simply unacceptable, neither of the two could wilfully let it continue, yet a slave owner was unlikely to just let their prisoners go, not without the use of force.

    The Spirit suggested that they could repeat their previous successes and give the coins they carried in their satchel to the oppressors, yet for one of the first times in their life, Wanderer disagreed.

    They didn¡¯t know how many of these people they would meet, but their supply of the coins was limited, and they had no idea of how to get more.

    And even if they had an unending store of money, it felt to them like they were rewarding people for doing something terrible.

    And so they were back where they started, at a loss on how to solve their problem, but unable to escape the need to solve it.

    ¡°To help them escape, that is my only choice¡±, it was unimaginable that anyone would want to remain a slave, and so, if Wanderer helped them escape they could be free without any use of violence, a perfect plan.

    For a hesitant moment, the Spirit seemed as if they were about to say something, whispers of the coming message lingering at the edge of the Vessel¡¯s mind, yet at the final moment, they backed out and left a simple agreement with Wanderer¡¯s statement.

    But the hesitation made the Vessel curious, their Spirit had never simply backed out from telling them something like that before, except for back when they had just found the entrance to the abandoned mine, and the Spirit showed them how they viewed the world.

    In a flash, the Golem''s curiosity shifted direction to the perplexing vision they had been shown by their Spirit, having near completely forgotten about the event.

    Wanderer almost began to interrogate their guide again before they caught themself, remembering the friction that was caused by their questioning last time.

    They knew logically that their mind could not properly comprehend what their Spirit sees, yet there was something about discovering a whole new sense and unseen world that called to them, to their discoverative nature.

    And so, with much difficulty, they decided they would leave the topic for now and come back to it when they had seen more of their own world and could get a better bearing on their Spirits.

    With that thought forcibly set aside, they returned back to their original thought, what did their Spirit neglect to tell them?

    Wanderer asked, careful not to seem demanding, and after a long moment of hesitation, the guide omitted their secret.

    The Vessel could certainly help some people to escape their imprisonment, but there will still likely be some that would not want to leave.

    Wanderer didn''t know how to react to that, the very notion that someone would want to remain trapped and enslaved was unfathomable to them.

    It confused them to such a point that when their Spirit simply insisted that they could not properly explain it, half due to not understanding it themself, the Golem didn''t even try to question further, instead turning their sights back on the road ahead.

    As soon as their mind returned to reality, they immediately felt that something was off, but they weren''t sure what.

    Looking around nothing seemed out of place, the trees were growing more common and the candles were still smouldering away at their scented wax, by all means, everything was much the same.

    It took them a minute before they realised the source of the uncomfortable feeling and its simple cause.

    For as the sun reached its apex and the trio trekked ever closer to the massive desert, the air had gotten increasingly hotter.

 Boredom and Realisation

    Boredom and Realisation

    The sun sweltered overhead, its ever-growing influence causing the air to ripple and distort, creating illusions that shimmered in the air.

    Wanderer had never experienced this kind of heat before, It was different from the burning fire of the magi¡¯s attacks, that heat was sharp and fierce, yet under the unrelenting sun the very air seemed to take some unknown grudge against them, punishing with impunity.

    Even the well-accustomed zebras began to falter, finding shelter under the ever-increasing baobab trees.

    The heat seemed to draw out their journey amongst the endless sea of grass, what felt like hours was merely a matter of moments, so the Vessel began to search for something to occupy themself in their journey.

    First, they tried to interact with Emio, successfully managing to pet the small creature for a while before they eventually grew bored and stalked off into the grass, out of sight.

    Wanderer wasn''t particularly scared of them running away, the verdestry often wandered off to entertain themself in one way or another, but they always returned eventually.

    For a moment they thought to converse with their Spirit a little more, yet they were tired and unresponsive after the incident and the conversation that followed, so the Vessel decided to leave them be.

    As their mind slowly turned over options of what to do, slowed a little by the heat, they eventually came across an interesting idea whilst thinking of Emio.

    Their friend was currently formed of many strands of dry grass, knotted and tangled repeatedly over itself, causing Wanderer to think if they could repeat the effect themself they could perhaps even create a new Emio in the process.

    Their wishful thinking thrived for a single moment before they remembered the vast ritual involved in the verdestry¡¯s creation, even with their inexperience knew that such a thing wasn''t easily replicated.

    Walking over to the roadside, they plucked a few particularly long strands of grass, finding the texture unexpectedly waxy, before attempting to wrap and tangle the strands around each other.

    At first, the Golem had no real goal in their mindless fidgeting, randomly weaving and tangling the strands together while their mind slowly turned over recent events.

    But eventually, they set their focus upon a singular objective, to tangle the grass in such a way that it wouldn''t fall apart.

    The process didn''t truly capture their attention until they created their first knot, however, a simple thing requiring the Golem to put the end of a strand of grass through a loop formed of the same strand.

    Once they figured that out, a new world of knots, loops and twists opened before them, the Vessel becoming entranced with their work, hardly even remembering to keep moving in their grass-based reverie.

    By the time they felt they could explore the wondrous world of rope no longer, the once proudly standing sun had hunched itself a little, readying itself to disappear within a few hours.

    Wanderer was glad that the air had cooled a little, making their thoughts a little clearer and their clay body a little less dry, both of which were rather unpleasant feelings.

    The Golem inspected the area around them, but other than the fact that the looming volcano seemed a little closer and the zebra packs were a little less common, there were no true changes.

    And as Wanderer looked over the unending expanse, the feeling they had been so desperately trying to stave off and ignore reeled its ugly head, boredom.

    It was a terrible, unpleasant feeling that itched and tore under the Golems clay skin, urging them to discover, explore, anything to escape the boring monotony.

    The Vessel began to wish they were somewhere else, somewhere new and exciting unlike the endless fields they found themselves in now.

    Yet as soon as they thought this a unbidden memory sprung to their mind, back when they had just been carried up the tree away from certain death by Emio.

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    Just before they were chased off the edge of the branch they were on, they were warned by their Spirit of a great potential danger.

    The danger that the beauty and glory in the world around them would fade as they forever searched for something new, that they would lose their love for adventure by being unwilling to see the intricacies of the world around them.

    And was that not what was happening here?

    Were they not succumbing to boredom in an environment they had not truly inspected, didn''t truly know anything about.

    They had only truly interacted with the zebra packs once, having been too deep in thought to truly relish the experience any other time the creatures approached.

    And that was without even mentioning the termites and baobab trees which they only took so much as a cursory glance at.

    How had they managed to have the audacity to get bored when there was so much yet to explore around them?

    Wanderer stopped their walking for a moment as their mind landed on a single phrase ¡°When did moving forward become more important than discovering the world around me?¡±

    And the more they thought on the question the more they realised, that had always been the case.

    How many details did they miss in the forests near their birth cave, was that not the very reason why they stopped their Spirit, so they could take in the world with greater detail?

    And how many types of fish and glowing coral did they give nothing more than a passing glance under the lake, only to forget about not a moment after?

    They needed to just stop and take in the world, not be content to just think on the world around them, they needed to truly know.

    And so the Vessel did, they stopped for a moment and just let the sounds, sights and feelings sink into them.

    They felt the slowly cooling air on their clay skin, a slight pain in their hooves where the rough road had worn down their soft feet, and the constant pressure of the light breeze.

    They saw the blue sun reflecting off the road in front of them, a zebra munching on some grass and acrid smoke rising into the air, coming from one of the many lit candles that lined the massive road.

    They heard the sound of rustling leaves and dancing grass as they were blown by the wind, the light clinking caused by the trinkets that hung from their hat-like head and to their own surprise, a slight murmuring came from their Spirit, as little fragments of their feelings and thoughts flowed from them unintentionally.

    This caused Wanderer to attempt to recall the last time they had attempted to analyse their Spirit, or for that matter, their entire soul.

    In tandem with the other thought, the Golem realised that they never had questioned their bond with the guide, they had always been there and so it never occurred to them to question it.

    They looked inside themself, to the place their spirit, soul and blessing resided and took in all there was to see.

    At their very core, their soul existed in a place of power, a glowing, humming ball of energy from which their thoughts and emotions emanated, it contained all their memories and ideas, in all reality, it was them.

    Wanderer spent a moment staring at it, wondering how they had never thought to inspect it before, they had always had the ability yet it had never occurred to them to truly take a proper look, only ever being something they had done in passing.

    After looking at it for a moment, and attempting to find the first time they had ever observed their soul, they realised that it was larger and more solid than it once had been.

    The first time they inspected their soul was when they first woke in the cave, having felt it when their Spirit spoke to them from beside it.

    Back then, it was hardly even there, it felt more like nebulous strands of thoughts and wisps of encoded instincts.

    But now it was different, the new memories they had created since then had solidified their essence into a solid shape, a far cry from the errant wisps it once was.

    From this ball of memories and thoughts stemmed a strand of foreign magic, a magic that directly connected to their Spirit.

    Their Spirit took a form similar to that of their soul, differing only because of the singular eye in the centre of its being.

    That eye was absently staring back at them while a light stream of curiosity filtered through their bond.

    They spent a moment staring at the Spirit with their mind''s eye before eventually moving on, feeling the interaction slightly awkward, a feeling only exacerbated by the complete lack of communication between the two.

    The next thing their thoughts were drawn to was the blessing that was bestowed upon them in return for freeing the earth Spirit.

    It rested next to their soul in a way that was similar to that of their Spirit, yet instead of connecting to their soul, it instead ran lines and pathways all around their body.

    They were similar to the veins you would find in many animals, connecting and looping all around the Golem''s body.

    And if the pathways were veins, then the blessing was the heart, forcing powerful magic from itself and down the channels in a single, continuous stream.

    Yet the Vessel couldn''t help but think where all this magic was coming from, and after a moment''s inspection, they found their answer.

    It took them a moment to realise the source of all the magic, not because it was small or hidden, but because it was so common that it didn''t stand out.

    All throughout their body, a steady stream of power slowly made its way toward their core.

    It fascinated Wanderer to no end, but they were brought out of their introspection by a piercing sound echoing throughout the land, emanating from a massive creature flying through the sky.

 Whale and Reconnaissance

    Whale and Reconnaissance

    The creature took a form similar to that of a whale, soaring through the air with its mouth wide open, yet instead of the expected grey and blue, it was coloured a subtle red, close to that ochre earth.

    Along the length of its body were long, thin wings that slowly and gracefully cut through the air, alternating in their movements so that when one wing went up, the next one across slowly fluttered down.

    On the belly of the massive beast were a number of protruding holes, from which a low yet forceful drone emanated.

    The gigantic beast was not alone, it was accompanied by a pod of other sky-whales, numbering seven in total.

    Most of the airborne mammals were significantly smaller, their skin a little deeper shade of maroon, implying they were lesser in age.

    Yet the one who had let out the cry, and the current sole object of the Golem''s attention, was the two parents of the pod, enrapturing them as they gracefully floated through the air.

    But the creatures were not alone, all around them were a swarm of vultures, swarming and tearing away at the flesh of the young whales.

    Another grieving cry echoed throughout the fields as one of the parents slowly turned itself to face its children, attempting to help them in any way possible.

    Wanderer watched on in horror, wishing they could help in some way yet knowing it was impossible, the majestic beasts were far above the earth and still a great distance away.

    Even still, had Wanderer not promised to avoid intervening in the activities of predator and prey?

    At that moment, one of the vultures tore through one of the main wings of a young whale, and with a distant cry of pain, the baby leviathan began to spiral down to the ground.

    The sky-whale spiralled slightly toward Wanderer, by luck of wind or fate and before the beast had even hit the ground, the Vessel was sprinting toward it.

    Several of the birds followed it on its crash landing, intent on retrieving their dinner, only stopping for a beat when their prey landed in the grassy fields before beginning their feast.

    By the time Wanderer reached the mammal, it was long dead, the vultures having made short work of its smooth hide and were currently carving a hole in its side with their cruel beaks.

    With a quick glance toward the Golem, the birds flew off, yet it was not because of the Vessel''s presence that the vultures fled, not even the nearby incense being enough to repel to the ticks from a free feast.

    Wanderer just stood there, soul aching to try and prevent the whale¡¯s corpse from being consumed, yet their mind knew there was no point, this was nature.

    In minutes the whale was a husk, all blood being sucked out of its body by the ravenous swarm before being left to rot under the hot sun.

    And throughout the whole process, Wanderer had just watched, being unable to help that which was already dead.

    ¡°This is what nature is like¡± they knew.

    Nature was cruel and unfair, the baby whale had no way to defend itself yet it was still killed and devoured without remorse, before being left to the scavengers once they had their fill.

    Unable to look upon the unmoving body any longer, Wanderer turned their sights back to the aerial slaughter.

    In a slight turn of good luck, the two parent whales were having some success in protecting their children, circling them as fast as possible and aggressively throwing their tails at anything that came too close.

    Yet for all it delayed the vultures, it did not prevent the inevitable, every now and then a bird would slip past and take a snap at one of the children, and it was only a matter of time before another one went down.

    Wanderer felt useless, they wanted to help yet there was nothing they could do, nothing but hope for a miracle.

    And by some fortunate twist of fate, that miracle came.

    Like a second sun, a ball of brightly burning fire shot into the sky, causing the once brightly lit land to seem dark and dull.

    And just as quickly as it came, it went fizzling out in a puff of smoke.

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    Yet despite the flare¡¯s sudden disappearance, it achieved its intended effect with excellence, the cowardly predators flying off.

    And if the first flare did not scare them away, the next three that shot into the sky most certainly did.

    After a few more circles, the older whales let down their guard, quickly continuing forward with a chorus of wails.

    And while they did watch the gigantic mammals slowly fly away into the setting sun, their mind was elsewhere, focused on finding the source of the bright lights.

    And after running forward for a few minutes, they soon found their culprits.

    There in front of them was a camp of humans, numbering fifteen or so, sheltered underneath a vast leather tent, placed upon a rocky platform off the side of the road.

    All sides of the canvas were closed in except for a single, wide opening on the front, facing Wanderer.

    Instantly Wanderer was hit with a dread, hoping that they would not have to encounter a slaver again and put their resolutions into action.

    Yet looking closer at the group, they all seemed to be in harmony, chatting with each other or doing menial chores, with no obvious division between appearance.

    But the Golem wasn¡¯t willing to risk it, they had to be sure that everything was ok, they had to do some reconnaissance, but how?

    They were a little surprised when their previously silent Spirit spoke up, suggesting Wanderer use the long grass to hide in.

    They quickly brushed off their surprise to follow their Spirit¡¯s suggestion, crawling slowly and stealthily through the grass until they had a clear view of the encampment.

    It occurred to the Vessel that this was one of the first times they had ever attempted to use any type of stealth, usually preferring to run away or face their problems head-on, it¡¯s a strategy they would try to use more.

    Wanderer settled themselves into a comfortable position and began to listen and watch the humans, intent on certifying that there were no prisoners among them.

    They lay down and strained their hearing, completely unprepared for when a long, grassy tendril lay itself on their shoulder.

    They nearly got up and bolted in fright before they realised that they only knew one creature that was made of grass, an extra wave of relief followed that realisation when they recognised the red-green, runic eye standing out from the tall grass.

    Simultaneously impressed and annoyed at their friend¡¯s stealth, they made a special effort to sign to the verdestry to hide and try to stay silent, so as to not attract the human¡¯s attention.

    Seemingly disinterested in the whole situation, Emio wrapped their tendrils around themself and lounged a few steps away from Wanderer, shutting out the world.

    The Vessel once again returned to their spying position, readying to strain their senses and disconfirm their suspicions, when two humans stormed out of the tent, neither seemingly happy about the situation.

    The largest of the two was a long and slender man, towering over their partner yet possessing so little muscle mass that they were distinctly non-imposing.

    Long brown hair contrasted with their olive skin, and they wore a set of green-brown clothing that made them feel distinctly different from the other light-skinned humans they had seen.

    In contrast, the other human was quite a bit shorter, yet carried such an imposing presence that it made little difference, they wore long, lose golden robe, frequently accented with every colour of the rainbow.

    On their face rested a dark stone mask, on which was carved a solemn face, yet this facsimile was betrayed by the fiery look of righteous anger in their eyes.

    ¡°Rio made us gurtrerio not safe with riote careless actions, triutiag can rio say in riote defence?¡± the smaller human began with a raised voice.

    The tall man immediately cried out in his own defence, ¡°Gio was only letriag gurager help the warlio!¡±

    Wanderer wasn¡¯t able to tell much from the fragments of the argument they understood, their knowledge of the language much too limited, yet from what the Golem was able to pick out, the man had done something wrong and was being reprimanded for it.

    The argument quickly picked up speed, which combined with Wanderers lacking understanding of the language, made their conversation near incomprehensible.

    For a while, the two went back and forth unaware of Wanderer¡¯s presence, and eventually the Golem zoned out from the argument, being unable to make out anything but gibberish.

    Wanderer hardly noticed when the curiously-dressed man brought out a robust contraption from a small bag at their side.

    It seemed quite like a crossbow, except smaller and mounted on a wooden handle, inside rested a red-tinted metal rod, which was half hidden in an embossed metal tube.

    It was quite obvious to the Golem that the tool was what drove off the vultures, even to Wanderer¡¯s inexperienced mind, the machine was obviously meant to launch something a great distance.

    Their mind got a little caught up upon how a metal rod was meant to set alight, but that doubt was discarded the moment the smaller of the two humans snatched the crossbow out of the man¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s why they are angry.¡±, the topic of the argument made sense now, for whatever reason, the masked human disliked the taller man saving the whales, and was scolding them for doing so.

    Wanderer¡¯s mind immediately went to what they could do with the flare-bow, no longer would they have to run from all their enemies if they could send a harmless flash of light toward them, to provide a distraction for their escape.

    And if they had had that, maybe they could have used it to scare off the ticks, much like the man had scared the vultures.

    And so Wanderer made up their mind, they would wait, and watch, and when they have the chance.

    They would steal the flare-bow.

 Heist and Defender

    Heist and Defender

    Wanderer waited patiently in the grass for another quarter of an hour before the two finally finished their argument with a statement in some way related to the setting sun, the tall human filled with dejection and the smaller a smug justice.

    Just as the sun was beginning to finish its northward hike across the sky and the first of the many moons poked its face above the mountains in the south, Wanderer moved from their hiding place in the grass and snuck around the cloth wall of the tent.

    Emio looked up for a second as they left, but quickly went back to their evening nap, not terribly bothered by Wanderer¡¯s departure.

    While the tent was permanently and sturdily built, it was still only pegged down and possessed large gaps around the floor in some places which Wanderer could spy under.

    The group of humans were mostly still active, many cooking around a fire or setting away their things in even smaller, individual tents and shelters.

    It seemed this group¡¯s purpose was to transport items, as they had vast crates filled to the brim with various trinkets and tools, all of which were stocked on a large caravan.

    Their Spirit drew their attention to a spot in one of the less populated areas of the tent, toward the back, where the short human they had seen from earlier sat watching over the group, their stone mask making what would be a somewhat normal scene take on an air of menacing.

    But even more important was their chosen target, the flare-bow, sitting on the ground next to the vibrantly coloured sentinel, just begging to be taken.

    Wanderer didn¡¯t need to be convinced of their plan twice, moving over to the side of the tent closet to their target and yanking out one of the pegs, allowing a big enough gap for them to crawl under.

    The short human, and by extension the flare-bow, were sitting upon one of the many large crates quite close to the wall of the massive tent, a perfect target for a stealth inclined Golem.

    That made Wanderer¡¯s plan easy, all they had to do was sneak up behind the human, snatch their prize and get back out, they hardly even had to worry about anyone but the watching guard, as the crate they were sitting on would hide the Vessel''s approach.

    Slowly but surely, they crawled toward their target, it was only a few steps away but the snail¡¯s pace the Vessel chose to adopt, (to preserve stealth) made it feel like years.

    ¡°I must be careful,¡± Wanderer knew.

    They knew that their body wasn¡¯t built for stealth, large and accented with reflective metals as it was.

    Despite this, they moved toward their goal step by step, on high alert for any signs that someone may have noticed their infiltration, but despite their paranoia, they detected nothing.

    After what felt like years but was likely only a matter of moments, the flare-firing utility was within their reach, and with its nearby protector none the wiser, the Golem slowly began to reach for their quarry.

    They had wrapped two of their long fingers around the handle, before the unaware guard shifted slightly in their seat, the slight movement causing Wanderer to stiffen, their mind racing with anxieties.

    But it was too late to turn back now, they quickly grabbed the crossbow and shuffled out of immediate danger.

    A part of Wanderer felt the action was wrong, but the Vessel quickly quashed the guilt, they needed it more than anyone else did, and besides, what was the difference between taking this and taking the items they found in the abandoned mine?

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    They cleared their conscience and snuck away, as silently as they could.

    Yet just as they were about to squeeze back through the tent wall, a critical mistake in their plan revealed itself, heralded by a light clinking noise coming from the satchel by their side.

    ¡°I should have left their bag with Emio." They realised with dread.

    Yet the Golem was so used to having it on their person that they didn¡¯t even think to take it off, the leather container had become almost like a seventh limb.

    And now they were paying the price for their actions, staying stock still and hoping that the human hadn¡¯t heard the sound.

    The sound of boots hitting the floor with unnatural force heralded their failure.

    Wanderer didn¡¯t even turn around, they got up from their position on the ground and sprinted.

    But they weren¡¯t fast enough, before they had made even a step to escape, the human they had stolen from let out a viscous shout, before pulling a short but heavy blade from somewhere inside of their flowing robes.

    As the rest of the camp began to realise what was happening, the blade swung down with deadly practice, cleaving through Wanderer¡¯s right shoulder like a wire through clay and ripping almost halfway down their torso.

    What hit Wanderer first wasn¡¯t the pain, nor the realisation of how colossal of a mistake they had made by sneaking into the tent, what hit them was a wave of dread.

    Dread because they had a terrible yet obvious realisation, that they were not impervious to physical attacks.

    Somewhere in their mind, they had made the false connection that no matter how deep a blade cuts or how hard a monster hits, they could always meld their clay body into shape afterwards, that only magic could permanently harm them.

    And while this was a reasonable assumption, there was one critical error in their perception of their own body that changed this drastically.

    When they looked inside themself, at their soul and Spirit, they had assumed that they were seeing inside some kind of spiritual plane, that magic was the only thing that could hurt their soul.

    They were wrong.

    Because as that blade cleaved deep into their chest, they realised that while their soul was spiritual, the deep well of energy that made up who they were also took a physical form, their soul was stuck between the magic and mundane, and while their body was resilient, their soul was very vulnerable to both.

    This fact was all too apparent in the Golem¡¯s mind as they felt the sword stop just a hair away from where their soul rested, the hefty blade only coming to a halt because of their blessing-hardened body.

    It was then, as the human began to pull out the blade, that the pain hit them like a boulder.

    It was like a line of fire had set alight from their shoulder to their chest, following along the destructive trail the sword had left, burning, twisting and stabbing with pulses of unrelenting pain.

    Wanderer didn¡¯t think, they ran with all their might toward the main exit to the tent, not even flinching when the blade which was firmly stuck in their body was yanked out by their aggressor.

    They had managed to make it a few steps from the door when the foot steps caught up to their current position, the Vessel diving to the floor not an instant later.

    An instant that likely saved their life, as a devastating blow that would likely have taken their head swept by not a moment later.

    Yet their reprieve was brief, the missed blow failing to deter their aggressor as they primed to take a finishing strike on the prone Golem.

    There was no way out, nothing they could do and their Spirit was still unresponsive.

    The short sword flew from its failed strike to a readied stance with practised precision, hesitating for just a moment so that its wielder could work out the best possible target to fufill their duty.

    The blade began its downward arc, sealing the Golem¡¯s fate.

    Yet it never reached its target, the tall man from before placing himself in the way with a shout of protest.

    At the last moment, the trained warrior managed to divert their weapon to miss both man and Golem, the steel swiping through the air with a quiet whistle.

    Perhaps if they were in a better state of mind, the Golem would have stayed to learn why they were spared or to thank their saviour, but at that moment the only thing Wanderer could think of was their escape.

    In an instant, the Vessel dashed off like a wounded animal out into the night, not even waiting for a second to look back at the consequences of their actions.

    They only rested when they had managed to dive deep into the grassy fields, where no hot-blooded human would dare to chase them.

    In amongst the ticks, where they were safe.

 Mending and Channels

    Mending and Channels

    The moment Wanderer was sure they were safe, they began to fix their broken body, beginning the arduous task that awaited them.

    The massive wound in their side differed in one major way from every other injury they had taken, its location.

    When before they could use all their hands to smooth out their clay flesh, now they were only able to use two, a factor which increased the difficulty of sealing the would ten-fold.

    At current, almost half of the Golem¡¯s right side was drooping to the side as the slice destabilised their malleable clay body.

    The Vessel began the task of joining the two sides of their body, ultimately having to pull the injured half of their torso toward the other half with their malformed arm, and slowly sealing the clay with the other.

    Numerous times as they worked, their hand brushed nearby to the core in the centre of their body where their soul resided, the Golem being able to physically feel the energy that flowed from it and their blessing.

    Having the most vulnerable part of their body so exposed caused the Vessel to feel unsafe, leading them to spend special attention to cover their core in clay before anything else.

    After a great deal of time, their wound was finally closed, a small amount of pain still emanating from the minor imperfections in their fix, Wanderer could only hope that it would fade with time.

    The Vessel stood up in the vast sea of grass only to realise that there was an error in their restoration because as soon as they attempted to move their right two arms, they found their capability greatly reduced.

    This confused Wanderer, never before had a part of their body lost its utility when faced with damage, certainly not once it was fixed.

    They were puzzled, even when their legs were torn to shreds by the swarmlings they had not faced permanent damage.

    For a long time, Wanderer mused over the cause of their disability, until finally they looked inside themself with their mind¡¯s eye, and saw the source of the issue.

    Throughout their body, there were veins and pathways of magic through which power of all kinds flowed, and it was in these veins that Wanderer found the cause of their issue, for where the Golem had been injured these channels have been misaligned and deformed, letting only a trickle of their potential through.

    This discovery added yet another layer of reasoning behind avoiding physical damage, shattering the seed of arrogance that once grew within Wanderer¡¯s mind, proclaiming that they were invunerable to weapons.

    The Vessel spent a moment just staring at the issue with their mind¡¯s eye, contemplating how to fix it and hoping it wasn¡¯t permanent.

    The only way of realigning the magic-carrying channels that they thought of was also the worst, that being to re-open their wound and physically connect the veins.

    They immediately revolted at the suggestion, they had only just escaped the pain of the wound, they didn¡¯t want to consider how much worse it would be if they had to open it themself.

    Just as Wanderer had worked up the courage to try and fix the issue, their Spirit woke and called to them, bringing an alternative way to fix their damaged pathways.

    Their Spirit painstakingly conveyed to them that the magic that flowed through their veins could be forced to follow them with greater ferocity, and if Wanderer managed to do this their channels could be forced back into the right shape.

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    While this news relieved the Golem, their Spirit¡¯s explanation of how to move their magic did not.

    The closest thing Wanderer could liken their Spirits instructions to was moving an extra arm they didn¡¯t know they had, as if their magic was a limb they had never used before.

    None the less, the Golem took a comfortable position in the grassy fields and began to try to move their magic.

    At first, they tried to focus on the humming channels of power in their body, just trying to will the power to move faster, yet this was met with little success.

    Feeling that maybe the quantity of magic was getting in the way of their breakthrough, they turned their mind¡¯s eye to their Spirit and blessing, from which much of the magic in their body originated, hoping that the vast power they contained would bring some kind of revelation.

    While it was fascinating to watch the cycle of magic that was siphoned through their blessing and soul, it provided no revelation as to how to control the energy.

    Feeling that Wanderer¡¯s investigations were going nowhere, the Spirit once again sent their instruction, this time with an extra emphasis on using the magic like one would a limb.

    Abandoning their previous pursuit, Wanderer heeded their Spirits instructions and began to attempt to flex the unseen muscle that their guide insisted upon.

    The Golem first attempted to replicate the feeling of using one of their body parts, focusing this feeling on the flowing magic in their body.

    The best they got out of this approach was the involuntary movement of their arms so they attempted a different approach.

    Next Wanderer began moving their body (the parts they could move), at random, hoping to activate the mysterious ability by chance.

    Yet it was another failure, one that resulted in the frustration that was slowly boiling inside the Vessel coming to a head, and in a last-ditch effort to do something, they flailed every part of their body that they could, at the same time.

    As soon as they did this, they felt a slight pick up in the speed of the magic flowing through their veins, existing for only a moment before fading again, a pulse so slight that the Golem would have likely missed it if they had not been searching so closely.

    A new wave of enthusiasm for their formerly hopeless task exploded into Wanderer at the smidgen of progress they had made, and they did not waste a moment on setting out to recreate their minor success.

    They once again flailed their body, this time paying special attention to the pulse of speed that followed, and more importantly, the action that activated it.

    Wanderer quickly found that the instructions that their Spirit had provided them as an example was vastly different to the truth, the action feeling more like focusing a foreign part of their mind than using a limb, but none the less they had discovered what to do, and now it was only a matter of practice.

    It took a while for the Golem to consistently be able to move their magic, yet under their relentless enthusiasm no problem could stand for long.

    As they practised forcing magic through their channels, they found that true to the Spirit¡¯s word, the misaligned pathways where they were wounded slowly corrected themselves, as they were forced to take a more efficient shape under the flood that flowed through them.

    Their veins were almost fixed when their Spirit spoke to them once again, giving them a light warning against continuing with their practice.

    ¡°But I am almost finished?¡± the Vessel thought, unwilling to stop when they were so close to being whole again, yet their Spirit was insistent.

    And with a quick explanation, the Golem soon discovered why.

    Due to their mending, their magic channels had become worn down, the rushing magic having made them weaker than they once were.

    Like a waterfall rushing over a rough stone, their veins had become dangerously thin to contain the magic that flowed through them, causing Wanderer to wonder what would happen if they were to burst.

    The Vessel didn¡¯t need their Spirit to tell them it wasn¡¯t a pretty picture.

    Luckily, their Spirit made it obvious that their channels would heal in time, meaning that all Wanderer needed to do was give them a rest for a while and they would eventually return to their former glory.

    And so, a little disheartened by being unable to finish the job, Wanderer stood up and crept through the grass to try and find Emio.

    As they walked, they looked down upon the crossbow-like contraption that they had almost died to obtain, wondering if it was truly worth all the fear and pain they had to go through to get it.

    ¡°Did I not take it so that I would be safer?¡±, the Vessel thought.

    Yet despite their intentions, their retrieval of the object had placed them in more danger than they ever would have been in otherwise.

    ¡°I just have to hope it was worth it¡±.

 Aurora and Reading

    Aurora and Reading

    As expected, Emio was in much the same place Wanderer left them, either uncaring or unknowing of the commotion.

    Wanting to get out of the area as quickly as possible, lest the humans reinvigorate their search, the Golem scooped up the unsuspecting Verdestry and quickly snuck past the massive tent, before continuing on their journey toward the desert.

    The Vessel stuck to the long grass, afraid of any searchers from the camp that might wish to do them harm as they tried to escape their possible gaze.

    The many moons were high in the sky by the time Wanderer worked up the courage to finally take a peek out onto the road again, looking around cautiously before walking out.

    Yet the fact that the road was empty of any potential pursuers hardly even registered to the Golem, not in the face of the unexpected beauty of the vast black desert in the night.

    Where in the day, the desert was a vast sea of black, glittering sand, tinged slightly blue by the light of the sun, at night the desert had taken on a new life, what could only be described as an aurora dancing across its surface.

    The desert had been lit up by dancing lights of green, yellow and red, each intermingling and crossing through the others, shifting their hue and colour.

    It was the most beautiful thing Wanderer had ever seen, mesmerising in its forever-changing nature, like watching a flame that shifted colour and grew in a way no one could predict.

    The Golem watched enraptured as the scene suddenly changed a vast portion of the lights suddenly beginning to float towards a single area.

    Wanderer watched as this patch gathered into a brighter and brighter ball, before from the sky, a great lighting bolt lit up the land and with an explosion of power, blasted away the lights.

    The Vessel immediately snapped their gaze upwards, having not even seen the great cloud that formed over the top of the desert, a cloud born of the pillar of smoke that the deep-red volcano was spewing out.

    Wanderer spent more time than they could say puzzling over how such a system could exist, and why the dancing lights and great cloud was not present during the day.

    Yet despite both their and their Spirit¡¯s best attempts at puzzling out the answer, they could find no conclusion, to all their collective knowledge what was happening in the vast desert was impossible.

    Yet it happened nonetheless, despite its complex nature, causing Wanderer to desperately want to figure it out.

    For a long time, the Spirit, Verdestry and Golem alike gazed upon the magnificent scene in front of them, each aspect of the phenomena having its own lure.

    From the great flashes of power present in the thunder that assaulted the ground to the subtle moonlight seeping through the obscuring volcanic cloud, the whole spectacle was nothing but mesmerising.

    Eager to inspect the massive phenomena, the Vessel picked up the pace of their journey, much to the chagrin of the still-lazing Emio.

    They were bought out of their journey by the neigh of a nearby zebra, directed toward one of their kin, who, like Wanderer, was addicted to staring out toward the desert.

    The zebra was so still that the Golem was unsure if it was even alive, and while the Vessel could certainly understand its fascination with the desert lights, even without the pleading neighs of its partner Wanderer could tell something was very wrong.

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    The Golem slowly strolled over, the cries switching target as the horse-like creature noticed their approach.

    It was obvious that the aurora in the desert was harming the entranced zebra, and so the Vessel placed itself between the zebra and its fascination, blocking their view.

    A moment later, the equid snapped out of their fugue, shaking their head a little and turning toward their partner, with a light neigh.

    The pair returned to their place behind the baobab tree, both happy to be out of danger, yet the fact that they were in danger to begin with caused a question to form in the Golem¡¯s mind.

    ¡°Why was the zebra entranced, when I remained fine?¡±

    While the desert was beautiful, and Wanderer could certainly understand basking in that beauty, even to the most untrained mind the lengths the equine went to was unhealthy.

    The creature was mesmerised, completely unmoving like a statue, so much so that it didn¡¯t even blink, as if the poor beast was unable to think of anything else but the view.

    Their partner knew of this danger as well, as indicated by how they called for help instead of helping their kin themself, likely scared of meeting the same fate.

    So that posed the question, how was Wanderer different?

    While the scene certainly fascinated them, they were still free to think while under its influence.

    To that question their Spirit had a rebuttal, how were they not?

    The zebra were creatures of flesh and blood, that eat, sleep and breathe, while Wanderer was made of clay and untiring, their entire mind and being contained in a ball of magic.

    Any of the many differences between the two could be the reason for the Vessel¡¯s sustained lucidity, likewise with Emio and their Spirit also, who were similarly unaffected.

    Yet Wanderer wanted to know exactly why, and after some thought, they came to the conclusion that they were not going to find out by pondering it by themselves.

    The Vessel lightly rifled through their satchel, their stolen flare-bow now inside it, turning their gaze upon the four books they had taken from the mine so long ago.

    With all the constant excitement in their short life, they had nearly forgotten they had them, it was only with their pondering that they realised that the musty tomes, or others like them, might contain the very answers they sought for.

    And while Wanderer was aware that it was unlikely the specific books they possessed would help them on their journey of knowledge, it caused them to realise that there would be places made by humans where books were stored, and as such, may contain the answers they were looking for.

    The Golem looked out into the horizon, past the waltzing lights and flashy thunder, and focused their gaze on one of the cities they had seen from so far away.

    They had high, golden walls that curved inward, the bright aurora seeming to almost lap against them, out of the centre of the city stretched a great tower, coloured similarly to the walls with colourful banners hanging from its sides.

    ¡°There will be more books in the city¡± they knew.

    It was a near certainty in Wanderer¡¯s mind, if there were so many books in such an abandoned place underground, there was no doubt that there would be more in a full city.

    Yet there was still one major problem with their plan, how would they learn to read?

    While the Vessel could understand bits and pieces of spoken conversation and was slowly working out the meanings of more words, with written language they had no way of learning.

    While Wanderer was capable of listening in on conversations, then using their sparse knowledge of the human language to work out what a word may mean from context, with reading and writing they had no starting point, they knew no words nor letters, the old magi¡¯s visions having not imparted as such.

    The Golem began on their trek again, fishing out the least ruined book of their limited collection before holding up in front of their face.

    Yet despite how long they glared at the letters or how many times they asked their Spirit for advice, the writing would not give up its secrets.

    The Vessel slumped in defeat, there was no other way, they would have to find someone to teach them, a difficulty considering both the human¡¯s strenuous relationship with the Golem and their own inability to speak.

    Wanderer was snapped out of their considerations by a hanging tendril blocking their vision, carelessly placed over their eyes by their friend.

    Brushing the grassy limb out of the way, the Vessel focused on the Verdestry, who, with a shiver of their knotted form, seemed to be awaking from their lethargic state.

    Seeing the small creature so relaxed convinced Wanderer to follow in their footsteps.

    ¡°Your right¡±, the Golem agreed to the unsaid statement ¡°I shouldn¡¯t worry about it¡±.

    Though Wanderer could not say why, they were confident that everything would work itself out.

 Wildfire and Sand

    Wildfire and Sand

    The trio travelled for a great time under the light of the four moons, their faint blue glow only adding to the majesty of the dancing lights in front of them.

    As they trekked, they noticed the great baobab trees and mounds of emerald termites gradually became less common, reducing to a few random stragglers that could only be seen far in the distance.

    The beginning of the black sands were becoming so close the Golem could almost imagine what the grainy sand felt like under their hooves, such was the magnitude of their anticipation.

    Even the ever-passive Emio seemed to grow antsy in their eagerness to see an ending to the sea of grass.

    A spring entered their collective step as the party hastened their travels, spurred on by the gradual thinning of the dense grasses, a sign that the limitless fields were coming to an end.

    Blinded by their enthusiasm, the Vessel didn¡¯t see the approaching calamity until it was almost upon them.

    At the very edge of the field, where the grass was starting to give way to the sandy abyss, there lay an abandoned carriage, crashed in the meadow.

    The Golem had paid it little mind, merely making a note to investigate it when they passed.

    Yet slowly, the lights of the desert began to make their way toward the derelict coach, attracted by what little metal could be found inside it.

    And where the aurora gathered, lightning followed.

    Wanderer only noticed the encroaching disaster when the congregating lights had reached their peak, no longer a intricate dance but a singular, shining light in the dark fields.

    A blast of power that could be heard even from where the Vessel stood a great distance away, as the white lightning struck the ruined carriage with unmatched ferocity.

    This did not concern Wanderer, they were, after all, still a great distance away from the desert and far out of the range of the bolt.

    But the danger was not in the lightning, but in what it started.

    It started as a smoulder, bought upon by the extreme heat of the thunder bolt, yet in the bone-dry field, it quickly spread to a raging wildfire.

    Spurred on by a steady wind, the vast sea of grass lit like flash paper, in a instant, a wall of bright flames began racing through the land, devouring everything in its path.

    At the sight of the oncoming wave of fire, the Golem turned to run only to be dissuaded by their Spirit, who pointed out that they had no hope of outrunning the flames.

    In just a few moments since the disaster had started, it was almost a third of the way to Wanderer, moving far quicker than it had any right to.

    Yet as their Spirit preached despair, they also spoke of hope.

    At the disaster''s origin, the fire had already gone out, cooling as fast as it had flared.

    The Spirit pointed out that, while the flames were frightening, they also disappeared as quickly as they came, meaning that if the Golem were to stay on the road where no grass grew, the fire could pass them by with just a little pain.

    A fleeting moment of relief shot through the Vessel, until they were informed of the true danger the flames imposed, by the tightening of grassy tendrils around them.

    The verdestry¡¯s whole body was doing something akin to shivering, their single eye darting around wildly, as if searching for a way to escape.

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    ¡°They are afraid¡±, Wanderer realised, it was an emotion seldom seen on the small monster, and it took little time to figure out why.

    The Golem looked out into the field, seeing how easily the dry grass burned, how little heat was required to set it alight.

    This very grass is what currently comprised the whole of the verdestry¡¯s body, meaning that if Emio was even half as flammable as the fields around them, they had every right to be scared.

    Joining the herbal creature in their frantic searching, the Vessel scoured the lands for some other plant or tree that Emio could take the form of, anything more fire-resistant than the tinder-dry grass they currently inhabited.

    Yet there was nothing, the only plant visible being a lone baobab so far in the distance that not even Emio could reach it in time.

    A quick glance northward revealed that the calamity was fast approaching, now only a matter of steps from reaching the trio.

    With no more time to delay, the Vessel grabbed the small creature and dove to the ground with them, hoping they would realise what Wanderer was doing and retract their many tendrils as fast as they could.

    Whether by luck or quick reflexes, the verdestry did as Wanderer hoped, curling into as small a ball as they could while the Golem lay their body over them and tried to shield them from the heat.

    Scarcely a moment after Wanderer had dived down, a wall of hot air slammed into them, as a line of fire lit up the world on both sides of the road.

    Four arms curled around Emio, attempting to shield them from any stray ember present in the outside world.

    Wanderer risked a single glimpse toward the world around them and saw a sight that was as beautiful as it was destructive.

    Great walls of fire lay to both sides, blacking out the rest of the world with their burning ferocity, while floating through the air there spun dazzling vortexes of red-hot embers, which floated up into the night.

    Even the dull stone road on which they cowered had been brought to life by the calamity, shadows and light streaming on its surface, reflecting the roaring flames bordering it.

    The whole affair was so magnificent that, despite the Golem being aware of the destruction that the wildfire and would go on to cause, and the danger it imposed on them in particular, they couldn''t help but be grateful that they had seen this fleeting moment of beauty.

    Yet just as quick as the fire had come, it went, its quick-burning fuel not enough to sustain its gluttony.

    Despite this, Wanderer protected the verdestry for a great deal of time after the danger had left, fearing that a stray ember or spark left behind may set them alight.

    Only when burnt fields occupied the Golem''s vision as far as they could see and the whirling haze of light ash had died down did they relieve their hold on Emio.

    Against the Vessel¡¯s expectations, Emio did not wander away when they were released, instead continuing to cling tightly to Wanderer, apparently more traumatised by the event than the Golem thought.

    It was an unusual sight for Wanderer, to see their herbal friend in fear even after the danger had left.

    It disturbed them to see the verdestry, who mere moments ago was full of casual confidence now shivering in fear, wrapping their tendrils around the Golem like they would disappear.

    Despite having only just risen, the Vessel sat back down, continuing on and entering the desert just didn¡¯t feel right with their friend in such a state.

    And so, among the now blackened fields, Wanderer rested, petting the small monster while waiting for them to calm down.

    As they sat, they thought about the damage the fire would have caused, to people and animals, and wondered about the fact that they had not seen any ticks since the blaze, nor any of their corpses.

    ¡°These fires must happen often¡±, the Golem concluded.

    The grass here lit like paper and burned quicker than they could run, even a simple spark would likely set it alight.

    The animals must have some way of protecting themselves, they decided, Wanderer didn¡¯t want to think about what would happen if they didn¡¯t.

    Gradually, Emio stopped shivering and loosened their grip as they calmed and by the time the many moons began their descent, the ball-like creature had recovered.

    With a semi-enthusiastic Emio and an antsy Spirit, the Golem set out once again, wishing to quickly make up the little distance left between them and the desert sands.

    As they approached, warm air began to drift toward them, radiating off the hot sands in such a way that it created a pleasant climate, countering the now cold night.

    Eventually, they passed by the ruined carriage that caused the calamity, and (after a thorough check for oncoming lightning) found there to be little of use inside, anything that could have been useful having been ravaged by the heat.

    And so, with cautious yet optimistic hearts, the trio took their first steps onto the hot black sands, and into the dancing lights of the night.

 Dunes and Moonset

    Dunes and Moonset

    Wanderer¡¯s first surprise when they set their hooves in the dark sand was that, while it was certainly hot, it was not uncomfortably so, having cooled somewhat since the light of the sun.

    Their second was that the dunes were surprisingly firm underneath them, not loose and soft like they expected but almost crumbly, making odd crackling sounds as they walked.

    And while the cracking did bring a small deal of worry about the sand¡¯s structural integrity, its unexpected texture would make walking a little easier, something the Golem was grateful for.

    The road was still present here, though partially covered in sand as it was, yet after so long following its path, the Vessel decided to stray from it for a while, to explore their new environment all the better.

    Getting a proper look around was their first order of business, and one fervently backed by their excited Spirit who was eager to fulfil their purpose and explore.

    The most noticeable facet of their new environment was the dancing aurora around them, which contrary to the Golem¡¯s expectations seemed to fade away as the Vessel approached it, leaving a circle of darkness that surrounded them.

    While this disappointed Wanderer slightly, they did appreciate being able to see the ground beneath their feet.

    Staring above the aurora, the Vessel could occasionally see the tops of leathery cacti with colourful fruit, spread seemingly at random across the sands.

    Looking a little further out, they saw massive monoliths of black stone jutting out of the dunes, accented with veins of golden ore, surrounding them, like moats, were great canyons that dug deep into the earth.

    Occasionally, if they stretched their vision, the Golem could make out scaffolding climbing up the side of some of the mesas further out.

    A little further out, great pits appeared in the sand, blocked off by a low black wall that only barely prevented the lights from spilling over, where humans presumably mined something out of the sand.

    Connected to these quarries by roads and paths were the golden-walled cities they had spied from so far away, as enigmatic as ever with only the ever-present towers visible from their level.

    And finally, Wanderer turned their vision toward the crown jewel of the wondrous sights present, the immense volcano that was currently creating the great cloud that loomed above them.

    At the base of the volcano was a vast plain of glassy obsidian, forming a sight similar to a calm lake, reflecting the world above.

    Feeding into the moat of glass was its source, deep crimson lava flowing down the sides of the volcano before cooling into the black obsidian that surrounded it.

    Similar to the desert around it, the volcano itself was dark in shade, yet it seemed to be formed of a hard, angular rock that remained unmarred despite the extreme heat it contained.

    Out of the crater of the mountain billowed grey smoke, forming a mighty pillar that reached the sky and smothered it.

    If Wanderer looked closely, they could notice a red light illuminating the bottom of this cloud, emanating from the magma below.

    Just as the Vessel thought they were done with their observation, they spotted the tip of something in the distance, just breaching the horizon.

    They ran up the nearest dune to get a better look, yet it helped little, from what small amount they could make out, it looked like some kind of animal.

    ¡°It must be giant if I can see it from here¡±, the Golem thought, excited to discover a creature unlike any they had seen before.

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    ¡°I need to be higher¡±, after all, there was no way the Vessel could get a proper view from the ground, it was simply too far away.

    Their first thought was to head toward one of the golden towers that rested in the heart of each city, an idea they liked until their Spirit pointed out that the humans may have an adverse reaction to their presence.

    Though they didn¡¯t like it, they were forced to agree, Wanderer could barely handle a small group of humans, let alone a city.

    ¡°I will go there, just not now¡±, they committed.

    The Vessel did intend to visit the walled citadels, for the sake of books and curiosity, they could tell they were not quite ready for that yet, though they knew not what would prepare them.

    Dismissing the tower vantage point, Wanderer¡¯s gaze turned toward a closer alternative.

    Just a moderate trek away, the closest of the great black mesas rose out of the desert, towering a great distance into the air, and undoubtedly, providing a clear view.

    They thought it over a bit and found little reason not to visit the rock monoliths, and with their Spirit raising no objections to the idea, they got going, wishing to reach the beginning of the dark canyon that surrounded the rock formation before the sun rose.

    Curious as to their whereabouts, the Golem searched for their grassy companion and found them in the process of tearing into a few of the cacti strewn about, likely wishing to leave their fire-vulnerable form behind.

    Walking up to the voracious verdestry, they took a closer look at the succulents they were consuming.

    The cacti had leathery, tough skin that was dyed an unusual shade of green and took a bulbous, rotund form at its base while a singular stalk grew out the top.

    Atop this higher stalk was a bundle of colourful fruits, adopting every colour of the rainbow with a charming vibrancy the like of which Wanderer had never seen.

    Just looking at the plant boosted the Golem¡¯s morale a little, who was subconsciously dreading that the whole of the desert would be nothing but black sand in the day.

    With a flash of heat and magic, Emio had taken a more appropriate form, the leathery flesh of a cactus now woven like rope to form their ball-like body and a crown of colourful fruits resting atop their head.

    Determined to reach the edge of the canyon before dawn, the Vessel set out, the verdestry assuming a moderate pace by their side while soaking up the view.

    After a while, with little more than the crunching of the dark sand to distract them, Wanderer set their thoughts on the swirling lights that surrounded them.

    ¡°Where do they come from?¡± they questioned.

    were they produced by the sand or descended from the sky or perhaps they were the result of the volcano, much like the cloud above them.

    And why does it gravitate toward the lightning, or does the lightning gravitate toward where the aurora gathers?

    They didn''t know, their Spirit didn''t either and they had little hope of getting any answers from Emio.

    It was a perplexing problem, one the Golem had little hope of working out, they simply didn¡¯t know enough about the world and how it works.

    They had already decided the only way to find these answers was in the human cities, but what they didn¡¯t think about when they had first made their plan was how they would get in.

    The humans were unlikely to just let the Vessel walk in, not judging by the reactions of the few they had encountered.

    Wanderer could try showing that they were friendly, but they had no way of communicating with the city-dwellers and humans hadn''t proven themselves to be a thoughtful bunch.

    ¡°Perhaps I could disguise myself somehow?¡± Wanderer mused.

    Yet they knew that was unlikely, while with a mask and cloak they may be able to pass themself as a very tall man, they had little idea as to how they would mask their four arms or unusual gait.

    They figured they would fix that problem when they got to it.

    Lost in their thoughts, the Golem had made better progress than expected having reached the edge of the canyon that surrounded the dark mesa.

    As they looked over the precipice and into the cavern in front of them, the quadruple moons had not yet relinquished their hold over the sky, but their grip was waning, the first of the small moons having dipped below the horizon.

    As they sank, the column of smoke in sky started to grow a little less oppressive, and the dancing lights a little dimmer, seeming as if the very threat of the sun''s light seemed to reduce their luminance.

    Mind easily made up, Wanderer decided to watch the moons set before they started their journey into the canyon depths and see how the sun changed the world around them.

 Extra 2: The Deliberations of the Hidden

    Extra 2: The Deliberations of the Hidden

    Far up on a windswept mountainside, three Ohsraka sat huddled in a dilapidated cabin, surrounding a well fed fire.

    The moons were low in the sky, dawn almost approaching, by all rights the humans should have been asleep, yet slumber only visited one.

    Hurereh had woken once or twice during the day, saying little more than fever-muddled nonsense each time before falling back under the reals of unconsciousness.

    The two remaining inhabitants spirits were not much higher, a combination of sleep-deprivation, stress and frequent arguments ruining any solace they could find in their current situation.

    In comparison to their partner, Shreshka looked considerably more dishevelled, the magnitude of the fact that they were likely being hunted down by a army of super-human bounty hunters having finally hit them.

    The Earliag would never admit to their ¡°peacekeeping force¡± being anything more than normal people, but it was a open secret that near every one of the Keepers had power beyond what a human could achieve.

    The members of the Gtririag had it all, enhanced strength, speed, longevity, if you could think of a way a person could be better, the Keepers were, with the pathway toward these abilities locked behind more secrets and misdirections than the former slave could hope to ever decipher.

    And now they knew for certain that these blood thirsty bounty hunters were after their heads.

    Less than four hours ago, the old man who lived in the shack down the mountainside, Erarrio, had made the trek to where they were hidden away, bearing bad news.

    Retlafeh had been the one to receive him at the worn out door, yet the old mans voice was still clearly audible to all.

    ¡°I cant help you anymore¡± he started ¡°No matter how much money you offer me, its not worth my life.¡±

    Before the former slave could reply, he continued.

    ¡°Not ten minutes ago, two Gtririag were knocking on my door asking questions about the stolen carriage, about three slaves that the corpse aboard should have owned.¡±

    ¡°I promise you, I will make it worth your while if you let us stay¡±, Retlafeh answered, seemingly unaffected by the fate of their former captor.

    ¡°They threatened my granddaughter... if it was my life I would take your offer, but she is all I have left, and I cant lose her like I did her parents¡±

    The whole cabin fell silent at that, remaining so until Errario said one final thing.

    ¡°You have till the morning to leave, if you aren''t gone, I''m telling the Keepers¡±

    Without another word, he left the shack and travelled back to his home.

    And it was this dilemma that birthed their current two issues: how will they transport Hureheh and where will they go.

    For the former question, their only option was the hardest one, they would have to carry the sick man wherever they went.

    Even if he woke by the morning, as unlikely as that was, he would not be in condition to make a journey of any kind.

    And so it was decided, when they had the resources they would create some kind of stretcher to assist in carrying Hureheh, until then they would have to carry him on their backs.

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    Neither of them wanted to suggest leaving him behind, for fear they might decide to do so.

    And so they found themselves at the harder issue, where should they go?

    ¡°Head toward Reshraka, our home is where it is safest, with the machine we could hide in the grass and they will never find us there¡± Retlafeh insisted, confident they would find greater protection in their home.

    ¡°And how would we sleep or find food on the road, and what''s more the Keepers will expect us to head that way!¡± Shreshka argued, ¡°It is best to head further inland, where it will be easier to traverse¡±.

    At her words, a barely suppressed rage twisted across Retlafeh¡¯s face, a severe contrast from the calm man Shreshka knew.

    ¡°Are we not followers of Orsha? Did they not command us to harden through struggle and not abandon our home!¡±

    With equal ferocity, the woman returned ¡°We abandoned our home the moment we sold it to the simple-landers!¡±

    The argument fell silent at that, its heat ripped away by a truth colder than any mountain summit.

    After a long moment, Shreshka spoke again.

    ¡°Orsha commands us to be tempered through struggle, that is true, yet they also tell us to be careful with what burdens we take, lest they break us before we can improve from them¡±

    She took a pointed glance at the sleeping figure in the corner of the room, drawing Retlafeh¡¯s attention to the man.

    ¡°After all, is not blind search for danger what got us in this situation in the first place?¡±

    The three sat in silence for a long while, emotions conflicting on Retlafeh¡¯s face before he finally seemed to come to a decision.

    Yet just as he rose to announce his resolution, both man and woman¡¯s attention was stolen by an unbelievable sight visible through the poorly made window.

    The vast sea of grass, which just moments ago had been swaying under the light of the moons, was now a blazing orange inferno, columns of swirling embers framing its fiery light.

    It did not take long for the flames to die out, fleeting as they were, but where they had been burned they left behind something debatably worse for their journey than any fire.

    Wide open fields.

    Retlafeh¡¯s plan to head back to the desert unfound hinged on their ability to sneak through the grasses, unseen by patrols and untouched by the ticks.

    Yet all that was left behind after the burning was wide open fields, from which one could see forever unobstructed.

    They knew, of course, that the grasses would come back, it was not called phoenix grass for nothing, but the field would take time to regrow, even at its extraordinary pace.

    Indeed, a burning such as this wasn''t even a rare occurrence, happening a few times a year, but the Oracle had predicted that their last wildfire would be the last for the season, meaning that this fire was the result of human error.

    ¡°Did they start this for us? To scare us away or flush us out?¡± She worried.

    In the back of her mind, Shreshka knew such a thing was illogical, that the Earliag would never go this far, even with the importance they place on making sure that their slaves never escape.

    But logic was not present in her mind, fear forcing it away and exhaustion making sure it did not return.

    ¡°We''re leaving.¡± Shreshka said forcefully, allowing little room for argument ¡°We are heading south, now!¡±

    Though there was little room to do so, Retlafeh did not protest and so the two gathered what little things they had and prepared to leave.

    After little deliberation, they decided to leave the cold-creating machine behind, it was heavy and now that they had no way of crossing the fields, near entirely useless to them.

    They would leave it in the cabin, so that perhaps the Keepers would be a little less eager to find them if they no longer had anything of value, and if the Gitriag did not find it, perhaps the old man could sell it as payment for his help.

    They decided they would take turns carrying Hureheh until they could find easier transport.

    It was undesirable to carry an ill man, bed rest being the greatest option for the dark-skinned human, but they had little choice, if they stayed where they were they would be taken and killed without a chance at redemption.

    And so, with a lightly smouldering field in their wake, Shreshka doused the fire while Retlafeh slung Hureheh across his shoulders, careful not to irritate his wounds.

    The first warnings of the sun were whispering on the horizon as they set out into the dark world.

    Errario met them as they took their first steps out, likely to hear their decision, yet Shreshka left him with only a few words.

    ¡°Your payment is inside¡±, She said, before starting their long mountain climb, one that would hopefully lead to something they had not had in a long while.

    Safety.

 Canyon and River

    Canyon and River

    The Golem sat on the canyon¡¯s edge as the blue sun revealed its face from behind the volcano, gradually becoming more visible as the great cloud thinned and the dancing lights grew dimmer.

    The lightning strikes had all but vanished in the face of the sun, its heralding aurora little more than a mild fog, causing the desert scene that was so wondrous at night to shift and change.

    Where before the desert carried an otherworldly beauty, in the day its harsh climate became obvious, the air already starting to ripple from the burning sun.

    The black dunes glittered blue under the light of the day, allowing the Golem to see far and wide across the sands.

    Where the vibrant colours of the cacti revealed themselves plainly in the night, a more subtle detail of the desert landscape became visible in the light of day, its presence announced by harsh reflections of the sky above.

    Once hidden by the lights, all across the desert where lightning had once landed were patches of reflective glass, branching out from a central point.

    Some were fresh, likely a result of the night that Wanderer had experienced, while others were slowly breaking down into the sand they were formed of, losing their reflectiveness in the process.

    Yet far more interesting than the panes were the small, grey lizards that chose them to be their resting spot.

    Across each of the lightning strikes, hundreds of spiny lizards, each no larger than a leaf clamoured over each other to try and absorb the sun, with more of the reptiles digging their way out of the sand with every passing second.

    The lizards were not alone, however, nimble, red birds flew out of holes in the mesas that circled the desert, flying down to pick out seeds from the cacti or taking the occasional swoop at a lizard in an attempt to catch a snack.

    Wanderer nearly fell into the canyon from shock when a resounding caw echoed from behind them, the vultures they had seen attacking the whales spiralling their way out of the trench behind them.

    They ignored Wanderer, finding little interest in a creature with no flesh or blood, before flying off in every direction that the Golem knew.

    It was a rather peculiar sight, the wasteland that was just moments ago lifeless and cold now bustled with life.

    The Vessel intended to stay and look on for longer, but their aspirations were interrupted by an impatient Emio pulling on their leg, who was eager to enter the canyon and had little care for the local fauna.

    Unhappy with being rushed, Wanderer resisted the verdestry¡¯s hassling, deliberately taking a few steps away from the canyon in spite.

    Emio bristled in irritation, raising themself up on their tendrils to face the Golem, then forcefully pulling them toward the canyon edge.

    It was around this time that the Vessel could vaguely recall hearing their Spirit¡¯s voice in their head, urging them to calm themselves, yet their frustration ran too hot and the guide was ignored.

    Anger rising, the Vessel retaliated by grabbing the herbal creature with all four arms and throwing them away from the rocky ledge.

    It was as Emio regained their bearings that Wanderer realised their mistake, while the verdestry was lighter and smaller than the Golem, they were also much, much stronger.

    In a instant, five tendrils shot out from the leathery body of the monster, wrapping around Wanderer and hoisting them high into the air.

    Immediately repentant of starting a fight with their friend, the Vessel attempted to sign their wish for peace to the small creature, yet the signature signs of rage flowed through Emio¡¯s body and they would not listen.

    In one swift movement, the verdestry threw Wanderer into the canyon depths, ending the argument.

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    The fiery anger in the Golem instantly froze to cold dread as they began their freefall, unable to even look toward their doom due to their momentum.

    Flashbacks of their fall from the treetop came to them, yet what they did there to save themself would not work, after all there was no water beneath them.

    It was just as their Spirit began to panic that Emio realised their mistake, the emotions visibly cycling through their woven body as they threw themself down the cavern in an attempt to catch their friend.

    Flailing as they fell, the Golem hurriedly tried to think of some way out of the situation they had been thrown into.

    Emio threw out their tendrils, just short enough as to miss the Vessel.

    Far sooner than Wanderer expected, they hit the ground with a dull thud, a cloud of sand flying into the air in response.

    Emio landed a moment later, slowing themselves on the canyon walls and immediately rushing over to the prone Golem.

    For a long moment, Wanderer lay unmoving, before slowly sitting up.

    Seeing their friend alive and well, the verdestry flung their small body into the Golem''s lap.

    Apparently, the canyon was much shallower than Wanderer had thought.

    That combined with the soft sand at its bottom and the Golem¡¯s clay body made the fall a minor threat, leaving little more than a few dented body parts, a problem easily fixed for the Vessel.

    Now Emio sat in their lap, making obvious signs of apology, while Wanderer tried to sort out the situation in their mind.

    ¡°They threw me over¡± they processed.

    The Vessel felt confused and betrayed by how quickly they had turned against each other when faced with the slightest disagreement.

    ¡°I might have died if the cavern had not been so shallow¡± they knew.

    They just didn¡¯t know what to think, nor what to do about the apologising verdestry in their lap.

    It was then, like so many times before, that the Golem¡¯s Spirit spoke, sending messages to reconcile with the small creature and to take the event as a lesson.

    The conflict still raged inside Wanderer, but their Spirit had seldom led them estray and they trusted in them.

    Wanderer proceeded to use two of their hands to pet Emio, showing their forgiveness to eager reception while the other two fixed the injuries caused by the fall.

    It was a minor incident, all in all.

    After a moment to make sure that the herbal monster had calmed down, Wanderer began to look around the canyon.

    The cavern was structured in such a way that it surrounded the raised plateau like a moat, making an extra long climb for those that wished to reach its peak.

    The walls of the cavern, which extended fifteen or so steps under the sand, took on a reddish brown tone much closer to something one would expect in a desert, a bed of yellow sand resting at its bottom, only the occasional grain of black marring its uniformity.

    The sand formed a bank for the river that flowed through the heart of the canyon, though to call it a river would be misleading, as it was hardly more than a small brook that sat almost stagnant at the fissures bottom, its waters attracted to the lowest place it could find.

    Small caves and underhangs peppered the canyon walls, which, judging by the grassy nests and feathers, the vultures had made their home.

    After making their forgiveness apparent to Emio, Wanderer placed the verdestry upon their head and began a lap of the cavern, intent on discovering a little more about their surroundings and possibly finding an easy way up to the top of the mesa above.

    The Golem slowly made their way across the sandy floor, encountering more of the vulture-inhabited crevices, a few of the grassy nests even containing unhatched eggs that seemed to have been recently laid.

    Occasionally, they would encounter a vulture that was either too old or too injured to fly off with the others and had been presumably left behind to protect the eggs.

    Surprisingly, in contrast to what Wanderer had seen of the bird¡¯s treatment to other animals, the guardians were quite docile.

    Every time the Vessel had encountered one of the flightless vultures, they had done little more than give the Golem a dirty stare.

    The only time Wanderer had seen any reaction from the guards was when Emio inspected a bundle of eggs a little too closely, causing a nearby bird to give a loud squawk and try to bite the monster.

    Its resistance was short-lived, however, as the verdestry responded by raising itself on its tendrils and intimidating the vulture until it backed down.

    After a half of an hour exploring the depths, Wanderer picked up something peculiar at the edge of their hearing, something that sounded like human voices.

    Rushing forward while also paying special attention to maintaining stealth, the Golem poked their head around a corner and came across a peculiar sight.

    Two, dirty children collecting water in jars.

 Children and Confrontation

    Children and Confrontation

    Careful not to be seen, Wanderer hid themself as best they could behind a rocky protrusion, cautious that the children may take to their presence the same way every other human had, with hostility and caution.

    The two kids, the largest of which would only reach the Golem¡¯s waist, were using a number of empty jars to collect water in a part of the small brook that deepened suddenly, resulting in a small pool that was just deep enough to reach their thighs.

    Despite the apparent opportunity to bathe, the children were still slathered with dirt, matting their hair and crusting their dark skin, only their sandalled feet, which were dipped in the waters when they went to collect from the pool, were clean.

    After some time, the smaller of the two kids, a small boy no older than six, stopped their chore for a moment to wash their dirt-encrusted face in the stream.

    The moment that he did, a shout echoed out from an unseen angle, a broad, light-skinned man stepping out from behind the shade of a particularly large imperfection in the rock, surprising the Vessel as they did so.

    Wanderer quickly ducked behind their hiding place, making certain that Emio was hidden as well and began to listen in.

    ¡°larieag lete give rio pumerio to wash your face, Keraragio?¡±, The man shouted toward the smaller of the two children.

    Somewhere in the Golem¡¯s mind, they belatedly realised that they were slowly understanding more and more of the human language, words that before were unknown to them were becoming recognisable with only the barest effort to decipher them.

    Yet they could not contemplate on their newfound understanding, their mind much too occupied with the events unfolding in front of them.

    The Vessel risked sticking their head out of their hiding spot and were currently watching the man towering over the small child who reached hardly a third of their height.

    Wanderer had seen this scene before, images of the slaves on the long road flashing through their mind and as they realised the situation, the grim rage they had come to dread began to rise.

    The voice of their Spirit cut through the emotion like butter, reminding them of the promises they had made to themselves and encouraging them to stop and see how it all played out.

    ¡°But how can I just stop when a child might be harmed?¡± The Golem thought.

    Wanderer had made a commitment to themself to stop other people from being harmed, and for a reason the Golem had not the time to decipher, this felt even more important for a child.

    Yet their Spirit resisted the notion, insisting that staying and watching on would be the best option.

    ¡° I made a commitment to protect other people, a commitment that you agreed with when I made it, why do you disagree now?¡± The Vessel argued, as their anger at the situation in front of them mingled with the confusion at the contradictory message of their Spirit.

    A weak argument was sent through their bond, detailing some objection as to how the Golem intended to stop the man without harming or killing him, yet Wanderer could tell that their true objections lay elsewhere, as if the Spirit were trying to protect them from something.

    They were snapped out of their reverie by the cruel sound of the large slave owner¡¯s hand colliding with the older of the two children¡¯s face, who had jumped in the path of the strike in the final moment as to protect their younger kin, sending them sprawling across the sandy ground.

    Wanderer could not wait any longer, ¡°I am going to help the children escape!¡± , the Vessel declared, caring little for how their Spirit replied.

    Yet instead of a forced rebuke like the Golem expected, only feelings of grim acceptance and pity flowed through their bond.

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    Yet Wanderer had no time guess at the meaning, already on route with Emio writhing on their shoulder, b-lining straight toward three shocked humans.

    With blessing-enhanced speed, the Golem grappled the man with four sturdy arms, hardly allowing them time to struggle before trying their best to sign to the children to run.

    They did not.

    ¡°Perhaps they are too scared¡±, the Vessel thought, it was natural for children to be scared.

    With a burst of strength, the Golem forced the slaver to his knees, hoping the extra vulnerability would bolster the children¡¯s courage.

    Yet still they did not move from their position.

    It was then that Wanderer looked into the eyes of the smallest child and saw the emotions flashing through them.

    Confusion, fear, these things the Golem expected to find, yet within their small eyes there was another emotion, reluctance.

    ¡°But why¡± the Vessel questioned, ¡±Why do they not run?¡±.

    It was at that moment the familiar voice of their Spirit rose from a place right next to their soul, carrying with it the message that they suspected yet did not want to hear.

    The children did not want to be free.

    Wanderer''s mind refused to accept it, adventure and freedom were the core of their being, how could anyone else possibly wish to remain trapped and abused.

    Spirit soon told them of the reason.

    The slaves were unlike Wanderer or Emio, they had to eat and drink and were not capable of travelling without rest like the Golem and in a place as harsh as the desert, it was unlikely for them to find such resources easily.

    ¡°But surely even the chance of freedom is worth the risk¡±, Wanderer argued, still unable to comprehend how someone could go so against the core facet of their being.

    Yet their Spirit doubled down, claiming that the children did not flee not only because of the difficulty in doing so, but because they had likely never known anything but slavery, and knew nothing of freedom.

    The Vessel stilled at the thought, subconsciously increasing their grip on the struggling man, so utterly perplexed at the thought as they were.

    ¡°What would that life be like¡±, from the moment of their moulding, Wanderer had freedom, the chance and the wish to explore wherever they wanted to.

    They tried, and tried, yet despite their best efforts, they could not comprehend what being trapped for their entire life would be like, let alone not being able to even wish for freedom.

    It just didn''t make sense.

    They were snapped from their contemplation by a fist hitting them squarely across the cheek, the man they were restraining having managed to slip one hand out from their grasp while they were distracted.

    The punch did little, the man, while large, was not particularly strong and the hit didn''t have the power to damage the Golem¡¯s clay flesh, yet what caused far more damage was the Vessel¡¯s realisation the the slaver in front of them had trapped two children for so long they could not even dream of escape.

    It was now that the simmering rage that had been repelled by the throes of confusion reared its ugly head, unwilling to be ignored.

    The man was shoved back with force, stumbling a few steps back yet keeping his balance.

    The moment they realised their freedom, the slaver turned to run, yet there are few things more impossible than escape from a rage-fueled golem.

    In an instant, two clay hands closed around the slave owner''s neck while the other two pinned his arms, hoisting the man into the air.

    At this time, Wanderer had no sense of the world around them, not of their Spirit calling in their head, nor Emio squirming irritatedly at their side, not even the desperate kicks of their victim registered in their mind.

    All of their being was focused on the fact that the man in front of them was willing to force children to work themselves to the bone, then feel the entitlement to assault them if they even dared to clean themself.

    With just a flex of their strength, the man in front of them would face the consequences of his actions and never be able to harm others again.

    Yet as they looked into the eyes of their prey, they saw not the eyes of a cruel imprisoner, no emotions of hatred or contempt, they saw only one emotion, fear.

    Images flashed through the Golem¡¯s mind, of the pain and fear in the eyes of the man on the road when they had brought them to the brink of death, of the fear and pain they felt when they were at the mercy of the humans at the tree''s roots.

    They remembered the fear in the eyes of the very children Wanderer was trying to protect.

    In an instant, they came to the realisation that if they were to kill the man, who so obviously feared the Vessel, then they would be no different from them.

    As if they had been thrown into the depths of the coldest lake, reality thrust itself upon Wanderer once again and they dropped the slaver from their grasp.

    They didn''t truly know how to feel, happy that they pulled themself back from the brink or angry that they had let themself come so close to killing once again.

    And so they didn''t, resorting to following their instincts and doing what they have always done, explore.

    And so, with an empty mind and emotionless gaze, the Vessel began their ascent up the side of the tower of rock, their two friends following along in silence.

 Climb and Pride

    Climb and Pride

    It was halfway up the rocky wall that the Golem¡¯s mind returned to them, still addled by worries and contradictions, yet it had returned from its dissociation enough that Wanderer was able to realise a major mistake they had made.

    ¡°I did not stay to see what happened to the children¡±, they realised.

    All the effort and pain they gone through in stopping the man may have well been wasted because they did not stay to help them.

    Instantly, the Vessel¡¯s still muddled mind jumped to anxiety after anxiety, worries about the health of the children now that the man went free.

    They were overcome with the sudden urge to climb back down and try to fix their mistakes, to go back on their sudden escape and try to make things right.

    Yet like so many times before, their Spirit interjected.

    They explained that there was no good way for the situation to be solved, not without either killing or permanently harming the slaver and even then the children would likely still face hardship, by way of either the uncaring desert or the hands of another abuser.

    Even Wanderer, with all of their best efforts, could not help someone who does not want to be helped, and despite how much it could benefit them, the children did not want to escape.

    ¡°How many people have been enslaved¡±, the Golem asked, though they dreaded the answer.

    They knew that they were being too optimistic to believe that the caravan and these children were the only souls unfortunate to be imprisoned.

    Though the Spirit did not know for certain, they could give a guess, sending an image of a pine tree to the Golem.

    At first, Wanderer was confused, why would their Spirit bring a tree into a question about people?

    Yet without prompting, the Vessel was slowly overcome with horror as they realised what their Spirit truly meant, that for every needle on that tree, an innocent person was enslaved.

    Like so many times before, Wanderer could not comprehend it, there were more needles on that tree than the Golem could count, and for every one of them, someone was going through the same pain and suffering they had seen in those children.

    The knowledge wrapped around their soul and crushed it, the brutality of the possible truth too horrific for them to accept.

    Hauling themself into one of the larger imperfections in the rocky wall, the Golem stopped to try and rationalise what their Spirit had told them.

    ¡°Is it possible for me to help them all?¡±, Wanderer asked, expecting yet another terrible answer, but to their surprise, the Spirit provided hope.

    They preached to the Golem that the only way for Wanderer to help the slaves was if they managed to convince the slaves to help themselves, to turn against their oppressors and find their own freedom.

    A bolt of hope shot through the Vessel, only to be quickly crushed by their memory of their failure in helping the children, and how resistant they were to the idea of escape.

    In despair, they asked, ¡°is it even possible for me to convince them, to make them take the risk¡±.

    For a long moment, the Spirit was quiet, until finally they sent their reply.

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    They replied that not every prisoner was so object to the idea of escape, and neither was it entirely impossible to convince them.

    They replied that slavery could be broken, and that none are doomed for imprisonment.

    They replied that while it would be difficult, incredibly so, Wanderer could help every one of those people, if only the Golem could make them believe that there is something better for them.

    Wanderer made to reply, yet their Spirit was not finished, they had one final question for the Golem.

    They requested that, despite how difficult it would be, would they take on the challenge and try to free those who needed them.

    Wanderer knew, in their mind that it was a question that they should have pondered, yet their soul begged otherwise, in the time it would have taken them to make a single step, the Vessel had already found their answer.

    They would.

    As they made their resolution, a peculiar feeling passed through the bond between them and their Spirit, one that they had never felt from their guide before.

    It was not negative, like so many of the new emotions they found tended to be, and it seemed to Wanderer like joy or happiness, yet it was not for themself or at some distant spectacle, this emotion of levity was directed at the Golem.

    Pride, that is what it was, and it was contagious.

    In a instant, the Vessel was filled with a similar feeling to the dancing Spirit inside of them, pride in themself and their own resolutions, something they had been sorely lacking.

    Even Emio, who, moments before had been a mix of annoyed at the lack of progress up the wall and worried for the unusual actions of their friend, seemed to sense the joviality of the Golem and joined in the festivity.

    All of Wanderer''s worries seemed so far away, and some part of them realised that the happiness was not the most appropriate reaction to the monumental task they had just pledged to uptake, yet they could not help it, it all felt so right.

    Wanderer laughed in their mind, a laugh that only their Spirit could hear, yet if the Golem had a mouth with which they could have spoke, the whole of the desert would have likely heard them in that moment.

    It took a while for them to calm down as they sat on the small indent in the rocky cliff, yet as they did their mind returned to the recent events they had gone through.

    But this time, as they thought of the children they had left behind, they did not conjure feelings of despair or regret, but a self assured determination.

    ¡°I can not now, but I will free you.¡± Wanderer said resolutely.

    With a final look toward the ground, the Golem began their ascent again, the previously mindless action of climbing now backed by resolve in every move.

    As they climbed higher and higher, the red rock that made up the walls of the cavern suddenly shifted to the black colour that Wanderer had first seen, switching along a large fault.

    As it did so, the hand holds they were using to climb disappeared, the darker stone lacking the imperfections that made its lower counterpart easier to traverse.

    Wanderer began to have to use the holes which the small red birds had dug for their homes, which were, luckily, in abundance.

    Occasionally, as the Vessel climbed they would hear the faint chirps of baby birds emanating from one of the holes, agitated by the Golem passing by.

    Wanderer peered inside one of the nests and found that the baby birds, in contrast to their parents, were not only colourless but blind, judging by their milky white eyes.

    ¡°I suppose they have no use for colour or sight in there.¡±, The Vessel thought, it was exceptionally dark inside the avian¡¯s abode and it was only by way of the Golem¡¯s enhanced vision that they could make out anything at all.

    Wanderer moved on, slowly making their way up the sheer cliff with Emio following along beside them.

    Luckily, Emio had no wish to inspect the infant birds like they did with the vulture eggs, with how adapted the birds were to their small caves, the Vessel was unsure if taking them out of that environment, if even for a moment, would result in some type of harm.

    After climbing for longer than they had expected, the Golem managed to finally scale the great monolith of rock, pulling themself over the edge with one final heave.

    A part of them had been hoping for some abandoned temple or great curiosity at the tabled summit of the mesa, yet there was no such thing.

    For a hundred or so steps in front of them was a flat plateau, its uniform black only disturbed by the occasional pile of bird droppings and the uniform blue of the horizon.

    Slowly walking across the smooth surface, the Golem set themselves to approach the opposite edge from which they climbed, intent on seeing the curiosity they had spied from the dunes when a thought crept into their head.

    The first slaves they had encountered, the ones they had left with the blue coin had never directly stated they did not wish to escape, unlike the children.

    The thought caused the Vessel to wonder.

    ¡°I wonder what they are doing right now?¡±

 Extra 3: Escape of the Hunted

    Extra 3: Escape of the Hunted

    Shreshka cursed the sun as it lit up the world around them, trying to stay out of sight becoming gradually more difficult as its influence made her dark skin stand out amongst the subtle green of the mountain grass.

    she risked a glance behind them to monitor the progress of her companion, finding them burdened, but not too far behind them, maintaining impressive speed for the cargo they were carrying.

    That particular burden let out a groan of pain in their half lucid state, sometime during their hurried escape one of their barely healed wounds had reopened with a slow trickle of blood, yet they have had no time to stop and attempt to treat the injury.

    ¡°This way!¡±, was the call that Shreshka heard as they pondered this, reminding them of the urgency of their situation.

    Some time in the early hours of the morning, a couple Gritriag had picked up their trail and had been steadily gaining since then.

    Even to Shreshka, who was unversed in the ways of the Keepers, the two hunters that were chasing them were amateurs, if they weren''t the trio would have died long ago, but even amateur Gtririag were a foe far more deadly than they could face.

    They had tried many times to shake them off their trail, yet neither her nor Retlafeh were particularly versed in the ways of stealth and with the burden they had uptook, there was little chance of erasing their tracks.

    Sensing their doom approaching, the breathless former-slave rushed ahead once again, scouting ahead of their companion for a vain hope that they could find some method of escape.

    Sprinting past the low hanging boughs of the conifers around them, the Orshraka stopped for just a moment, gazing onto the world around them.

    The smell of pine and sweat suffused their mind as they desperately searched for some form of shelter, eyes darting from rock to tree to ditch in some hope that they will be able to escape.

    It was then that she laid her eyes on their principle hope, there, at the bottom of one of the many colossal trees native to the homelands of the Earliag was a thick blanket of fog that spread over the land.

    With an apology to Orsha for abandoning Her trial, Shreshka silently signed for Retlafeh to follow her as they rushed toward the mist, hoping it would save them from their fate.

    The two half-ran half-stumbled their way down the mountainside and into the valley in which the massive tree rested, the steep slope and dew laden grass making the descent a treacherous endeavour.

    Just as the former-slaves were beginning to reach their limit, exhaustion erring on overtaking them, an unseen root seemed to appear in front of Shreshka, causing her to fall to the ground.

    She scrambled the her feat as fast as her exhaustion weary limbs could manage, but she was too slow.

    From behind her, a resounding ¡°There they are!¡± echoed throughout the valley, signifying that what had before been a tense game of whale and vulture was now a serious chase.

    Before, the Keepers had been more concerned about following their tracks then keeping their speed, yet now that they had spotted their prey, any thought of delay was discarded.

    The Gtrirag began to sprint at a speed far exceeding what the two tired, malnourished Orshraka could produce, the gap between the two parties rapidly closing.

    What little energy the overburdened fugitives had, they put into their final sprint toward the safety of the fog.

    Blood rushed in their ears as they approached the dark mist, and for a moment it seemed like they were going to make it, the lead between them and the Earliag large enough that even with their enhanced speed, the trio would be able to escape.

    That was until they heard the whistling of approaching arrows.

    She heard a gasp of shock from behind her as a deadly projectile missed Retlafeh¡¯s head by a hair, the usually stoic Orshraka unable to conceal their surprise.

    Yet he was not alone in his worry for long, Shreshka facing a similar issue as a vengeful arrow landed but two steps from their feet.

    The trio didn''t stop for long however, the added threat only managing to coax a smidgen more speed out of the escapees, having long since reached their limit.

    Unable to take shelter from the hailing missiles, the two put their all into closing in on the fog, Retlafeh only trailing marginally behind despite his extra burden.

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    For a matter of moments that felt like a thousand eternities, they faced the fire and pursuit of their hunters, until, in a moment of utter relief, the cold mist closed in around them.

    In an instant, the revealing sun was swallowed and the sounds of their pursuers muffled, drowned in a fog so thick the former-slave could hardly see four steps in front of them.

    Despite their relief, they did not stop, knowing well that all their efforts would be for nothing if they were found.

    And so they went on, making efforts to twist and turn to make sure that their pursuers had well and truly lost them.

    Only when Retlafeh crashed to the ground and dropped the still bleeding Hureheh, did Shreshka permit her legs to fail as well, taking her rest on the cold, dead ground below them.

    As her adrenaline faded and body began to prepare itself for its much needed rest, she began to notice a peculiar feeling.

    At first she believed that the pain in her lungs was just a result of their rapid aspiration, yet as she focused on the feeling more and more, she noticed it was not the familiar pain of over exertion, though that was very present, it felt instead like her lungs were¡­ itching.

    And with every breath she took, this feeling seemed to increase, causing her to start coughing, unable to breath properly.

    In a instant, her skin too felt a similar feeling and looking down she saw that it was covered in a bright red rash.

    ¡°The fog is poisonous¡±, She realised.

    ¡°Quickly, Retlafeh, get up, the fog is toxic!¡± she called.

    Yet both the injured Hureheh and the exhausted Retlafeh were unresponsive, the latter¡¯s overexertion guaranteeing his collapse as the same rash spread over his body.

    She attempted to stand, yet her own exhaustion was not far removed from that of her companions and her legs gave out from under her.

    As Shreshka¡¯s eyes began to sting and her vision blur she desperately searched for anything that could help her.

    Yet around her was nothing but long dead grass and the clothes on her back, the trio having little worldly possessions which they could have took.

    Just as her vision began to fade and darkness take her, Shreshka¡¯s blurry eyes rested on the gift that they were given by the peculiar Golem, the star-silver coin.

    In that moment, the gift seemed to take on a almost otherworldly sheen and in a instinctive decision, the former-slave reached out for the coin, grasping its cold surface in their hand and clutching tight.

    ¡°At least I will die honouring my saviour¡±, they thought.

    Yet as their pain increased and their mind dulled, one persistent thought echoed through their head.

    ¡°Will I be accepted by Orsha?¡± she thought, had she truly fought to the bitter end, did she face an honourable death?

    Her muddled mind said yes, after all, what more could they do when their escape was so utterly hopeless.

    Yet somewhere in her heart, she felt there was till something, though she knew not what it was.

    As her body began to shut down in the poisonous air, she belatedly noticed something peculiar, the coin in her hand seemed to almost vibrate in her fingers.

    It was a curious sensation, one the former-slaves was near convinced was just a product of her failing nerves, yet something told her otherwise, it felt too familiar, it felt like magic.

    On one final hope, Shreshka did something she had not done for a great deal of time, she raised her hands and began a spell.

    It was a piddly spell, more a ritual prayer to honor Orsha than any attempt at magic, but it was one of the few spells that Orshraka were permitted to learn by their oppressors, and the only one the escapee was able to use.

    It was a spell to summon a light wind, representative of the great winds that Orsha sent across Shreshkas homeland in the colder seasons, under darker moons.

    Despite her shaking hands, Shreshka completed the spell, only a single rune appearing in the air because of its simple nature.

    But before the former-slave even felt the wind the spell produced, they felt the magic that powered the spell be drawn into it in quantities far exceeding any amount they had ever seen before.

    She felt it being drawn to the coin, then being further sacrificed into the simple spell, its singular rune growing so bright that Shreshka could see it even through her damaged eyes.

    And then the wind came.

    Shreshka had expected a breeze no greater than ones own lungs could produce, yet what came could not be rightly called a breeze, a storm being a far more apt description.

    Shreshka could not see the wind, yet she did not need to to feel its power.

    The former-slave held her breath in shock at the magic that was just realised, far exceeding her wildest hope, but her next breath shocked her more.

    Clean, fresh air pervaded her stinging lungs, a fresh breeze blowing into the now parted fog which brought with it a new surge of energy within Shreshka.

    ¡°This is my chance¡±, she thought.

    With a final surge of energy she did not know she had, she stood up, shambling her way to where her friends lay.

    She could not see, but she remembered where they lay and to her luck, they remained there.

    She didn''t bother trying to hoist their limp bodies onto her shoulders, she knew that she had not the energy to do so, instead she grabbed one of each of their hands, and dragged them.

    Slowly, step by agonising step, the Oshraka dragged her friends through the dead soil and toward the source of the breeze, hoping beyond hope that she could escape.

    She knew not where she got the energy to do what she did, pehaps the magic or fresh air had revitalised her in some way, or maybe it was a hidden blessing of Orsha to help her through her trial, in that moment, Shreshka did not think of these things.

    After what felt like hours but what was likely a collection of moments, the former-slave¡¯s limbs finally gave out, even the power of the adrenaline pumping through her veins unable to keep her going.

    She collapsed to the floor as her mind finally shut down, her final thought being,

    ¡°Did I make it out?¡±

 Bones and Plan

    Bones and Plan

    ¡°I''m sure they are fine¡±, Wanderer assumed.

    Wanderer snapped out of their musing quickly, the excitement of seeing the peculiar creature with a better view causing them to discard their wonderings.

    Scooping up a receptive Emio and placing them on their shoulders, a action which elicited a pur from the herbal creature, Wanderer strode the hundred or so steps to the opposite edge of the mesa.

    A hot wind swept up as the Golem looked out over the cliff, the faint songs of the small, red birds echoing out from far away.

    The sun had risen to its place in the morning sky, having completed its domination of the blue sky as the many moons had fallen well and truly below the horizon.

    That same blue sun cast an azure light onto dark sands below, causing it to glint and sparkle under its influence and reveal its glass-like nature.

    The great golden cities in the distance were as secretive as ever, their high walls blocking any attempt at prying, yet when Wanderer spied their hardest at the city closest to them, they could make out small, colourful patches of cloth surrounding the walls.

    ¡°What are they?¡±, Wanderer thought.

    In answer, their Spirit drew their attention to something which was only barely visible, even to their enhanced vision.

    There, along the roads that connected the cities to the rest of the world, tiny black dots slowly moved along them, sometimes going through a great gate that was just out of view of Wanderer, sometimes stopping at the colourful pieces of cloth.

    For a moment, the Vessel was perplexed by the scene, until they found their realisation.

    ¡°Those are humans¡± They realised.

    it was a shocking thought, before they had thought the cities to be quite small, the lack of perspective in the dark sands deceiving them, yet if the scale of the tiny black dots was anything to go by, there were likely tens of thousands living in each and every one of the walled abodes.

    It was now that the whole desert was put into perspective, before the Golem thought that everything would be a short trek from place to place, yet if the cities were of such immense size, that meant that everything else was both much larger and further away than they thought.

    ¡°How big must the volcano be, then?¡±, even the highest towers of the walled citadels were dwarfed by the towering height of the volcano, the angular structure rising high into the sky.

    Now that they realised it, other signs of their skewed perspective began arising to their senses, one being the many tents they saw set up along the various roads spread out across the sands, which cut through the rising dunes in uncanny straight lines.

    The tent Wanderer had personally inspected, the one from which they had taken the flare-bow, had been quite large, built to comfortably house entire caravans full of people.

    Yet those very same tents, of the same make and size dotted alongside the roads of the desert, seeming tiny in comparison to the vastness of the world, fading to miniscule dots on the horizon.

    For a long moment, Wanderer was locked in the sudden comprehension how vast the world was.

    They never truly knew it in the protected valleys of the forest, the mountains around them blocking far too much of their vision, even from their view in the boughs of the evergreen they did not truly understand it, as skewed as their scale was in their early life.

    But now the Golem¡¯s mind had widened, able to understand and comprehend more, now they realised a all important fact, one that filled them with both trepidation and inconceivable joy.

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    ¡°I could explore for my entire life and never see it all¡±, they knew.

    It was a daunting feeling, that the world was so vast and full that one could explore forever.

    Wanderer did not know how long they could live, let alone how long they would when they took their near constant life-or-death experiences into account, but all of that mattered little in the face of what there was to discover.

    It was frightening to the Vessel, that their self given purpose may never be fulfilled, yet their Spirit felt otherwise.

    Their Spirit bounded within Wanderer as they watched the Vessel come to the same realisation they had came to a long, long time ago and excitedly offered a different viewpoint so that the Golem may share in their joy.

    It is indeed impossible to fulfil their shared purpose, but exploration is not about reaching a goal or place, its about everything in between, its not about getting to the shining cities in the distance, but appreciating every little plant and animal and sight and sound that Wanderer could find on the way there.

    The only way for the Vessel to find a true, constant sense of fulfilment, their spirit decreed, was to never fulfil their goal at all, to constantly find joy everywhere they looked

    In truth, Wanderer¡¯s trepidation did not instantly evaporate, as perhaps it once would have when they were younger and their mind was more simple, but none the less, their Spirit¡¯s words were sensible and helpful, and they took solace in them.

    With their mind eased, the Golem suddenly remembered the very reason they had climbed to the mesa in the first place, to inspect the strange creature they had seen from so far away.

    Focusing back onto the world around them, the Vessel stared out to the very edge of the horizon and inspected the anomaly.

    They soon found that the creature that caught their interest was not truly a animal, at least, not anymore, what the Golem saw instead was a great pile of bones.

    Like spires of great castles, massive, sun-tanned ribs stuck out of the dark sand, contrasting harshly against the black dunes.

    Around those great towers, other smaller bones rested in the desert, from skulls to fingers to spines, calcified remains of all kinds stuck up from the sands, each of them at least partially buried.

    The owners of those bones were as diverse and unusual as one could imagine, from giant birds to colossal insects, species one would never expect to be in such close proximity to each other shared the graveyard as their eternal resting place.

    It shocked the Vessel, what could have possibly happened in this place that all those animals would die in the same place.

    Even a query to their Spirit provided little answers, the guide having little more to talk about than abstract guess work in almost any of the phenomena that the strange desert possessed.

    Peering just a slight bit harder, Wanderer noticed yet another of the large, quarry-like holes that were beginning to be so ubiquitous with the desert, yet unlike those that could be found deep in the sands, these particular shafts were significantly smaller and more narrow.

    Where as the mines that were visibly pock marked at seemingly random across the dunes, which tended to be incredibly wide and shallow, the man made cavities in amongst the ancient graveyard were closer to deep pits in the ground, which had long, winding slopes gradually leading out of them.

    Wanderer assumed there were likely people down there, yet it was simply too far for even their vision to reach, which once again brought into question the scale of both the pits and the great skeletons around them.

    Excitement grew within the Vessel at the thought of witnessing the great monoliths of bone, but even in their excitement, they knew that rushing to see the graveyard would mean they left behind many other exciting things to explore.

    They puzzled the problem for a moment but quickly came up with a simple solution.

    ¡°I will slowly make my way to the graveyard, and stop at everything that interests me¡±, They resolved, ¡°After all, there is no rush¡±.

    Happy with their resolution, and feeling that there was little else to inspect from their viewpoint, they turned their mind to the next issue.

    ¡°How am I supposed to get down?¡±, Wanderer contemplated, while they could certainly attempt to climb down, the path back down was perilous, it being a great deal more difficult to safely downclimb than to climb up something.

    They turned the problem over in their young mind before eventually, their vision rested on Emio and they were possessed with a brilliant idea.

    The Golem thought back to when they had first entered the canyon that surrounded the mesa, how Emio had so easily picked them up and hoisted them in the air, and although the memory itself was full of fear and anger, from it a plan formed.

    There was no need to risk a perilous climb down to the floor if the verdestry could simply lower them down.

    And so, with a heart full of excitement, the Golem quickly began signing their plan to their companion.

 Descent and Heat

    Descent and Heat

    It took almost half of an hour of frantic signing and unreliable interpretations by Wanderer before Emio seemed to grasp what the Golem wished to do, and another half of an hour for the Vessel to actually convince the stubborn verdestry to do what they wanted.

    But in the end, Wanderer was successful, managing to get Emio to offer a tendril with which the Golem could repel down the cliff.

    Hurriedly taking the rope-like limb before the verdestry could change their mind, Wanderer made sure to consolidate their grip while the lighter creature anchored themself to the rock.

    Seeing that the herbal monster was ready, they grasped their lifeline tight and began to repel down the rock face, being careful to not trip on the bird nests.

    A shot of dread raced through Wanderer as they went over the edge, freezing them for a moment and giving rise to an instant feeling of regret.

    Yet it was too late for them to give up now, and eventually, they restarted their descent.

    Even still, they did not look down, overcome by fear that doing so would cause the reality of their precarious situation to be realised.

    Emio continued to lower the Golem, unknowing or perhaps uncaring of their friend''s sudden terror, and with little other choice, the Vessel descended, one step at a time.

    Every moment felt like an eternity of regret and fear, even the Spirit in their head telling them that they could probably survive the fall doing little to ease their fears.

    It was when, only after a few, slow steps, Wanderer¡¯s hoof landed in one of the many hole-in-the-wall nests and almost threw them off the cliff, the Golem resigned to force themself to look toward the ground, if for nothing more than their own safety.

    Yet it was as Wanderer took in the perilous drop below them, they found that they were not hit with the spike of fear they expected, but a sudden rush of liberation.

    As they looked over the daytime desert, nothing had truly changed, the birds and the lizards were still locked in their struggle, and the sun still glinted off the dark sands all the same, yet something about hanging over the edge with nothing below them, able to get a full, unobstructed view of both the above and below delighted Wanderer.

    Now, while before the Golem believed Emio to be letting them down too slowly, now they were going much too fast, Wanderer''s time to experience the feeling quickly coming to an end.

    ¡°Is this what it''s like to fly?¡±, they thought.

    Suddenly, Wanderer envied the birds and vultures, even the great whale that cruised above, what wonder they must feel, being free to survey the earth below.

    In what felt like moments, Wanderer had their hooves back on the canyon floor once again, already wishing they could experience the descent once again.

    They didn''t need their Spirit to tell them that that was unlikely to happen.

    For one, they would have to risk the climb back up again, then the descent down.

    And perhaps most damming of all, they would have to convince the already disgruntled Emio to let them do it again, a unlikely event, if judging by the irritated movements of the small creature''s body as they climbed down the cliff.

    Thinking it prudent to move on and avoid the consequences of forcing their friend into becoming a living belay device, Wanderer quickly climbed the other side of the canyon back out.

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    In the time it had taken for Wanderer to scale the short cliff, Emio had already caught up, clearly irritated yet they took no action against the Vessel, the memories of their previous mistake still fresh in their primitive mind.

    The verdestry coiled themself on Wanderer''s shoulders, quickly making themself at home on the clay surface.

    After taking a short moment to orient themselves, the Golem set off in the direction of the boneyard, not truly following the best route but slowly meandering across the sands.

    Gradually, the sun heated the dark sand below them, the ambient temperature increasing to an uncomfortable level as the air in the distance began to ripple.

    Step by step, the Golem became more and more uncomfortable under the heat of the sun, its cruel radiance caring little for their burning feet.

    They had thought that the heat that they felt back on the long road was terrible, yet they were only just coming to the dreadful realisation that temperature was but a shadow of what the pitch black sands below them could accrue.

    The distorting air cruelly created illusions of pools of water and Wanderer longed for their cooling embrace, despite knowing full well that they were but tricks of the heat.

    After trekking for what felt like hours in the Vessel¡¯s tortured mind, the Golem looked back and realised that the mesa they had left behind what felt like hours ago, was still standing strong behind them, less than a quarter of the distance of what Wanderer expected.

    It was then the Vessel realised that they could not go on in the heat any longer, it was robbing them of any pleasure they usually found during travelling, the pain it caused too distracting for Wanderer to find the wonder of the world.

    The next tower of rock that formed the ring of mesas surrounding the volcano was still a great way away, more than five times the distance from the one they had just left.

    Desperately, Wanderer began to search the world around them, hoping to find a saving grace from the sweltering heat.

    Yet there was nothing around but colourful cacti and lizards.

    Just as Wanderer was about to turn back, hoping to get out of the sun even in sacrifice of their progress, their Spirit, who had previously been silent, spoke up.

    They informed the Golem that they had found a potential solution to their problem, but they would have to be both fast and stealthy to act upon it.

    The Vessel didn''t even question their Spirit, immediately setting off in the direction of the shelter their Spirit had seen with their strange perception.

    As fast as Wanderer could manage in the extreme heat, they began to sprint to the north, toward the volcano, cresting dunes as the dark sand crunched beneath them.

    As the Golem crested the final rise, their Spirit urged them to slow down and proceed with stealth, a difficult prospect for the heat-exhausted Golem but one they complied with all the same.

    There in front of them, just thirty or so steps away, lay a low, sandy road, so unmaintained and destitute that from their perch atop the mesa, they did not even realise it was there.

    It stretched on to one of the smaller cities in the distance, almost standing in the way of them and the graveyard.

    To their right, a small caravan of two carriages, a fraction of the size of the one they saw in the tent, rolled across the road, the transports catching their sturdy wheels on every bump and trough the road offered.

    Two humans piloted the front carriage, its wares securely fastened and protected, steering the two stocky zebra at the front onwards.

    The back transport, much like the first was pulled by two stocky horses, but unlike the front runner, had no human piloting it from above.

    Instead, a small and moderately dressed man rode alongside them, occasionally pulling on their reigns with a long hooked pole.

    This fact, however, was hardly noticeable compared to the fact that he was seemingly riding on nothing.

    He rode upon a saddle, which was clearly visible, but this saddle seemingly drifted through the air, as if there was nothing below it.

    Wanderer puzzled was on this, curious as to how this was possible.

    ¡°Is it some form of magic?¡±, they contemplated.

    They soon found their answer as, seemingly out of thin air, a long, pink tongue appeared and curled toward the rider.

    This tongue stopped for a moment then licked a massive, yellow eyeball that appeared in a similar manner.

    For a fraction of a second, the creature''s camouflage fell, Wanderer was only able to see a silhouette of a large, lizard-like animal before the tongue flicked back to where it came from and the illusion was restored.

    Part of Wanderer wished to stay and contemplate the peculiar creature, or better yet, go up and inspect it, but they knew that would elicit no good reactions from the merchants, and so, under the relentless heat of the sun.

    The Golem came up with a plan.

 Stowaway and Trinkets

    Stowaway and Trinkets

    The sun was nearing its apex when the Golem put their plan into action.

    Wanderer was no fool and had learned from their past mistakes, they knew their body had no penchant for stealth, which is why they did not immediately run out and try to hide in the carriage.

    They began by running far ahead of the slow-moving convoy, then swiftly burying themself in the burning sand beside the road, from head to hoof.

    The heat they experienced magnified tenfold under the superheated dunes, but there was a promise of cool shade later, and it was a promise that Wanderer was willing to do almost anything for.

    Then, with Emio posing as one of the many cacti of the desert beside them, the Vessel waited, an act in which boredom was almost as painful as the heat they endured.

    Slowly but surely, Wanderer began to pick up the faint sounds of the caravan approaching, the crush of hooves in sand and wheels rolling over compacted ground.

    They waited and waited until the sounds of the caravan reached their climax, then waited just a little more.

    When they felt the time was right and they could not wait any longer, the Golem drew themself out of the sand and ran toward the open backed cart as fast as they could.

    They had timed their exit well, but not perfectly, the back caravan further than they wished but so far as to make them abort the plan.

    Without hesitation, they dashed toward the shade, keeping their vision on the man riding atop the invisible lizard, the only one with a line of sight toward the Vessel.

    It was as they sprinted in plain sight that they belatedly realised the inherent foolishness of their plan, how easily it could be foiled by the most simple inspection.

    Every moment felt like a hundred as the Vessel closed in on their target, dreading when the rider would inevitably look over their shoulder, spurred on by Wanderers¡¯ cumbersome form.

    Yet, maybe because of the heat wearing away at their awareness or sheer dumb luck, the rider never turned, not so much as twitching a muscle in question.

    Hope blossomed in the Vessel¡¯s chest as they approached their destination, the safety of the open cart just steps away.

    Mere moments before leaping to their shelter, a long, thin tongue appeared out of the air, wrapping around to wipe a large yellow eye, an eye which was fixed directly on the speeding Golem.

    Wanderer froze, stumbling in shock, any moment now the invisible beast would notify its master, and their plan would be for naught.

    For a long, long moment, the lizard''s gaze seemed to rest on the Golem, till, as if it had seen nothing, its tongue moistened its eyeball and it rested its gaze onward once again.

    The Vessel didn''t hesitate, they knew they were unlikely to get a chance like that again, and so with one final push, they bounded into the moving cart and ducked behind a particularly large pile of boxes.

    Instantly, a wave of coolness washed over them, the shaded roof of the carriage doing much to remove the cruelty of the sun.

    Though it was still swelteringly hot, the air alone was nothing compared to the radiating sands and blaring sun.

    Suddenly, Wanderers found themself able to think, and as a consequence, regret their decisions.

    They very clearly realised now another issue with their brilliant scheme, they had no plan to escape.

    Yet peculiarly, Wanderer found themself too tired to care.

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    ¡°I will deal with it when I have to¡± they told themself.

    They slumped against the boxes, making sure they couldn''t be seen from the open entrance, before letting out a great deal of tension they had built up.

    They stayed still for a moment, sorting out their thoughts and taking in their new environment.

    Once they had calmed down from the excitement of their plan, the subconscious pressure of their Spirit orbiting their soul and the faint rustling of Emio, who had wasted no time making themself comfortable in an open box full of fabric, became noticeable to them once again .

    After a long moment, Wanderer slowly and silently rose, the soft filtered sunlight passing through the canvas roof of the carriage illuminating their form.

    It didn''t take long for curiosity to overtake them, the desire to add something else to their old satchel full of dusty coins and rotted books, maybe if they were lucky they would find something to help them read the human language.

    Taking one of the small, wooden boxes from the shelf, they opened its lid as silently as they could and peered inside.

    Inside this particular vessel was a collection of small, round glass balls, each spotted by minor imperfections in their creation.

    The Golem wondered what they were for, they seemed entirely mundane and badly made, what purpose could anyone have for such things?

    Feeling them not worth a place in the limited space they had in their satchel, they closed the box as best they could and placed it back in its place.

    Continuing on, they crept over to a large jar, full to the brim with a thick, tar-like substance that possessed a deep red hue, its slight transparency causing it to look as if it went on forever, not merely contained in a jar but in reality an infinite pool which grew ever deeper.

    Shocked at the unexpected beauty contained in such a simple container, the Golem slowly picked up the basic earthenware, tilting it as they watched the viscous liquid slowly crawl from one side to the other.

    Wanderer slowly dipped a hand in the substance, pulling the limb out to find it stuck to their hand like honey, slowly dripping off in big globules.

    After watching the slow drip of the thick oil for a moment, they wiped it off their hand as best they could, finding the liquid to have stained their malleable clay skin.

    That worried the Golem a little, but their Spirit emphasised that it was likely not permanent and so Wanderer found novelty in their red-stained hand.

    They debated, for a time, to cover their whole body in the red tar yet eventually decided against it, the fun alone not worth the effort of getting the sticky substance both on and off, let alone the mess.

    Placing the jar back down, the Golem crawled over to the other side of the carriage, closer to where Emio watched on, and began to decide what to inspect next.

    Wanderer spent a great deal of time, shuffling through the various trinkets and supplies the cart held.

    There were nails and brushes, crude wooden toys with little glass eyes and short, heavy blades similar to the one the masked defender had used back in the caravan tent.

    By the time Wanderer had inspected each one and their vision rested upon the small, dark wood box in the corner, the sun had not only risen to its apex but even began its daily flight down toward the south.

    The box was a pretty thing, ornately covered in the same copper-like metal they had seen in the cold creating machine.

    The wood of the small chest was not the same pale material they had seen in all the other boxes and crates in the transport carriage, instead much darker in tone and heavier in substance.

    Peculiarly, a small metal shaft stuck out of it on one side, causing Wanderer to wonder as to its purpose.

    They thought back to the cold machine they had seen back on the road, how it too had a lever that needed to be cranked.

    ¡°It must do magic¡±, the Vessel hoped.

    A bolt of excitement infected Wanderer, quickly spreading to their Spirit as well, even Emio saundered out of their box, somehow sensing that something was about to happen.

    Gingerly, Wanderer undid the small, delicate latch on the box and lifted its lid.

    Inside, a figurine of a pale-skinned woman stood proud, its porcelain body so realistic that, for a moment, the Vessel almost mistook it for the real thing.

    The billowing blue and purple purple dress that wrapped around its shoulders seemed to be made of the finest fabric the Golem had ever seen, somehow both hanging loosely and hugging the woman''s form.

    It was truly a thing of beauty.

    It instilled such wonder in their mind that they could not fathom that any magic or enchantment could possibly enhance the intricate grace the carving possessed.

    They were wrong.

    For as soon as Wanderer began to turn the crank on the side of the little brown box, a whole new world opened up in front of them.

    The dancer spun in geometric circles, overlapping and interweaving, its billowing dress spinning around it, revealing the dancer''s previously hidden slippers.

    Tiny, blue runes floated in the air, the same ice magic they had seen in the larger contraption.

    The air cooled ever so slightly as a thin layer of ice appeared on the dancer''s dress, causing it to glitter and shine in the filtered sunlight.

    Wanderers'' mind was blank with awe at the scene in front of them.

    But then the dancer began to sing.

 Song and Rhythm

    Song and Rhythm

    It was a simple tune, yet grand in its intensity, notes ascendant and powerful.

    Soft yet resolute words drifted from the machine, in a language Wanderer had not yet encountered but possessed a simple and eloquent tone, almost poetic as each word melded into the next.

    ¡°Rhokhe-lerhon-messheromo-sedlekbhe-spuwlophat-weron¡±, the dancer sang, its voice slightly muffled by the walls of the box it was emanating from.

    A wave of triumphant power overcame Wanderer, the triumphant tune and poetic words of the intricate contraption infecting their soul and inspiring them, making them feel they could take on the world and remain unharmed.

    The music quickly died down, acquiring a sombre tone and melancholy feeling which the Vessel adopted in turn, unable to resist the allure of its sound.

    ¡°Phrukhe-honluhon-sedlkbhe-merophat-merophat-keromo-mereon¡±, it continued, and although Wanderer could not comprehend what the elegant dancer was saying, they could feel in every fibre of their being what the porcelain woman meant, the emotions emanating through their voice.

    ¡°Someone they love, died¡±, Wanderer knew, though they could not fathom how.

    "Is this what it feels like for those left behind¡±, they pondered, and realised, while they had often contemplated their own demise, the death of their friends had never appeared in their mind, let alone how they would feel without them.

    ¡°I don''t know if I cou-¡±

    The Vessel never got to finish their thought, forcibly ripped out of their musing by a confused and startled shout coming from the back of the carriage.

    Attracted by the sound, the man who was once upon the invisible steed had inspected the source of the anomaly, and thankfully, seemed to be too shocked by the Golem¡¯s appearance to take any kind of action.

    Half shocked themself and unable to think of a good plan to escape, the Vessel snapped the music box shut and sprinted toward the exit, snatching Emio from their perch in the process.

    Perhaps Wanderer had overestimated the merchant''s prowess, but the poor man had only barely enough time to leap out of the way before the Golem barrelled past.

    Not even looking back at the shocked man they had nearly crushed, Wanderer stashed the small box in their satchel and disappeared over a nearby dune.

    They sprinted into the desert as fast as they could and only stopped when the still unbearable heat demanded they do so, and the unhappy verdestry still clinging to their arm.

    They collapsed in the dark sand, sending out a great crunch in all directions, and remained there until the sun overhead demanded they remove themself from its direct influence.

    They got up again, finding the desert slightly cooler than it had once been, just enough that the Golem could think, yet not enough for them to be comfortable.

    They dusted themself off and looked around, hoping to find somewhere to escape the heat once again and found that the carriage had made good time, Wanderer likely to be able to reach the small city before the sun would set.

    The greater question, however, was if they wanted to visit it.

    Almost every interaction the Golem had had with humans resulted in either anger, fear or aggression and they were unfortunately quite confident that any further run-ins would be quite the same.

    How then, could Wanderer possibly enter the city without being driven out, or even worse, killed?

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    ¡°Maybe I will come up with a plan when I get closer¡±, the Golem predicted, after all, the city was almost exactly in their path to the ancient graveyard, so they might as well pass by.

    Yet all this contemplation of future roots did not help their current predicament, that of the vicious sun that was still bearing down upon them.

    They quickly surveyed the surroundings, and found, as they unfortunately expected, that the desert lived up to its name and there was very little around.

    Only a few slabs of lizard-covered glass and scraggly cacti spattered the otherwise desolate surroundings.

    Of course, the great mesas still towered toward the edge of the desert, but the carriage had taken the Vessel away from them and now the city was closer than the nearest of the spires of rock, so they had no chance to escape to the previously close monoliths.

    It was then that the Golem was hit with a brilliant idea, bringing out the hastily stashed music box, they opened it up and began to wind the little handle, the dancer resuming their dance and picking up their song where they left off.

    Yet though beautiful, the art of the dancer was not what the Golem awakened her for, instead wishing to utilise her magical prowess.

    Once again, tiny icy runes appeared in the air, freezing the woman¡¯s dress and making it glitter in the sun, but more importantly,  the magic cooled the air around them.

    It was only a light breeze and the smallest drop in temperature, but it was enough to soothe much of the Vessel¡¯s woes.

    Once again, Wanderer fell into the notes and melodies of the dancer, meandering toward their destination as they did, just appreciating the music they had been torn from and the emotions and feelings that arose from within them.

    After a short time, the Golem noticed that the music began to loop, yet the song was still fresh in their mind, and so they rested and listened again to the emotional tune.

    Partway through the third repeat, the mesmerisation the song had caused had faded enough for Wanderer to have a brilliant thought.

    ¡°What if I make my own music¡±.

    Even to them, it was a foreign concept, all music they had known before the advent of the music box was that of the birds of the forest and wails of the sky-whales.

    But the music of the porcelain dancer was different, it was grand and perfect, and held meaning and purpose, a far cry from the animalistic songs of the critters of the sky.

    They almost chided themself for their hubris, how could they could hope to replicate the perfect notes and melodies of the music.

    But then again the Golem considered, what prevented them from making their own song?

    It was then that Wanderer remembered, and cursed, an all crucial element, they lacked a mouth with which to sing.

    Dreams shattered before they could truly begin, the Golem wallowed in their incapability, hurt that they may never replicate the beauty of the dancer for themself.

    Yet, as they so often did, their Spirit spoke words of wisdom.

    They claimed that, while they may very well be unable to sing like the porcelain woman, there may be alternatives that could fulfil their hopes.

    They drew the Vessel¡¯s attention to the music box and the sound it emitted, drawing them to focus not on the vocals, but the background music which bolstered them.

    Slowly, Wanderer came to realise that the notes and melodies were not human voices, and not the cries of animals either, it was something else entirely and they weren''t sure what.

    They asked their Spirit, who was looking on proudly as they puzzled out the answer, yet they refused to tell the Golem, instead wishing them to work out the same conclusion they had come to.

    ¡°If it is not animals, and it is not humans¡±, the Vessel puzzled, ¡°Then perhaps... It is objects that make those sounds!¡±.

    Too enthused by their discovery to even thank their guide, they immediately began to try and find objects that could be used as instruments.

    They were disappointed to find that all they could use in their surroundings were unpalatable as a tool of music, but nonetheless, they made do and settled on two particular sounds for their orchestra.

    After experimentally hitting and tapping almost everything in the vicinity, (including an experimental tap on Emio which begot a swift and viscous retribution), they eventually narrowed down two percussion instruments they had on their person, the dull thud of their leather satchel and the higher slap of their hand on their own thigh.

    In moments, they were beating a rhythm, a travelling song they called it, and picked up pace on their journey, lost in the throughs of rhythm.

    After a while, they even closed the music box, its conflicting melody affecting their own and the sun having fallen enough that the heat was bearable.

    And so, with the force of a thousand songs bearing them forward, the Golem and their friends came to approach the great gates of the city just as the sun began to fall.

    And as they arrived, they promised themself one thing.

    ¡°I will get myself an instrument¡±.

 Observation and Lamentation

    Observation and Lamentation

    The sapphire light of the sun was beginning to dwindle, hiding away in the north behind the volcano, as humans of all sizes and creeds began to pack up their shops and head inside the shining city walls.

    Wanderer watched them scurry like ants, rushing to pack up their goods or take what they had purchased home, as if scared of what the night may bring.

    ¡°Perhaps they are¡±, Wanderer realised, thinking back to how the zebra reacted when they were faced with the view of the lights in the desert.

    ¡°That''s why the walls are so high¡±, the Golem discerned, ¡°they are protecting themselves from the aurora¡±.

    Proud at having worked out the purpose of the peculiar city structure, the Vessel tucked themself under the lip of a nearby dune and watched the humans, hoping to find some secret to sneaking inside undetected.

    That secret did not reveal itself, or perhaps it would have if the Golem didn''t immediately get distracted by something they noticed in the crowd of diversely dressed humans.

    Amongst the many people, there seemed to be three groups, slaves, slavers and those who aligned with neither.

    Wanderer''s soul rebelled at the sight of the many slaves in the crowd, most with dark skin, marked by their tattered clothes or their resigned obedience when faced with the barked orders of their ¡°masters'''', some even carrying great chains around their necks.

    What crushed Wanderer''s soul the most, however, was their quantity, for every human scrambling around the marketplace, there was a slave as well.

    And of course, where there were slaves, there were slavers, seen in comparatively luxurious clothes and with often more harsh dispositions.

    The Vessel watched as a small, light-skinned man assaulted a slave almost twice his size with a ferocity that one would assume was accompanied by a crime of the highest order, when the slave had merely dropped a pouch full of dull coins on the sandy floor.

    While the sheer cruelty of that particular man was certainly the exception and not the rule, none of the more moderate citizens nearby made to help, some even managing to ignore the incident entirely.

    At first, the Golem assumed that the cruel actions and careless treatment by the slave owners were just how they treated everybody, yet this view was shattered only moments later.

    Wanderer saw a human who had been verbally abusing an old man with a chain wrapped around his neck, immediately turned around to speak words of endearment and love to a little girl following along behind him, as if there were no inherent contradiction in his actions.

    It perplexed the Vessel, ¡°How can they be so kind to some, yet so cruel to others?¡±

    As expected, their Spirit provided an answer, drawing upon the scene they had just witnessed.

    When the little girl was shown the man being abused by someone they obviously trusted, it taught them it was okay, allowing them to go on and abuse in much the same way.

    ¡°But why?¡± the Golem asked, ¡°What difference is there between a slave and a slaver¡±.

    The Spirit could not answer that, they did not know.

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    Distressed by the lack of closure and wishing to no longer stare upon the heart-breaking scene, Wanderer inspected the final group they had noticed.

    Naturally, when faced with such a binary power dynamic as slavery, there were some who rejected it entirely, and this is what Wanderer saw in many within the crowd.

    A good portion of the gathering of frantic humans, many of whom were the merchants that were selling their final wears, wore the more refined clothes and comfortable faces of those who were not crushed under the weight of servitude, yet they themselves also rejected placing that burden upon others.

    Despite the fact that they had the apparent empathy not to subject others to the imprisonment of slavery, for whatever reason that may be, none among this minority ever stood up for those who were robbed of their freedom.

    While most completely ignored the happenings around them, at best sparing a regretful glance at those being punished or assaulted, Wanderer¡¯s vision did happen upon one who was not so callous.

    He was in a similar garb to the man who saved his life back in the caravan tent, differing only in the colour of their clothes, while their taller saviour possessed brown and green clothing, this man''s was a lighter tan with deep blue highlights.

    Even without this clear distinction from those around them, Wanderer could tell they were a foreigner merely by the look of utter overwhelmment they possessed at the yelling shopkeepers and bustling hordes.

    ¡°They must come from a more relaxed place¡±, the Golem thought.

    The foreigner was being escorted by two people, a man with heavy, regal clothing guiding to the front and another human in a dark stone mask following alongside, spear in hand.

    While the guard followed with an imposing gait, the leader seemed to be absentmindedly explaining the surroundings, indicated by how they would occasionally lift a hand in the general direction of some point of interest.

    At that moment however, the recipient of this tour was not engaged in the words of their guide, instead focusing on the same, small man from earlier who had resumed his unfair beatings.

    The colourfully robed human was visibly disturbed by the scene, and for a moment looked like he was about to speak out against it.

    Yet their guide seemed to have sensed their uneasement, and with a pointed look, raised an eyebrow in question.

    Cowed, the foreigner shook their head to rid themself of the notion of questioning the brutality, and continued on, doing their best to draw their attention away from the injustice.

    If Wanderer¡¯s soul was crushed before, now it was nothing more than a fine powder, despair settling over them at seeing one so close to having stood out for the poor slave, only for them to back down at little more than a look of disapproval.

    ¡°Why did they do nothing¡±, the Golem lamented.

    Their Spirit answered, bringing to attention that the man did nothing for much the same reason the Golem did, fear of consequences.

    The truth hit the Vessel like a boulder.

    ¡°But I would be killed if I went down there¡±, Wanderer justified, yet they knew it was a feeble argument.

    Their Spirit rebutted, bringing to attention that the Golem had no knowledge of whether or not the man would face the same, and even if he wouldn''t, the consequences could still be incredibly severe.

    ¡° I should have gone down there¡±, the Vessel conceded, the total weight of guilt descending upon them, knowing they could have stopped the poor slave¡¯s suffering.

    Yet their Spirit replied with something they did not expect, disagreement.

    Bringing up Wanderers own argument, they agreed that if they had gone down to the market they would have been killed, pronouncing that they could not free any slaves if they were dead.

    The Vessel made to bring up a thought of confusion, but their guide was not finished.

    Contrasting their earlier statement, they showed the difference between the man and the Golem, the man was easily stopped, scared of the consequences on their livelihood and comfort.

    But Wanderer was not the same, they would not be cowed, and when they could, they would free the slaves, of this the Spirit was certain.

    At their companions'' message, the Golem¡¯s guilt turned to resolve, and with determination they decided to wait and watch, and when the time was right, they would rescue them.

    Yet their mind turned once again to the actions of the children back in the canyon, how unwilling they were to accept any help, even in the face of the abuse they took.

    What could the Golem do if once again they were turned away, how could they convince them?

    ¡°Surely not everyone could be happy with their treatment¡±, the Vessel thought, ¡°All I have to do is find someone who is discontent¡±.

    And so, with a plan now in mind, Wanderer waited for the sun to set and the people to disappear, before setting off to sneak inside.

 Inspection and Control

    Inspection and Control

    As the beginning wisps of aurora danced around Wanderer¡¯s hooves, the Vessel and their friends came to approach the massive golden walls of the city.

    From a distance, the settlement had seemed small in comparison to the other citadels, yet as the Golem came to look upon the full height and length of the circular abode, they saw that it was anything but miniature.

    The great golden walls stood at almost four times Wanderer''s height and were at least two hundred times that in length.

    Geometric carvings were painstakingly embellished in the shiny metal, depicting intervening patterns of sharp points and straight edges.

    It took a moment for Wanderer to realise that everything here was carved by hand, an endeavour that would likely have taken months to complete, if not years.

    Fascinated at the dedication of whoever had made these defences, the Vessel spent some time doing little but analysing the artistry and architecture of the monument, before taking a step back and beginning to search for an entrance.

    Due to their height and sheer angle, even Emio wouldn''t be able to scale the wall in front of them, (not without damaging the carvings at least), and so Wanderer turned their sights to a different target, the great gates which were now firmly shut.

    In contrast to the barrier, the gates were made of a light wood, similarly carved yet with more organic shapes and patterns, Wanderer even noticed something like writing taking front and centre.

    Yet the vast doors were even more fortified than the walls, not a slip or crack to exploit nor an impression to climb.

    What the Golem did notice, however, was two very small alcoves on either side of the gate, just large enough for one of the taller humans to cram themselves in.

    ¡°That''s to protect themselves from the aurora if they are locked out¡±, the Vessel figured, an idea further confirmed by their Spirit¡¯s confirmation.

    Alas, the discovery did little to help them in their quest to scale the walls, and so the Golem walked back a bit to see if they could get a better perspective.

    Inexplicably, their vision was drawn to the great tower that rose from the centre of the city, the only building able to be seen from Wanderer''s viewpoint, all else blocked by the walls.

    It stretched far into the sky, decorated with colourful dyed banners depicting symbols and patterns Wanderer could not understand, contrasting sharply with the shimmering yellow of its structure.

    At the very top, a viewing platform gazed out onto the city, those inside obscured by dark glass.

    The top of the tower quickly terminated past these black panes, only a thin rod of metal and a blue and white banner adorning the roof of the massive structure.

    Wanderer was almost done with their inspection when something caught their eye, a silhouette barely visible behind the dark glass, turning to look at them.

    In an instant, they felt a terrible gaze crash upon them, human, yet bolstered by something greater than that, something that felt almost like their own Spirit a thousand times removed.

    They were frozen in place as the stare tore apart their soul, dissected them into tiny little pieces and reading every part of the Golem¡¯s past, present and future.

    Wanderer struggled, tore and resisted, pushing every fibre of their being into repelling this unknown force.

    And just as they felt that the contest would never end, that they would forever be struggling against the hostile gaze, it disappeared, the eyes moving somewhere else, far off in the distance and the silhouette once again disappearing into the shadows of the dark glass.

    On instinct, Wanderer sprinted back to the wall and slumped against it, trying their best to move out of line of sight, as their mind caught back up to reality.

    The first thing they noticed as the world came back into focus was Emio, who was shifting and shivering in extreme agitation, their eye fixed firmly on Wanderer.

    For an instant, they both stared at each other, before Emio seemed to make some kind of realisation and slammed their small body into Wanderer¡¯s four arms, their tendrils wrapping around the Golem like a vice.

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    The Vessel was shocked for a moment, yet quickly provided reprieve for the verdestry in a way of slowly stroking their leathery, cacti body.

    It seemed that the small monster was able to sense that something was wrong with the Golem, yet were unaware as to what, quickly growing agitated by their uncertainty.

    Yet before the Golem could even begin to pay attention to their own thoughts and feelings, their focus was distracted by a disturbing scene, that of their Spirit in panic.

    Wanderer had seen their Spirit panic before, when they were being chased by the swarmlings or assaulted by the fog-beasts, but they had always quickly composed themselves afterwards.

    However, the panic their Spirit was embroiled in now was not simply fear of the moment, it was a full breakdown, bordering on mania.

    Images and emotions fired from the Spirit haphazardly at such speed that the Golem could not even hope to understand its intention, seeming like little more than static to their inferior mind.

    It was disturbing, for the most part, their Spirit was always a wall of stability and guidance, always being there to calm Wanderer¡¯s easily stressed mind.

    Yet now their Spirit was in a frenzy much like many the Vessel had faced, over an incident that, while scary and most definitely mysterious, wasn''t that bad compared to some of the other things the duo had gone through.

    ¡°It''s going to be ok?¡± Wanderer awkwardly reassured, their affirmation seeming more like a question than a statement.

    Their Spirit didn''t even seem to hear them, much too consumed in their own unintelligible worries.

    ¡°You don''t need to worry, it''s gone now¡±, the Golem sent with a great deal more certainty, yet again their guide was deaf to the feeble attempt.

    Seeing their words were not working, Wanderer pondered what they could do to aid their friend, and after a little while of rolling the problem in their mind, they found a solution.

    Back in the grasses by the road, their Spirit had taught them to control the magic in their veins, since then, they had nearly forgotten it was a thing they could do, much too consumed in their adventure.

    They looked inside themselves once again, and looked toward their magic channels, at the power flowing through them, taking note of how they had straightened since their wound.

    Their Spirit is a being of magic, Wanderer thought, perhaps they would be able to be roused by magic.

    Summoning what little control they had over their own magic, the Golem flexed their power, trying to force it to interact with the Spirit.

    Their first couple of tries, the Vessel was unable to even interact with their own channels, having grown rusty since their previous attempts, however, soon they regained their control and found their next problem.

    For all the Golem''s life, their magic had been constrained to their soul and the pathways that sprung from it, never leaving, at least of its own accord.

    Yet Wanderer had to do the opposite, instead of power going into their soul, from their blessing and their Spirit, they had to reverse that connection and send the energy back out.

    Their first instinct was to ask their Spirit, a near mindless action at this point in their life, yet they quickly realised their mistake and, with a pang of despair at having their guide incapacitated, searched for other solutions.

    Their vision turned to the small creature in their lap, who was now silently watching the aurora, perhaps, magical as they were, the verdestry would know something of controlling their power.

    Yet that idea was quickly discarded, Emio¡¯s control of their own abilities was something Wanderer felt was strictly instinctual, and the secrets of their creation was a mystery to both Golem and verdestry.

    ¡°I have no choice then, I will have to work this out on my own.¡±, the Vessel concluded.

    Wanderer began poking and prodding at their insides, trying to work out how exactly they could alter themself.

    They found that just as they could speed up the flow of their magic, they could slow it down as well, an action that brought with it a peculiar feeling that the Golem could only liken to lethargy.

    Not being a great fan of the notion, the Vessel quickly stopped that particular experiment, finding little use in it for their current purposes, but made sure to keep that ability in mind.

    They began to analyse the magic that was flowing into them, from their spirit and blessing, and noticed that they did have some minor control over it, not enough to force it in the other direction or even make a truly noticeable difference, yet it was a chance to achieve the Vessels goal, and they quickly began refining their control.

    It was then they had their bright idea, perhaps if the Golem could break the connection between them and their Spirit, for just a moment, the shock would be able to pull the guide out of their panic.

    Wanderer quickly gathered all their might and pushed against the tether between them and their guide, not at all prepared for what would come next.

    In an instant, Wanderer was assaulted by a hundred different sensations, that of their Spirit waking from their stupor as they began to slip to another realm, only able to establish the connection with a fraction of a moment to spare.

    That of a wave of tiredness that overcame the Golem and sent them hurtling to the ground, as their soul missed the power it so sorely needed.

    And that of their Spirit, sending thousands of images of places Wanderer could not understand nor comprehend, accompanied by notions of incredible power and unimaginable fear.

    The Golem could only comprehend one idea from the mass that was thrust toward them, one they only managed to realise as their head hit the sand.

    That the being that had seen them, saw into the Vessel''s very soul.

    Was a God.

 Defiance and Entrance

    Defiance and Entrance

    As quick as the tiredness hit the Golem, it left, the Spirit having restored their connection to the Vessel''s magic-deprived soul.

    Yet Wanderer hardly even noticed, much too consumed in the infinite number of questions and revelations that had just sprouted in their mind.

    ¡°What is a god¡±, they found themselves asking, more for their own mind than anything else, not truly expecting a reply from their Spirit.

    But, to their surprise, their Spirit replied.

    In the moments since Wanderer had scared them out of their panicked state, they had rapidly calmed down with a speed the Vessel could hardly imagine.

    Their previous worries had been diluted to a subtle trace, only barely detectable in their messages, instead placed with a concern for their friend.

    It was an odd feeling for the Golem, seeing just how fast their guide could flip their emotions, it was a mastery that Wanderer could only hope to achieve.

    The Vessel suddenly realised that their Spirit had been trying to talk to them, yet they had gotten carried away on the whims of a distracted mind.

    A flash of irritation shot through the guide at the inattentiveness of their friend when they were trying to communicate something so important, yet they quickly calmed and explained again.

    Images flashed of a different world, one built on the back of magic and runes, alien and wonderful all the same.

    It was the Spirit realm, their guide¡¯s home, the world they explored before this one.

    There were other Spirits, of knowledge, anger, flight, pain and an uncountable number of other kinds, but none aligning to quite the same cause as their guide.

    The Golem concentrated as their Spirit regaled their life of wandering the endless tides of magic, tides that were inherently tied to the physical realm but would never intersect.

    The Spirit spoke of those, however, who grew so engorged of their concept that the tides of magic alone could not hold them, and in feat of monumental power, broke the barrier between spiritual and physical.

    That is what a god is, a Spirit so powerful that they take physical form, so powerful they gain a name, so powerful that they can absorb other Spirits to become even greater.

    Suddenly, Wanderer understood their Spirit¡¯s fear and panic, to have the full attention of a possibly hostile god upon them, hoping beyond hope that they would not become their next meal.

    This put a bolt of fear into the Golem as well, for just the moment that they had disconnected their Spirit they had lost almost all energy, if their Spirit were to be permanently removed, not only would they lose a friend, but they would likely lose their life as well.

    Wanderer hugged the wall a little tighter, making absolutely sure they were out of view of the god.

    ¡°But there are so many cities, why would the god be at this one?¡±, surely such a powerful being would be at the biggest city of them all.

    Their Spirit quickly corrected their mistake, the god¡¯s physical form wasn''t in the tower, rather, a human who had been given power by the god brought the Golem to their attention.

    The fear Wanderer felt raised once again, ¡°how many of these people are there?¡± the Vessel questioned.

    The guide didn''t know for certain, such things were secret even to them, but if they had to take a guess, there was likely one for each city in the black desert.

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    At the advent of this news, Wanderer¡¯s determination to explore the shimmering citadels, in search of information and books, wavered.

    If at each of these places, an envoy of a hostile god waited, then the walled settlements could be far more dangerous than the Vessel could have possibly expected.

    Their Spirit agreed, emphasising that there was no way to learn any information if they were, in fact, dead.

    ¡°Yet we are right here, so close to exploring what''s inside, we just have to be careful to not get caught in the follower''s gaze.¡±, the Vessel contemplated, previous trepidation beginning to disappear.

    Their Spirit, however, was firmly against the idea, fiercely rebuking any attempt at entering the city.

    But, for one of the first times in their life, the Golem found their guide¡¯s advice to unhelpful, a notion further compounded by the realisation that sprung into their head moments later.

    ¡°If this god is so powerful, and had such a hold over you, why then did it not eat you, right then and there¡±, Wanderer questioned.

    And to their surprise, their guide could not answer them, responding with nothing but warnings and restrictions, to stay out of sight.

    Curious and slightly spiteful at being told what to do, Wanderer sat a curious Emio down on the floor, and, despite the screamed warnings of danger from their Spirit, stepped out from cover and into sight.

    The duo stood in stillness for a long, long moment, one silenced by anticipation and the other by fear, before they both released their stress and calmed down.

    The terrifying feeling of struggle that accompanied the eldritch gaze did not come, no feeling of horror or fear met gratification.

    The god didn''t care.

    A feeling of joy welled up in the Vessel¡¯s soul, stirred on by the relief that they were right in their assumption.

    They picked up a brisk pace as the aurora danced around their thighs, scooping up Emio and trying to ignore the uneasy acceptance that emanated from their now-silent guide.

    Wanderer''s plan of entering the city now set in stone, they made their way around the city walls, hoping to find some breach or entrance they could abuse to enter.

    They found, peculiarly, that as they got further and further from the gate, the wall and its intricate carvings began to grow more and more dilapidated.

    It began with just a minor nick in the geometric carvings or an area where the gold shimmer of the wall had tarnished a little to a darker orange-brown, but quickly it progressed to entire cracks in the cladding, revealing the dark stone beneath.

    Yet despite its growing disrepair, the wall was firm, no breaches occurred in its construction and no cracks were wide enough to climb up.

    As Wanderer went further and further around the wall, their soul sank further and further in their chest, sad that perhaps they may not enter the city after all if no opportunity presented itself.

    Just as they began to lament in their misfortune, their Spirit perked up that perhaps they need not risk the god¡¯s gaze, as peculiar sight far into the fog caught their vision.

    Head only barely standing above the swirling aurora, a dark-skinned woman was slowly following a rope across the desert, with a blindfold across their eyes.

    The Vessel watched on in confusion as the woman continued to follow the path set by the rope amongst the waves of dazzling light, their blindness causing them to often stumble and fall on some of the more uneven sand.

    Figuring the risk of being seen quite low, considering the obstruction to the human¡¯s vision, Wanderer began to approach the scene with a degree of caution and stealth, steadily gaining on the slow-moving woman.

    As the Golem got closer, the human¡¯s unfortunate occupation became obvious, judging by their tattered clothes and frequent scars, they were a slave.

    Around their neck and wrists were harsh red abrasions where they had once been restricted, then recently freed, a freedom that was similarly conveyed by the desperation of their movements.

    Because the Golem quickly realised what was happening, the former slave was escaping, leaving the city with no intention to return.

    A bolt of joy welled in the Vessel¡¯s soul as they realised this, its ramifications pronouncing that there were some indeed who were not broken by slavery, who wished to escape the cruelty they were subjected to.

    It meant there were people that Wanderer could help and others who had the same intentions as the Golem, if the tunnel that the long rope in the desert led to was any indication.

    The Vessel silently followed the unaware human, watching over them to make certain that they reached their destination in safety, only taking their eyes off of them when they had disappeared down the dark tunnel at the end of the rope and were far out of view.

    Part of Wanderer wished to follow, but they were certain that if one end of the rope held an exit, the other end would hold an entrance, and there was far more the Vessel could do for people inside the city than outside it.

    They still did not know how they would hide their appearance from those inside the citadel, nor that of their herbal friend, but they had a good feeling that perhaps the people that were smuggling out the slaves might feel differently about the Vessel''s Golemic nature, especially if they aimed to help.

    And so, with a hopeful heart, Wanderer began to follow the trail through the light-covered desert, hoping to find a secret entrance to the impenetrable city.

 Extra 4: Dreams of the Recovering

    Extra 4: Dreams of the Recovering

    Retlafeh lay asleep as mockeries of his past traumas flashed through their mind, conjoined and mixed together, pain past and present amalgamated to create a new horror.

    The world was smothered in dark, thick mist, so thick that the sun dared not shine its light within its domain.

    All around him, the bodies of friends he once knew were strewn like trash, their faces unrecognisable to Retlafeh''s dream self but their identity apparent.

    There were some he had forged bonds with for only a matter of days, but Orsha¡¯s struggle had caused those friendships to be stronger than those of siblings.

    There were some he knew for years, who had been assigned to the same hardships they had faced at the hands of their many masters.

    Some of these friends had been worked to death, some paid off their debt, and some were killed for trying to escape their god-given burdens.

    Some took their own life.

    Yet regardless of their fate, all the people Retlafeh had once known now lay dead in front of him, covered by the thick, dark fog.

    All of their bodies shared the same death, one the former slave had seen only once yet could never forget, death by a Golem¡¯s blade.

    Out of the mist, their two current compatriots walked, their eyes dead and gaze lifeless.

    From behind them, a dark shadow rose from the mist, ten, fifty, one hundred metres tall, four arms gripping four blades of devastating cruelty.

    Retlafeh tried to look away, to distance himself from what they knew came next, but his eyes betrayed them, forcing them to look.

    The blades came down, swooping with incredible speed, in an instant they knew their newest partners, who they had known for less than two weeks, would be dead.

    As fate approached, Retlafeh¡¯s vision turned to a figure next to him, the strange Golem and its unknown pet having been there all along, and begged the malformed creature to save the lives of their companions.

    Yet it stood still, as still as a statue of clay.

    Again, the former slave pleaded with the creature of earth to stop the onslaught, yet at that moment, Retlafeh knew the reason for the small Golem¡¯s idleness.

    Retlafeh owed the creature a debt, for freeing him of his bonds, and the death of their compatriots was the price.

    As the sleeping man¡¯s mind rebelled against him, he writhed in silent agony on the cold, cave floor.

    Shreshka lay unconscious on a dust-covered floor, her body much too tired to assemble a dream of any possible comprehension.

    In one instant, they were in their modest mansion in the greatest of the keroraheh, its warm embrace a familiar comfort.

    In the next, they were being transported to their life of eternal servitude, a life in the honour of Orsha, a life they never wanted.

    Yet these vague memories in their dreams were fleeting, as if the woman¡¯s mind rebelled against the very thought of anything to hold onto in the tumultuous dreamscape.

    In rapid succession, she found herself a little red robin swimming in a sea of sand, then a magi casting spells into an unfathomable landscape, then the wind itself whistling through an abandoned city of nonsensical structures.

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    The dream changed inconceivably to any but Shreshka¡¯s own unconscious mind, indeed, if she were to wake, the illusion would be impossible even to her, once logic and the expectations of reality took over.

    But gradually, the former slave¡¯s unconscious began to catch itself on a particular notion, not so much an idea as a feeling.

    It was the feeling she felt just before she collapsed, an experience that lodged itself in her mind even through the pain, panic and adrenaline she felt.

    It was the exhilaration and power that flowed through Shreshka when she completed her spell.

    Slowly, more and more the feeling took over her dream, before it filled her errant thoughts near entirely.

    And it morphed and changed and became something else, something the woman had not felt in a long, long time.

    Something she wouldn''t dare to wish for in the realm of the waking, hope.

    Shreshka lay on the dust-covered floor, battered and broken, secretly yearning for some of that unconscious hope to carry over to her waking mind.

    Hureheh awoke in the darkness of the night, eyes able to see little more than vague shadows of their surroundings, as cast by the embers of a long-dead fire.

    His mind was foggy, unable to even recollect what happened throughout their long sleep, nor how he found himself at the bottom of a dark cave.

    Hunger was the first thing that made its presence known in the darkness of the night, thirst following shortly after.

    Yet there was no food or water to be found, and the man had not the energy to look for it.

    And so he sat in silence in the darkness, trying to piece together their fractured memories of what had happened.

    They were on a task, he remembered, though a death wish was a better description.

    some fool of a merchant had neglected their duty to replace the kerumsheh torches, got a man killed in the process, and now some poor sod had to go fix their mistake.

    Hureheh had caught a terrible case of wrong place, wrong time and had been selected, alongside two other equally unfortunate souls, and were promptly sent off with one of the cruller simple-landers to replace the tick repellents.

    At the time, the former slave had been quite happy with the development, a true chance to get into some real danger and prove his worth to Orsha.

    Yet as time went on, they found themselves increasingly disappointed.

    While their ¡°supervisor¡± certainly gave plenty of pain for them to fight through, as was their Orsha-given command, they could find plenty of that kind of struggle anywhere.

    No grand fights with bandits or ticks presented themselves, instead they were restricted to the same, boring, task of placing the damn torches on the side of the road, again and again.

    Even the danger they faced from being so close to the tick-infested grass faded quickly in the face of the annoyance that came from the relentless cold.

    Hureheh supposed that the enchanted contraption was the only thing protecting them from the beasts in the grass, but he would be damned if the cold wasn''t worse.

    Perhaps it was a blasphemy against Orsha, but cold simply wasn''t something an Orshraka was meant to deal with, command of god or not.

    Even now, in the darkness of the night, and without the loving warmth of the dwindling fire, the cold of the cave floor crept into their bones.

    Two sudden realisations hit Hureheh, one that, in retrospect, they should have known.

    The first, they had somehow escaped from their supervisor, a decision they were not entirely sure they supported, the second, they were no longer in Reshraka, nor even its neighbouring fields, but likely the simple land of the Earliag, Careriag.

    They attempted to remember the events that led up to such a development, yet they could not, apparently whatever had caused their injuries had taken them out before then.

    Instead, they prompted their burdened mind to go back to the last thing they remembered.

    They were doing their job, placing a torch, lighting it and moving on, while Retlafeh cranked the Orsha-forsaken contraption that was supposed to keep them safe.

    In their mindless labour, they had fumbled and made a mistake, dropping a kerumsheh torch into the long grass.

    The Earliag who was assigned to do nothing while Hureheh did all the work, let out an angry shout demanding that the slave go into the grass and pick up the dropped torch.

    He hadn''t actually expected Hureheh to do his bidding, but this was the chance the Orshraka had been waiting for, and with an air of spite he took it.

    ¡°Surely¡± he had thought, ¡°if I only duck into the grass for a second, I wouldn''t be caught by the ticks¡±.

    The last memory Hureheh¡¯s mind would allow them to remember was the sound of rapidly approaching rustling and their own screams of pain.

    They fought to remember more, on the cold cave floor, but their injured body was too tired, and their mind too resistant.

    Before long, a wave of drowsiness overcame them, and against their waking will, they fell back asleep, with the strangest dreams of plant-like creatures and small, malformed Golems.

 Shaft and Hideout

    Shaft and Hideout

    In the brightness of the aurora-illuminated night, Wanderer made their way toward the possible entrance to the city, a small bundle of hope beginning to build in their chest discovery.

    Yet as they reached the dark pit that qualified as a secret exit, sudden hesitation took over them and they stopped.

    All other humans they had met had rejected them, with either fear or instant hostility, who was to say that whoever was on the other side of this shaft was not the same?

    It was not by their own volition that they overcame their worries, instead, the small verdestry at their hooves made that decision for them.

    Perhaps they were annoyed by their inability to scale the wall, or maybe they just wanted to be somewhere new and were sick of the Golem¡¯s idling, but after leaving only a moment for the Vessel to sort their thoughts, they all but yanked Wanderer down the tunnel.

    Figuring it unwise to upset their friend, the Vessel followed behind the monster, struggling to fit their body within the tight confines of the sandstone walls.

    The shaft went far deeper than Wanderer would have thought, the walls turning that same red-yellow stone as in the canyons as they decended.

    As they spelunked into the depths of the earth, smouldering lanterns began to adorn the walls, slowly spluttering out but recently lit, providing the Golem with some light beyond the glowing red of Emio¡¯s eye.

    Very suddenly, the man-hewn shaft ended, opening out into a large bright room of ancient make.

    The walls and floor were formed of a red stone, deep and vibrant in colour, like that of a flame.

    Intricate geometric carvings of interweaving knots skirted the base of the wall, spreading in mirrored artistry to the floor with patterns of fractalic dunes.

    Dark sand marred some of this beauty, spilling from high-up windows and doors that would have once opened to balconies and fresh air.

    Bright, fresh lanterns adorned empty spots on the floor and inbuilt benches on the walls, showing that the otherwise empty room had only recently been abandoned.

    As if on cue with that thought, the heavy stone door directly opposite them opened, showing the faces of three humans.

    The first was clearly another slave eager to escape their bonds, blindfolded and dressed in clothes only slightly better than the last.

    The second was a bare-faced man, cleanly shaven and of dark skin.

    He held a torch in one hand, providing even more light to the room, and had an unsure look upon his face, as if he were new to the business of benefiting the lives of others.

    The final of the group was an imposing figure and one that sent instant dread into the Vessel¡¯s soul.

    Upon their face rested a dark stone mask, impassive and solemn in its purpose, hiding everything but the wearer''s dark eyes.

    A great colourful robe adorned their figure, with a base of golden weave that reached right down to their tough leather boots.

    Instantly, Wanderer¡¯s mind went to the guard in the caravan, who wore a similar robe and mask, if this figure was the same, this would surely be their demise.

    Yet, when the human did not reach for their weapon, a brutally curved khopesh, even barking orders for their companion to put down their own, they realised fate had been kind to them.

    Or perhaps it would have been far more unlikely for the warrior in front of them to be the same as their attacker, after all, the mask and robe seemed to be a common thing in the desert society.

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    The warrior strode toward them with a commanding gait, pushing past their cowered companion and a confused escapee, before stopping just a few steps away from the Golem, hand on the hilt of their blade.

    ¡°Korehaka morekersha koreshe orshuheh¡±, they questioned in a language unfamiliar to Wanderer.

    The use of this language sent a bolt of dread into the Vessel¡¯s soul, they had thought that if they were questioned they would at least be able to understand the interviewer''s intentions with their limited understanding of the human language.

    Yet if the warrior continued to use this unfamiliar dialect, then the single chance Wanderer had been given may be lost.

    ¡°Korehaka morekersha koreshe orshuheh¡±, They repeated, tone carrying only the slightest hint of impatience.

    The Golem had no idea what to do and their Spirit was of little help so, seeing little other option, They stepped past Emio and held all four hands up in blatant confusion.

    The human paused for a second, face indecipherable behind their stone mask, before speaking up once again.

    ¡°Reyio are you here¡±, the obscured figure pronounced, switching their language to one more familiar to the Golem.

    After a brief panic over their lack of voice to reply, the Vessel settled upon merely pointing upwards, toward where they thought the city would be.

    ¡°Reyio¡± the warrior repeated, which Wanderer assumed to mean ¡°why¡±.

    Perhaps, if they had some way to talk or communicate they could have replied succinctly, yet they could not, so they once again pointed toward the surface.

    The fighter seemed to realise their plight, as they barked a few orders to their compatriot and motioned for Wanderer to follow through the doorway.

    The Vessel picked up Emio and pushed past the confused escapee and their guide, to keep up with the warriors'' brisk pace.

    They exited from the opening room into a dimly lit hallway, made of much the same stone and with the same inbuilt benches in the walls.

    Yet in contrast to the first room, ancient furniture still adorned the hall.

    Beautifully carved tables and stands of worn stone stood proud, some still carrying their precious cargo of glazed vases and items of beauty.

    The rotted remains of paintings and wood carvings adorned the walls, little more than eyesores now, yet the Golem¡¯s imagination more than managed to appreciate the value they would have once held.

    Frequently, new doors would show themselves on the sides of the corridor, leading to rooms unknown or in some cases, more hallways.

    It suddenly dawned on Wanderer just how massive this complex had to be, if this single hallway managed to contain so many rooms, if that number was the same for every one of the many corridors then the underground compound may be as large as the city on top of it.

    Their escort suddenly stopped, turning toward a particularly large door with a few brighter lanterns on each side to it, and pushing it open.

    Wanderer was greeted by the sounds of friendly banter and a view of almost fifty people sitting around two massive tables, gladly devouring a humble yet seemingly filling dinner.

    In the centre of the room, two men stood in a dark sand-filled pit, brandishing sticks covered in colourful cloth and attacking each other with them.

    For a moment Wanderer went to stop them, yet they hesitated when they realised that both competitors, despite their welts and bruises, were bearing smiles on their faces and throwing light-hearted jeers at each other.

    Yet their competition did not last much longer, as one of the fighters grew distracted at their entrance, and was soon forced out of the ring.

    A round of cheers went up among those who had not yet noticed the Golem¡¯s presence, a hearty roar that was soon spoiled as more and more people looked their way.

    In moments, the whole room had their eyes on the Vessel, a mixture of fear, confusion, apprehension and anger present on every one of the many faces.

    Suddenly, Wanderer felt something they had never felt before, like a thousand ticks crawling up their spine and bringing out every inch of their insecurity.

    They realised they didn''t know what they looked like, or whether they were making a good impression and they began to possess a great nervousness inside them.

    Their escort, however, did not stop, unknowing or perhaps uncaring of Wanderer''s inner turmoil.

    With a bristling Emio in their arms, who was similarly unnerved by the many eyes, the Vessel hurried along, brushing past the two confused fighters and through another door.

    They entered a hallway much like before, yet now other people were commonplace, and the Golem could hardly focus on the wonderful world around them under their many stares.

    Blessedly, their guide soon stopped and opened the final door at the far end of the hall, one that led into a chamber with a layout similar to the room inside the mine.

    Furniture of smooth, light wood lay around the room, clashing with the darker walls while trinkets, coins and papers lay haphazardly on a large desk.

    And behind this desk, hunched over a small note of paper, sat an immense tower of a human, and the undoubted leader of the organisation Wanderer had found themself inside.

 Leader and Conversation

    Leader and Conversation

    For a long moment, the man didn''t notice them, so caught up in his work that he wasn''t even aware of the trio¡¯s entrance.

    The warrior on their right cleared their throat loudly, causing the colossal man to become aware of their presence yet still refuse to look up from their work.

    ¡°Resushreh haresha koreshkra, Detlashra¡±, the man said, still oblivious to Wanderer''s presence, before shuffling through some nearby documents and attempting to hand them to the man at the door.

    Yet as they held their hand out, the burly human finally looked up and saw their unexpected visitors.

    At the sight of a Golem standing in their hallway, carrying a writhing mass of sentient cactus, the leader flinched back violently in their chair, as a yelp of surprise escaped their throat.

    Now unobscured by their posture, Wanderer could observe the man in front of them.

    As they first noticed, the man was massive, even sitting down they almost reached the Golem¡¯s height.

    This height was accompanied by a thick layer of undefined muscle, smoothed by their flesh and scarred skin, yet undeniably there and often put to use.

    Yet every element of their being that contributed to their imposing figure was instantly nullified as soon Wanderer saw their face.

    In contrast to the rest of the man''s figure, his face, which the Vessel would have expected to be hardened and scarred, or solemn and emotionless, instead defied all of their expectations.

    His mouth hung open in blatant shock while a pair of dark spectacles teetered on the edge of his nose, threatening to fall off.

    His dark skin was smooth and pleasant, a trait which allowed what little lamplight that filled the room to shine off the top of his bald head.

    The only hair that framed their face was a pair of thin eyebrows and a short, well-kempt beard.

    The warrior, Detlashra, as they had been called, cleared their throat once more, snapping the burly man in front of them out of their shock and causing them to stand quickly and bump their head on the stone ceiling.

    They cringed with pain for a moment, rubbing their smooth head, before carefully addressing Detlashra.

    ¡°K-Korehaka mourshte sha Gorlesha, orkelfeh?¡±, he whispered, in a feeble attempt to prevent the Vessel from hearing them, ¡°Krosheh retluksheh forah hurkoah shrehrah?¡±

    The two quickly devolved into a heated conversation in a language the Vessel did not understand, involving what even Wanderer could tell were a number of puzzled questions from the larger human paired with unhelpful, one-word answers from Detlashra.

    Eventually, the leader turned to the Golem and addressed them in a more familiar language.

    ¡°Gorelesha¡±, they began, trying to put on a brave face, ¡°I weriag told you only know the ferario of the Earliag. Is frilo true?¡±

    It took a moment for Wanderer to puzzle out what they were asking, yet eventually, they concluded that they wanted to know if Wanderer could understand the language they were using.

    They began to sign the affirmative, yet stopped when their Spirit, who had been mostly silent since they resolved to enter the city, spoke up.

    They warned the Golem not to mislead the man before them, and to be truthful with their limited understanding of the human language.

    Wanderer froze, suddenly reflective about their own capabilities, and realised that, even with their quick learning, they knew very little of human speech.

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    It was obvious in hindsight, what little they had parsed from the visions and context since then was barely enough to make out what the human was saying, yet for some reason they still thought that they knew it.

    Instead of their affirmation, Wanderer signed uncertainty, hoping that they got the message across.

    To their credit, the human was quite adept at interpreting the Vessel''s clumsy signs, and after a quick confirmation and a few muttered words under his breath, he continued.

    ¡°I am Keshte, harere are you?¡±, he questioned.

    Already, this whole conversation had strained Wanderer¡¯s mind, causing them to need to both interpret what Keshte was saying and work out how to sign a reply.

    Yet this most recent question stretched them to their limit, how could they possibly communicate their name with nothing but basic signs?

    Desperate, they looked around the room, hoping to find something that could help communicate the summation of their identity, and to their surprise, they found it.

    On the wall to their left, a large piece of paper hung covered in symbols and lines, worn and folded many times yet well cared for.

    At first, the Golem did not understand what they were seeing, that is, until, a specific picture caught their eye.

    It was a small drawing of the volcano in the centre of the desert, with a name in letters they could not read printed above it.

    In an instant, they began to recognise more landmarks, the sea of grass they had passed through, the great city they had seen in the distance, even the graveyard had its own little point on the sheet.

    It was now that the realisation came upon them, that what Wanderer was looking at was a map, a summarisation of the entirety of the desert.

    Intrigued, they ran up to the guide and stared at it fascinatedly until they belatedly realised that perhaps their inspection should wait until after the conversation was done.

    Yet they saw their opportunity to communicate their name, and they hurriedly began to sign toward the map.

    ¡°Your narario is merure?¡±, Keshte questioned, confused.

    Wanderer vigorously disagreed, then, instead of just pointing at the map, acted out a figure walking upon it with their hands.

    The leader took a moment to puzzle over this, before attempting their second guess.

    ¡°Walker, karero?¡± they asked again, and again received a negative answer.

    The Golem repeated the motion once again, this time emphasising the different places they had been to.

    ¡°Is Traveller your narario¡±, Keshte questioned one final time.

    The moniker was not a perfect translation, yet the Vessel realised they would get no better answer out of the human, and decided it was close enough.

    Everyone in the room, (including Emio, who had snuck off to explore a small writing desk on the right side of the room), seemed to relax a little at the decipherment, the whole process becoming tedious for all involved.

    ¡°I arserlio there is only one areo merkare to ask, all the Orshraka in this carkare are against any Orshraka being held as a keraragio¡±, Keshte began, ¡°Do you support us, or are you rioke enemy¡±.

    Wanderer became suddenly very aware of the warrior to their right as the tension in the room skyrocketed, going from awkward to dangerous in a fraction of a second.

    Internal panic began to overtake them with every moment they required to work out what the man meant, worried that Detlashra would think their hesitation suspicious and take matters into their own hands or that Emio would decide to try and act first.

    Yet their worry only lasted as long as it took them to decipher the word keraragio, as they realised that it meant slave.

    Wanderer conveyed vigorous signs of agreement as they realised that all the tension was due to the fear that the Vessel would be against the very thing that had led them to these people, their want to help free others from slavery.

    Despite their wholehearted agreement, the two human¡¯s suspicions had only slightly eased.

    Keshte sat back down and thought for a moment, bald head creasing in thought, before they seemed to come up with an idea and stood back up.

    They rifled around in a draw at their desk for a moment, before pulling up a map much like the one on the wall.

    However, instead of depicting the whole desert, it seemed to show only the city they were in.

    Little marks and lines, drawn in red, were depicted all over the map, all branching from a singular point near one of the walls.

    After Keshte deemed that Wanderer had enough time to inspect the map, he called Detlashra over and spoke a few words to him that the Vessel didn''t understand.

    After receiving a firm nod in confirmation, the leader spoke up addressing the Golem.

    ¡°Traveller¡±, he began, ¡°if you do warere to help us, you must prove your carliogio¡±.

    ¡°How would you and your friend like to do us a feaero?¡±

 Mission and Tailor

    Mission and Tailor

    Over the course of the next half of an hour, Keshte explained to Wanderer the task they had for them.

    There were rumours that the Earliag, who were apparently the people responsible for slavery in the desert, were beginning to suspect the rebel group¡¯s hiding place.

    The Vessel¡¯s mission was simple, go up into the city and listen and watch for any signs that this rumour might be true.

    Wanderer was ecstatic, not only had they found and befriended a human, but they had a legitimate chance to help others.

    Yet even in their excitement, the voice of their Spirit cut through, bearing unfortunate logic.

    They brought to the Golem¡¯s attention the difference of their form, and how, if Wanderer were to surface in the city, they would doubtless be ousted and driven away, or worse, killed.

    Wanderer froze, shocked that they had forgotten such a crucial detail.

    Worried that the great plan was for naught, they brought the problem up with Keshte, who was sitting relaxedly in his chair.

    After a great deal of ineffective signing and charades, the human seemed to grasp the Vessel¡¯s worry, as a confused look spread across their face.

    ¡°Why on perlogio of all perlogiore would you need to worry cerrio a erolarliag¡±, he asked, as if the thought that Wanderer did not know perplexed him.

    ¡°Perlogio  is the Kershrakheh, the people will be the ones erolarliag, they will careo like you!¡±.

    In truth, the Vessel didn''t fully understand what Keshte was saying, how could humans possibly look like them when there were so many differences between their respective forms.

    Yet Keshte hadn''t lied to them before and so trusted their explanation and hoped it would all make sense when they arrived in the city.

    The end of the discussion was signalled by a previously unnoticed water jar shattering on the floor, having been knocked off its perch on a low table.

    The culprit was, of course Emio, who had been gradually growing more and more impatient as the two continued their conversation, and had taken to exploring every point and line of the small room.

    The Keshte, who was now the lone human in the room as Detlashra left a short while earlier, repeated their earlier incident of almost falling out of their seat in fright, having nearly forgotten the verdestry was in the room.

    Embarrassed and the slightest bit angry, Wanderer scooped up Emio before they could cause more damage, then nearly dropped them when the door to the room slammed open.

    Detlashra rushed in, khopesh drawn, causing a bolt of newly developed fear to rise in the Vessel¡¯s soul.

    Yet as they scanned the room, their aggression faded, as they quickly realised what had happened.

    After a few moments of awkward silence, Keshte cleared his throat and addressed his companion nervously.

    ¡°Detlashra why don''t you treskerio Traveller, and find them some peargio for Kershrakheh¡±.

    The warrior finally put their weapon away, before nodding once and heading out the door and motioning for Wanderer to follow.

    Placing Emio on their head, the Vessel rushed to follow the human, attempting not to bump into any of the curious figures they passed on the way.

    They began to enter a new, unfamiliar part of the complex, seemingly even more central than the dining hall and office.

    Where once people were relatively rare, they now packed the hallways and rooms, showing the unexpected size of Keshte¡¯s operation.

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    Eventually, they came to a single circular hallway, which centred around a place that would have once been exposed to the sun, but was now nothing but sand.

    This place seemed to be the commercial area of the operation, people of all kinds going in and out of the surrounding rooms, carrying goods they did not have before.

    Wanderer followed the warrior for a time as they circled around the blocked courtyard, before finally they decided they had walked far enough, and turned into one of the larger rooms to their right.

    Rows and rows of colourful clothes in all shapes and sizes lined the new area, held on racks of light wood while an old woman sorted through them, unable to decide her prize.

    Despite this, Detlashra seemed to be expecting someone else to be in the store, scanning the isles of clothing for an unseen figure.

    Seemingly unable to find who they were looking for, the fighter began to turn around back out the door, when a rustling in the line of clothes nearest to them caught Wanderer''s attention.

    Out of nowhere, in a blur of brightly coloured fabric and indistinguishable limbs, a small woman rushed out of the rack of clothes, shouting as they did so.

    Even the ever stoic Detlashra jumped at the scare, let alone Wanderer who nearly fell on their back from fright and Emio who spasmed violently in shock.

    After the small party had recouped from the fright, and their assailant managed to stop laughing, the brightly dressed lady clasped a hand on Detlashra¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Orkre, orkre, Detlashra, rekreheh sorsha hurshe deklehrheh orheh sreshkroa?¡±, she began, with a air of aggressive joviality, ¡°morksheheh meshkare reshcarha mershaka¡±.

    The two began a fast paced conversation, the woman¡¯s energetic nature contrasting Detlashra¡¯s solemn tone.

    Seeing as they had no idea of what the two could be saying, Wanderer zoned out of the conversation, and instead took the time to inspect the new arrival.

    Their clothes were unlike that of any human the Vessel had ever seen, so far deranged from the robes and armour and gowns they were used to that Wanderer hardly knew how to react.

    She wore bright green boots, heavy and thick, which was complimented by tight fitting socks that almost reached her knees.

    Her shirt seemed to be complied of colourful fragments from a hundred other places, sewn together with black thread and all in the colours of yellow, pink and green.

    She wore a shawl around their shoulders which seemed to be cut from an intricate rug and was filled to the brim on the inside with pockets, each filled with sewing materials, the likes of which Wanderer had never seen.

    Atop their freckled nose sat gold rimmed glasses, which contrasted their caramel skin, and atop their head lay a dashing wide brimmed hat, with a feather sticking out the end.

    Despite the chaotic mix of colours, textures and tones, the whole mess of an outfit seemed to almost magically work together, pleasing Wanderer¡¯s vision and inspiring a incredible sense of awe in the Golem.

    ¡°They are an artist!¡± Wanderer reflected as they watched, stunned by the way that such a random assortment of fabrics managed to invoke feelings of awe in much the same way the music box did, or even nature itself.

    ¡°Like what you see?¡±, the artisan said with a bemused expression, having noticed Wanderer¡¯s staring.

    The Golem did like what they saw, very much so, and made sure to show their affirmation.

    The smug look on the woman¡¯s face quickly evolved at Wanderers affirmation, turning from enjoyment to outright mirth as a laugh bellowed from deep within her throat.

    It was surprising to Wanderer, what a real laugh sounds like, it was a hearty and joyful sound that made their own laugh, the laugh inside their mind, feel painfully inadequate.

    If the Vessel laughed right now, would anyone even know, would anyone even be able to share in their joy.

    As if sensing their thoughts, the sentient bundle of cactus in their arms hugged themselves a little closer into the Golem¡¯s soft flesh, their many limbs providing an inescapable net of care.

    In an instant, Wanderer realised their worries were all for naught, not only did they have Emio, but their Spirit as well, each of which could share in the Vessel¡¯s joy in their own way.

    The woman¡¯s laughter calmed down and she wiped a tear from her eye as she introduced herself.

    ¡°I am Heruhka, I''m the mercarlio around here¡±, they announced, patting Wanderer on one of their many shoulders as they did so.

    ¡°This reroshra over here says you need a erolariag,¡± Herukah said as they pointed to the incensed warrior beside them, who was sending a thoroughly ignored death stare, ¡°to help you blend in with the Kershakreheh above¡±.

    Before Wanderer could reply, she continued.

    ¡°Can''t eaire I have ever worked with a Gorlesha, but I''m always looking for an Orshkara, and I don''t get much of that in my werlekre.

    Wanderer in truth didn''t truly understand what Herukah was saying, but it was humorous and well intentioned, so they found themself agreeing anyway.

    She leaned in closer, voice taking on a loud whisper.

    ¡°So why don''t we ditch this reroshra, and get you and your friend something to wear?¡±, Heruhka said with a wink.

    Before the Golem could even reply, they had been grabbed by the arm and were pulled away into the racks of clothes, not even able to thank Detlashra before they disappeared into a cramped room, filled with fabric.

 Reflection and Outfit

    Reflection and Outfit

    The ceiling was only just high enough that Wanderer didn''t have to crouch, the engraved rock above them almost scratching the top of their hat-like head.

    Yet the roof was the least of the Golem¡¯s worries, the piles of fabric at their feet being far harder to dodge as they were hurried further and further into the room.

    Emio, in particular, was not happy with the situation, squirming violently in Wanderer¡¯s arms.

    Yet their guide was uncaring of both their discomfort, far too consumed in her own issues of figuring out what to make the two wear.

    Finally, the group came to a small clearing in the racks and piles where they were directed to stand still and wait.

    Heruka stood back a few steps, shawl flowing around her as she did and inspected the pair.

    Seemingly without thinking, she reached out to take Emio from Wanderer¡¯s arms.

    The verdestry however, had reached their breaking point, tired of being dragged around and stuffed in small rooms with strange people.

    The instant Heruka reached for the small monster, she was met with vicious rebellion, as four deadly tendrils raised themselves into attack position, and a low groan emitted from Emio.

    The tailor backpedalled before tripping on a stray ball of yarn and coming crashing to the ground, all thoughts of clothing banished.

    Wanderer instantly reacted, calming the stressed verdestry and placing them in a nearby pile of fabric, where they anxiously stayed, eye trained on the tailor.

    Seeing as they were unlikely to calm the stressed monster any more, the Golem then turned their attention to the woman in front of them, already beginning to sign apologies.

    Heruka, to her credit, had already stood up and collected herself, waving away the Vessel¡¯s apologies.

    Yet even Wanderer could see the slight look of unease on her face, the way her ever-present smile was just a little more forced, and how her placations took just a moment longer than they should have.

    But what could they do?

    How could they reduce this newfound fear in them?

    As they were so accustomed to do, Wanderer¡¯s Spirit spoke and provided a solution, or rather highlighted the lack of one.

    There was little they could do, the guide confirmed, short of expelling Emio or leaving themselves, neither of which would end well.

    Indeed, the only thing there was to do was wait, and prove that both the Golem and Emio were trustworthy.

    Resigning to accept their Spirit¡¯s suggestion, Wanderer removed their satchel and placed it next to the verdestry, before waiting for Heruka.

    After shaking off the shock from earlier, the clothier took a few steps back and began to analyse the Golem, an uncomfortable experience for the Vessel.

    ¡°My my, you have seen a wearlio of Orshkara haven''t you?¡±, the woman asked, ¡°I have treacale many stories of your kind, yet I can''t say you fit the mareo of any of them¡±.

    Wanderer was about to clarify as best they could, emphasising their difference from the rest of their kin, when a thought materialised in their mind.

    ¡°Why am I so different from the others?¡±, from what the Vessel could tell, all Golems looked similar, all except Wanderer.

    ¡°Who is at fault?¡±, was it their Spirit, who was as unique as Wanderer¡¯s form and hated the violence that other Golem¡¯s spread.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Was it their unknown parent, who abandoned them before they were created.

    Perhaps there was no reason at all, a whim of fate, a random chance.

    Seeing as they did not know, they posed the question to their Spirit, and explained to Herukah as they waited for their answer.

    Yet, their Spirit seemed reluctant, exuding that same emotion they tended to when they knew something, yet did not want to share.

    It irritated the Vessel, as they were used to honesty, but they had learned their lesson from the last time they pushed their Spirit and Wanderer didn''t want to hurt their relationship.

    Eventually, the guide came to a conclusion, they would tell the Golem, but not right now, they would do so when Wanderer had time to process what they had to say

    Part of the Vessel wished to insist anyway, but they saw the logic in the Spirit¡¯s wisdom, and turned their attention back to the woman before them.

    ¡°Enough talking, it''s time for me to do my work¡± she announced, and hurried the Golem to yet another corner of the backroom.

    As Herukah began the process of matching fabrics and clothes of all kinds to Wanderer, the Vessel began to grow bored of the process and looked around the room.

    In truth, not much had changed about the room since the last time they checked, one alcove being little different to another.

    The clothes and fabric racks and piles were equally as discordant, the room cluttered just the same.

    Yet between the two areas, there was one major difference, towering in front of Wanderer, flat against the wall, was a mirror.

    The Golem was almost shocked at first, so long had it been since they had seen their own reflection, yet as they looked closer, they found it far different than the one they remembered.

    It was the same form of course, same hat-like head and four arms, yet so many minor details had changed that Wanderer found it hard to realise their body as their own.

    For one thing, their arm was still red from when they dipped it in the oil, yet not quite as bad as it once was, their Spirit¡¯s claim proving to be true.

    When they looked a little closer, they found the scars of their struggles, areas where the once flawless patterns of gold and bronze that adorned the Vessel¡¯s clay body had been disturbed and broken.

    Wanderer wasn''t quite sure how they felt about it, in one way, it was a symbol for the pain and suffering they had endured, the mistakes they had made.

    In another, the scars stood as representations of all they had survived, conquered, a physical manifestation of the journey and growth they had achieved throughout their short life.

    And of course, there were the more commercial indicators of their travels, all contained in the satchel around their chest.

    There was the crumpled letter and the books they had yet to learn to read, all taken from the room deep below the earth.

    There were the many coins they had found, in red, white and blue, which glinted in the low light of the small room.

    There was the flare-bow, loaded and ready to be used at leisure.

    And finally, at the very top of the chest, was the dancer in its box, voice waiting anxiously to be freed.

    Yet the Vessel did not wind the lever, although they wished to, they had no need of it now, instead turning their attention to the least, or perhaps, most obvious element of their form.

    Because just by looking at themself in the mirror, Wanderer could tell they were simply better, their limbs moved with confidence, their gait solid, their gem eyes shining in the low light.

    Just in the way they existed, they seemed different from the scared, confused thing that woke in the cave, the struggle of their journey creating them anew.

    Finally, they turned their gaze inward, toward their Spirit, blessing and soul and found the notion of their renewal supported.

    Wanderer could vaguely remember, toward the beginning of their life, that their soul was little more than a cloud of magic, something that was still forming itself, something still new.

    Now, it had coalesced itself into a tight ball of power, dense and alive, and the Vessel could sense there was more growing to do yet.

    Perhaps that was why the Golem did not realise that their soul took physical space as well as magical in their early life, perhaps their soul had not even formed enough to materialise.

    Their blessing was still providing power to their body, unchanged to all observations, but what drew the Golem''s vision the most, was their Spirit.

    Without Wanderer even realising, the guide had grown in both size and power, the magic of exploration bounding off the creature in waves.

    Truly, they had grown throughout the journey just as much as the Vessel, even beyond the breadth of their power.

    Finally, Wanderer turned their eyes to their final friend, the ever-reliable Emio.

    In contrast to themself and their Spirit, the Golem could hardly say that the verdestry had changed, still the grumpy, inquisitive monster they had always been.

    But what Wanderer did realise, was that they were discovering more and more about the little cacti creature, things they had not previously known.

    Their curiosity, their laziness, their fierce loyalty and their nasty temper, all these things were aspects of their friend that the Vessel had to learn about.

    ¡°I''m done!¡±, Herukah announced, tearing Wanderer from their contemplation, ¡°and this has to be perlaklio of my best work yet¡±.

    And indeed, the tailor was finished, because there, in front of Wanderer was a set of flowing robes, made especially for them.

 Robes and Hall

    Robes and Hall

    ¡°Now, I can''t say if it will fit well or not, never made clothes for your kind after all, but you should rearare right in with this¡±, Herukah announced.

    In a flash, the excited tailor slipped the mantle around Wanderer¡¯s shoulders and secured it to their four arms.

    While they were fixing up the costume, the tailor said, ¡°I would perlekrargiro once you get up there, you don''t move your bottom set of eirstry much, the chaos up there will probably prevent people from being suspicious but it''s still better to be safe.¡±

    Once again, the Golem was drawn to question what exactly was going on in the surface that allowed them to blend in so seamlessly with those so different to themself, yet Wanderer kept quiet as they knew they would find out soon enough.

    It only took a little while longer for Herukah to finish, efficient in their job despite Wanderers body type.

    Eager to observe their new outfit, the Golem thanked the tailor and stood back to view themselves in the mirror.

    Across their shoulders now sat an intricate robe, reaching down to the floor in order to hide as much as their body as possible.

    In many ways, it mimicked the styles they had seen on so many humans, with four arms instead of two, with exception of a few differences.

    The robes of others often contained vast quantities of gold in their designs, with other colours existing as highlights.

    But the one that Wanderer was wearing now hardly touched on the colour, instead bringing a full rainbow of different tones and hues to light.

    A hundred different colours appeared in a hundred different ways all across the outfit, sometimes bold and distracting, sometimes in amounts so small the Golem could hardly see them.

    As they moved, tiny tassels and trinkets connected all across the fabric jingled with them, each one inscribed with letters they could not read.

    On the back of the cloth, the previously missing pigment of gold appeared in full force, forming a swirling vortex that centred toward a single figure.

    In a way, the depiction resembled their Spirit, swirling power and single eye all present.

    Yet this figure was not a simple ball, instead, taking a form similar to that of a human.

    ¡°This was the god that saw us¡±, Wanderer realised.

    A bolt of distress shot through their Spirit as they came to a similar realisation, causing them to insist that the Vessel take the robe back off.

    Wanderer wholeheartedly refused.

    The outfit had been made especially for them and they loved it, there was no way they would risk offending the one group of humans who had shown them any civility because it had the depiction of another god.

    The Spirit bristled at this, their magical body growing tumultuous, and stated once again the risks that a god brings, the risk of their own destruction.

    Yet the Golem had developed stubbornness in their soul and would not let it leave so easily, reiterating the simple fact that if they were wanted dead, they would be.

    The Spirit still did not relent, firing back about risks and with the assertion that the intricate costume would attract attention, and they would be found out.

    ¡°If anything, the portrayal would likely improve our favour¡±, Wanderer resisted, ¡°And I have already been told that I will not be noticed above, and I trust these people¡±.

    The guide fell silent, opinion unchanged yet aware that the Vessel was not going to give out and there was little use in arguing.

    ¡°Do you like it?¡± Herukah asked with an expectant look on her face, bringing Wanderer back to the present.

    ¡°I used a lot of good flergio in this outfit, stuff I have been wearlare for a long time¡±, the tailor continued after Wanderer had given their affirmative, ¡°Figured I would use it now, how often do you get to tailor for a real life Goreleshra after all¡±.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Just make sure you don''t ruin it up there ok, its earagiago stuff, I would hate to see it go to waste¡±.

    After yet another enthusiastic nod, the little backroom fell into an awkward silence, Herukah seeming to want to say something more and Wanderer being unknowing of where to go.

    ¡°Can I ask you a question, Traveller¡±, despite their request for permission, they continued before the Golem could react, ¡°How are you still alive?¡±.

    The Vessel wasn''t quite sure how to react to that, and resigned to a simple shrug.

    ¡°It''s just, the Earliag have been claiming that all the Goreleshra were dead since they wiped out the Goreleshra shreshkefeh¡±, she continued, ¡°and I would have thought, if they had seen a Goreleshra walking around, they would have sent the Gtririag to kill them.¡±

    This was a lot of information for Wanderer to process, not only was there a place that other Golems lived, everyone inside there had been killed by unknown forces, and those same people could be coming for them.

    A bit befuddled, Wanderer conveyed their lack of knowledge on the subject, and tried to ask about the supposed place their kind had once lived.

    ¡°The shreshkefeh? I can''t say I know much about it, other than the fact that it''s still sitting empty around the other side of Orshkarsha.¡± Herukah replied, seemingly puzzled at the question.

    ¡°What would that be like?¡±, Wanderer thought, what would they find in the home of their kin?

    Perhaps there they could finally learn what happened to their parent.

    The Vessel asked for directions to the place, hoping to add yet another stop to visit on their travels, yet was disappointed by the answer.

    ¡°I don''t really know earglaire where it is, but you could pergolio ask Keshte when you get back from your mission.¡± Herukah stated apologetically.

    With that, another awkward silence spread across the room, before the tailor offered to escort Wanderer to the surface.

    Eager to prove themself, the Golem scooped up Emio and hurried after Herukah, being careful not to knock anything over in the process.

    Soon , they were back out into the central ring of the complex, which had died down a little since they had last been there, with a few of the store rooms and shops closing their doors and leaving, each of the caretakers dressed in equally intricate robes as themself.

    Wanderer ignored the stares they got to the best of their ability, and followed Herukah down a hallway nearly identical to every other, if not for the lacking placement of light sources, and dustier walls.

    ¡°I''m going to take you to one of our less used entrances to the city, by the looks of you, you seem like you want to avoid more people.¡± Herukah stated, receiving a signal of gratitude from Wanderer in the process.

    They went further and further into the complex, the sounds of people fading into the distance before the group eventually passed by an oddity in the ruins'' uniform structure.

    Splitting off from the central hall was a cavernous tunnel, at least twice as wide as Wanderer was tall.

    Wooden barricades with indecipherable letters blocked entry, giving the gaping hole into the dark an ominous feeling, although in truth there was nothing more suspicious about the descending staircase than any other part of the complex.

    Sensing Wanderer curiosity, Herukah refuted it before it could take hold.

    ¡°We dont let people down there, not after the first few we sent to perlrere never came back up¡±.

    The tailor continued, ¡°I don''t know if the place is trapped or there''s some terrible monster down there, but it isn''t coming up here, so we are happy enough to leave it alone¡±

    This shocked Wanderer, not expecting something so morbid, instantly their mind recalled the swarmlings, and the mine they lived in.

    The Golem didn''t know for certain if that was what was down there, but it would certainly make sense.

    Just the thought of having to face the ravenous centipedes again made Wanderer shiver, a dull pit of dread rising within them, swarmlings or not, the Golem decided they were never going down that tunnel.

    Eventually, after a bit more walking, the party arrived at a small room off the side of one of the narrower halls, with a sleeping guard stationed outside of it.

    Herukah narrowed their eyes and walked up to the human, who remained utterly oblivious to the horrors about to follow, before shaking them awake.

    What followed was a vicious scolding in the language the Vessel did not know, unbefitting of the happy, bubbly person they had seen of Herukah so far.

    It was a shocking reversal, one that revealed a whole new side to the tailor that Wanderer would have never guessed existed.

    After the two were done, soldier thoroughly in remorseful silence, Herukah addressed the Golem one final time.

    ¡°They will take you up to the city¡±, the tailor declared while pointing at their companion, ¡°And they will be here when you get back¡±.

    With that Herukah said some final goodbyes, before walking away and disappearing behind a corner.

    The moment the tailor was gone, the guard next to Wanderer let out a sigh of relief, before turning toward the Golem, and motioning them to go up a ladder that lay in the centre of the room next to them.

    As they did so, however, they seemed to finally realise what, exactly they were looking at, as all confidence crumbled from their body only a moment later, and their jaw dropped.

    Unsure how to react to this and with an impatient Emio raring to go, Wanderer walked past the human and climbed the ladder into the city above.

 Festival and Celebration

    Festival and Celebration

    As Wanderer ascended further and further up the dark shaft, the ladder going on for far longer than they had thought, the Vessel¡¯s doubts and insecurities began to sink in.

    What was going on on the surface, how would they blend in, what were they going to do, how were they going to complete their mission.

    One hundred and one questions raced through their mind, each near unanswerable till they reached the surface.

    Suddenly, they found themselves wishing they had asked what those in the city were doing and for a moment they wished to go back down the ladder and pester the guard about all their questions.

    But it was too late now and they had already avoided the human to appease Emio, descending would do them no favours.

    Whatever it was, they would brave it.

    It was as the Golem thought this that they realised something else important, while Herukah had given them something to disguise themselves, either out of fear, unconcern or forgetfulness, she had neglected to do the same to Emio.

    ¡°Where can I put them where they won''t be seen¡±, Wanderer thought, as they realised, in the same moment, a greater issue ¡°and how will I get them to stay there¡±.

    Seeing as they had little chance of solving this problem while on the ladder, the Golem continued upwards with the hope that there would be some variety of cover when they surfaced, in which they would not be recognised.

    It didn''t take too much longer climbing through the pitch black shaft before Wanderer hit their head on the exit, yet they hesitated to go up and instead listened.

    They could recognise, at the edge of their hearing, a great cacophony of voices and people, shouts and stomps and the sound of talking abounding limitlessly.

    Yet this was far away from the Vessel, or at the very minimum muffled, from above them they could hear nothing.

    Hoping this was a sign of safety and not an intricately crafted trap, the Golem pushed on the exit above them as light rushed in.

    The trio climbed into a small room that, as like many of the other things occupied by the underground rebellion, was disused and abandoned.

    It was likely a bedroom at some point, a large construction of wood and fabric serving as a bed in one of the corners, and the worn remains of a pale dresser gathering dust in front of it.

    There was a single large window of tinted glass that served as both the only light source in the room, and the majority of the ceiling.

    Directly behind them was the exit of the shaft they had just come through, which was once covered by a secret panel made to blend with the floor and a worn out rug.

    Wanderer quickly recovered it, they would hate for the complex to be discovered because of them.

    The room was mostly uninteresting, even to Wanderer, anything of value or interest long since stripped clean, and so, the Vessel turned their attention back to their issue, how would they hide Emio.

    Their first thought was to put them in their satchel, but it was an idea quickly debunked, the verdestry was small, but not quite small enough to fit.

    Next, the Golem¡¯s mind turned to the possibility of hiding them inside their robes, yet that idea too was quickly abandoned with a simple thought about how strange a suspicious glowing lump would look, and how much more unlikely Emio was to hold themselves there for ages at a time.

    Stumped, Wanderer walked over and took the small monster off their shoulders (much to their chagrin) and sat on the bed.

    How could they hide the verdestry in a way that would be both comfortable for them and won''t reveal their existence, it seemed like an impossible task.

    The Vessel clenched their hands in frustration, grabbing the bed sheet below them.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Yet as they felt the sturdy fabric in their long fingers, a brilliant idea occurred to them.

    Wanderer shot up, disturbing an increasingly upset Emio in the process, and ripped the bedsheet from the bed, which was now little more than a wooden board.

    Despite the abject poverty of whoever must have lived in the house last, the linen was both incredibly tough and intricately decorated, nearly as mesmerising as the robes the Golem wore even now, though faded and worn with time.

    After another moment of admiring the piece, Wanderer folded it crosswise a few times and picked up Emio.

    After a little bit of explaining, and far more convincing, the small monster wrapped two tendrils around the Vessel¡¯s neck and retracted the rest into their body, their glowing eye facing outwards.

    Satisfied with the positioning, Wanderer picked up the length of fabric and began to fashion a sort of baggy scarf.

    Around and around they wound it around their neck, making sure to contain any evidence of Emio except for a tiny sliver which they could see through.

    After making sure that Emio was comfortable, and were not likely to leave halfway through a crowd of humans, (something they couldn''t truly guarantee), Wanderer gathered their wits, stepped up to the door, and hesitated.

    Their soul itched to go outside and discover the wonders of the city, yet at the same time, their fear repelled them equally.

    They didn''t know if their disguise would work, or if Emio would be revealed, if the god would strike them down or if they might offend people by accident.

    It only just occurred to them that they may not even be able to understand the language these people spoke, or how suspicious it would seem if they were asked a question and were only able to answer in ineffective sign.

    The enormity of their lack of cultural understanding warred with their adventurous nature, neither side gaining ground over the other.

    A voice pierced through the indecision, one the Vessel did not expect to hear, their Spirit.

    There was a resigned tone to their message as they conveyed their approval of a trek into the city, as if they too had faced a internal war similar to that of the Golem.

    What other purpose to life was there beyond discovery, what other way was there to learn than mistakes, why should simple fear prevent us in face of wonder.

    With that nudge to their psyche, the Vessel¡¯s mind was made up, they would simply have to trust their Spirit and the good people below them, trust that the magnitude of all that they would see would outweigh the risk they were taking.

    With one final check to their preparations, and the approval of their Spirit leading them on, Wanderer opened the door out of the little room.

    As expected, the room was not isolated, but part of a larger, similarly abandoned house.

    The Golem discovered that a kitchen, bathroom and yet another bedroom were all the abode housed, all of which were stripped clean and completely abandoned, spiderwebs populating the area.

    Every room in the house had the same glass ceiling, held up by dull walls of dark grey brick.

    Soon only a single door remained untouched, one from which the cacophony of voices from outside came strongest.

    It was louder now, to the point where Wanderer could almost hear what people were saying, if not for the thousands overlapping each other.

    Unwilling to let the number of people cause them to hesitate, Wanderer opened the door and found a scene unlike any other the Vessel had ever seen.

    The door led to a little balcony, then to a set of narrow stairs that led to the ground level of the city.

    The city itself was conical in nature, leading ever deeper as one got closer and closer to the massive tower in the centre.

    That tower stretched from the deepest point of the metropolis to high up in the sky, where the little box that housed the god¡¯s servant was.

    Yet all the glory and power that the spire commanded was not even enough to hold the Vessel''s attention for a moment, as they looked down below.

    In the streets, thousands of people rallied and shouted, waving banners with as many colours as a rainbow.

    Yet despite their number, Wanderer was deceived as to whether they were human at all, as each and every person in that crowd wore a costume.

    There were things with teeth and viscous horns, things that had feathers and rustled in the wind, some things were smooth, others rough, some were joyful, others had expressions of the deepest pain etched upon sorrowful masks.

    The sheer brevity and uniqueness of every single one of the costumes astounded the Golem, every one making them do a double take.

    Yet mere dress up was hardly the end to the festivities, games and battles, similar to the one Wanderer saw in the dining hall, took place everywhere.

    Fully robed warriors faced off against monsters of ages past in violent recounting of stories blown a hundred times out of proportion, people shouted and screamed every time their favourite contestant took a blow or gave one in return.

    Merchants and chefs lined the sides of the crowd, taking money and giving goods away as if they were water, while trying their hardest to not be carried away by the tide of people.

    Yet stitched on every banner and embroidered on every costume, no matter their context or story was the same god, its golden, cyclopic form taking centre place.

    It was only now the Golem realised something important about the structure of the city as a whole, the homes and shops they currently resided in were run down and drab, but the same could not be said of the buildings closer to the centre.

    The further one went, the more luxurious the various establishments became, it began with simple colour to the walls, then more lights and fires to brighten the streets, by the time one reached the centre, the architecture and vibrancy of the buildings far surpassed anything Wanderer could have imagined.

    Great arches and engraved walls, lifelike statues and flowing fountains, mansions carved from solid stone.

    Yet the Vessel¡¯s joy quickly turned sour as an unexpected scene graced their eyes.

    Surrounding the tower, hung above a pit of burning coals, were a group of agonised slaves.

 Extra 5: Conversations of the Oracle

    Extra 5: Conversations of the Oracle

    Hureheh¡¯s dreams continued in their chaotic course, flashes of things both experienced and imagined blending till there was no difference between the two.

    For longer than the mind could comprehend, or perhaps only a few moments, this fog of the unexplainable continued, the final refuge of a struggling body.

    Yet slowly and subtly, the sleeping delusions faded, images and memories all consumed in an endless field of gold.

    Far as the eye could see and mind comprehend, a limitless landscape sprawled, both perfectly flat and viciously spiked, both a world of deep valleys and towering mountains, as if reality itself was struggling against its own existence.

    Hureheh woke within this dream, body whole and unharmed, back against the cold stone of a shimmering cliff.

    He stood up and walked forward, mind completely clear and unconfused, he was meant to be here, after all.

    Yet as he took his first step, the landscape shifted, no longer was he next to a cliff, but falling deep into the earth, walls from every direction coming to meet him.

    Yet as his body broke and bones shattered under the force, he simply refused, struggling against the urge to give in and die.

    And as soon as the floor had given way under them, the world changed again.

    Now he was in a vast desert of golden dunes, twisted, thin hands reaching from the dust to drag him under the scorching sand.

    Yet again he fought with all his might, wrenching and wrestling to be free.

    And again the land changed, this time he was deep under a ocean of gold, so deep no light could reach him as the crushing waves hoped to extract their life from his meagre body.

    Yet they were unrelenting in their resistance, and soon the sea faded as well.

    Yet this time he was not treated with another trial, but a figure, surrounded by fifteen others to their left and right.

    Their body was like that of a human, yet ever changing in its proportions, as if struggling over its own identity.

    The only thing that remained consistent was a singular, burningly fierce eye in the middle of their face, one that instantly revealed the identity of the being.

    This was Orsha, the god he had spent their whole life worshipping, waiting to see.

    The fifteen surrounding them were the oracles of Orsha, who prophesied of disasters and struggles yet to come, and protected the struggle of life.

    Yet Hureheh struggled to focus on them, to him, they seemed as if they were blurry or perhaps far away, not fully in the dream-realm like the god before him.

    The former-slave had no time to contemplate what this meant, as Orsha had decided he had been given enough time to take in the surroundings.

    A scene was pushed upon him and this time he was unable to resist, mind being consumed by the vision.

    An oddly familiar creature was standing upon a balcony, shaped like a Golem yet much too small and with too few legs.

    In front of them, in geometry of swirling gold was Ketkershrah, the city that had once been their home.

    They were celebrating the Kershakreheh, he realised, the many costumes and rituals suddenly standing out to him.

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    ¡°The figure must be a man in a costume then¡± he thought, it was a logical assumption, as they were wearing the traditional clothes for the apex of the moons.

    A bolt of emotion shot through the Orshraka the moment his thoughts reached its conclusion, and for an instant he thought the feelings his own.

    Yet his own emotions faded and changed with his mood, this new one remained resolute and he soon realised this was not his own sentiment, but that of Orsha.

    The intent behind the message was very clear, he was wrong, and to correct himself he must try to remember what he had forgotten.

    Hureheh obeyed, unwilling to resist the command of his god, and began to pull on the thread of familiarity that he felt when he saw the odd figure, trying to place a memory.

    He quickly dismissed his childhood and past for the source of the memory, he had never come close to any contact with a Golem, and they were a rather rare Keshakreheh costume.

    Upon closer inspection, the thread of deja vu came from a time after the final memory his mind would allow him to review, in a place locked away from his knowledge.

    But the command of Orsha was pushing him on, he had little choice but to try to remember.

    Perhaps, in the waking world, such a thing would be impossible, to find what the brain had hidden, yet this was the domain of Orsha, god of struggle, triumph and failure were things only determined by an individual''s will.

    Hureheh fought to unlock the secrets of his mind, and eventually, the secrets yielded.

    Pain, incredible pain, but within that pain, something more, cool, clay flesh against burning skin, fleeting glimpses of shimmering gems peering into pained eyes.

    The Golem, the creature standing in vision form in front of them, had saved their life.

    If Hureheh had a body in this realm, he would have crumpled as the memories of things that should have remained forgotten rushed back, bringing far more pain then he wished he could comprehend.

    But even these feelings, in their magnitude, were drowned out by the intense satisfaction coming from the god in front of them as the vision faded and the golden fields returned.

    Before the former-slave could gain his bearings in the new landscape, he was assaulted by a hundred different emotions in a hundred different ways, a whole story being told.

    Orsha had made a mistake, one that had crippled them for longer than any one human remembers, yet what that mistake was, they did not tell.

    For hundreds of years, they had been searching for someone who could help them, who had the potential to not only struggle through the trials necessary to mend their mistake, but also had the naivety and stubbornness necessary to remain unchanged in their path.

    That being was the Golem, Wanderer.

    By the time Hureheh had processed what had been said, he had formed more questions than he ever had before in his life.

    What was this mysterious mistake, why was this strange Golem chosen for this task, why was Hureheh, of all people, being told of this.

    Of these hundreds of questions, the god answered only one.

    The fifteen oracles, who had faded into the background throughout the length of the discussion, reappeared in full force, a golden third eye present on each of their foreheads.

    They surrounded both god and man, and stood silently while Orsha delivered their final command.

    The god declared that Hureheh and his group must aid Wanderer in any way they are able, both under command of their god and to fulfil the debt that was owed.

    Yet this must be done silently, without the knowledge of any within the desert, and to that end, until the mistake is undone and the debt is paid, Hureheh, nor Shreshka or Retlafeh are ever to enter the land of Reshraka ever again.

    The human¡¯s questions tripled, the god¡¯s exposition demanding so much yet revealing so little that, in Hureheh¡¯s mind, little more than questions remained.

    Yet these questions never had a chance to be voiced, as with only an instant of delay, a rush of power overcame Hureheh.

    The fifteen had stopped their stoicism, and had begun to channel Orsha¡¯s power through their hands, which the god now floating above them eagerly provided.

    The former slave couldn''t tell what was going on or what he should do, should he try to run or stay where he was, did he even have any chance to outrun a god in the first place?

    The decision was made for him, as another wave of encroaching power brought him to his knees and made his mind spin.

    Violent, writhing power seeped its way into his dream-form, directly assaulting his mind.

    Yet it wasn''t an assault, he found, as where the power touched, things changed and morphed, seemingly making way for something yet to come.

    Hureheh¡¯s grip on Orsha¡¯s realm began to fade as the oncoming power redoubled, slowly falling into the realm of the woken.

    Just as the last threads keeping the human under unconsciousness began to snap, Orsha sent one final message.

    Hureheh had been blessed with the mantle of oracle, the sixteenth of that title, and for this reason, he must not fail in his task.

    But before the enormity of this message dawned upon the human, his mind was consumed by agony, screaming in the night as his third eye opened.

 Trial and Madness

    Trial and Madness

    Wanderer could hardly believe what they were seeing, the blatant cruelty astounding them, the torture far beyond what they had thought even the slavers would commit.

    Three rings of trials surrounded the central tower, each more horrific than the last.

    The first and largest, was occupied by around one hundred slaves, forcing them to hang by their unprotected hands on a barbed wire, spurred on by the bed of burning coals beneath them.

    A thick sheen of sweat coated each and every one of their scarcely clothed forms, water within their bodies quickly being sapped by the incredible heat, muscles loosening with every passing second.

    It didn''t take long before the first of the contestants fell, a young woman screaming in fear, then agony as she dropped into the burning pit below.

    Heavily protected assistants rushed out from the sides of the ring and pulled the woman out before her demise, yet the damage was done, their flesh was red and angry, blisters already appearing on burns she would carry for the rest of their life.

    The Golem looked away, unable to watch any longer.

    Yet as another scream of pain resounded across the cacophony of the festival, the Vessel was forced to look back, unable to tear their vision away from the torture.

    The cry came from the second ring of trials, from a young man who was now lying on the floor, unmoving.

    There were perhaps eighty contestants in this ring, split into groups of four, each group in their own individual area.

    Upon each of the slave¡¯s backs was tied a peculiar oval of black glass, shining under the fires light and in each of their hands was a hammer, almost as large as the contestants were tall.

    The goal of the contest seemed to be that each person must smash the glass orb of those around them with their hammer.

    At first, Wanderer thought this punishment far less severe than that of the larger layer, yet that idea was shattered as soon as they witnessed the first hit.

    Their thought was that the fragile glass would shatter easily and leave little harm, yet the glass was nowhere near as weak as they thought.

    One of the fighters scored a solid hit onto the orb of another, yet not even a crack formed in the target.

    The victim fell to the ground, winded, as their hammer flung out of reach.

    Their assailant kicked them onto their back, as the true cruelty of the trial became apparent, to break the glass, a contestant''s full strength was needed.

    The first strike came down, yet too much restraint was shown by the attacker, and the orb did not break, the same could not be said of the victim¡¯s spine.

    Before Wanderer could even process the barbarity of what was unfolding before their eyes, the second strike came, this time without mercy, and the dark glass shattered.

    Thick, razor-sharp shards split in every direction under the force, some falling into the sand in the ring, some leaving cuts on the victor¡¯s unprotected legs, most digging deep into the flesh of the mutilated man on the floor.

    He would be lucky if he survived, even luckier if he ever walked again.

    As assistants on the sides of the ring carried the unconscious human out of the area, Wanderer turned their sight away once again, once again sickened to the core by the brutality.

    ¡°Why is no one stopping this¡±, the Vessel thought, how could something so abhorrent be allowed to go on, let alone be encouraged?

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    Their Spirit, who had been watching as well, answered with their greatest theory.

    The Orshraka did all this and likely suffered through slavery as well because they lived under the command of a selfish god.

    The guide had worked out that the god who ruled over this land, and in turn governed its people, was a god that gained power from the pain and hardship of those within it.

    As such, in an act of selfish lust for greater power, they had built a society with the intention to maximise the struggle of those within it and make their every moment a fight, for one reason or another.

    Indeed, as shown by the fight in the dining hall, even their fun and entertainment were based upon inflicting and bearing through pain.

    Everything Wanderer had seen of Orshraka society up until now made sense, of course, a slave would not turn from their controller if they had been commanded to stay there by a god they had spent their whole life worshipping.

    ¡°Its cruel tha-¡±, the Golem was not able to finish their thought, as their gaze was drawn back to the trials and a final instance of incredible brutality.

    The third and final of the rings of trials involved perhaps twenty slaves, each one paired with another, then forced to compete.

    The final contest was simple compared to the other two, yet devious in its savagery.

    It placed the pairs in angled pits, each one leading into the other to create a triangle in shape.

    At the apex of this triangle, rested a smooth rock boulder, perfectly spherical and polished to a shine.

    Each of the contestants pushed against the boulder with all their might, trying desperately to unbalance it onto their rival''s side, instead of their own.

    As if by premonition, Wanderer could already tell what would happen, could see the red gore and crushed bone that would inevitably follow in their mind''s eye, as clear as if it had already happened.

    They couldn''t wait for their expectations to become reality, with little care for anything else, the Golem vaulted over the balcony and sprinted.

    The world of colours and celebration that would have once captivated Wanderer with every possible moment rushed by in a blur, the crowd they were once so hesitant of, mere obstacles in their path as Wanderer progressed with Golemic speed.

    No matter how fast the Vessel seemed to irritate pedestrians, They still weren''t fast enough.

    Before, when they had ran at their full speed, they had done so with a relatively straight path, undisturbed by obstacles and barriers.

    Yet now they were in an unfamiliar city, surrounded by people and blocked by walls and buildings, every turn making them more and more lost and only the towering spire prevented their complete confusion.

    Too Wanderer, their sprint felt like a crawl, one that made obvious to the Golem just how large the city was.

    They had seen it, of course, known its sprawling layout, but the eye made everything seem smaller, closer together, it was only by walking amongst the land that could one get a true sense of its scale.

    As Wanderer inched closer and closer to their target, the pit of dread in their soul grew, as the certainty gradually rose that they were already too late, too slow.

    Indeed, the Vessel realised, what chance had they at even hoping to stop the events, each trial was surrounded by guards and stirred on by thousands of onlookers, what could they do that had any chance of stopping the festivities, let alone guaranteeing the contestants survival.

    But despite the hopelessness, the Golem pressed on, the last vestiges of wishfulness burning bright in their soul.

    In the back of their mind, Wanderer could sense their Spirit¡¯s indecision about what to do, and Emio¡¯s growing irritation at the fast-paced travel, yet none of this mattered, they had to keep going.

    The closer the Vessel got to their location, the thicker the crowds got and the slower they moved, until, after half of an hour, Wanderer reached the centre.

    Climbing onto a nearby balcony to see above the crowds, the bitter dread in the Golem¡¯s stomach reached a crescendo, as they realised their failure.

    They were late, so late that not even a single contestant still remained in their trial, every one of them having lost or reigned victorious.

    Even now they were taking down the sharp wire and dousing the burning coals of the first trial, while others tended to the wounds of those who had survived the second, and disposing of those who didn''t.

    In the third, however, there was no one to help, the victor walking away unharmed, while what was left of the loser was currently being cleaned up.

    ¡°A whole life, reduced to a stain on a rock¡±, Wanderer lamented.

    It just didn''t make sense, why would anyone go through this, why was it encouraged, why did no one fight against the demands of their god?

    They demanded an answer from their Spirit, yet the guide none to give.

    Already the massive yard where thousands watched people be tortured was begging to fill with vendors and merchants, caring little for the carnage that had just taken place as they extracted money from the crowd.

    It didn''t make sense, nothing made sense, Wanderer just didn''t understand, it was all madness.

    And so they turned and ran, leaving as fast as they came.

    They needed some time to think.

 Extra 6: The Bounty

    Extra 6: The Bounty

    The door to the Gtririag office opened once again, the actions of a drunk fool letting in the cacophony outside, and worsening the growing headache Chray already possessed.

    Even from across the room, he could smell the karshke on the Earliag¡¯s breath, hear his deluded mumblings, even over the roar outside.

    ¡°Another new recruit¡±, the Keeper thought, ¡°Even drunker on star-silvers power than alcohol¡±.

    Chray retreated further into his corner, redoubling the focus put into polishing his blades.

    Perhaps, in another life, stealth would have come more naturally to him, yet in this one, even hidden in the corner he stuck out like a flame in a sea of grass.

    He always found it hard to tell if others could see you, when you yourself could not see them.

    A deep sigh escaped him as the drunk¡¯s footsteps turned his way, and the familiar feeling of being watched settled on his shoulders.

    He knew of course it would happen, people always saw Chray as an easy target, no matter how many times he proved otherwise.

    ¡°I know you¡­¡±, the offender forced out in a drawl, his intentions far too clear.

    Chray put their knives away, their curved edges slotting neatly into two sheaves on his belt, there was no point in dirtying them after they had just been polished.

    ¡°Why would they waste Andromio on someone who can''t even see¡±, the drunkard spat, ¡°Some rich bastard bribed an official for you, no doubt¡±.

    Perhaps, the Keeper would have been offended, had he not heard this all before and knew that this was all just an excuse to take what the man really wanted.

    Chray stood up, hand on his hatchet as the drunk drew his sword with a shriek, the stench of metal stinging his nose.

    ¡°There ain''t no use in making this more difficult than it needs to be, let me take what I want, and I might not even kill you.¡±

    Chray didn''t react, expression hidden under a mask of stone as he drew his hatchet and activated his blessing.

    It was as if a new eye blossomed within their mind, as the path taken by the man before him, past, present and future, became highlighted in brilliant orange.

    When he had first received it, turning it on was a disorienting experience that had left him with a headache for days, and even now it was likely the source of his constant migraines.

    Yet the Keeper had become so accustomed to the sixth sense that it felt stranger to be without its constant presence.

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    Chray didn''t wait for his opponent to strike first, he would be a fool too when cold-hearted murder was such a light offence, instead, he dashed forward toward his unprepared opponent, far too close for the drunkard¡¯s longsword to be useful.

    The amateur reacted in the only way he could think to, trying to step back while wielding his blade one-handed in an attempt to half-stab half-strike Chray¡¯s back.

    The attempt was doomed from the start, the older Keeper not even needing his blessing to predict the lacklustre resistance.

    The blunt end of the hatchet smashed into the drunkard''s elbow, cracking bone and forcing the blade from his grasp, all the while an eyeless mask of stone crushed his nose in a devastating headbutt.

    With a grunt of pain, Chray¡¯s opponent flung a reflexive punch while stumbling back, a punch that was quickly caught by superior strength, having long been foreseen in orange prophecy.

    Unwilling to give any time for recovery, the Gtririag finished the fight with his hatchet, slamming the one-handed weapon straight into his opponent''s skull.

    With a single quick jerk, he was dead.

    Chray took a moment to calm himself, checking for further enemies all the while before kneeling on the dark tile floor, making sure not to let any blood stain his clothes.

    If he had been able to see, locating and removing the star-silver from the man¡¯s body would have been a simple, if brutal operation, yet he was not so lucky and had to locate the metal by feel alone.

    Luckily, it didn''t take long to find the cold Andromio on the still-warm cadaver, the drunk, predictably having used his meagre allowance on his biceps and hands, apparently believing brute force was the only way to gain power.

    Chray was a living testament to the falsity of that belief.

    Even with feeling alone, it took little time to pry out the precious scraps of metal, having taken the last of it as the door behind the reception desk opened.

    ¡°It''s an eight wahrlio cleaning fee, and I expect you to pay it.¡± the receptionist, a stern woman with long grey hair and a mask of stone over her face, said.

    Before Chray even had a chance to reply, she continued, ¡°And no, I don''t care that he started it, you have to pay all the same.¡±

    The Keeper stood up and walked over to the receptionist, having the good sense not to protest and hand over the sum, he had learned the hard way that there was little point in arguing with the woman.

    The moment the coins changed hands, Chray moved to return to his table in the corner of the room, wanting to both quench the pain of losing money as well as clean his hatchet of the still-wet gore.

    This plan, however, was foiled when the desk manager called for him to stop.

    ¡°There''s a new bounty that''s just come through from the Earliag, and the council thinks you might be the only one around who can do it in a timely manner¡±.

    The Keeper stopped and walked back to the front desk, deciding to clean his weapon while he received the briefing, despite the receptionist¡¯s disapproval.

    ¡°It''s a bit of a strange one, but hardly the strangest you have ever dealt with¡±, the woman began, ¡°There have been reports of someone dressed like a Golem stealing from and terrorising random civilians¡±.

    Chray shook his head, ¡°And why am I, specifically, needed for this, surely some fool dressed like a death machine can''t be too hard to find.¡±

    ¡°That''s the catch, whoever this person is, if they are even a person, they haven''t stopped moving and if their speed is anything to go by, haven''t stopped to sleep either.¡±

    ¡°So you need someone quick to track them down then, and how do you suppose I find their trail?¡±

    The receptionist let out a scoff, ¡°You''re the tracker, that''s your job.¡±

    Shaking her head, she bent down and took out a poster from the bottom of the desk, and handed it to the Keeper, ¡°Everything else you need to know is on here.¡±

    Chray snatched the paper from her hand, before stalking toward the door, figuring their business was done and more than ready to sneak off into the crowd.

    ¡°And Chray, the council is really concerned about this one, I don''t know why, so try to get this done before they are forced to make it a public bounty¡±

    The Gtririag nodded once, projecting surety through their eyeless mask as they walked into the roaring crowds, ready to take on their newest bounty.

 Hiding and Thinking

    Hiding and Thinking

    Wanderer ducked and swerved past the thousands of festival goers, bright colours and strange forms of intricate costumes blurring as the Golem went past.

    Yet the Vessel couldn''t focus on them, could hardly focus on anything but the ground in front of them, they wanted to find a place away from the claustrophobic mass.

    The love of sights and smells and sounds that formed the basis of Wanderer¡¯s being was tainted by the realisation that this whole festival was a celebration of something that could not be tolerated, and was commanded by something that produced nothing but pain.

    Wanderer grew more and more frustrated as they found that every street and alley they ducked down and sprinted into was filled with people, the unending hordes never providing reprieve.

    More and more the need to get away, to work out their feelings and thoughts in solitude as they had always done, grew, and more and more they found that the hope was futile.

    No corner was free from the hordes, from yelling merchants and crying children, and it helped little that the Golem was completely lost in the winding city.

    In desperation, they turned their eyes upwards, and in doing so, realised their salvation.

    Why did they let themselves be constrained by the walls and streets of the citadel when they could scale the walls at any time and escape the crowd?

    Using all their strength, Wanderer leapt into the air, catching the edge of a nearby wall and vaulting over, not caring for its purpose or what was on the other side.

    Ignoring the protests of those behind them, indeed not even hearing what was said, the Vessel landed in a verdant green bush, stumbling from the unexpected terrain.

    Instantly, despite having tripped to the floor, Wanderer felt like they could exist again, the crushing crowds safely behind them.

    Sitting up, the Golem looked around the property they had fallen into, facing a scene unexpected to them.

    Unconsciously, Wanderer had begun to expect everything in the city to be a reflection of the cruelty of its god, yet, in contrast to all they had seen, the garden the Golem currently found themself in was devoid of practically everything they had come to associate with oppression.

    In exception to the golden walls, which were ordained similarly to those that surrounded the city, everything within the garden rejected the vibrancy and shine of the colours outside, taking much softer hues instead.

    Delicate flowers of blue and purple combined with the lightly coloured cobblestones that formed a winding path which toured the decorations the yard had to offer.

    Intricately carved statues of wide-bodied humans lay speckled around a central fountain, their decadent expressions speaking of a life akin to paradise, even when carved in white stone.

    The fountain itself spewed clear water into small streams, which crossed and intertwined all over the grounds, requiring small bridges to be created.

    The streams eventually meandered their way to a central pavilion, where a set of curved stone benches faced the main attraction of the garden.

    Where the water converged, a shimmering dark blue rune, maintained by a whirling ritual, vibrated in the air, pulling water into it.

    Ejected from the rune, water shot into the air before spiralling downwards in a gravity-defying descent, before reentering the loop.

    The water twisted and turned, and soon, Wanderer realised, began to form familiar shapes and forms.

    One instant the liquid took the shape of a human, then a tree the next, then a sword the moment after that.

    Yet despite its rapid chaos, one form appeared more than any other in the magic display.

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    A single line split into two, with further lines angled downwards, resembling thorns or barbs of some kind.

    The shape was familiar to the Golem, and after a long moment of contemplation, they realised the source.

    Digging into their ever-present satchel, Wanderer fished out one of the ancient coins they had found under the earth, and, upon gazing at its silvery-white face, found their match.

    The symbol engraved upon the coin was identical to that which was formed by the fountain.

    ¡°It must be a flag of some kind¡±, the Vessel concluded, surely the pictogram represented some group or nation of man.

    For a time far longer than Wanderer would have liked to admit, they sat upon one of the benches, mesmerised by the water feature, and were only snapped out of their trance by a succulent tendril interfering in one of the many streams of water.

    Emio had, at some point, snuck out of their hold in the Golem¡¯s scarf, and, similarly mesmerised by the water, decided to investigate.

    The Vessel moved to scoop the verdestry back up and place them back in safety, before catching themself in the process and deciding otherwise.

    It was a near miracle that Emio had stayed in place until this point, and Wanderer supposed they deserved some time to be free.

    It was at this moment that the Golem belatedly realised their original purpose in coming to the garden, having forgotten it in their curiosity.

    They had come here to acquire some space for which they could use to think, to recover from the confusion and panic caused by the cruelty of the city and its god.

    Yet, to Wanderer¡¯s surprise, those emotions seemed somehow far away, like a distant memory.

    The Vessel expected and waited for them to come rushing back like they had so many times before, when Wanderer felt the peace before the storm, yet it never came.

    It all just felt a little empty.

    ¡°But why should I feel these things?¡±, Wanderer thought, after all, nothing had truly changed.

    Their goal was the same, now only increased in its urgency after seeing the pain inflicted upon the undeserving, their view of the people in the desert had changed little, only a difference in the magnitude of their complacency with slavery having changed.

    In their soul, they knew all that the trials had exposed to them, all they did was force Wanderer to accept it.

    With an unusual sense of calm, the Vessel stood up, they had a job to do.

    Foolishly, in the way events had unfolded, Wanderer had never really thought about how to complete their rebel-given quest, it was a mistake they sought to rectify.

    Pacing around the garden, the Golem considered just how they were to verify the rumour that Keshte spoke of.

    ¡°I could mingle with the crowds and listen.¡±, Wanderer thought, and indeed, with their blessing-enhanced hearing, they may be able to do such a thing.

    Yet the crowds were many and their voices even greater, the chance of picking out the conversation they were looking for amongst the rabble was slim to none.

    ¡°What can I do to heighten my chances of finding the right conversation?¡±

    It was a question that stumped Wanderer, their knowledge of the situation was just too little, and so they asked their Spirit.

    Yet their Spirit was unresponsive, having entered the dormant state they so often did when they underwent a great deal of stress, doing little more than staring at Wanderer with their singular eye.

    The Vessel supposed they could have guessed that from their general lack of commentary on recent events.

    Nonetheless, Wanderer would have to figure out this issue themself.

    For a long while they sat in front of the fountain, surrounded by splendour and indulgence, watching Emio investigate the garden while they turned the question over in their mind until they came to a conclusion.

    ¡°If someone intends to fight a group as large as Keshte¡¯s organisation¡­¡± Wander began on the verge of epiphany ¡°Then they must have an equally large force to quell them.¡±

    ¡°If a force of this size resides in the city, there must be a place they all gather. So all I have to do is find this place, and I will be more likely to hear if Keshte has been found!¡±.

    Wanderer was rather proud of their accomplishment, a warm feeling welling in their chest at having worked out the answer without the usual help of their Spirit, yet this emotion faded a little as they realised their problem.

    ¡°But how will I find this place?¡±, the Vessel troubled, yet unlike before the answer came quickly, as Wanderer''s mind fell back to Keshte¡¯s office.

    Within was a piece of paper, marked with places and things, a map.

    ¡°Surely, if you find a map of this city, the place the warriors reside will be marked¡±, the Golem schemed, and there was no doubt in their mind about where to find such a guide.

    Wanderer turned their sights to the manor connected to the garden (which they had largely ignored in favour of the yard''s distractions), its inhabitants doubtless having abandoned it to join the festival.

    With all the excitement provided by a plan placed into action, the Golem started toward the residence, eager to find their prize.

 Mansion and Rooms

    Mansion and Rooms

    The manor rose high above the golden wall of the garden, at least two stories in height.

    From the sides, a fa?ade of intricate gold and vibrant colour painted the walls and dictated the architecture, undoubtedly convincing any passers-by the home was much like all the other buildings around.

    Yet from Wanderer¡¯s vantage point in the garden, they could see the truth, because hidden behind the vibrant exterior was a vastly different building.

    The subtle tones of the garden carried over to the mansion, yet with vastly more grandeur and pomp.

    Curving lines of deep blue stone lined towering pillars of white marble, accented with large, open windows made of shiningly clear glass, that, even in the middle of the night, seemed to reflect so much light that it was impossible to look in.

    From inside, bright lanterns shone a pure white light everywhere within the home, casting sharp shadows in the few areas that the energy could not reach.

    A massive balcony strut out from the top floor, the fanciful railings the only element of dark colour in the well lit home.

    The Vessel didn''t feel the need to wait much longer, figuring it safe enough to leave Emio exploring the garden, Wanderer crept in the unlocked back doors.

    They moved silently and slowly through the opening hallway, nowhere near foolish enough to believe that just because the owners of the home were likely away, there was no one in the building.

    Then again, they had not worried about that when they jumped in the garden.

    Wanderer had to be careful, their disguise might work amongst the chaotic crowds of vibrant costumes, but they doubted they would do the same here, anyone who looked at their earthenware body for more than a couple moments would be able to tell something wasn''t quite right.

    And after all they had seen today, the Vessel didn''t want to see how someone would react.

    Halfway through the hall, Wanderer suddenly realised that if stealth was their goal, then perhaps leaving a green, tentacled monster with a giant glowing eye roaming around in plain sight was a bad idea.

    The Golem turned back around, unhappy to have to restrain the verdestry once again, when the soft sound of footsteps, coming from an adjacent room to the back door entrance caught their attention.

    Without hesitation, Wanderer opened a nearby room and snuck in, caring more for speed than stealth.

    Just as the Vessel escaped behind the reflective glass door, the creator of the footsteps, a young servant with pale skin and long brown hair entered the hall where Wanderer had been moments prior.

    ¡°Is someone there?¡± they called, after a moment''s hesitation, ¡°if that is you, little one, then you had best be back in bed at once, you''re in no condition to play chlrario games¡±.

    To the Vessel, games were the furthest thing from their mind, much too concerned with finding a hiding spot from the encroaching searcher, or better yet, hoping they never investigated at all.

    Wanderer had entered some kind of hobby room, in one corner there was a low desk, piled with textiles and threads, half of which were arranged into pieces partially resembling some kind of clothing that was evidently unfinished.

    On the opposite side of the space, past a large central candle that provided light to the room, was a writing pedestal, with all manner of inks and ivory writing-reeds adorning its rim and clean sheets of bleached paper taking centre place.

    And finally, tucked away, almost enveloped in the piles of fabrics and clothes was a tiny desk, a third of the size of all the others, accompanied by a small, waist high bookshelf and a soft chair.

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    What stood out to Wanderer, even in their panic, was the thin layer of dust that covered the small desk and chair, quite blatantly, the setup had not been used for some time.

    Despite this, the bookshelf had some brightly coloured books missing from their prescribed spots, so perhaps the user had not abandoned their hobby, afterall.

    But the Vessel had gotten distracted, wasting time while the steps got ever closer, causing Wanderer¡¯s mind to go into overdrive.

    At the last moment, seeing the otherwise lack of appropriate spots to hide their bulky form, the Golem dove into the nearby fabric, attempting their best to cover their head and feet, hoping their own robe would allow them to blend in.

    Not a moment too late, the door creaked open once again, and the servant entered, surveying the room as they did so.

    ¡°Are you in here, young one?¡±, Peering to the left and right in curiosity, ¡°While it is good that you are feeling well enough to have fun, your keflorigio has told me that you are not to leave your room until the derlariag says so.¡±

    For a dreadful moment, Wanderer felt the servants gaze on their back, the whole while thoughts of failure suffused their being.

    Yet soon the servant moved on, the Golem¡¯s disguise had worked.

    ¡°Should''ve known it was just the wind, the poor kid hasn''t gotten out of bed in days.¡± the searcher whispered to themself, voice dripping with pity.

    Soon they walked out of the drawing room and left Wanderer alone with their thoughts.

    Only when, even to Wanderer''s hearing, the footsteps of the worker were long gone did the Vessel leave their hiding spot, head full of worries and questions.

    Yet chief among these concerns was the child the servant had mentioned.

    ¡°What could make a child not wish to leave their room¡± the Golem questioned.

    Even with their limited knowledge, children were energetic and playful, it seemed quite out of character for any child to never leave a single space, let alone a bed.

    Wanderer shook their head, waving off the question, they had more important things to do.

    With painful caution, they crept back out into the main hall and resumed their task of making sure Emio wouldn''t be found.

    Yet, much to their worry, once the Vessel reached the large windows that opened into the garden, the verdestry was nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°Where did they go?¡±, they panicked.

    Perhaps they had been found and taken away, or maybe they had wandered inside after the Golem, or worst of all, they had scaled the wall and were currently out causing chaos in the crowds.

    Yet just as the Golem¡¯s anxieties began to reach their breaking point, and they were going to call off their incursion to try and find the creature, a glint of familiar red-green light caught their gaze.

    Likely unintentionally, Emio had done a better job of hiding themself than Wanderer ever could have, as the monster had camouflaged themself with the rest of the garden by shedding their previous form.

    Now their tendrils were covered in leaves and flowers, so thick that if it wasn''t for the glow of their eye, there may have been no way of telling them apart from all the other bushes around.

    The Vessel shook their head as they realised their worry was entirely unnecessary, indeed there was little more that could be done to hide the verdestry than what had already been done.

    Wanderer shoved any other worries aside, they were in enemy territory and the quicker they found the map and got out the better.

    Slowly and with painstaking caution, they began to sweep through the house and check every room, hoping to find one that looked somewhat like the office Keshte had underground.

    The first door they opened was a small parlour, with an even smaller table in the centre, built in such a way that it could hardly fit three people.

    While there were plates and dining utensils (a rather novel concept to the Vessel, yet not an unexpected one), no food nor place to prepare it was anywhere nearby, leading Wanderer to believe that the room was more for private conversation than actual eating.

    Yet this wasn''t what the Golem was looking for and so they moved on, opening a door instead into a wide open lounge.

    It was a place clearly meant to entertain a great deal of people, massive pale leather seats lined the walls in a semicircle, facing around a small stage.

    The same white lanterns that could be found all around the home were now restricted by a metal cone, forcing the light out into a beam that lit only the stage and very little else.

    Next to the stage, hidden by the darkness, was a box filled with brightly coloured props and puppets, contrasting the whites and blues of the mansion with vibrant hues.

    And while the room fascinated them, they resisted their curiosity and moved on.

    It was at this point they realised that, perhaps, the first floor didn''t contain any of the more personal rooms they were looking for, for the most part only possessing the areas meant for others.

    And so, taking a gamble on the office''s location, Wanderer snuck upstairs in their search for a map.

 Study and Sickness

    Office and Sickness

    The second floor of the house wasn''t truly much different from the first, in that it seemed to be built around a central hall with glass doors and smaller hallways branching in every direction.

    Its main difference, it seemed, was that unlike the lower floor, the upper floor seemed to be built with comfort in mind, with soft blue rugs lining the floor and ornamented chairs resting behind the railings of the balconies that protruded from both ends of the hall.

    To Wanderer¡¯s luck, the servant didn''t seem to be on the second floor, having in all likelihood disappeared within one of the many halls down stairs, or otherwise in one of the many rooms.

    Despite this, the Vessel did not intend to take any chances, they maintained the same stealth they always had, in case the servant wasn''t alone in their duties.

    Wanting to get out of view of the stairs, Wanderer began at the end of the hall, near the furthest balcony and opened the first door with silent caution.

    This room was some variety of miniature bedroom, abandoned like all the rest, complete with a little bed and shelf and a dimmer, yet still bright flame lighting up the place and adding an almost homely feel to the little abode.

    In the corner was a chest and a wooden wardrobe made of the same pale wood that could be found in the streets of the city, its natural palette contrasting the ornate white walls severely.

    The Golem took a second to just admire the furniture pieces, full of nicks and scratches and handmade imperfections, and for some reason, despite the grandiosity of the house around them and its intricate carvings and shining glass, the humble wardrobe seemed the most inspiring thing inside.

    ¡°I wonder why that is,¡± Wanderer pondered.

    Certain that no evidence of their presence remained in that room, they instead entered the one next to it.

    To their luck, this seemed to be the room they were looking for, a regal office with maps already stuck to the walls.

    The Vessel scurried in, incensed by their discovery and glad that they had already managed to find their target.

    As with most other things within the mansion, the study held themes of blue and white, with many of the more structural furniture pieces being carved of the same stone that the house was formed of.

    The desk and seats were cushioned with blue padding and there were a few small plants hung from the ceilings and sat on the window sill, adding a touch of life to the otherwise sterile environment.

    Strewn about the central desk were sheets of white-brown paper, each beautifully inscripted with writing foreign to the Golem.

    The sheets of paper seemed to hail from one massive ream that was wrapped into a scroll in the corner of the room, a pair of metal shears doubtlessly responsible for the sheet''s liberation.

    Finally, what they had been searching for this whole time sat next to the door, a massive cabinet filled with documents, books, and most importantly, maps.

    After a quick check to be sure that neither of the maps on the walls were what they were looking for, Wanderer began to carefully pull out and check the maps one by one, until they found their target.

    Of course, they didn''t truly know what they were looking for, the Vessel couldn''t read the names of places in the maps nor tell one city apart from another, yet Wanderer looked nonetheless, hoping that something would stand out to them.

    The maps were fascinating, there were maps for the desert and maps for the valleys, maps that marked roads and maps that marked mountains, even maps for places they had never even heard of before, Wanderer made sure to commit each one to memory.

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    In the end, Wanderer had three maps in front of them, each undoubtedly of cities yet they had no way to know which was theirs.

    All three had a wide wall that went the whole way round the abode, all three had a central tower that rose above all other places.

    The first, and biggest of the maps, showed a city mostly indistinguishable from their current one, with the similar layout and tower, yet the map expanded out from the walls and showed some variety of farm, which Wanderer was quite certain wasn''t based around the current citadel, so they discarded the map.

    That left only two remaining, unfortunately, unlike the first, there were no real distinguishing factors between them.

    The Golem was sure that if they could read the writing or knew more about the city''s layout they could have distinguished between the two, yet no such luck befell them.

    Wanderer tried everything, but it was useless, both cities were roughly the same size, with roughly the same layout and gate placement, only minute differences in street positioning signified that they were even different.

    Even the orientation was the same, as marked by a helpful diagram of a sun rising and setting in the corner, which signified which direction things faced.

    The Vessel was about to give up when they had perhaps their largest stroke of genius yet.

    They noticed that one of the maps was far more worn than the other, filled with little nicks and tears, while the other was in mostly pristine condition.

    ¡°If one of these maps depicted where its owner lived, would it not be used more, and as such, be far more worn?¡± the Golem concluded.

    A rush of excitement coursed through Wanderer at their realisation, impressed with their own genius.

    The Vessel snatched up the map, intent on using it to guide their way through the city once they escaped back outside.

    Yet the same genius that had once saved them now betrayed them, as they soon realised that it would be far better to leave the map behind.

    Perhaps, if the map was one of the lesser used ones, Wanderer could get away with taking it, yet as it was if they took the map its presence would surely be missed.

    If the owner of the house found their map missing, then the whole point of their stealth in the human city would be reverted, everyone would be searching for them and the missing map, and as such, they would likely be caught and judged based on their looks rather than their wishes.

    Besides, the map was rather large and wouldn''t fit in their satchel anyway.

    Disappointed at having to give up another useful trinket, Wanderer took one last good look at the map and memorised it to the best of their ability, marking the location of what they assumed would be the base of the militia, marked by two swords side by side.

    They placed the map back in its proper location and snuck back out into the hallway, eager to get out of the house and fulfil their quest.

    But as Wanderer crept their way toward the stairs, they were interrupted by an odd sound coming from one of the rooms.

    It was some mixture of a breath and a bark, repeated over and over to the extent it almost sounded painful, coming from a room on their right.

    At first, the Golem thought it came from some strange animal they had yet to encounter, yet as they listened more and more, they soon realised that the source was a child.

    ¡°This must be the kid who wouldn''t leave their bed.¡±, Wanderer realised.

    The Vessel knew at once that they should just leave, go out the way they came and move on with their task, yet as was their nature, curiosity overtook them.

    They wanted to know why a child would willingly remain in one room for so long, and why they were making the strange sound.

    Wanderer warred with themself for a far shorter time than such an illogical decision should have warranted, but their curiosity was simply too strong.

    They didn''t even have a plan about what to do once the child saw them, or how they would prevent them from telling others of their presence.

    The Golem had their hand on the door handle when they hesitated, resisting their curiosity to the best of their ability.

    They wished that their Spirit was there to guide them, to tell them yes or no as they always had, but the guide was still in their docile state and no such advice came.

    But just as it seemed that logic would win out over curiosity, and the Vessel would turn and leave, the choice was made for them.

    Light footsteps sounded up the stairs, the servant returning once again to fulfil some duty unbeknownst to Wanderer.

    In a split second decision, the Vessel crept inside and closed the door behind them, already anticipating resistance from a lively, young child.

    Yet as their vision rested up the singular, small bed, the figure they saw had no trace of youth or levity, and instead a tiny child that was well and truly sick.

 Infirmity and Trust

    Infirmity and Trust

    The first thing Wanderer noticed was that the child was small.

    Initially, the Golem saw nothing wrong with this, children were often small, but the more they inspected the boy, the more the Vessel grew worried.

    They compared every memory they had of children, young and old, and sure enough, the features of the human in front of them matched those of someone at least twice the age they seemed.

    Yet this physical lack of stature was not where the worries ended, soon more and more traits became evident that signified that something was simply wrong.

    Desaturated, almost grey skin covered the child, as if the azure sun had never dared to touch it, despite the broad window that undoubtedly brought in the sun¡¯s most valuable rays.

    And shivering, the small human was near constantly shivering despite the heat of the desert creeping through the walls, banishing any hope of cold.

    So shocked was Wanderer at the youth¡¯s sickly appearance that for a long moment they forgot what was happening and simply stared, having never encountered anything like this before.

    It was only when the footsteps drew worryingly close that the Vessel snapped out of their reverie, partly awoken by a question voiced by the equally shocked youngster.

    ¡°Who are you?¡±, he voiced softly, disbelief suffusing his tone and shock lacing it still.

    Wanderer, on their part, had no time to answer, the servant was nearly at the door and there were few places to hide.

    Perhaps, if they had more time they could have dove under the bed or scrambled behind the desk that sat to their right, but no such thing was possible.

    At the last moment, the Golem sided into the far wall and splayed as flat as their body would allow, hoping to be hidden by a bookshelf next to them.

    At the same time, Wanderer slapped two hands over the place a mouth would be if they had one, hoping that the young boy would get the message and stay silent.

    For their part, the child immediately got the message, and in a show of trust stayed quiet when the servant opened the door.

    From their position, the Golem couldn''t see what was happening, yet from the sounds they could hear the servant was carrying some kind of metal tray or container.

    ¡°Were you talking to someone, young lecariro?¡±, the helper began, having obviously heard the boy¡¯s outburst.

    The ¡°young lecariro¡± hesitated only a second to gather their reply, before delivering it with a smooth confidence that surprised the Vessel.

    ¡°No, no, i was merely reading aloud to keep my voice sastire. I don''t get to talk much here otherwise.¡±

    The aid bought the lie with unquestioning conviction, something that was then doused with an extra dose of pity when the child let out a set of harrowing coughs.

    ¡°You poor boy, the moment I am free of my duties I can come up and you can read to me, how does that sound?¡±

    While the boy signalled affirmative, Wanderer could tell by their non-committance that it was an unpreferable alternative, and they would have much rather been left alone.

    ¡°Now, where shall I rerligore mercalgio?¡±, the servant asked, seemingly more to themself than any attempt at consulting their muse.

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    They made to begin walking toward the bed, likely to lay down whatever burden they were carrying, yet were quickly stopped by the boy,

    ¡°No!, I don''t want my mercalgio over here, rerligore on my desk.¡± the child shouted, quickly thinking of a line of reasoning that could hide Wanderers existence, before adding a ¡°please¡± on the end to atone for their outburst.

    The retainer was a little taken back by the unexpected aggression, but followed the request obediently before turning to leave.

    ¡°I can tell when I''m not wanted, young lecariro, if you need me i''ll just be down the hall.¡±, and just like that, the aid was gone and Wanderer was safe.

    For a moment, both boy and Golem were silent as the steps slowly faded down the long corridor.

    ¡°Now, I ask again, who are you?¡±

    The Vessel didn''t know what to do, they couldn''t speak and something told them another game of charades would be unappreciated, this situation was a little more delicate than the last.

    ¡°Maybe I should start with a gift.¡± Wanderer thought, it had worked so many times in the past, why not now.

    The Golem rifled through their satchel quickly, unwanting to keep the child waiting.

    ¡°But what should I give?¡±

    They somehow doubted the usually gift of coins would be of any worth to the child, if they could not truly escape their room.

    They considered giving one of the books they had taken from the bookshelf so long ago, yet, while it was doubtless the boy liked to read (as evidenced by the many works of literature scattered about the room), they weren''t quite sure if it was the type of book the child would wish to read.

    The books the boy possessed were colourful and thin, and in some of the open ones Wanderer could spy pictures in the amongst the walls of text.

    Yet their books were almost the exact opposite, they were thick and leather-bound and so old and worn that the Vessel wasn''t entirely sure if the pages were even readable.

    Even concidering the flare-bow, there was only a single item the Golem could part with, the music box they had taken from the carriage.

    It hurt for some reason, to get rid of a object of such beauty, yet if Wanderer were to find a instrument of their own, then there would be no reason to keep it.

    In the end, the child would likely gain more joy from it then they would.

    As for the heat problem, the Vessel would simply have to deal with that when they got to it.

    Without giving themself time to regret their decision, Wanderer took the box out of their satchel and presented it to the boy, hoping it would appease him enough that they would not cry for help.

    The youngster quickly grew from cautious to confused as they accepted the box, freezing as they seemingly didn''t know what to do.

    Realising the need for prompting, Wanderer reached out once again and took the box back from the boy¡¯s arms, flipping it open and cranking the lever.

    As the new familiar music began to play again, they gave it back, hoping the child would accept the gift.

    ¡°Phrukhe-honluhon-sedlkbhe-merophat-merophat-keromo¡±, the dancer sang.

    However, the boy watched the dancer for only a moment, hardly enough time to even hear the first line before he shut the box and silenced the music.

    ¡°Why did you give me this?¡± he asked, the latent hostility and caution morphing into confusion, ¡°who are you?¡±.

    Wanderer was shocked, they were certain that the gift would have earned them more gratitude, there was no way that such a item of beauty was of little value.

    The Vessel still had little way of answering the latter, there weren''t even any maps in the room to try their charade, yet they determined to answer the first as best they could.

    They began to sign as best they could that they wanted friendship and communication, and after a great deal of pointing and gesturing, the child seemed to get the idea.

    ¡°So you, a random Kershakrsha, dressed up as a Goreleshra, who is also apparently mute, broke into my home just to ask me a question?, Is this a werjeriko or something?¡± they exclaimed, voice getting higher and higher as the ridiculous situation dawned on them.

    Wanderer didnt know how to respond.

    ¡°Your insane¡±, the youth continued voice dripping with disbelief.

    There was a long moment of awkward tension between the two, as neither of them seemed to know how to reply, but eventually after the Vessel had ample time to stew in the anxiety of their situation, the pause was broken when the child once again let out a long sigh.

    ¡°Alright then, mercargila Golem, what do you want to know.¡±

 Discussion and Getaway

    Discussion and Getaway

    A bolt of joy shot through Wanderer at the chance to be able to talk to another human, especially a child.

    They immediately went to their most burning question, the one that had brought them to the bedroom in the first place.

    ¡°Why are you unable to leave your room?¡±, the Vessel asked in naivety, their lacklustre signs only just able to get the message across.

    The moment the message was interpreted though, Wanderer felt as though they had picked the wrong question, as the boy sighed deeply and the hint of excitement that hid in their eyes faded.

    ¡°Do I look like I can leave my proctere, I can hardly walk to my desk, let alone go outside¡±, the youth exclaimed with a droning frustration, as if they had said these very words a hundred times.

    Wanderer did have to admit, the boy certainly looked odd and now that they thought of it, likely not healthy, they just hadn''t considered it was bad enough that they couldn''t walk.

    ¡°Why are you unhealthy¡±, the Vessel signed, curiosity overcoming any sense of social cues that they had picked up over their travels.

    ¡°What do you mean why, I''m sick, krectelaro they called it, got it from my giokirelo¡±.

    That just confused the Golem, what was sickness, how could you ¡°get¡± it from someone else.

    Was it like being wounded, somehow?

    They signed their question and quickly received an answer, one that sounded just as confused as Wanderer felt.

    ¡°What do you mean, ¡°What is sickness¡±¡± the boy exclaimed, ¡°Have you never been sick before?¡±.

    Only after shaking their head did Wanderer realise that the reason that they had never been sick before was probably because of they were a Golem, and that by stating that they had never been sick, they were almost confessing their true identity.

    The child stared at Wanderer for a long moment, a deeper and deeper frown appearing on his frail face, until in an awful moment, he realised the truth and scrambled back, pinning himself to the headboard of the bed.

    ¡°Y- Your a Golem, a actual, real life Golem.¡± the child stated, seemingly without any expectation of answer.

    Even if the Golem had a mouth to answer with, they wouldn''t have been able to, as the boy quickly went on, speaking aloud to himself in mumbled panic.

    ¡°This isn''t possible¡­. I must be hascuterlre¡­¡­why, how.¡±

    ¡°Hah!, your not real, if you were a real Golem, I would be dead¡±, he exclaimed suddenly, with a smug grin, ¡°Besides, you don''t look like any of the Golems in my books!¡±

    Strangely, Wanderer felt more hurt at being called not a Golem then they felt being rejected for being one, and they weren''t quite sure how to act.

    The child had begun spouting a hundred explanations of Wanderer''s existence, causing the Vessel to worry that they had hurt them somehow, or increased their sickness.

    Eventually, they figured it was probably time to leave, even if they hadn''t talked as much as they wanted.

    Wanderer reached for the handle of the door, but stopped themself, having a much better idea.

    It would be unwise to sneak out through the house again, especially with the servant ¡°just down the hall¡±.

    It would be much quicker and safer for the Vessel to sneak out the massive window that rested just a few steps away.

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    They made for the window, and after a moment or two of fiddling around, managed to open it.

    ¡°Your leaving?¡±. The child questioned, apparently having just realised Wanderer intention.

    The youth seemed to have a penchant for putting the Golem in interactions where they didn''t know what to do, because once again they didn''t know how to react.

    Wanderer settled for a simple nod.

    ¡°Well, uh, gerskario then¡±.

    The Vessel jumped out the window, there was no point in making the situation more awkward than it already was.

    After a short fall to the bottom, Wanderer was back in the garden, leaving as quickly as they came.

    After a few moments of searching that would have been hours if they had moved, the Golem found Emio where they had seen them before, and disturbed them from their relaxation.

    The Vessel no longer felt the safety they had first felt in the garden, now they knew that they could be seen, so they quickly returned Emio to their proper position, and left the engorged statues and miraculous fountains of the paradise behind.

    They scrambled up the wall, and with one final glance at the boy, who was now staring from his window, Wanderer dropped into the street below.

    Ironically, the crowds of people were now a comfort instead of the annoyance they once were, Wanderer enjoying anonymity that was provided in the horde.

    It was still claustrophobic and loud, but the Vessel found that now they no longer had a hundred million worries cluttering their mind, it was almost endearing to see so many people having so much fun.

    After removing themself from the mansion a little ways, the Golem allowed themself to put their thoughts aside for a second, all of their worries with their quest and the child shoved away, and just enjoy the crowd and explore the world around them, as they had been unable to do since they arrived in the city.

    Now they actually observed the crowds, Wanderer was shocked at the sheer intricacy of the costumes around them.

    They had thought they had taken it all in before, yet they could not be further from the truth.

    The Golem focused in on a single costume, taking the form of some mix between a goat, man and bird.

    The head, while in all certainty fake, was nearly so realistic that had it been able to move realistically Wanderer would have been fooled, a trait that was shared with the a hundred other nods to the biology of the monster.

    The costume creator had added details great and small, from a tail of bird like feathers trailing out from back of the outfit, to the subtle bulge in the back of the costume, to mimic wings being hidden under a cloak.

    And of course, beyond even the costume itself, the cloak that rested over the bestial shoulders of the ensemble stood out beyond all.

    In comparison, even Wanderer¡¯s own mantle fell short, the object that had once been a object of infinite beauty and majesty simply falling behind.

    The cloth was woven in a hundred different fabrics, from brilliant gold to drowning blue, each stitch and seam forming a comprehensive pattern of incredible detail.

    Yet as the Golem looked closer still, they found their initial inspection lacking, as the cloth was not merely a pattern, but a story as well.

    Written in pictogram and symbol, a hundred different scenes played out along each line, each one only slightly different from the last in such a way that when the cloth moved, you could swear the people trapped inside the art moved as well.

    And yet every story, every stitch, every hem all led toward a single figure, centred in the back of the cloak.

    There, a depiction of the golden god that ruled the desert lay, the same god that was responsible for all the pain in the land, somehow responsible for the beauty of the design.

    Wanderer tried not to think about it too much.

    They turned their vision from the goat-man, eager to get their mind away from the subject, and instead tried to admire a different costume.

    As if they had listened to the Vessel''s wishes, a monster unlike any other came slinking down the road, chiming a cacophony from the many bells tied to it.

    Unlike the goat-man, this costume made no attempt at appearing even remotely human, indeed it required almost twelve people to pilot it and moved in such a way that it demanded the attention of all around.

    In many ways, it seemed some cross between a insect and a lizard, with shining chitin and shimmering scales interwoven.

    It would have had the head of a mantis, if not for the four eyes on each side of its reptilian snout.

    A hundred insectoid legs ran along side its spine, each waving its curved claws in the air as if grasping the wind itself.

    The lizard wore a great cloak along its middle, following its curving body all the way to the end of the stinger on its tail.

    The cloak was unlike the others they had seen, as it did not depict the cycloptian god only one time, but more times than Wanderer could hope to count, each depiction weaving into the pattern of another in one massive fractal.

    In all the grandeur and pomp, the twelve figures underneath were almost hidden entirely, the bottoms of their feet and the poles that controlled the dragon out shone by every other element of the puppet.

    Slowly, yet not slow enough, the serpent passed by, pridefully displaying its form to every festival goer who dared observe its splendour.

    It went in the same direction every other person was, toward the centre of the city, where the trials had once taken place.

    Wanderer went to leave them all behind and continue their mission, when they had a thought.

    ¡°If the trials are over, then why is everyone still moving toward the city centre?¡±

    As it had so many times before, curiosity overtook the Golem and they followed the crowd, quest forgotten once again.

 Bonfire and God

    Bonfire and God

    Once again, Wanderer made their way toward the centre of the city, the massive spire looming over the whirling crowds that grew denser and denser with every step.

    It seems there was yet another event for the night, most likely the festival''s last, as the first hints of the sun''s light began to show itself over the horizon.

    Soon enough, the Vessel began to exit the winding alleys and long streets, half walking, half being pushed toward a massive courtyard just to the left of the city''s centre.

    With great difficulty, the Golem peered over the bustling crowd of a thousand different beasts and found at the forefront of the festival, the goers were gathering in a massive circle around a pile of wood.

    ¡°I wonder what that is for¡±, the Vessel questioned, and to their shock, received a reply.

    Their Spirit, who had just recovered from their fugue, displayed an image of a great fire, similar to the one that had overtaken the fields.

    ¡°But why would they wish to light a fire?¡± the Vessel questioned.

    The Spirit didn''t have to answer, but Wanderer soon found out.

    A great, echoing horn rang out through the city, coming from the very top of the tower, so loud and deep that Wanderer were convinced that, if they had not been able to hear, then undoubtedly they would have been able to feel the baritone call.

    For a few moments, the horn rang out unchallenged before silencing itself, yet silence was not permitted to avail, as from beyond the horizon another horn sounded.

    One by one, the walled citadels of the black desert rang out in order, the sound carrying loud and distinct no matter how many days of travel the cities may have been away.

    Eventually, the replies came to an end as well, with total and utter silence taking hold of the city.

    Not a noise could be heard, not a scuffled foot nor a muffled whisper, the whole world seemed to wait in anxious agony of some event that was about to unfold, an event Wanderer was completely unaware of.

    All of a sudden, a loud, sharp pop resounded through the still courtyard, a sound that was quickly joined by another, and another after that.

    The mini explosions slowly gathered in frequency and intensity, until a single, harmonious tone appeared from the chaos.

    Quickly, the Golem whipped their gaze toward the source of the sounds and found a scene thoroughly unexpected.

    From the top of the tower shone a great golden beam of light, dancing runes decorating it and concentrating it into a single point in the air, not one hundred steps away from the Vessel.

    Where the point concentrated, a display like fireworks shook the area, sparks and golden flames firing and dissipating in every direction.

    Yet with every passing moment, the chaos took form, slowly moulding into an all too familiar figure.

    The same form depicted on every costume and outfit in the whole of the desert, the same being that saw into their soul and caused their Spirit to enter a catatonic panic.

    A god in physical form floated before them, a being of resistance and gold, from which their true name exuded for all to know, the god of Struggle, Orsha.

    A odd kind of pressure bore down on all in the audience, as if Wanderer was once again under the dark waters of the lake, the fluid above crushing their body into the silt.

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    Some grimaced under the weight, others seemed as if their legs would give out, all struggled against the aura of the god.

    Slowly, the dreadful eye in the centre of Orsha¡¯s face began to survey the crowd, slowly investigating everyone before them.

    Wanderer¡¯s Spirit screamed within them, begging them to move and escape the gaze of the hostile god.

    And for once, Wanderer agreed.

    Before the Vessel even knew what was happening, they were already pushing and shoving their way through the ocean of people surrounding them.

    Like wading through mud, the Golem managed to force their way through the crowd, slowly reaching the edges of the courtyard, almost safe in the alleys and streets of the city.

    In an instant, their hope was dashed as the aura of the god manifest increased to unbearable levels, locking the Vessel in place as surely as if they had been bound.

    Wanderer didn''t even need to turn around to know that Orsha¡¯s eye was upon them, the desperation of their Spirit not even reaching them under the weight of the gaze.

    Without warning, the Golem was placed in the same state of struggle they had been outside the city.

    Yet this time, there was no attempt at resistance, the idea did not even cross Wanderer''s mind, couldn''t.

    As if the Golem were a stone tasked with climbing a mountain, even the thought of struggling against it was impossible.

    And as quick as the mountain formed, it split and fell away, replaced by a vision.

    There before the Vessel¡¯s mind''s eye were three familiar figures, the three slaves that they had rescued what felt like a lifetime ago on the road to the desert.

    One of them, the one whom they had rescued from the ticks, lay on the cold floor of a cave, clutching at their head while the two others panicked around them.

    In a flash of golden light, the man turned their head to look at the Golem, a shining third eye seeing through the sanctity of Orsha¡¯s vision.

    And then the apparition was gone, left behind as Wanderer once again found themself in their own body.

    ¡°I am more than you think I am.¡±, the god declared in their mind, spoken in images and feelings so refined that the message could not be misconstrued for anything else.

    And then the eye moved on, as if hesitant to remain on the Golem for too long, continuing to scan the crowd.

    If Wanderer had not sprinted away the very moment the pressure left them, they would have seen Orsha settle upon a single person in the assembly, would have noticed the bonfire lighting as the chosen walked toward the god.

    But as it was, by the time the crowd began to circle the blaze, Wanderer was already gone, lost deep in the depths of the city.

    By the time both Golem and Spirit came to their senses, and Emio stopped writhing in their hiding place, the opulent mansions of the city centre had been left behind.

    They came to a stop in a small alley in the depths of the city, surrounded on both sides by two empty houses.

    Seeing as they were alone, they set Emio free from their hiding place, who despite their best attempts could no longer bear to stay in one place any longer.

    Wanderer practically collapsed under the weight of their emotions, and found, much to their own surprise, the most extreme of them all was not fear or panic, but confusion.

    Before it had all been so simple, Orsha was the cause of all the agony and pain those around them embraced, they were cruel and heartless, evil.

    Their Spirit, who had never led them wrong, painted as such in their description of gods, portrayed Orsha as a Spirit-eating monster.

    Yet twice now, Orsha had shown mercy, when both Golem and Spirit were helpless.

    Yet that kindness was a mere drop in the bucket of confusion, far more originating from the strange vision Wanderer had received.

    What had it all meant, why did it feature the three slaves they had saved, why had the man been able to see them, and why did he have another eye?

    Nothing about it made sense, what was Orsha trying to say?

    And then the message, the cryptic, mysterious message.

    More what, exactly, more powerful, more complex?

    Wanderer just didn''t know what to think, and evidently, their Spirit didn''t either.

    A discordant flurry of emotions and memories flowed through their bond, most if not all intentioned not to reach the Vessel, yet the Spirit¡¯s mind was spinning faster than they could manage, and inevitably their usually tight control failed.

    The Golem shook their head and got back up, seeing that the issue would take a while to work out, they called their companion and began to climb to the top of the nearest high building, hoping the view would help calm their thoughts.

    In a matter of moments, they scrambled up a nearby building side, and sat upon the second-story roof, legs dangling off.

    After getting comfortable, and making certain that Emio had not strayed too far, Wanderer looked upon the empty streets and fire burning in the distance and began to sort out their thoughts.

 Contemplation and Ritual

    Contemplation and Ritual

    ¡°I am more than you think I am¡±, the Vessel pondered the phrase once again in their mind, turning it over in a hope to extract its meaning.

    ¡°What do I think of Orsha?¡±, they questioned.

    They thought of Orsha in the same way that they imagined everyone should.

    The god was cruel, torturing their people for their own benefit, forcing thousands to be crushed under the weight of pain and hardship every day.

    They were a simple creature of malice.

    ¡°Perhaps that is it, they are more cruel than I think they are!¡±, Wanderer concluded, only able to spend a single moment in that belief before it crumbled apart.

    ¡°But what manner of creature would brag about their cruelty, and then let us leave twice?¡±

    It just didn''t add up, Wanderer had gotten something wrong.

    Their Spirit, having gained enough control of their thoughts to once again communicate, suggested another idea.

    Perhaps the God was declaring they were simply more powerful than the Golem thought they were, and were showing off their capabilities.

    Yet this too didn''t stand up to scrutiny, after all, Wanderer had never doubted Orsha¡¯s power, it would simply make no sense to declare that power when there was never a reason for disbelief.

    For a long moment, the duo pondered the question yet failed to come up with answers.

    After a while, the Vessel got distracted from their contemplation and found themself gazing at the far away bonfire.

    Some time while they were fleeing, Orsha¡¯s physical form had disappeared and now the only thing left was the great fire, which was being danced around by thousands of dress up monsters, a final ritual to end the festival as the sun began to rise.

    As they looked upon the sea of dancing humans a sudden realisation hit Wanderer, one they had long since forgotten even in their admiration of the festival¡¯s beauty.

    The festival, despite, or perhaps because of its trials and tribulations, was a celebration and one that incited happiness and joy in many people.

    Another wave of enlightenment struck them, the realisation that perhaps struggle was not always a bad thing, in moderation it made life worth living.

    Could Wanderer truly say that they would have been the same if from the moment they awoke from the cave, they were spoiled and given everything they ever wanted.

    Could they say that they would have been better.

    For the first time in their life, Wanderer considered if they were better off without knowing about their parent.

    ¡°Perhaps that is what the god meant, that they are simply more kind, more moral than I thought they were¡±.

    It was this explanation Wanderer settled on, it made the most sense and for a moment the Vessel had made up that they were mistaken all along, and Orsha was actually a good person.

    But it didn''t take long for the memories to return from the place they were banished, and when they did, they once again reverted the Golem¡¯s opinion.

    The atrocities they had seen because of Orsha¡¯s influence simply could not be excused.

    But then, was Orsha good or evil, did they provide happiness and satisfaction in struggle, or torture and kill for selfish power.

    Their Spirit spoke up, using their wisdom to guide Wanderer¡¯s mind once again.

    Not everyone was certifiably good or evil, many fall somewhere in between, some even change from one side to the other because they end up regretting their actions.

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    ¡°Is that it then, is Orsha one of those who are only half good and half evil, or do they simply regret what they did?¡±

    A bolt of exasperation flowed through their link, Wanderer getting the sense that they had somehow missed some crucial part of the explanation.

    The Vessel shook off the thought, deciding to leave the contemplation of God''s morality for later and instead reflect upon the strange vision they received.

    Yet unlike Orsha¡¯s message, there simply isn''t much to ponder out.

    The whole experience was contextless and bizarre, was Wanderer seeing the former slaves in real time, or was it a memory or symbolic representation.

    What was up with the third eye and why did the injured human look at them, how could a human even look at them when the Vessel was not physically in the room.

    At least they were pretty sure they weren''t.

    Did the human actually see them, or did Orsha simply place Wanderers view point in such a position that they would be stared at.

    With the god¡¯s message at least they could kind of puzzle out an intention, but the vision was just a mystery, a mystery befitting of such a vague and uncertain figure.

    ¡°Was it a warning?¡± the Vessel thought.

    Had they perhaps insulted the slaves by setting them free, and now they were hunting the Golem down?

    The idea, though illogical and somewhat unlikely, stuck in Wanderers brain, it was the only thing that made any semblance of sense.

    ¡°Was that what the third eye was for, to track me?¡±

    The thought conjured dread in the Vessel¡¯s soul.

    All of a sudden, Wanderer felt very trapped in the city walls, as if at any moment, some bounty hunter or angered slave would pop out and take their head.

    The Golem became very aware of how exposed they were on the rooftop.

    Scooping up Emio, they jumped down from the second story onto the empty streets below, uncaring of any attempt to hide the verdestry, there was no one around, after all.

    With haste and the urging of their Spirit, who was similarly incensed by the Golem¡¯s idea, the trio began to make their way through the city, working off Wanderer¡¯s memory of the map.

    Despite the irrationality of the idea, a sense of paranoia began to overtake the Vessel, soon they found that they were checking behind every corner, scared that the group had followed them to the city, no matter how far away they undoubtedly were.

    Eventually, the Golem found themself circling around the central courtyard to get to where they needed to go, and as they passed through a road that provided them a clear view of the ceremony below, they caught sight of something rather peculiar.

    At first, all Wanderer could make out was that every person congregating around the massive bonfire was going up and throwing something in the flames, some kind of ceremonial bundle perhaps.

    It wasn''t until the dragon that had led them to the city centre went up to the fire did they truly realise what exactly was being burned.

    In abject horror, the Golem watched the twelve figures underneath the costume, an object of such splendour and beauty that Wanderer doubted they could ever recreate it, take off the ensemble and throw it into the fire where it exploded in flames.

    Before the sheer shock at such an object of beauty being destroyed hit them, an even more dreadful thought occurred.

    If the people were expected to destroy their costumes once the sun rose and the festival ended, and they thought that Wanderer was wearing a costume, then the disguise that protected them from recognition, and by extension, attack, had just become irrelevant.

    They very quickly realised that any chance they had to gather information was gone, and even the guilt at having failed their mission wasn''t enough to keep them around.

    Much to the confusion of Emio, Wanderer pivoted and ran, the streets were empty now but they wouldn''t remain that way for long.

    And the Vessel really wasn''t sure if they could manage to escape once there were thousands of people around.

    Clay hooves and bushy tendrils hit hard stone as the trio made their way back into the slums of the city, the dawning light of day covering the buildings in a reflective blue.

    The sound of hundreds of feet marching in unison broke the Vessel out of their sprint, causing them to swerve around an alley corner just in time to dodge the attention of a large group of soldiers who appeared like phantoms from an intersecting road.

    Peeking around the wall, Wanderer witnessed two groups of militia walking in double file. The soldiers on the right possessed the signature blue and white armour of the people of the valley, the Earliag, with long sharp swords and shining metal giving away their position like a tree in a field.

    At the head of this column of soldiers, stood their leader, a vain man dressed in full armour and a flowing cape, his head undressed as to display his glory.

    The left column, in contrast, had none of the organisation or splendour of the right, instead, the warriors within were untrained and variable.

    Some wore stone masks over their faces, some had helmets of metal or hard wooden caps, some had spears and glaives while others had hammers and maces.

    As a whole, the group seemed more like a ragtag collection of killers than any sort of organisation, and the disgruntled looks on their faces reflected their dislike for the forced cooperation.

    Their leader was as intimidating as his partner was splendid, a hulking brute of a woman whose dark skin was marred with scars and leather armour stitched together, a mask of dark stone turning the figure into an image of pure fright.

    The battalion moved forward and crossed the road, seeming to head in the very direction that Wanderer wished to go.

    A pit of dread rose in the Vessel¡¯s soul as they feared that they knew the reason why.

 Garrison and Rescue

    Garrison and Rescue

    The Vessel waited for the troops to pass, then began to follow along behind, making sure to track them by sound alone to minimise the chance of being seen.

    They hoped that their suspicions were incorrect, that the warriors were all just doing a harmless inspection of the city, yet everything was just too convenient and the force too large.

    Without a doubt, the troops were there to subdue and kill the rebels underground.

    A wave of guilt crashed against the Golem, Keshte wouldn''t be expecting the force, he would have no time to escape.

    All because of Wanderer.

    If they had avoided getting distracted by the festival, gone straight to the place they found on the map, they would have known about the attack, they would have been able to tell the rebels.

    But they hadn''t, they had failed their mission, broke Keshte¡¯s trust, wasted Herukah¡¯s effort, betrayed Detlashra.

    They had destroyed their best chance at ridding the desert of slavery.

    Spirit broke Wanderer out of their spiral, bringing attention to two very important facts.

    The first was the assertion that Wanderer had not failed their task, at least not yet.

    The Vessel¡¯s goal was always to aid in protecting the rebels, and now they had to find another way to do so.

    The second, and arguably more important pronouncement, was that Wanderer had spent so long contemplating their failure, that they were letting the battalion get away.

    The Golem shot to their feet, dragging an increasingly unhappy Emio along with them and ran after the fading sound of footsteps in the distance.

    After catching up, Wanderer found something peculiar about the path the troops were taking.

    The Vessel¡¯s chief fear was that the warriors were heading toward their exit point in the outer slums, in the small abandoned house, yet while they were still heading toward the outskirts of the city, their direction was undeniably wrong to arrive at Wanderer¡¯s entry point.

    A smidge of relief flowed through both Spirit and Golem, the possibility that the troops were after someone else and knew nothing of the rebels.

    Yet, no matter the outcome, Keshte would likely wish to know of this group and Wanderer didn''t want to return with nothing, so they followed along with the hope that this was all a big hoax and they wouldn''t have to get involved.

    The troops and their trail wound through the city streets, increasing Wanderer''s anxiety the longer they took, they didn''t want to be found by the people in the streets after all.

    Much to the surprise of their companions, once Emio realised what they were doing they began to find enjoyment in the action, creeping along so stealthily and silently that, had Wanderer not been going in the same direction as them, they would have lost the verdestry long ago.

    It worried the Golem a little bit until they remembered just how irritated Emio had been having to be carried around and constrained, so Wanderer decided to take it as a blessing instead.

    Just as the sun was about to illuminate the city whole and the first people began to fill the streets, the troops finally found the target of their search, a dilapidated old ruin pressed up to the side of the city walls.

    At one point, the building would have been some variety of hall or communal building, as its size and worn out opulence indicated, however, it had long since lost even the memory of that original purpose, time and neglect having shown its cruelty.

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    After sending a single soldier to scout ahead and confirm their position, the convoy stopped around a nearby building, out of sight from their target.

    The more flamboyant of the two leaders stepped in front of the force, and with their companion to their side, began to shout orders.

    Climbing onto a nearby roof, Wanderer prepared to listen in and gain information for the rebels when they were distracted by a warning from their Spirit.

    Emio, in their curiosity, had skulked off toward the building, apparently wishing to see what all the fuss was about.

    Wanderer froze, clearly, there was something dangerous in the hall, why else would such a heavily armed force be so cautious of it.

    And whatever that may be, Emio was currently careening straight toward it.

    The Vessel scrambled as fast as they could to catch up with the small monster, hoping that they both would not be noticed.

    In moments, the trio found themselves in front of the building, Wanderer managing to snatch the verdestry moments before they opened the front door, ripping them away from the entrance and windows and tucking them away around the side of the building, hopefully out of sight.

    If they weren''t in such a terrible situation, Wanderer would have reprimanded Emio for their foolishness, yet as they were, they were caught between a rock and a hard place.

    Inside the building was an unknown force of unknown danger, while across from them was a small army of hostile fighters, who would undoubtedly attack them now that the festival was finished.

    The only logical option was to run and come back to observe the results.

    Just as the Vessel was about to turn, they noticed an open window that peered inside the building, tempting them to look inside.

    ¡°It would be a shame if I didn''t at least check, it could be someone I need to protect, after all. ¡±Wanderer thought, their justification an excuse to give in to their curiosity.

    The army was nowhere near the entrance to the underground ruins, the Vessel didn''t have to worry.

    Very quickly they proved themself wrong, as they suddenly remembered there was more than one entrance.

    Inside were the very people they were certain would not be, that they had hurriedly disregarded in an effort to abate their guilt.

    Within the great hall were a dozen lazily dosing rebels, marked by a the massive hole in the ground that very blatantly led to the underground labyrinth.

    Worst of all, they were unaware of the coming threat, the guard who was posted by the front window completely asleep from a long watch.

    They must have been overconfident that none would attack on the day of the festival.

    And now they, and by extension all the fighters underground, would be caught unawares by a force far more powerful than they were prepared for.-

    The sound of marching caught Wanderer¡¯s attention, the soldiers were coming.

    The Vessel slammed one hand against the wall, creating a bang loud enough to catch their allies'' attention, while pointing toward the entrance with their three other arms.

    It took far longer than the Wanderer would have been happy with for the rebels to get over their bewilderment and check the window.

    It took even longer for them to realise the situation they were in.

    After a few, suffocating moments, one of the people who Wanderer vaguely recognised from the dining hall below let out a massive shout, snapping their colleges out of their reverie.

    They scrambled to gather their weapons as Wanderer ran, having no wish to be caught by the army.

    Making certain that Emio would not escape again, the Vessel managed to duck behind a nearby fence just in time to avoid the sight of the oncoming force, anxiously peaking out to observe the ensuing conflict.

    With every passing moment, the soldiers got closer to the front door, and with every passing moment, Wanderer feared their warning had been far too late and they were about to witness a slaughter.

    When the battalion was only 10 steps away from the derelict building, so close the Vessel could see the nervous sweat on the faces of the warriors, the door burst open and eleven rebels burst out, armed to the teeth.

    In an instant the battle began, some soldiers not even waiting for their commander¡¯s orders before they started charging toward battle, though in all fairness, the more vibrant of the two leaders didn''t either.

    For a long moment, the rebels held against the encroaching force, only so many warriors able to surround them at a time, but soon the allied force began to fall back.

    Already, deep cuts and injuries had begun to accrue on the freedom fighters, they simply didn''t have enough people to hold back the force, and certainly could not buy enough time for their recently sent messenger to warn enough people.

    If things continue as they were, the rebels, both above and below ground, would be destroyed.

    Wanderer had to buy them time.

    And unfortunately, they knew exactly how they were going to do it.

 Risk and Chase

    Risk and Chase

    The Golem''s plan was to ram themself into the doorway of the hall, hoping it would crumble and block the invaders.

    It should work, Wanderer was strong and the building looked as though it was about to do the Vessel¡¯s job for them at any moment.

    Wanderer knew what they had to do, but getting the courage to do it was another matter entirely.

    It was a stupid plan, risky and reliant entirely on their own luck, they were putting their life at risk to spare that of others.

    Nonetheless, the Golem still took off their cloak and briefed Emio on their intentions.

    Their Spirit disapproved, of course, they insisted there was surely a better way.

    They were likely right, this was an idea that was formed in a fraction of a second by someone who had never planned anything like this before.

    But the rebels had to survive, slavery like Wanderer had seen could not go on and they didn''t have time for a better idea.

    Emio bristled in confusion and irritation, the Golem¡¯s actions making little sense to their mind, yet nonetheless they did not try to intervene, either because they did not understand what Wanderer was going to do, or simply because they had gotten used to the Vessel¡¯s eccentricities, no matter how risky they may be.

    A cry rang out as the first rebel was struck down, heavily injured but living, their comrades falling back past the doorway in an effort to remain longer.

    The Golem pushed away any thoughts of doubt, it was now or never.

    Ignoring the sound of their Spirit''s screaming, they stepped out of cover.

    Cloak bundled into a ball in their upper left hand, Wanderer sprinted toward the fight.

    They were only eight steps away from their target when the soldiers began to notice Wanderer, by the time anyone thought to do something, the Golem had already rammed their shoulder into the side support of the door as hard as they could, deforming their body a little in the process.

    As the Vessel expected, the doorway collapsed like a sand castle and most of the wall along with it, smothering everyone in a cloud of dust.

    Undoubtedly, the soldiers would eventually clear the way or find another entrance to the base, but it would take them time, time that the rebels desperately needed.

    But Wanderer wasn¡¯t quite done yet.

    In the dust and confusion, the Golem sprinted out of the fray and into the open, halfway between their cover and the building.

    For a few awful moments, Wanderer stood there, still, waiting for one of the commanders to realise what had happened, to realise who was responsible.

    If the Vessel really wanted to save their allies, they would need to split up the attacking force.

    The large woman in charge of the less organised army managed to take the dirt out of her eyes first.

    In her gaze, Wanderer saw a vast variety of emotions, confusion, shock and anger.

    All of these the Vessel expected, all things the Golem wished to foster.

    Yet among these emotions of rage and pain, the Vessel something far more unexpected, an emotion that they had never seen before in a human.

    Recognition, the commander knew who Wanderer was.

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    That scared the Vessel far more than anything else.

    And it didn''t take long for the woman to act on that recognition, sprinting toward Wanderer at speeds far exceeding what any human should be capable of, while screaming to her troops to aid her with a tone that made it very clear that insubordination would not be accepted.

    The Golem needed no second warning, they flung their bundled cloak in the commander¡¯s face and ran, the heavy fabric giving only a moment of reprieve from pursuit.

    By the time Wanderer reached their previous hiding place Emio had already gotten the idea, caring little for stealth as they used their tendrils to propel themself like an arrow across the mostly empty streets.

    The two swerved around a corner, following the plan and hoping they could make it to the exit from which they came before their pursuers caught up.

    Wanderer knew that leading the troops to another entrance was not ideal, but they also knew that going through the front gate simply wasn¡¯t an option and they didn''t know the city well enough to try and hide.

    The Vessel maintained their course, heading in as straight a line as they could manage in the unfamiliar streets, all the while trying to ignore the approaching sound of shouts and footfalls and focus on their own movement.

    Eventually, Wanderer could bear it no longer and chanced a look back.

    The garrison was still chasing them, but most had not been able to keep up with Wanderer¡¯s infinite stamina and now only a third of the original pursuers were still giving chase.

    Unfortunately, among that number was the commander they had angered.

    Slowly yet infallibly, the leader was approaching, every step taking them just a little bit closer to the goal of tearing Wanderer limb from limb.

    Only now, as their pursuer was far closer than the Golem would have liked, did they notice the familiar shine of star-silver, (the same metal that was in the largest of their coins), inlaid into the legs and arms of the commander.

    If they had the time, Wanderer would have sat down and considered the purpose of such an arrangement, however, in their current predicament they were far too preoccupied about the terrible fact that their pursuer was getting closer.

    ¡°I won''t make it to the exit¡± the Vessel realised, indeed, as things were going now they would be caught long before then.

    Hurriedly, they asked their Spirit for help, hoping that the Guide would be able to help as their own mind drew blanks in regards to a solution.

    They replied with an order, to turn down an alley to their left, which the Golem did without hesitation.

    Rearing around the corner, Wanderer came upon a dreadful scene, there in front of them, down the very route their Spirit suggested they take, was a complete and utter dead end.

    On all sides of them were high, double story buildings without balconies or defects to give climbing purchase, indeed, the only feature to the whole street was a singular window and a collection of haphazardly dumped trash.

    For a long, dreadful moment, Wanderer was convinced that they had been betrayed, doomed to be destroyed due to the hand of the one companion they had had all their life.

    And then they realised their Guide¡¯s true intention, and nearly stopped dead in their tracks out of anger at their own thoughts.

    ¡°Spirit would never betray me¡± they knew.

    Picking up speed, the Vessel sent a signal to Emio to follow after them as they leaped through the closed window.

    Glass shattered and wood splintered as their soft body broke the barriers, pain shooting through them as shards of foreign material lodged in their body.

    But that was fine, none of the damage was permanent, they would fix it later.

    Making sure that the lead they gained on their pursuers stuck was far more important.

    For a brief instant, Wanderer noticed a eyeless, masked figure in the corner of the room they had broken into, who was standing upright in absolute shock.

    A great desire to apologise for the trouble came over the Vessel but they had no time to do so, as it was they hardly had the required moments to throw a random collection of coins over at figure before their Spirit¡¯s demands to keep moving grew to the extent that they could not be ignored.

    They burst out the door, Emio following along behind shortly as the trio were once again out in the open street.

    Wanderer continued toward their goal, dodging and weaving past the slowly filling crowds of people, making sure to duck down as many alleys and back routes as they could in an effort to throw off their pursuers.

    In a fraction of an hour that felt like an entire day, they had reached their destination, bursting through the dilapidated door and into the aging ruin.

    Before they escaped into the bedroom and disappeared down the tunnel, they turned back one last time, seeing the thing they most expected but least wished to see.

    Led by the strange, eyeless man they had burst into the home of, their pursuers were still following, far back and missing a few members yet just as deadly.

    There was no point in dreading it, Wanderer jumped down the secret entrance to the underground base, not even bothering to re-cover the entrance.

    With conviction they resolved that down in the ruins, one way or another, they would lose their trails.

    They had no other choice.

 Trail and Ruins

    Trail and Ruins

    Wanderer could clearly hear the shouts of their pursuers echoing from above as their hooved feet hit the cold stone floor of the now familiar ruins, Emio¡¯s small form meaning that they had already entered the little room at the bottom of the ladder by the time the Vessel showed up.

    The moment Wanderer caught up, they were off again, bursting out the door to the entrance room.

    With a yell, the guard who was posted outside the entrance (and was once again sleeping) jumped back out of shock, reaching for their sword before they realised what was happening.

    Immediately, the Vessel began telling them of the coming invasion, the guard so oblivious that they had to actively hear the shouts from above before realising what was happening.

    Already, the rebel had wasted enough of Wanderer¡¯s precious time, so when they reached for their sword once again with an irritating burst of courage, the Vessel slapped their hand and pointed toward the way back to the main base.

    To their own credit, the guard realised what they had to do and obeyed without hesitation, sprinting down the corridor like they were being chased by ticks.

    Wanderer did the same only a moment later.

    Intending to throw off their pursuers and prevent the messenger from being captured, the Vessel went in the opposite direction, pushing over a nearby lantern to show the chasers which way they went.

    The corridor they ducked down was, as all of the halls in the ruin were, incredibly long and so despite their distance, Wanderer still managed a glimpse of their pursuers before they rushed down a separate hall.

    Despite the situation, the Vessel was rather happy with their circumstance, not only were they further distracting the enemy from their goal, but with so much distance they could surely lose them in the winding underground labyrinth.

    And Wanderer began doing exactly that, bursting through a hundred separate rooms, making sure to close every door and replace every opening behind them as they went.

    Eventually, in the now pitch black that was only navigable because of Emio¡¯s light, the trio came to a round auditorium and a great sense of relief came over them all.

    From the central, sand-filled courtyard, twelve separate corridors split off in every direction, each leading to another district of the ancient ruins.

    Perhaps, there was a chance, however small, that their pursuers could wind their way through the Golem¡¯s every attempt at misdirection in the dark, but from here, there was no possible way that their enemies could know where they were going.

    They rushed down the third entry to their right, before scurrying behind a thick door that led to a room similar to the one that served as a dining hall in the main base.

    They ran toward the exit at the other side of the room, then stopped and doubled back round, retracing their steps and instead hiding behind a large pile of sand right next to the entry.

    And then they waited, picking out shards of glass and petting Emio as they did so, all they had to do was wait until they were certain that the warriors had given up then find their way back to the surface.

    They felt a little better than they did before, perhaps they had not given the warning that would have been best, but none could argue they did not risk their life to help the rebels.

    With all the force scattered and disorganised, Keshte would surely have had time to prepare their people, and if necessary, move out.

    A part of Wanderer insisted that, if they had been faster, then an evacuation would not have been needed, yet they didn''t need their Spirit¡¯s reassurance to realise the error in that thinking.

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    ¡°This was all planned long before I got involved.¡± The Vessel resolved.

    Indeed, with the way things turned out it was a miracle Wanderer was able to disrupt those plans at all.

    Having little else to do, the Vessel thought back to their pursuers, in particular the large commander who had given Wanderer the most difficulty.

    They had caught a glimpse of bands of metal inlaid into the leader''s skin, a familiar material that Wanderer had recognised as the same metal that formed the largest of the coins in their pouch.

    After fixing the last bit of damage on their soft body, they fished out of their pouch one of those very coins, admiring the unnatural shine that came off of it, far brighter than what should have been possible in Emio¡¯s dim light.

    It was the same metal, there was no doubt about that, but why would anyone wish to inlay it into their body?

    Usually, having anything inside you that wasn''t meant to be there was unequivocally a bad thing, especially for a human who was made of things like flesh and blood (which, if Wanderer risked being a little arrogant, was quite a bit less practical than clay).

    Perplexed, the Golem focused on the coin in front of them, hoping to glean some otherworldly knowledge relating to the practice.

    To their surprise, if they truly focused on the coin in their hand, they began to feel something happening.

    A tingling sensation overtook where their clay flesh touched the shiny surface, like some kind of power was flowing into their body from the tips of their fingers.

    It wasn''t until they looked inside themself with their mind¡¯s eye that they realised what was happening.

    In the magic channels which piloted their body and took magic from their soul, Spirit and blessing, where their fingers touched the metal that same magic flowed ever so slightly faster.

    Curious, Wanderer palmed the coin, placing it closer to the larger channels in their body.

    Both Spirit and Golem looked on in fascination as the power which fuelled them bolstered in strength and speed, providing a rush of enhancement.

    They watched in awe as their grip became almost doubly as tight, the coin getting shoved into their soft clay body in the process.

    Wanderer saw very quickly how the commander had been able to keep up with them.

    ¡°What if I were to place this ne-¡± the Vessel¡¯s thought was interrupted and muse quickly forgotten, as the dreadful shouts of their pursuers could be heard in the distance.

    ¡°How? There is no way they could have tracked me this far¡± Wanderer thought in disbelief, the halls were too labyrinthine and rooms too repetitive for any one person to ever be able to get their bearings in the maze, let alone track a single Golem.

    ¡°It doesn''t matter, they would never be able to know which way I came in the circular room.¡± the Vessel resolved, deciding to stay put and wait it out.

    But even against their most desperate of hopes and most infallible reasoning, the Golem¡¯s enemies drew closer, unhindered by Wanderer¡¯s attempts at misdirection.

    ¡°They must be using magic¡± there was no other possibility.

    Fear seized the Vessel¡¯s soul as their Spirit began to panic once again and Emio shifted in unease, if magic was being used, was it even possible to escape?

    The door next to them swung open with force as their pursuers caught up, the eyeless warrior at the front of the pack with the commander close behind.

    In the nick of time, Wanderer hid behind the sand pile next to them, covering Emio¡¯s eye as to snuff out its light.

    The Vessel prepared to fight, seeing it as the only way out of their situation and knowing they would have to reconcile it to themself later, they couldn''t hide from magic, after all.

    Yet to their surprise, the group ran right past them, hollering threats and insults Wanderer was simply too preoccupied to process.

    The Vessel watched in morbid curiosity as their pursuers, despite their blatant advantage, made it all the way to the end of the room until their guide stopped, right in the place where Wanderer had begun to double over their own trail.

    ¡°They aren''t following me¡±, Wanderer realised, ¡°They are following the path I took!¡±.

    With infinite thankfulness for their own past actions, the Vessel took the small opportunity they had been given and bolted right out the door they had just entered from, not even attempting to be stealthy.

    There was a small part of Wanderer that felt joy at the angered shouts of exclamation that echoed from the warriors, and they allowed themself to revel in it for just a second.

    In moments the chase was on again, and this time, Wanderer knew what to do.

 Pursuit and Descent

    Pursuit and Descent

    Wanderer had to get out of the unexplored part of the ruin, its winding halls and dark corridors that once had the capability to hide the Vessel now useless under the tracker''s gaze.

    But then, where would they go?

    The surface was hopeless, the desert above provided nothing but open land for their chasers to catch up and the city provided nothing but familiar terrain for those who wished them harm.

    They could, of course, follow after the rebels, hoping that they could help remove their trails but the whole goal of Wanderer¡¯s actions was to protect the rebels and giving the enemy a way to track the entire group would lead to nothing but hardship.

    ¡°Where then can I go?¡± the Vessel thought, though in truth, they knew the answer before they had even asked the question.

    When Herukah had first led them to the entrance to the city, the two had passed a path that led deeper into the earth and ruins.

    Herukah had said that it had been blocked off, that every person who had entered it had died.

    It was undoubtedly a place of danger and hardship, and in all likelihood, swarmlings.

    If the tunnel was filled with an unknown danger, and indeed Wanderer¡¯s fears were irrelevant, then in all likelihood they could bait their pursuers and force them to turn back.

    If it was filled with swarmlings, like Wanderer suspected, then it was a choice between death and death.

    If the Golem had the time to think it over, then they might have laughed at how gladly they threw themselves into danger and possible death for a group of people they hardly knew.

    But they did not have the time to think and the choice was made.

    With the hollers of their pursuers behind them, Wanderer and Emio sprinted down the long hallway back to the circular room from which the corridors branched.

    If the Vessel wished to escape, then they would have to follow the exact same route they had gotten here from, any other option would lead to inevitable lost meandering in the dark, just as likely to lead them to a dead end as anywhere important.

    It was only by their own memory that they could escape, as they knew nothing of the dark labyrinth they had found themselves in.

    The issue, of course, was that their pursuers could always follow them and now that the gap between them had been taken, the warriors had a true chance of catching up to Wanderer.

    But they had a plan, after all, if something worked once then it could certainly work again.

    Much like they had experienced in the mine, a place as old as the ruins under the massive weight of the city above could only be barely holding on from collapse, and the Vessel was certain with a little encouragement a blockage could be formed.

    Their Spirit, however, rebelled against the idea, determined to stop Wanderer from doing something so risky.

    Images and memories of the danger of the cave-in flooded the Vessel¡¯s mind, and how close to destruction Wanderer came.

    With the shot of reality that their Spirit provided, Wanderer¡¯s unfounded confidence crumbled, the gravity of their situation hitting them with the force of a boulder at the most inopportune time and hesitation suffusing them.

    ¡°How could I have even thought of that!¡±, the Golem berated themself, angry at their stupidity and recklessness.

    The whole place was under the weight of an entire city, the only thing that prevented the destruction of the ruin was a few load-baring walls made hundreds of years ago.

    The mine had almost killed Wanderer because a door was opened too hard, the Golem would be surprised if a place this large didn''t collapse entirely with a dedicated attack.

    And their plan!

    How stupid could they be, to willingly want to go down a pit where there were swarmlings.

    They loved to hope that it was anything but the centipedes, but everything lined up far too perfectly for that, Herukah said herself that anyone who went down there never came back and in an area as dark and claustrophobic as the tunnel, what else could it possibly be.

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    Wanderer had only survived their last encounter with the cave dwellers by the sole of their hooves, they most certainly couldn''t rely on sheer luck to get them out again.

    ¡°I know what I should do¡±, the Vessel thought ¡°I should give up and hope they spare me¡±

    It may be dangerous, but it was almost certainly safer than any encounter with swarmlings.

    They knew, at the back of their mind that they were overreacting, rebounding from their previous optimism with the true realisation of their circumstances.

    But by the time their Spirit got through to them, that they saw the death in the eyes of their pursuers, they had already begun to slow down.

    It was too late.

    Now even if they wanted to collapse the roof, they couldn''t without hitting themself as well.

    They needed to make more distance, the commander was practically nipping on their heels.

    But how?

    "Should I use the flare-bow, even though it might hurt the-"

    To their horror, Wanderer didn''t have to make a decision, Emio made it for them.

    In the course of a single moment, Emio backtracked from their place in front of Wanderer, steadied themself and threw a single devastating strike at the commander behind them, their bushy body blurring with speed and power.

    In an instant, the warrior¡¯s momentum was redirected, the force of the blow sending them backwards with an audible crunch.

    All this time, the Vessel had forgotten what Emio was capable of, their obedience to Wanderer¡¯s pacifism making the Golem forget that the being beside them was in truth a killing machine.

    According to the old magi¡¯s visions, other verdestry just like Emio had single-handedly killed half of the human population, and now Wanderer could see how.

    Their companion''s strike was not meant to kill, the Vessel had no doubt that if death had been the intention then a lot more than one hit would have been issued, but nonetheless, the attack had come faster than Wanderer could prevent it and with enough power to stop the mountain of a human which had been trying to kill them dead in their tracks.

    The Golem spared only a single moment to look back at the devastation that Emio had spread, regretting it instantly.

    The commander¡¯s chest had been crushed, pieces of bone sticking out from where their torso had sunk inwards, blood pouring from those same wounds, covering the floor.

    The fighter herself was keeled over, gasping in air like they had never breathed before, then doing the same awful coughing that the boy in the mansion had done.

    Wanderer didn''t know enough about humans to truly tell if their enemy would die, but there was no doubt in their mind that she would never chase the trio again.

    The rest of the commander¡¯s compatriots all reacted differently, some hesitated in shock, others rushed to their superior¡¯s aid.

    The eyeless tracker stood there still, watching Wanderer as they ran.

    They would be seeing them again, the Golem knew.

    Nonetheless, one thing was certain, Emio¡¯s intervention had ended the chase.

    Violence had been the answer.

    Wanderer needed time and space to think, something they simply didn''t have with their enemies so close.

    They forced their thoughts away and focused on running, trying to ignore the bloodstained tendrils of their friend in front of them.

    In a blur, they backtracked through the infinite complexity of the ruin, soon making it back to the place they came from.

    They slowed to a stop, figuring Emio¡¯s intervention had given them enough lead for a brief break.

    Echoing from the passage back to the rebels, Wanderer could hear shouts and the clashing of metal, a sure sign of a battle.

    It seems Keshte did not evacuate as fast as the Golem hoped, but the Vessel did the best that they could have and their mind was focused on far greater worries than helping them more, the rebels would have to fare for themselves.

    But this created an issue, Wanderer had previously resolved to avoid the shaft into the earth but now it seemed to be their singular option.

    They could not go ahead, the fighting was far too dangerous for them, but they could not go back either for fear they would get lost and cornered once again.

    The surface too was not an option, the mass of people and hostile warriors would pose a threat even to Emio, and with the walls and gate blocking their exit, there was simply no escape.

    For a dreadful instant, Wanderer contemplated setting Emio loose on their enemies, destroying all in their way and walking free, able to explore as they pleased without fear.

    Their soul revolted at the very idea only an instant later, overwhelmed with guilt at the mere thought of replicating their previous brutality.

    They should have stopped it, now the commander would die.

    Forcing away their thoughts once more, Wanderer came to the pitch-black passage into the depths below, which now seemed to the Golem like a yawning mouth, eager to swallow them whole.

    Fear, once one of the least of the emotions running through them was amplified to once again take its place at the forefront of the Vessel¡¯s mind.

    But this passageway was their only option, and a treacherous fragment of Wanderer¡¯s soul insisted if the Golem was such a magnet for pain and violence, if more people would die because of them, then perhaps descending into a hive of swarmlings and horrors was best for everyone.

    They didn''t need their Spirit to tell them that such a thought was terrible, but their mind refused to listen to reason, and that illogicality was enough to shove aside their fear.

    With self-perpetuated insistances that this option was the best for everyone, Wanderer shoved aside the barricade blocking their way into the darkness and began to step down into the deep.

 Basement and Lava

    Basement and Lava

    Down and down they went, the surrounding area blacker than black, only the light of Emio¡¯s eye providing any clue as to the world around them.

    Like everywhere else in the ruin, the walls were ornate and intricate, carvings cut deep into the rock providing visual variety to the otherwise stark environment.

    Looking closer, Wanderer found that unlike the walls above, the carvings below were not the same weaving, geometric patterns which the Golem had seen plastered on every Orshraka made object thus far.

    They instead depicted stories, with monsters and people depicted in blocky forms that, despite its limitations, still managed to display the muse¡¯s true nature.

    Wanderer¡¯s mind was still in turmoil, but curiosity and adventure were the core of their being and no matter their mistakes, that could never be taken away from them.

    As the Vessel went further into the basement of the ruin, they kept their vision on the stories in the walls, yet despite their best effort they couldn''t work out what they were trying to say.

    In all the stories, a pattern began to emerge, a ruler lorded over a peaceful land before an enemy came from the sky and broke their kingdom, placing an insurgent in in its place.

    Again and again the same story repeated, sometimes humans were taken over by a ruler of beasts, other times a nation of Spirits was overthrown by a malevolent God.

    But no matter what details changed from scene to scene, the story remained the same, ruler, enemies, dictator.

    Eventually, after heading downwards for some time, the deep red rock of the ruins gave way, instead being replaced by a paler, softer sandstone.

    The intricate carvings disappeared as well, as the original creators apparently did not have the time to finish the shaft all the way down, instead leaving a wake of uneven stone steps and hand hewn walls.

    Wanderer paused for a second, calling upon their slowly lessening fear to try and hear for the faintest echo of the snaps and pops that the swarmlings employed.

    Yet no matter how much they strained, no evidence of the centipedal monsters could be heard.

    In their mind''s eye, they remembered the deafening roar the ravenous creatures procured with their mere existence, if there was scilence, then they were safe.

    Wanderer¡¯s suspicion was, much to their enjoyment false, there was almost certainly no swarmlings in the tunnel.

    ¡°But what killed all those people then¡±, the Golem wondered.

    To be sure, the Vessel listened intently once again, yet while they heard nothing, they realised something else.

    The air around them was rather hot, almost certainly hotter than the rest of the ruin up further, and far hotter than anything this deep underground had the right to be.

    ¡°How hadn''t I noticed?¡±, the Golem questioned.

    That, in hindsight was an obvious question, they had been distracted, confused by their own experiences as they so often were, blinding them to the truth of the world around them.

    Wanderer stopped and sat on one of the sets of stairs, confusing Emio who was under the impression that they had to keep moving to avoid more pursuers.

    Indeed, the verdestry may have very well been correct in that assumption, it was doubtful that their pursuers would give up and they could still track the Golem to wherever they ended up going.

    But the little monster had done a number on them, shown the warriors that the trio was not a threat to be trifled with, and for that they would need reinforcements.

    And that would take time.

    And so, the Vessel sat on the stairs, determined to sort out their thoughts and restore their awareness lest they miss a more important detail, one which could lead to their demise.

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    Wanderer began with Emio¡¯s brutality, an action which went against their oath so severely that no matter how they tried, they could not justify it to themself.

    Certainly, it was not Wanderer who had attacked the commander and the attack was more than deserved.

    But the Golem knew this was all just excuses, they were responsible for Emio, it was their job to guide them.

    As the Vessel struggled with their thoughts and contemplated their actions, their Spirit spoke up once again, providing guidance as they often did.

    Emio was their friend, their companion, but they were also their own person and capable of their own choices.

    What the verdestry had chosen to do was not only done out of concern for Wanderer, but was also undoubtedly their own decision, indeed, without the Golem¡¯s guidance such an outcome would undoubtedly have happened far earlier.

    ¡°But if I had not hesitated, if I had used the flare-bow to drive them back, this never would have happened.¡± Wanderer insisted.

    Their Spirit agreed, yet stressed that the Golem had no way to know the future, and that imperfection was inevitable when any decision was made.

    What has happened has happened, regretting your actions leads to nothing if you did not move forward and learn from them.

    Wanderer saw the logic in their guide¡¯s argument and resolved to learn from their mistake, coming to the realisation that Emio, despite their respect for the Vessel¡¯s wishes, was still a incredibly deadly monster who could kill as easily as they could save.

    ¡°I need to be more careful¡± they resolved.

    Before, they had thrown themselves into danger, even their best plans involving risk and luck to get by.

    In the end, their willingness to put themselves in jeopardy was likely due to Emio¡¯s prior interference, afterall, what can hurt you when you have an invincible warrior as your companion.

    Today had shown the flaw in that thinking, Emio could never truly be controlled, especially when Wanderer¡¯s life was at risk.

    Yet on the topic of danger, the Golem once again thought over their current situation, an unknowable distance below the earth with an unknown danger surrounding them.

    Already they regretted their decision, yet they had put themself in a situation where there was no turning back, they could do nothing but be careful and try not to block themselves in again.

    Besides, their worst fear had already been dismissed, and there was little chance that whatever threat was down here was any worse than swarmlings.

    Wanderer stood back up, and continued their descent, their mind as cleared as it could be considering recent events.

    In truth however, the Vessel still felt crushed by their mistakes, both new and old.

    They needed a time and a place to just rest, without any worry of death or slavery or pain.

    Perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

    But no matter its future possibility, that was a consideration for a later time, for now the Vessel focused on their exploration.

    Now that Wanderer had made note of it, the heat in the air was beginning to grow irritating, still nothing like the full heat of the sun in the deserts above yet more than enough to be a nuisance on the Vessel¡¯s continued travel.

    They were really hoping that they wouldn''t regret giving away the music box.

    Only a short while later, the crude sandstone stairs evened out rapidly. Coming out to a wide hall which circled into a loop, surrounding some centre subterranean structure.

    Only two steps into the chamber, Wanderer was shocked to find the feeling of something soft underneath their hooves.

    They knelt down and found a type of dry moss covering a patch of the floor, long dead and withered yet perplexing in its existence.

    ¡°Where is the water?¡±, Wanderer thought, as they were quite certain that such plants required water.

    They continued on through the passage, finding a few more oddities along the way.

    The first was the presence of glassy imperfections in, and sometimes jutting out, of the walls, the reflective stone sometimes flowing down to the floor, despite its obvious rigidity.

    Where the obsidian flowed from the walls and touched the floor, something of a change came over the material, as it became filled to the brim with cracks and faults, as if something had once covered the floor and broke it.

    ¡°Is this lava?¡± the Golem thought, seeing it the only explanation for the obsidian''s shape.

    Further down, past where much of the imperfections hung down from the walls and ceiling, rested a pair of massive stone doors.

    They were formed of the red stone of the ruin above and engraved equally as beautifully, contrasting harshly with the crude yellow walls around it, causing it to draw the Vessel¡¯s gaze even in the darkness.

    On the front of the door was engraved a massive oasis, blessed by the sun, surrounded by healthy beasts the size of buildings and joyful children dancing around sandy shores.

    The depiction was so contrasting to every other story of doom and gloom the Golem had seen cut into stone that they nearly took a step back in shock, never expecting something so blatantly jovial in a place so ancient and dark.

    They took a decent while just inspecting the relief, nearly forgetting in their viewing that this was a pair of doors, intending to be opened and not just an artwork.

    When they did finally realise, hurried on by Emio as they were, they threw open the door, hoping to find more clues as to the origins of this place on the other side.

    Perhaps if they had been a little slower, they would have noticed the heat seeping through the stone, but as it was, the moment Wanderer opened the door, they were greeted by a blast of superheated steam.

 Extra 7: Morning of the Exhausted

    Extra 7: Morning of the Exhausted

    The weak rays of the early morning sun diffused throughout the valley, the gentle light a far cry from the omnipresent sunshine Shreshka knew from her home.

    In the background, she could still hear the quiet mumblings of her companion, raving about things unseen to her in a quiet, broken voice.

    If it weren''t for the third eye implanted into his forehead, many would have thought him insane.

    But Shreshka didn''t mind the inane rambling, it was the most quiet she had heard since Hureheh had woken up, nothing compared to the piercing screams that had woken her and Retlafeh, even in their poison-induced slumber.

    Even now, despite the refreshing forest air and biting chill on her skin, a bone deep tiredness sunk into Shreshka¡¯s bones, the kind of tiredness that could only come from facing death and escaping by the breadth of a hair.

    For what felt like the hundredth time that morning, Shreshka considered how they had survived the fog, the shiny blue coin in her hand feeling as though it weighed more than an anvil.

    Shreshka had always wondered why Star-Silver was so valuable, but now it seemed almost as if its value was understated.

    The sheer power that had to be contained even in such a small coin to be able to amplify a spell of such little power to such extreme heights, it was almost impossible.

    Once again, their saviour had given a greater blessing than could have ever been repaid.

    But now they faced an decision, either they could keep the coin for its magical abilities or they could continue with their original plan and sell it.

    A large part of Shreshka itched to keep it, to re-live that euphoric feeling of magic exploding from her again and again.

    To evolve from a lowly slave to a respected magi, restore herself to the power she once possessed.

    But she knew that wasn''t going to happen, as it was, the coin provided far too much value for them, poor and hunted as they were, and Shreshka only knew a single spell of very little power.

    It would be a waste on her, but on the name of Orsha she wanted to keep it.

    She hid the slab of metal in the folds of her tattered clothing, lest she get tempted to test it out again.

    Eager to distract herself and unwilling to comfort the whimpering pile of misery behind her any more than she already had, she turned her intention instead to the alien world around her.

    This wasn''t her first trip into Carariag, the home of the simple-landers, but it was the first time where she was able to see the world with no threat of a whip on her back and that alone magnified the surroundings tenfold.

    The whole universe seemed to be carpeted in a healthy green, from the foggy valleys to the snow capped peaks, trees, grass, moss and shrubs carpeted everything in sight.

    And from the dew covered pine needles and babbling books, glints of azure sunlights twinkled like a perfect night sky, the likes of which she had only seen a single time in her homeland right after the rainstorm which had blessed her as a child.

    She tried to dismiss those memories, wishing for a simpler time was against the will of Orsha.

    Then again, she was well out of her god¡¯s realm now.

    A gentle breeze carried the chirps of birds and swaying of branches, creating a constant rustle accented only by the occasional call of an animals mysterious to Shreshka.

    From the earth and from the air wafted smells of fresh pine, damp wood and petrichor, combining into a sharp smell which drove the chill of the early morning into her lungs just as much as her bones.

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    They would need to find better clothes soon, she wasn''t suited to the cold.

    Shreshka returned to the cave, hoping to preserve their warmth and check up on their companion.

    The moment they passed the threshold, the reality of the outside world vanished, replaced by a wholly different menagerie.

    The walls and ceiling were formed of a brownish rock, sharply contrasting the blue-grey of the mountains and boulders outside, this irregularity taken even further by veins of an odd yellow metal.

    The cave was dark and deep, its recesses only lit by what little light reflected from the golden-bronze impurities in the walls.

    But beyond any of this, what Shreshka found most odd of all was the all encompassing dust.

    She might have been wrong, but Shreshka was under the impression that in cold, wet climates dust didn''t tend to build up like it did back in her home.

    Why then, in this odd little cave was there such a large deposit of brown, fine dust that every step kicked up a choking tornado of the stuff.

    Indeed, there was so much that the former slave was near certain that, if she dared, she could probably bury herself below it all and never be seen again.

    It was a scary thought, but one Shreshka didn''t have to think on for long, as the sound of footsteps slowly faded into range.

    A jolt of dread shot through the woman¡¯s veins, despite her very well knowing that it was Retlafeh returning with supplies, some habits were hard to break.

    Their companion had left just before the sun to find food, water and fire, insisting Shreshka stay behind in case Hureheh broke from their fugue.

    Both of them knew that was unlikely to happen anytime soon, if ever, it was rare for one touched by a god to make sense of things with any kind of speed.

    Not that either of them had much experience in that area.

    In truth, Shreshka thought that Retlafeh was just trying to give her time to rest, as if he didn''t need it just as much as her.

    The older man approached, dragging the carcass of some large beast that the woman was unfamiliar with with one hand and a bundle of dry wood over his shoulder.

    Shreshka rushed down to help and after a few moments, they were both safely in the mouth of the cave.

    The younger of the two expressed surprise at the size of Retlafeh¡¯s prey, asking how exactly it had been caught, but the stoic man gave an excuse of a makeshift spear and prior experience in catching beasts of this size.

    Shaking her head, Shreshka got up with the intention to help before suddenly realising that she had little idea of how to do so, problems of heat and food rarely being of consequence in her homeland.

    Afterall, if you got lost out in the endless dunes, hunger was the least of your worries.

    ¡°How do you intend to start the fire?¡±, she asked, as she was pretty sure you couldn''t make fire from sticks and stones and an excessive amount of dust.

    Retlafeh, however, didn''t reply, instead huddling over a loosely arranged pile of sticks and beginning to move his hands.

    It was a long moment before Shreshka realised that the odd gestures and motions he was doing were the beginnings of a spell, one that seemed complicated yet was done with utmost proficiency, with aid from the deft grace that could only be achieved through trial and error.

    Like the rising of the sun, a single rune burst into existence, so small and so bright it could have been mistaken for a shining star in the cold cave.

    The spell was thrust into the firewood, where it quickly died out, leaving in its wake a small flame which Retlafeh quickly nursed to health.

    Shreshka¡¯s mind, however, was not focused on her rapidly warming bones or the comforting smell of wood smoke, instead obsessing over the fact that Retlafeh knew a spell.

    It was rare for anyone in Shreshka¡¯s home to know any spells, herself an outlier in all regards and even then her abilities were limited.

    How then had Retlafeh, who to Shreshka¡¯s knowledge had been a slave for most of his life, come upon a spell of actual use.

    The woman made to speak up, yet their older companion predicted their question before they could.

    ¡°I will tell you how I came upon the spell, and even teach it to you once I have time, but not now, once we have eaten and rested there will be time for plans and stories.¡± he said.

    Shreshka wasn''t terribly satisfied, and made to insist upon threat of her impatience, however in that very moment her stomach growled fiercely and she very quickly realised her own hunger.

    Instead of attempting to take blood from a stone, the former slave moved forward and volunteered her help in preparing the food, the two of them together turning a tedious and messy job with their primitive tools into a merely messy one.

    Soon, what was left of the animal¡¯s carcass was discarded, and the brutalised scraps of meat were cooking under Shreshka¡¯s care, the smell wafting out from the cave.

    Belatedly, the woman realised that the smoke and smell might attract enemies, but found herself too tired to care, as it was, if another Gitiriag showed up there was nothing they could do, so why avoid basic things such as food.

    Growing bored and tired, she made to talk to her companion yet found him asleep by the fire, the exhaustion finally catching up to him despite his best efforts.

    And so, with nothing more than deranged mumblings to accompany her, Shreshka waited as the food cooked and wondered what the future held for the trio.

 Extra 8: Recovery of the Blessed

    Extra 8: Recovery of the Blessed

    It was late morning by the time both Shreshka and Retlafeh had eaten and rested, as well as forced the delirious Hureheh to eat and drink a little.

    Shreshka still felt horrible, but compared to the bone deep tiredness she felt before, it was a hundred times better.

    Her companion was still sleeping, even further exhausted than even Shreshka and lacking the will to hide it any longer, so for the current moment she sat alone around a dying fire, contemplating with the faint mumbles of their new oracle serving as background noise.

    She had tried to avoid thinking about Hureheh¡¯s affliction since she had woken up, some mix of fear of committing heresy and other occupations preventing their contemplation in that area.

    Perhaps it would be more practical to plan their next move as a group, but her curiosity was far too great, she needed to know what was happening.

    From the looks of it, one thing was certain, Hureheh had been turned into an oracle of Orsha, though for what reason she could not possibly guess.

    Usually, to become an oracle was something people were trained their whole life for, initiated with a grand ceremony and showing of Orsha¡¯s illustrious form.

    Yet for Hureheh, they were a slave on the run, far away from Reshraka and with not even the slightest hint of ceremony or purpose.

    If it weren''t for the presence of the third eye on his head and unmistakable memory of Orsha¡¯s magic weaving its way through her companion, the woman would have never believed it.

    ¡°But why?¡± Shreshka whispered under her breath, what possible reason would there be for such utter destruction of every upheld tradition.

    She wasn''t one to question a god, yet even she couldn''t resist a blasphemous thought of confusion.

    ¡°Shreshka¡±, Hureheh suddenly called, voice horse yet distinct against the crackles of the dying fire.

    The woman in question nearly jumped with shock, not expecting anything of consequence from her companion, much less a name.

    ¡°Shreshka¡± the man called again, ¡°Where are you?¡±

    The former slave came to her senses, ¡°I''m right in front of you, can''t you see me?¡±

    It was then she noticed that of Hureheh¡¯s three eyes, only the one upon his forehead was open, looking frantically around the cave as if searching for something.

    ¡°I can''t see you, why can I hear you but not see you¡±.

    Shreshka didn''t know how to answer that question, so she answered it with one of her own.

    ¡°What can you see?¡±

    Hureheh was silent for a long moment, so long that she would have thought he had not heard her, was his eye not darting around trying to make sense of whatever landscape he foresaw.

    ¡°Its like¡­¡± he began, ¡°its like someone attempted to tame the ocean and force it into shape, yet it refuses to be tamed, roiling and flowing in every direction at once¡±

    ¡°I am a part of this ocean, everything I see is, yet I am different just like the ground below my feet is in comparison to the air around me.¡±

    ¡°But its not air, and there is no ground, this is magic and only magic, magic that is trying to make some imitation of the real wor-¡± the oracle finished, bursting out into a series of coughs which cut his explanation short.

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    Shreshka rushed forward to prevent her companion from trying to speak again, his throat no doubt raw from the events of the night.

    Either way, more of an explanation would do little for Shreshka, Hureheh¡¯s words were little more than mad ravings to her.

    There was another moment of silence while the younger of the two Orshraka recovered, a moment in which Shreshka debated waking Retlafeh but figured otherwise, before Hureheh spoke once again.

    ¡°Why can''t I see you?¡±, he asked again, apparently not realising his situation.

    This time, the woman resolved to respond in the only way she knew how, telling the truth.

    ¡°You can''t see me because your eyes are not open, why don''t you open them?¡±

    Hureheh physically recoiled at this news, as if a terrible truth they had never contemplated before had been revealed to him.

    Furrows appeared across the former-slave''s brow, apparently concentrating hard on achieving the most basic of bodily functions.

    For an instant, the oracle¡¯s eyes fluttered open, only for him to let out a pitiful yelp and crease them shut once again, head instantly in his hands.

    ¡°I can''t do it, it''s just too much.¡± he whispered in sorrow.

    Seeing her comrade in pain, Shreshka approached and put her arm around him, which seemingly went unnoticed.

    ¡°It will be OK, we will figure out what to do.¡± she stated somewhat awkwardly, overall unused to comforting others.

    The oracle didn''t reply yet Shreshka figured he had heard her, so she asked one last question which had been burning at the back of her mind.

    ¡°Why did this happen, Hureheh, why did Orsha bless you like this.¡± she whispered, as if her heretical words would be heard and punishments ensue.

    The man turned to face the sound of her voice, eyes still tightly closed.

    ¡°We¡­¡± he began with reverence, ¡°we have all been tasked with a duty, directly from Orsha.¡±

    ¡°Our saviour, a Golem named Wanderer, is the only one capable of fixing a great mistake made by Orsha, we have all been tasked with aiding them in whatever way we are able¡±.

    Shreshka was taken aback.

    ¡°This is no time to joke, Hureheh, I am serious!¡± she yelled, certain that Orsha would never place something so important upon someone like her.

    The oracle replied with grim determination, ¡°I am not joking.¡±

    And just like that, Shreshka was convinced, their comrade''s tone too resolute to allow argument.

    But this was impossible, for someone as insignificant as her, some fallen down and forgotten merchant''s daughter forced into slavery before her life had even truly begun, to be chosen by a god.

    ¡°Why¡± she asked, more in question to herself than anyone in particular, it just didn''t make sense.

    Who was this Golem who not only saved them from captivity but was also the only being capable of fixing the regrets of a god, what mistake had been made that it required a ragtag, half starved group of slaves to fix when they weren''t even in Reshraka.

    ¡°I suppose that we must head back home then, despite the danger, we can¡¯t help our saviour from here.¡± she said.

    To her shock, the reasonable suggestion was countered immediately, Hureheh managing to grip her hand as if to stop her from even thinking about leaving.

    ¡°We can not go back, it is forbidden.¡±

    If Shreshka had seen the situation from afar, she might have thought the first emotion that would follow from this declaration would be shock, instead, what the woman felt was an intense sorrow.

    She had known, belatedly, that she would likely never return to her homeland, the place where she was born and raised, yet knowing that it was not likely was a lot different than knowing it was impossible.

    She had no capability of resisting the word of her god, who she had been trained to follow all her life.

    She tried her best to hold back tears and stay strong, but the whole situation was finally starting to catch up with her.

    Against her strongest will, a sob escaped her, which was soon followed by a wave of grief she could not contain.

    Shreshka broke down on the floor, right next to Hureheh, a thousand emotions over a thousand different things needing release.

    The oracle moved back a little, perhaps confused as to what exactly was happening and lacking the sight to confirm his suspicions.

    Eventually, with a soft ¡°oh¡±, the man caught up to speed, hesitantly seeking Shreshka¡¯s shoulder to provide comfort.

    Now, it was Hureheh¡¯s turn to provide understanding, blinded and confused as he was.

    ¡°Your right you know¡­¡± He began, with a chuckle itching to surface from beneath his breath, ¡°we will work everything out¡±.

    The comfort didn''t reduce Shreshka¡¯s sorrows, but it added one more emotion to the confusing pile, a shared camaraderie that brought a tiny seed of hope to bloom.

    She could only wish that Hureheh¡¯s words were the truth.

 Steam and Lizards

    Steam and Lizards

    Half from the force of the blast, half out of sheer shock, Wanderer stumbled back from the entryway.

    A wall of white steam was billowing out from the doorway, no longer sealed inside by the doors.

    The Golem didn''t understand where it was all coming from, the room they were inside right now was near completely dry, yet there was enough vapour in its adjacent chamber to fill a small lake.

    The steam had created another problem as well, as before the chamber was only uncomfortable now it was swelteringly hot, and not showing any signs of cooling down.

    ¡°Maybe this is how the other explorers disappeared?" ,Wanderer thought errantly, humans were more fragile than them and a place this hot might be a real danger for them.

    The trio backed away to where the air started to cool once again and waited for things to calm down.

    Eventually, all the steam equalised as cool droplets of condensed water rained from the ceiling, the air still boiling hot, yet bearable to the Golem.

    The same could not be said for Emio however, their bushy body unsuited for the situation.

    They shifted and shuddered their herbal body in discomfort, and showed all manner of reluctance for the veritable oven in front of them.

    Wanderer moved to oblige their friend''s wish and take a different route until they had a realisation, if this same steam had stopped other humans, then surely it could force their pursuers to lose their trail.

    The room in front of them was a wall only Wanderer could pass, a barrier only surmountable to them.

    Yet how were they to take Emio with them, it was obvious to all that they couldn''t stand the heat.

    In that very moment, the Vessel stepped into a particularly large patch of dead moss and was struck by a brilliant idea.

    ¡°Perhaps I can find some living moss!¡±, they thought, receiving praise from their Spirit for their ingenuity.

    Emio could take on the traits of the plants they consumed, and the moss in this room was only dead because the lack of moisture had killed it.

    Undoubtedly, behind the doorway would be living moss which they could gather and bring back to Emio, providing the heat resistance the plants undoubtedly possessed.

    Both Spirit and Golem approved of the idea thoroughly, and so, with a few hurried commands to the verdestry Wanderer headed toward the steam.

    As they entered a wave of scalding heat blasted over them, easily matching that of the daytime desert, yet from above them, cool condensed water fell with frequency and made the whole experience just cold enough to keep the Vessel¡¯s mind clear.

    And while heat was not an issue for the time being, a different problem showed itself rather quickly.

    The room was so filled with superheated fog that Wanderer couldn''t even see their feet, let alone the floor.

    The only things even remotely visible were a few silhouettes of nearby walls and an odd, red glow coming from their right.

    But the light wasn''t the only thing coming from that direction, as it was consistently accompanied by a cavernous roar, like a million quiet whispers combined into one, amplified by the rock walls and enclosed space.

    At this moment, their Spirit decided to illuminate the situation, stating that the steam was caused by hot lava coming into contact with water.

    The roar was likely water in the process of being vaporised, and the glow was molten rock that was exposed to air.

    Wanderer was fascinated by this, they had never before seen water being boiled, so the very idea that something could go from one state to the other was foreign to them.

    While the Vessel did want to go check it out, they also knew that lava was rather hot and that approaching it was a bad idea in general.

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    Besides, their goal here was to procure moss and any plant was unlikely to grow so close to molten rock.

    The Vessel crept their way away from the lava and their entry point, careful not to step on a stray lava flow or hidden enemy they had no way of seeing in the steam.

    As they moved, the world around them gradually became darker and darker as they left the magma behind and just as Wanderer began to consider going back, for fear of getting lost in the room which was far bigger than they had thought, their hooves touched soft moss instead of hard stone.

    A bolt of joy struck through Wanderer, as they were getting rather nervous about whether there even was moss in the room and they had been wandering blind in the steam and heat for nothing.

    The Golem knelt down and grabbed a handful of the bryophyta, surprised to find that it possessed a greenish brown colour, which contrasted with the white world around them.

    The moss seemed to grow in belts, as connected to that particular chunk Wanderer found its kind growing in almost every direction, surrounding the beginning of a pool of water.

    The Vessel resisted the urge to explore further and stuck to their task, eventually having loaded themself up with four full armfuls of soft moss.

    Figuring their task done, the Vessel began to make their way back when their foot hit a small boulder in the middle of the floor, a boulder that let out a sound somewhere between a yelp and a bleat.

    Wanderer took a step back in surprise, then knelt down to see what exactly they had tripped on in the fog.

    Out of the steam was revealed an oddly round stone about the same size as Emio, one which revealed its true nature as an animal because of a bright yellow eye which was preoccupied with staring the Golem down.

    Wanderer, seeing that the monster in front of them wasn''t attacking, decided to get a little closer and observe the creature.

    Their inspection revealed that the monster seemed to be some variety of lizard, with drab yellow scales which blended in with the rock around them and fit into each other in such a way that they curled into a perfect ball.

    Just as the Vessel finished their inspection, the lizard closed its single open eye as two surprisingly long legs unfolded from its shell.

    Wanderer took a few steps back out of concern, an action which may have very well saved their life as the monster¡¯s legs kicked off the smooth floor, sending the whole creature into a barrel roll while it let out a disturbingly human sounding scream.

    The Golem leapt to the side just in time, the rolling monster scraping the tip of their hoof as their Spirit screamed in surprise at the sudden threat.

    After a few moments, a loud thud echoed through the room, slightly muffled by the fog yet audible all the same, as was the sound of that same bleat-yelp coming from many places all across the room.

    Wanderer scrambled to their feet, slightly dazed by the sudden change in threat, finding themself surrounded by a wholly different situation.

    Presumably, they were surrounded by aggressive tumble-lizards all of which could presumably see Wanderer (as the one they had found had been watching them before they ever got within viewing range), and as a result, would doubtlessly come rolling with all the force of a boulder in mere moments.

    There wasn''t much time to think in this kind of situation, the Golem ran before their Spirit could ever come up with a logical answer.

    Wanderer¡¯s plan was simple, reach Emio outside and hope the tumble-lizards wouldn''t follow out of the steam.

    They ran in the direction of the glow, knowing the exit was close to the lava and making it halfway there by the time they heard another scream in the distance.

    The Vessel leapt to the side, yet the muffling fog made it difficult to tell the exact trajectory of the monster and it smashed directly into their right leg before rolling over it.

    Wanderer¡¯s mind went blank with pain for a moment, remaining that way a moment more before they travelled back to the realm of the waking, where their Spirit was begging them to get up.

    Their right leg was squashed flat, completely unusable and Wanderer had no chance to reform it, already another scream was echoing out through the room and the Vessel had to get out of the way.

    They rolled out of the way as a living boulder missed by a hair, the Golem thinking quickly on how to escape their situation.

    Usually, in a situation like this Emio would be beside them, a reliable rock from which solutions could be derived, but now they had no such option, Emio couldn''t enter the room if they wanted to.

    They began to reach for their satchel, in order to use the flare-bow, but their Spirit warned them otherwise.

    The flare-bow only had a single shot and little other effect than creating light and heat, both of which were things the tumblers were well accustomed to.

    In all likelihood, the weapon would do nothing, the Vessel had to find another way.

    Their leg was ruined, there was no chance of standing on it any time soon, as such their only option was to crawl.

    The Golem threw their bundles of moss in the direction they believed the exit to be and began to drag their clay body forward, a process faster for them than it would have been any other due to their four arms.

    Periodically, as Wanderer inched toward the exit, screams would echo from their front and back and they would have to make a split second decision of how to dodge.

    Luckily, sound was not their only means of navigating, as their Spirit had wizened and shared a single glimpse of their strange vision every time a tumble-lizard approached, providing just enough info for the Vessel to dodge by a hair every time.

    The situation was so fraught Wanderer didn''t even have time to become jealous at the visions, merely continuing on with every glimpse of the unknown they had seen, trying to ignore the growing pain in their mind which resulted from the forbidden knowledge.

    Step by step, moment by moment, Wanderer crawled across the room, stopping every now and then to dodge an oncoming missile until their escape was so close that they could see the vague silhouette of freedom in the steam.

    Perhaps the lizards wizened to Wanderer¡¯s escape or finally learned to work together, or perhaps it was sheer dumb luck but just as the Vessel reached the threshold of the doorway a scream louder than any they had heard before hit Wanderer, as three tumblers charged at once.

 Force and Intimidation

    Force and Intimidation

    The Golem didn''t know what to do and the Spirit didn''t know either, there was no possible way they could dodge three at once.

    ¡°What can I do?¡± Wanderer panicked, ¡°What do I usually do?¡±

    Usually they got Emio to do the work for them, but that was out of the picture.

    They asked their Spirit for solutions, as they had never led them astray before, yet they had as little idea as the Golem.

    What could be done, even one of the lizards was enough to crush Wanderer¡¯s leg entirely, a feat that even falling from a cliff could not accomplish.

    Attacking the lizards wouldn''t do anything, even without the Vessel''s oath, the tumblers were moving too fast and Wanderer was doubtless that their shells were unbreakable.

    In the end, there was only one thing they could do, give up.

    Wanderer sat down to embrace their fate, hearing the screams get closer by the moment, yet something at the back of their mind resisted.

    That small part of their mind grew from a whimper to a roar, they refused to die here, they had so much more to see and so much more to do.

    They thought back to how Emio had driven away their pursuers, the force they had imparted, how violence had fixed the problem.

    Yet, Wanderer¡¯s mind in that moment wasn''t fixated on the pain or trouble Emio¡¯s violence had caused, instead they focused on its physical effect.

    When the verdestry hit the commander, their forward momentum had been redirected, sending them flying in the wrong direction.

    The Vessel was under no impression that they could stop the tumblers entirely, but in a stroke of genius they realised they didn''t need to, they only needed to redirect the momentum, and they only needed to do it once.

    With a kind of immediacy only found in a moment of life or death, Wanderer rolled to one side such that they faced one of the living boulders head on and avoided the rest and as death approached, they dove toward it with all their might.

    This was not, however, blind recklessness, as the Golem shifted their entire weight and strength into one of their shoulders which met the lizard and hit it in the side.

    The tumbler did not stop, yet, if only by a fraction of a step, its direction shifted, crushing only the Golem¡¯s arm instead of their torso.

    The pain hardly even registered to Wanderer, the elation of their successful plan far greater than the same tired experience that they had felt so many times before.

    Even in the desperation of their situation, a resounding thought echoed out through Wanderer¡¯s mind.

    ¡°I have done it, I have used force without violence!¡± they declared.

    In their life, they had seen time and time again that violence was the answer, that breaking something to your pleasure could make it do what you want.

    Yet Wanderer deplored that, hated to rob something else to get their own way, yet so many times they had been forced to do or allow violence for lack of any other option.

    Yet could Wanderer have the benefits of violence without the pain, could they have the force without the fighting.

    Their successful gambit just proved that they could.

    The lizards smashed into the wall behind Wanderer with a heavy thud, orientating themselves while the Golem scrambled out as fast as they could, which was not particularly fast with both a leg and arm disabled.

    It was fast enough, however, as Wanderer escaped out the door and into the much larger corridor, where the steam lessened and their vision returned.

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    They had hardly made it five steps when bushy tendrils shot out from the haze and dragged Wanderer away, far into safety.

    Before the Vessel even had time to realise what happened, Emio was fussing over them with a concern they had never seen from the monster before, the companion''s lack of power apparently causing great anxiety.

    The Golem explained what happened as best they could, and as they did so they saw a change in Emio¡¯s emotions.

    When Wanderer first exited the fog, the verdestry had been jittering and shifting in concern and nervousness, yet now, as they heard the Golem¡¯s tale, that concern morphed into rage at the monsters who had hurt their friend.

    As if called by the verdestry¡¯s anger, a tumbler waddled out from the fog at the doorway, staring down the group with a single yellow eye.

    Emio whipped around with a speed that reflected their emotions and immediately charged toward the lizard, tendrils bared.

    At the last moment, Wanderer managed to snag one of their tendrils and pull them back, eager to stop more bloodshed and curious as to the reaction of the tumbler.

    Because at Emio''s threat, instead of curling and preparing to attack, the monster let out a pitiful yelp and waddled a few steps back on their long legs, seemingly more afraid than defensive.

    Perhaps because of their previous concern, Emio respected Wanderers wish and stopped where they were, instead raising themself high on their tendrils in such a way that even their small body looked large and imposing.

    The discomfort of the lizard amplified as they shuffled back even more, soon retreating back into the steam in fear.

    In an instant, a revelation came upon Wanderer, unlike their previous enemies, the tumblers did not attack them out of anger or gluttony, they attacked them out of fear.

    It made so much sense now, charging at a foe is not the attack of a hunter, you can not eat something that has been crushed and splattered and there were no animals otherwise for the lizards to eat if they were carnivores.

    The tumblers ate plants, in all likelihood, the very moss Wanderer had taken right in front of them.

    No wonder they had attacked, the Vessel was a foreign threat that was stealing their only source of food.

    Seeing that the danger had retreated, Emio let down their guard a little, coming back down to Wanderer¡¯s level with their eye trained on the doorway.

    With a little difficulty, the Vessel managed to explain that there was moss just inside the doorway, and that Emio ought to grab it.

    The verdestry was initially reluctant, the steam and heat far too much for their current body to endure in anything but small bouts, but at Wanderer¡¯s insistence and with the push of some remaining guilt, they dashed into the steam, snatched the moss and dashed out again.

    While Emio set to work changing, Wanderer began to slowly fix their damaged limbs, reforming them as best they could and trying to ignore the new scars.

    Once they were in a usable form, they set to work flexing their magic channels, trying to straighten and reconnect the ones that had been led astray.

    While the Golem went through this process, their Spirit awkwardly began to make conversation.

    They sent images of previous experiences and memories with very little importance, a far cry from the Spirit¡¯s usual immediate practicality.

    Wanderer questioned the behaviour and their Spirit folded, resolving to stop obscuring their intention.

    The Spirit wished to apologise, a fact they found difficult, because unlike their previous shortcomings, this issue was not a lack of knowledge, but of intelligence.

    Spirit, for all the time they had spent wandering the spirit realm and gaining knowledge, had not considered that the tumblers were herbivores or that they could be intimidated instead of confronted.

    Their foolishness had nearly cost Wanderer their life and deprived Emio of their friend.

    It was a mark not only against their integrity, but their pride.

    Wanderer, who was wholly unprepared for this, immediately made to console their mentor, insisting that they had done well and without their help in avoiding the oncoming attacks, they would have surely died.

    Yet the Spirit was unsatisfied, dodging the attacks would have never have been necessary, none of what had happened would have happened if they had just realised sooner.

    For all their reluctance to apologise in the beginning, there was very little now, as images and emotions of remorse came with such frequency that they overwhelmed Wanderer, hurting their mind in an attempt to comprehend them all.

    Perhaps they were just out of the mood after their most recent near death experience, perhaps they were still riding on the high of escaping an enemy on their own merit, but no matter what, Wanderer had had enough, the flurry of memories irritating them.

    ¡°Stop!¡±, they commanded with intensity, and out of shock, their Spirit did.

    ¡°I accept your apology, now leave this alone¡±, the Golem insisted, thoroughly tired of the whole affair despite the fact it had only been going on for a short amount of time.

    The guide fell silent for a short while, before timidly speaking up once again.

    The true source of their disappointment was not the fact that they had not thought of the solution, but that Wanderer had found it before them, in the course of only a handful of days the Golem had outdone their mentor, who was thousands of years old.

    The Spirit wasn''t just guilty, they were conflicted.

 Extra 9: The Blame

    Extra 9: The Blame

    As he found himself so often doing, Chray was sitting in the corner of the Gitririag office, waiting.

    Officially, no story had yet been released to the rest of the keepers, yet it was obvious by the way that every entering mercenary, no matter their place on the pecking order, was staring Chray down that the rumours had gotten around.

    Chray would have been concerned about them blowing things out of proportion, but considering the size of the incident that would be difficult for even the most excessive of their compatriots.

    A wanted criminal in a costume had foiled a rebel suppression attempt, outrun the second highest commander in the city, broke into Chray¡¯s home, then, with the help of an unknown monster, taken that same commander to within an inch of her life.

    It did not help at all that she was the sister of the most important man in the city and was likely to take command of the office once the current administrator retired.

    Now she would likely never walk again.

    Chray¡¯s headache pulsed with fervour, the whole situation feeling as though it existed just to cause the him pain.

    At least the other keepers were leaving him alone, if only because they were waiting until the administrator got to him first.

    ¡°Chray, he will see you now.¡± the receptionist announced, eliciting a round of snickers from the other mercenaries in the room.

    Pushing away his hesitation, Chray followed the receptionist¡¯s directions, finding himself out the front of a imposing set of rich wooden doors.

    The feel of the door told Chray all they needed to know about the man inside, imported wood inlaid with what he guessed to be gemstones, carved with scenes glorifying the many ¡°oppressions¡± of the Earliag, a direct challenge to those who resisted the status quo.

    He had heard rumours that the doorhandles were inlaid with star-silver, that they had been stolen three times and three people had been executed because of it, now that Chray had his hands on the cold metal and felt the familiar tingle on his fingers, he didn''t doubt the stories for a second.

    The blind man knocked and was invited in by a refined, even benevolent voice.

    Chray walked in and found a chair, activating his blessing to get a idea of what the man in front of him looked like.

    The administrator was a small man, yet what he lacked in height he made up for in presence, his very stature in his chair demanding a respect even Chray had a hard time denying.

    His body was a mix of lean muscle and tattoos contrasting his white skin, all running alongside veins of andromio shining even in the orange glow of Chray¡¯s blessing.

    With that amount of enhancement, Chray had no doubt that the man would take him down in seconds, despite his age.

    ¡°Chray, I have heard a lot about you, how are you?¡±, the administrator said, no hint of his rumoured cruelty present in his voice.

    ¡°Fine.¡± Chray replied, unwilling to waste time with pleasantries.

    ¡°A man of business, I see, then I won''t waste your time. I have called you here to address your recent failure regarding my prodigy.¡±

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    The mercenary stiffened a little and held back the urge to sigh, he knew exactly what was coming.

    ¡°You see, I have been training Clandrio to take my role since she was a little girl, and despite her temper, she took to her studies wonderfully, impressing me at every turn.¡± the manager began, getting out of his seat and walking over to a bookshelf on one side of the room.

    ¡°In all that time, she only dared to upset me once, do you know why that is?¡±

    Chray remained silent, disliking the direction of the conversation more with every word said.

    A sudden malice entered the administrator''s voice, replacing the kind charade, ¡°It is because I believe that discipline is the greatest teacher, and that every mistake must have consequences, otherwise no learning will be done.¡±

    ¡°My precious Clandrio will never leave her bed again, and so I consider the price for her mistake already paid, and yet you, who are equally to blame for twenty years of wasted teaching, sit here unpunished.¡±

    Very suddenly, Chray realised that the administrator had manoeuvred himself between him and the door without Chray realising, making escape all but impossible.

    The smaller man now seemed triple his size as he let out a grim laugh, ¡°And to think, I intended to retire in just a few weeks, now I will have to spend at least another five years to train someone even half competent to replace me.¡±

    It was at this time that the blind man remembered he had a voice, making to object to the claim before being harshly interrupted.

    ¡°Silence, I don''t care for your excuses, you will pay like anyone else, the blame for the escaped target and failed mission rests on your shoulders.¡±

    It was only now that Chray realised what this was all about.

    This whole meeting wasn''t about who deserved what, it was who was going to be the scapegoat for the whole incident.

    And that person was Chray.

    ¡°Now, doubtless you deserve death for what you have done, the empire knows I have killed for less, but despite your incompetence, your blessing is a very valuable asset and it would be a waste to destroy it with you.¡±

    ¡°And so, since I am a fair man, I am going to offer you a chance.¡±

    ¡°This disguised figure, this Golem, was your mark and so you are going to finish what you started and track them down, and if a single person sees you anywhere near civilisation before the fugitive¡¯s head is on my desk¡­¡±

    The administrator didn''t finish their sentence, he didn''t have to, Chray got the point loud and clear.

    The pressure the manager had been exerting died instantly as a gentle smile crossed his face, an image of companionship and kindness.

    ¡°It seems we understand each other, well then, I wont hold you up, we wouldn''t want you to stick around for too long.¡±

    With a final farewell, the administrator guided Chray out the door and left him sweating in the foyer.

    Chray prided himself on his ability to stay cool, it was one of the few advantages he had over his peers, yet despite his years of training the manager had gotten to him.

    He collected himself as best he could, making his way back out into the main room and ignoring the calls and jeers of his companions.

    In truth, he hardly even noticed them, his mind was far too focused on what he was going to do.

    Chray didn''t have a choice, he had to follow the administrators orders and get out of the city as quickly as possible, both because of the older man¡¯s threat and because Chray knew that by the time the sun rose once again, he would be the poster boy for the Keeper''s biggest failure for ten years.

    He stepped out into the hot daylight, instantly surrounded by people on all sides still lingering from the festival, day and night meant little to the city dwellers, in both cases the world was lit and outside thoroughly inaccessible.

    Following a route long memorised, he began to weave through the streets and back alleys of the citadel, heightened senses more than adequate to make up for a measly lack of sight.

    The true question on Chray¡¯s mind was not about whether he should leave, but where.

    Should he follow the Golem underground, hope to catch a dying trail in an endless ruin and hope they did not go somewhere he could not follow, or should he head out into the desert and hope the Golem pops up somewhere nearby.

    Or he could just run from the situation entirely, the Keepers would likely stop looking if he went to a different country.

    Chray let out a grim laugh in his head, he had made a oath on Orsha, that simply wasn''t a option.

    ¡°To the ruins it is then.¡± he decided.

    As the mercenary opened the door to his small home and the mess that awaited him, he let out a long sigh.

    At least the broken window could wait till he got back.

 Spa and Apologies

    Spa and Apologies

    Wanderer didn''t know what to do.

    Their Spirit had always been resolute, if a bit panicky, in their moral fibre, yet despite how long they had lived, even they could get disappointed.

    The Vessel knew, of course, that their guide was not infallible and that they weren''t all that different from the humans around them or even Wanderer themself.

    But despite all they had seen, it surprised them that an emotion such as disappointment was capable of arising in their companion.

    Quite unused to calming their Spirit from anything but a panic, the Golem sent messages of assurance and understanding, even if they did not truly understand.

    But it was useless, this was a mark against the Spirit¡¯s honour, against the intelligence and wisdom they had built for thousands of years, no mere placation could fix it.

    They insisted that Wanderer let it be, that they would deal with it themself, and with little other options Wanderer followed their orders.

    With a final flex of their will, they straightened their magic channels as best they could and moulded the last of their flesh, having to settle for a slight reduction in the power of their limbs in order to prevent their channels from breaking.

    When they exited their focus, Emio was waiting for them, eager to head inside the steam and give the tumblers a piece of their mind.

    A little to their own surprise, Wanderer found themself eager to enter the steam as well, wishing to see if their revelation of intimidation would let them go through without being attacked.

    Together, the trio walked back to the billowing doorway, on high alert for any approaching lizards.

    Wanderer was scarcely two steps in when they nearly trod on a tumbler, who was eyeing the Golem with malice.

    A series of yelps echoed from every direction, the apparently every monster in the room on high alert.

    Unwilling to waste any time, the Vessel rose themself on the tips of their hooves and spread their arms out wide, Emio following along behind with a few poised tendrils for good measure.

    Another round of yelps ran through the room as the tumbler in front of Wanderer took a step back.

    The Golem puffed themself even higher and stuck their clay chest out as Emio followed suit, even Spirit seemed to bolster themself a little, for what good it would do.

    For all the damage the lizards were capable of, they were equally as cowardly, as at that final show of false bravado the tumblers seemed to have forgotten how close they had brought Wanderer to defeat and sprinted off into the deep corners of the room, as evidenced by their retreating yelps and vocalisations.

    A wave of relief spread through Wanderer, though they didn''t dare relax their posture as a result.

    Now that the immediate threat was gone, the uncomfortable heat of the room turned sauna once again made itself apparent.

    As with before, the heat was not enough to have any true effect on the Vessel, yet it was enough that they still wished to search for respite.

    The glow of the active lava to their left repulsed them, as they could feel its radiant heat from their position by the doorway, as such, Wanderer decided to go to their right and try to find the pool of water they had seen earlier, in hope that its depths would cool them down.

    After making sure that Emio would follow and follow close, the party pondered their way into the fog, eventually making their way to the place where Wanderer had first encountered a tumbler.

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    The Golem¡¯s Spirit was on high alert, having not lived down their previous failure and not all too eager to be caught off guard once again.

    The Vessel themself, however, was rather relaxed about the whole situation, they were confident that their intimidation had worked and possessed no real grudge against the tumblers, they only attacked out of self defence after all.

    Perhaps it would be reasonable, even wise to possess a greater disdain for the living boulders, yet this was hardly the first near death experience Wanderer had faced and out of all of the enemies they had encountered, the tumblers were probably the most agreeable.

    The Vessel did wish that they would stop having to be in so many near death scenarios, they were getting better at bouncing back from them but they certainly were not pleasant.

    And even Wanderer knew there was only so many times you could cheat death.

    Moving on, Wanderer found the pool of water once again, noticing now that it seemed to have been born from a large circular indent built into the structure of the ruin.

    The Golem dipped the edge of one of their hooves into the water, finding it hot but not unpleasant.

    Once Wanderer confirmed the water''s safety, Emio lept in with a splash, quickly swimming out of the Vessel¡¯s limited viewing range.

    Worried that the verdestry would get lost and separated from the group, the Golem and their Spirit followed suit moments after, wading into the shallow water after the little monster.

    The hand carved basin didn''t go very deep, seemingly never having been intended to be filled, it was, however, large, apparently taking up a great fraction of the fog covered room.

    Its construction was rough and natural, made of the same stone as the ground, in all likelihood it was the groundwork for a greater feature which had been hastily abandoned.

    As they followed Emio¡¯s trail in the unintentional pond, Wanderer was led to the centre point of the construction, an odd carving, half submerged in water and being eaten away by moss that the verdestry was using as a lounging station.

    The floor around it was developed in the red stone that Wanderer had come to associate with the properly constructed areas of the basement, curved tiles making a small ring that likely would have covered the whole basin when finished.

    On a wooden pedestal rested a large wooden ball, with intricate yet seemingly pointless carvings of squiggly shapes and vast flat areas that reminded Wanderer a bit of a map.

    That was a silly thought, what map was round?

    Nonetheless, if there were greater secrets to the object they had been thoroughly destroyed.

    Like a living carpet, greenish brown moss covered the orb and obscured nearly all of its details.

    Where the moss wasn''t, the high humidity and temperatures had worn away at the bare wooden structure, causing it to rot and balloon in a ugly way.

    Wanderer stood and observed the object for a moment before calling Emio from their perch, they wanted to continue on so that they could be well and truly out of the way of any pursuers.

    The Vessel couldn''t see any true way in which their pursuers could catch them now, humans were not as resilient in high temperatures as they were.

    Wanderer was cautiously optimistic that they were safe now that they had passed into the steam.

    Nonetheless, staying within the very first room seemed unwise, so they instead decided to continue a little deeper into the complex and try and find a way back to the surface.

    They hoped such a way existed.

    Reunited with their friend, the Golem moved forward into the fog once again, finding a set of stairs that led out of the basin which was apparently its intended entrance.

    The stairs led to a half constructed path which split off into three separate corridors, each one as obscured as the next.

    Perhaps, if the steam had not been present, it would be an easy decision, but as it was, each corridor was nearly entirely equal.

    Before Wanderer could even begin to work out the right answer, their Spirit lept into action with ferocity, eager to prove themself after their previous mistake.

    Three images flashed through the Vessel''s mind in rapid succession, the signature garble of information that comprised their Spirit¡¯s unique vision.

    Yet Wanderer already had difficulty parsing any information from the odd perspective when only a single image was shown, let alone three overlapping.

    A jolt of pain flashed through the Golem¡¯s mind at the information overload, painful to the point that even Wanderers curiosity couldn''t reconcile seeing it any longer.

    Yet it didn''t stop coming, their Spirit kept sending information at different angles, eager to mend their mistake by being as helpful as possible.

    Wanderer knew that their Spirit was only trying to be useful, and for that reason they tried to contain an outburst and instead ask their Spirit gently to stop.

    The Golem¡¯s admonishment was light, but their guide reacted as if they had been assaulted, immediately rescinding their visions and providing a wave of apologies.

    The Vessel accepted these with grace, yet determined that this hypersensitivity, this need to prove themself, had to stop.

    ¡°We need to talk¡±

 Discussion and Pathways

    Discussion and Pathways

    The Spirit stopped instantly, an odd mix of nervousness, defensiveness and guilt flowing through their bond to the Golem.

    ¡°I understand your wish to repay me for your mistake, but you don''t need to.¡± Wanderer began, hoping to stop this idea before it grew out of hand.

    Yet their Spirit disagreed, it was their job to guide Wanderer and they failed when the solution was blatantly obvious, they had to make it up to them somehow.

    ¡°But it is not necessary, I forgive you.¡±

    This only seemed to amplify the guide¡¯s compulsion, as they seemed to be under the impression that Wanderer was only forgiving them because of their naivety and ignorance.

    The Vessel could see now that this was no longer a point of logic, the Spirit had set a point in their mind and would justify it by any means necessary.

    It was an odd thing to see, their Spirit became so illogical over something so minor, sure they had panicked a few times here and there but that was all quite reasonable, this was just stubbornness.

    Now that Wanderer thought about it, why was their Spirit so logical, shouldn''t a Spirit of exploration focus less upon advice and guidance, and more upon seeing the world.

    At the Vessel¡¯s thought, their Spirit froze up, Wanderer apparently having stumbled upon a sore spot they were unaware of.

    The Golem thought back to when they had first exited the cave, how their Spirit had been pushing to see it all, how they danced at the light of the sun and in the shade of the trees.

    Yet when Wanderer had insisted upon their first assertion, their first no, all that had changed, the Spirit still celebrated and explored, but as time went on they became more and more cautious and Wanderer became the driver of that exploration more and more.

    It almost seemed like they had stopped enjoying exploration, something Wanderer wasn''t sure a Spirit could do.

    With every realisation the Vessel made, the Spirit sank deeper and deeper into despair, the Golem¡¯s musings apparently digging up something the Guide had been trying to ignore.

    Before Wanderer could get to ask, their Spirit replied to the unspoken question in an outburst, screaming that their duty was to protect Wanderer at all costs, that they would never get a chance like this again.

    The Golem was taken aback, what chance had their Spirit been given and why didn''t Wanderer know about it.

    Soon, the dreadful truth was revealed.

    The purpose of a Golem was to house a Spirit, to give them a way to experience the physical world, it was for this reason that Golem¡¯s were created.

    But there were far less Golems than there were Spirits, and so the ability to inhabit one of the Vessels was limited, only given to the most powerful of Spirits, Spirits of things like Anger or Revenge.

    By luck, Wanderer¡¯s Spirit had been around when their parent had called to the Spirit realm, and had been ready when the Spirits which had held a monopoly for so long rejected the deformed Vessel.

    This opportunity was something the guide couldn''t afford to lose, they snapped up the chance, eager to explore a new world while not quite realising the danger of the world they intended to enter.

    With every day that passed, with every fight and attack Wanderer faced, the Spirit grew more and more attached to Wanderer and more and more scared that they would lose the chance they had gotten.

    What choice did they have but to be overly cautious, afraid of what lay around every corner, when every corner revealed some new enemy intent on destroying the Golem¡¯s life, and by extension, the Spirit¡¯s adventure.

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    A long moment of silence purveyed through the link, as Wanderer absorbed what they had been told.

    They hadn''t even realised the extent of the problem, how much secret distress their Spirit had been in.

    How many secrets had been held back.

    They made to comfort their life long friend, when another realisation overtook them, one far darker than a mere reassurance.

    ¡°You said that Golems were created to house Spirits¡± Wanderer said, more to themself than to their Spirit.

    Because the implications of that statement had just struck them, they had been created, not to live and explore but to house a Spirit, they had been created as a tool.

    Their guide was using them as a way to explore the world.

    The crisis hit them like a knife to the soul, as more and more implications were unravelled.

    Their Spirit called out to them, insisting that they were taking it all the wrong way, but the spiral of truths had started and there was nothing that the traitor could do.

    ¡°Why do I find such joy in exploration?¡± they questioned.

    It was something so fundamental to their being that they had never thought to question it, yet now that they did, the answer was so obvious.

    They were created to serve the whims of their Spirit, they wished to adventure and so that same desire was impregnated into the Vessel¡¯s very soul.

    How do you escape something which is an integral part of your being, how do you escape your own soul?

    But that wasn''t the guide''s only betrayal, they had revealed that they knew of Wanderer¡¯s parent, that they had seen them in the final moments before their death and they had never told Wanderer.

    How could they ever trust the Spirit again, when they had withheld something so important to them.

    Again their Spirit pierced through the cloud of anger with apologies and regrets, yet they all felt hollow in light of the recent revelation.

    ¡°ENOUGH!¡± Wanderer screamed at the place next to their soul, such force accompanying the declaration that they felt their magic speed up within their veins.

    The Spirit fell quiet.

    The Vessel sprinted down one of the corridors at random, trying to run away from the whole situation.

    But they couldn''t, the Spirit was a part of them, followed wherever they went, always had free access to their thoughts and soul.

    They sprinted faster, hoping to outpace something that could never leave them.

    What chance was there, anyway, their Spirit provided them with magic, with life, if they disappeared for even a moment they would die.

    They ran anyway, not even looking back to see if Emio was following.

    The hallway they had decided upon, the one to the left, was in an even lesser state of completion than the rest of the building, closer to a natural cave than anything else, hardly wide enough for Wanderer¡¯s body in some places and short enough that they had to duck in others.

    That didn''t stop the Golem though, they charged through with deft ease that they couldn''t have dreamt of when they had first left the cave.

    As they went, the tunnel slanted deeper and in the process left the steam behind, although it did little to help Wanderer¡¯s vision as the darkness was vast.

    They were forced to slow down, their panic diminishing with their speed as the glowing light of Emio¡¯s eye caught up with them and revealed the way.

    With the manic of their hurt forced away, they were instead left to stew in their anger, trudging down the hallway while ignoring the inquiries of the verdestry next to them.

    ¡°How could they do this?¡± the Vessel agonised.

    Never in their life had they truly doubted the loyalty of their Spirit and they had always done their best to be a good friend.

    As it turned out, the Spirit wasn''t quite as loyal.

    They tried to force the subject out of their mind, yet in a way quite unlike their previous traumas, it was persistent.

    ¡°Was it my fault, was I too unkind?¡± they soon found themself wondering, afterall, they had not always been perfect despite what their righteous anger insisted.

    They had argued with the Spirit before, becoming angry over something that seemed almost pitiful.

    They had gone against their direct wishes, pushed into dangerous territory that threatened both Spirit and Golem and put them in view of a god.

    Wanderer knew that blaming themself was unreasonable, that the act had been committed long before they had any chance to clash with their guide, but a part of them insisted they were at fault.

    An even smaller part insisted that this was all a misunderstanding, but they weren''t ready to listen to that yet.

    Irritated and stewing on emotions still raw, they trudged on through the tunnel, deeper and deeper into the earth.

 Extra 10: The Start

    Extra 9: The Start

    Chray didn''t bother locking the door to the hovel he called a home, with the window broken it wouldn''t take much to get in anyway and he didn''t have time to fix it.

    Not that there was much to steal anyhow, his meagre belongings fit quite nicely in his backpack.

    The keeper¡¯s mood had been lifted ever so slightly by the fact that when they entered their home, they found a scattering of money all over the floor, more than enough to pay for any damages.

    They had nearly forgotten that their target had thrown money at them in apology, in the moment they had seen it as an attack instead of the reparations it was likely meant to be.

    That only added to the most burning question on Chray¡¯s mind.

    ¡°Who on Orsha is this guy!¡± he exclaimed to the empty room, with the exasperation of a man that had been holding back his thoughts for far too long.

    Even before the incident the fugitive was a mystery, they popped out of nowhere and attacked random citizens with seemingly no reason as well as carrying around had a mysterious pet which was strong enough to defeat one of the most powerful people in the city with a single hit.

    They made brilliant time travelling the land, such that Chray suspected that they never slept and appeared to have no particular goal or location they were going to.

    Perhaps oddest of all, everywhere they went they wore a costume and never once were they seen with it taken off.

    They could be convinced it was some kind of disguise that they took on and off whenever they planned an attack, except none of their sightings seemed planned.

    The Golem had a habit of popping out of nowhere in the most random of places, attacking a random person, then running off.

    It was for this reason that Chray needed to get back to the trail fast, if he lost his target there was a good chance he would never catch up to them again.

    Chray shook his head, resigning to believe that some people were just crazy.

    Crazy or not, they would have to die, Chray¡¯s own life depended upon it.

    He slung his belongings over his shoulder and began finding his way through the streets, making his way toward the revealed rebel hideout.

    In truth, the Gitrirag wasn''t too worried about the Golem themself, they seemed somewhat reluctant to fight and should make an easy target, even if they did have abnormally high stamina.

    The issue was their pet.

    Chray didn''t even know what to call it, it looked like a cross between a living bush and one of those octopus creatures he had heard of that lived in the sea, if a octopus was also stronger than a Herkarash.

    It had taken down the commander in a single hit, a single hit that didn''t even seem to be the maximum extent of its strength.

    Chray was weaker than the commander by a considerable margin, a hit like that would have guaranteed death no matter what they did to prepare.

    There were too many unknowns, how fast was it, what was its range, could it even be killed.

    What was it?

    Whatever the case, Chray couldn''t afford to risk taking it head on, he would have to separate the two.

    He shook his head, there was no point theorising about that now, he would travel that road when he got to it.

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    Eventually, the Keeper weaved his way into the outskirts, enjoying the relative quiet that the poorest part of the city brang.

    If he listened hard, his enhanced ears could pick up on the snoring of people young and old crammed into the houses around him, exhausted by a long night of partying in the Kershakreheh.

    Even after the festival, the inner rings were still lively, the shops and glamour attracting too many people for it to ever die down.

    When Chray got to the front door of the abandoned building the Golem had escaped through, he activated his blessing, a path opening up in glowing orange.

    The trail was blurry, as was expected for one that was a few hours old, but Chray had followed far staler before.

    He opened the door and came face to face with two guards, no doubt freshly brought over from the simple-land.

    One of them shot up and brandished their spear, seemingly unexpecting of visitors, but was quickly pacified by their companion.

    It seems the administrator had had the kindness to warn them about him, Chray doubted he would get any other kindnesses from the man.

    The keeper grumbled a word of greeting then made their way to the hidden entry, which was left open since their last incursion.

    It took them a few minutes to make their way down the long ladder, the air growing stale around them.

    ¡°How do they get air circulation down here?¡± He pondered, he was no expert on caves and tunnels but he was pretty sure fresh air was hard to come by.

    Chray shook his head and rid himself of the unnecessary thought, thinking that was a waste of time.

    He needed to stay on task.

    His boots touched down on the hard rock floor, sending out an echo in the silent ruin.

    Chray stomped their right foot on the floor again, eliciting another echo, letting out a satisfied hum as he did.

    Sometimes, if the conditions were right, Chray could work out the positions of walls and objects just by the sound of their echo and down here the echo was perfect.

    He opened the door and continued to the split where the target had run away the first time, when they had tried to hide in the dark complex and its infinite halls.

    Chray¡¯s blessing led them to the left, enticing him to follow in the Golem''s footprints, but if he did so he could spend hours wandering around in the dark, following the exact trail that was made entirely to distract him.

    Instead, he deactivated his blessing, spent a moment basking in the reduced mental pressure, then reactivated it, with intent to find the second trail the Golem had made when they looped back on themself.

    After a moment of mental arguing, the ability followed his demands and lit up a much fresher trail going to the left right in front of him.

    The keeper followed it for all of about twenty steps when it sharply turned to the right, down a long corridor deep into the earth.

    As Chray approached, he found that a barrier and what he assumed to be signs had been arrayed in front of the tunnel, all of which had been thrown aside.

    It seems that the blessing was perhaps a little overkill for this tracking job.

    Wishing to preserve some hope of banishing his ever present headache, he dissolved the orange glow that appeared in the eternal nothing of his blindness and instead relied on his other senses to make his way down into the deep, ignoring the sinking feeling the passage gave him and the dreadful knowledge that those signs he couldn''t read were likely warnings.

    With one hand on the wall and both ears listening for the slightest sign of life, Chray began to descend down the depths.

    By the feel of it, the walls were covered in some variety of carving and while the keeper certainly could have stopped to work out what exactly was going on, he had already spent too much time in the city for his liking and was well aware that every second he delayed his target was getting away.

    Besides, ancient carvings were for the educated to obsess over, the him he would have once been, not the hired muscle he was now.

    He shoved those memories aside and carried on.

    Chray didn''t have to think about the carvings for too much longer, as soon enough they gave out to rough hewn stone and unfinished construction.

    It occurred to the keeper that in all likelihood there was little to no light right now, as far down as they were, yet such things had stopped worrying Chray long ago.

    Just another thing that made him good for the job.

    As he worked his way down, the heat in the air got more and more intense, reaching almost the verge of Chray¡¯s tolerance when the infinite staircase finally evened out.

    A large room opened up in front of him, sprawling to the left and right.

    It seemed that the Golem had gone left according to his blessing, and as such, he followed, disliking the still increasing heat and the new wave of humidity.

    It was only when he got within thirty steps of the doorway the target had escaped through did the Gitiriag truly recognise the problem.

    Somehow, someway, the Golem had escaped into a vent of superheated steam, far hotter than anything even an enhanced human could hope to withstand.

    ¡°Who the rashka is this guy?¡± Chray lamented.

 Bitterness and Library

    Bitterness and Library

    As Wanderer travelled deeper and deeper, the steam and heat began to fade, the Golem having passed the exposed lava veins that kept the ruin in its superheated state.

    Despite this, the constant rain caused by the condensation of the steam did not fade, instead following the Vessel downwards as the raindrops trailed along the roof.

    Under Wanderer¡¯s hooves, a small river was flowing down the tunnel, no doubt going to pool at the lowest point in the ruin.

    To the Vessel¡¯s uncertainty their Spirit had gone silent, apparently realising their reassurances futile.

    The Golem was somewhat relieved that their Spirit had left, no longer able to betray them any further, but despite their broader feelings they couldn''t truly feel happy about it.

    For the first time in their life, they felt lonely, lacking their constant companion to talk to them and guide them.

    It was such an unfamiliar feeling that, with all the other emotions following through their soul, the Vessel had trouble recognising it for what it was.

    Instead of trying to contact the Spirit, however, Wanderer rebounded and instead focused their attention on Emio.

    Tentatively, as if the verdestry was likely to backstab them as well, they reached out and took Emio in their arms, finding them eager to reciprocate.

    As they often did, the little monster had realised Wanderer¡¯s troubles and even if they didn''t know the cause they were eager to comfort.

    ¡°What a wonderful friend they are¡± the Vessel realised.

    The Golem spent a little while standing in the dripping rain, hugging Emio tight, before they pulled themself together, finding the hurt and raw emotion caused by the confession a little more manageable than before.

    It wasn''t much further walking in the dark before they reached the end of the long shaft, coming out to a massive room filled to waist height with water.

    To the Golem¡¯s surprise the room wasn''t pitch black like they had expected, instead, soft lines of golden light appeared to grow from the ceiling, appearing like veins, if those veins were perfect and artificial.

    The light was welcome yet lacking and Wanderer found themself still unable to truly make out what exactly the purpose of the room was, or why it needed to be so far underground.

    The streams of light all extended from a single point to the Golem¡¯s right, past many evenly spaced walls that, at least to Wanderer¡¯s knowledge, were completely unnecessary.

    Hoping that there was some way to increase the light at its source, the Vessel waded through the water without even bothering to inspect the surroundings, Emio¡¯s light alone was inadequate to get anything more than basic bearings.

    Wanderer passed by the strange walls until they were face to face with the source of the light, only fifty or so steps away.

    The light faded as it got closer to the source and so they couldn''t entirely tell what exactly was at the end of the room.

    Despite this, an odd sense of familiarity was pitting in their soul as more and more of the Golem''s mind insisted that the thing before them was something they had seen before and knew intimately.

    Closer and closer they waded to the source until, in a flash of recognition, they realised that the thing in front of them was not a thing, but a person.

    Scarcely a moment after, two massive hands began to move, driving a clump of dread to form in Wanderer¡¯s soul.

    Emio instantly moved to attack while the Vessel moved to get away, their Spirit unreactive of the situation the whole while.

    With a sound like the crack of lightning, two hands crashed together in the dark sending out one massive clap.

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    Without delay, the lights flared and revealed the room in perfect brightness.

    The new light revealed that the room they were in was finished and paved, similar to the beginning of the tunnel, with intricately carved walls and beautiful orange stone.

    To the front of the room was a massive archway which the lights weaved around, yet it was untunneled, leading to little more than a blank wall of stone.

    To the left and right were other, smaller doorways which opened up to seemingly identical rooms with a slight curve between each one, such that, if the rest of the ruin''s architecture followed the same pattern, it likely formed a massive circle.

    The most wondrous element of the room, however, was the strange parallel walls which Wanderer could not, at first, interpret the purpose of.

    Under the newfound light, it was revealed that the strange walls were not truly walls, but shelves.

    The shelves possessed hundreds of books and scrolls in orderly lines, filling each row to the brim with incomprehensible amounts of knowledge.

    Instinctively, Wanderer¡¯s soul lept in their chest at the sight of such vast amounts of information, such potential for discovery.

    But the implications of such a breakthrough were flushed away by the sheer presence of the person at the end of the room.

    Three golden eyes rested upon a featureless face, shaded from a long forgotten sun by a long brimmed sedge hat.

    The distinctive features of a Golem.

    Yet they were unlike any other Golem the Vessel had seen, themself included.

    While they shared the same clay flesh and golden-bronze highlights, instead of four legs or even two, the Golem had none at all, fused with the wall such that their upper body extended at a 45 degree angle.

    From their back extended the glowing tendrils which served to light the place, power flowing out of their soul and into the room.

    Their face was expressionless, as all Golem¡¯s were, yet Wanderer knew deep down that the creature was examining them.

    For a long, awkward moment, they both stood and stared at each other, the librarian quiet and contemplative, Wanderer nervous and confused.

    Out of nowhere, they heard a voice which resonated with their very soul, indeed its origin seemed to rest inside of it, yet there was no doubt that it was not Wanderer¡¯s own.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± was the message, conveyed in a tone not deep or high, fast or slow but impossibly unique beyond the point of any explanation.

    The Golem found themself unable to respond, not because of hesitation or want, but because, quite simply, they didn''t know how to.

    They had no mouth like a human and there was no connection between them and their comrade, how then were they supposed to speak with them.

    ¡°Who are you.¡± the voice called again, this time with a touch of impatience.

    Hurriedly, the Vessel spoke in the only way they knew how, by signing with broad gestures as best they could.

    ¡°Is this a joke, I have no care for such nonsense, speak to me.¡±

    A feeling like panic rose within them, Wanderer suddenly insecure about their own inability, a feeling they were unable to shake.

    Again they signed their inability, a hundred apologies following shortly.

    The other Golem stayed silent for a long time, the lack of response causing Wanderer¡¯s nervousness to grow with every passing moment.

    ¡°Look inside yourself.¡± the Vessel¡¯s elder commanded, causing Wanderer to follow with eager abandon.

    ¡°Now, inside you are channels which ferry your magic, focus upon them.¡±

    ¡°You can see that they are filled with magic, yet this magic is trying to escape from you at all times, trying to return to the place it feels most comfortable.¡±

    ¡°Eventually it will escape, nothing can retain magic forever for it is inherently against the power of entropy.¡±

    ¡°But to communicate to me, you must let a small amount of magic leak from your soul, imbued with your thoughts, my own absorption will take in this magic and relay it to my soul, as I am doing to you now.¡±

    It was a bit much to take in, but nonetheless Wanderer tried their hardest, focusing with their minds eye on the locus that was their soul, and trying their hardest to ignore the Spirit that rested beside it.

    For a decent while they struggled with letting even the smallest amount of magic through without fully breaking the walls of their soul, all their life they had been trying to keep the power in and only recently had they learned that they had any impact over their magic at all.

    Finally, after working at carving a fine line in their soul for almost half an hour while the other Golem watched in silence, Wanderer perforated the wall of their soul with the smallest incision they could make, formed by wearing away at a tiny, singular section.

    Like a flood, magic spilled out causing the Vessel to close the breach as quickly as they could, redirecting power away from it and letting their soul heal itself.

    ¡°Now add a message.¡±, the librarian said, scaring Wanderer who had nearly forgotten about them.

    They complied, focusing on one of their thoughts and the place it needed to be, hoping that it was enough.

    It was.

    And so the Golem said their first words in their native language, crude and unrefined as they were.

    ¡°I am Wanderer!¡±

 Chat and History

    Chat and History

    A great sense of accomplishment overcame the Vessel after they said their first few words, rather proud that they had picked up the skill so easily.

    ¡°Wanderer, that is a unique name, what manner of Spirit do you harbour, who is your maker.¡±

    The Golem hesitated a little at the mention of two sore points in a single sentence, none the less they were unwilling to hide anything and jeopardise the first interaction they had ever had with another of their kind.

    They didn''t know when they would get this chance again.

    After a moment of fiddling with their magic, they answered as best as they could.

    ¡°Spirit is exploration, I have no parent.¡±

    Their answer was crude, polluted by other thoughts and incomplete intentions, none the less it got the message across.

    ¡°You are truly unique, in all memories there is no mention of a Golem being possessed by a Spirit as weak as one of exploration. And how is it you claim that you have no creator, and yet you stand here before me, your form similarly unlike that of any other.¡±

    ¡°I don''t know, woke in a cave far from here, alone.¡± Wanderer replied.

    Before the librarian could ask another question, the Vessel cut in and asked one of their own.

    ¡°Who are you, what is this place.¡±

    The immobile Golem shifted backwards slightly, apparently a little taken back by the question, though for what reason the Vessel could not work out.

    ¡°You must forgive me, it has been a long time since I have met another person, and in my excitement I have forgotten to introduce myself.¡±

    ¡°I was named Ka-cketika, but doubtless that language is unfamiliar to you now, it has been a long, long time since it was spoken.¡±

    ¡°This place is Tesh-kartik-la, it was planned to be the largest repository of information and knowledge anywhere in the world, built under its greatest city but it was never finished.¡±

    Curiosity overtook Wanderer in an instant, and their mind leapt to a thousand questions that they could ask, troubles far away in the face of discovery.

    Yet, their Spirit, who had been in a dormant state since the argument, sensed that something was happening, making their presence known once again.

    In that moment, their Spirit embodied all that Wanderer didn''t want to see or think about, they wanted to ignore the tensions between them and focus on the present, forget the betrayal and move past as they always did.

    Yet their mind simply couldn''t let the issue with someone so important to them go, no matter how hard they tried, even in the face of discovery as great as that provided by Ka-cketika.

    It irritated them to the very core, like a wound to their very soul they could not mend over.

    In that moment, just as they opened their soul to ask a question to the librarian once again, Wanderer snapped with a burning rage only one as confused as they could produce, and screamed into the space next to their soul, just as the Spirit began to speak some fake apology.

    ¡°I don''t want to listen to you, I don''t want to see you, all you have ever wanted was to use me for your own power! Get out!¡±

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    The Vessel physically felt the speed at which their Spirit snapped back their message, in shock from the unexpected aggression.

    A stab of guilt flowed through Wanderer and threatened to break through their anger and force them to apologise, but rage was a powerful emotion, and the counter-effort failed.

    It took them a little while to calm down and get a hold on their emotions, trying their best to take their mind away from the issue.

    Quite unexpectedly however, they were forced to confront it once again, as the librarian addressed them.

    ¡°It is not healthy for a Golem to harbour anger for their Spirit, they are as much a part of you as you are yourself.¡± they stated.

    Wanderer grew angry once again, what right had this person, who they had known for only a tiny fraction of their life, to intervene in their relationship with their longest friend.

    They did not speak, instead opting to remain silent and stew on their emotions.

    Another silent moment passed before Ka-cketika rose their ethereal voice again, as steady as it always was, reaching out with an offering.

    ¡°Would you like to hear the story of how the first Golem was created?¡± They asked.

    Wanderer, in truth, didn''t want to stay around any longer, but try as they might they could not convince themselves to leave such a great opportunity behind.

    The Vessel sent a simple word of affirmation, and the librarian began their story.

    ¡°Long ago, before I was created, the desert above us was a place of life and flora. everywhere you looked grass and cacti grew out of fertile sand, fed by the nutrients of a long dormant volcano.¡±

    ¡°The centre of all life in this place was an oasis so massive it would take a day to travel across, filled with water that was always cool, even in the desert sun.¡±

    ¡°From this pool, all manner of life sprung, from tiny lizards that numbered in the hundreds of thousands, to massive crab-like creatures that would pluck palm trees from the earth and eat them whole.¡±

    ¡°Living beings of all shapes and sizes, from the skies above to caves below, were so common and strong in their life that a God came to the desert, a God of life, Rarkeh-shh.¡±

    A little bolt of trepidation ran through Wanderer at the name of the God, to think that once there was another being of equal power to Orsha that inhabited the same world, let alone the same desert, was unimaginable.

    ¡°Under the domain of Rarkeh-shh, life flourished and abounded even more, such that you could not look within a single direction without seeing at least ten things that lived and breathed.¡±

    ¡°But most of all, more than any other creature, humans grew in number and carved out cities under the sand, creating a great empire to which no other nation could match, with an army more trained and numerous than any other place in the world.¡±

    ¡°But Rarkeh-shh was not content with the power they had been gained, for they had no loyal servants of their own, humans far too fickle and short lived to ever serve them.¡±

    ¡°And so, they gathered all the greatest magicians and craftsmen, and all the wisest and most loyal spirits, and together they formed a new being, the very first Golem.¡±

    ¡°The Golem was intended to be nothing more than a vessel for a Spirit, a way for them to interact with the physical world. Yet it was quickly found that Spirits were incapable of piloting them, completely unused to moving in a world of strict rules and weak ideas, and so a simple mind was imputed into the shell of a Golem, a soul, with the intention that it would be able to think just enough to follow the will of a Spirit and nothing more.¡±

    At the confirmation of Wanderer¡¯s suspicions, a final lump of acceptance settled in their soul, their Spirit had always intended to use them, it was the very purpose of a Golem, after all.

    ¡°At first, everything seemed to be working perfectly, the Vessels were controllable by a single Spirit, and Rarkeh-shh had accomplished what they had wanted, an easy way for the Spirits loyal to them to reach into the physical world and serve their master¡¯s domain.¡±

    ¡°Yet one by one, reports of unusual happenings appeared, seeming malfunctions in the Golems produced, that only became more and more common as the truth revealed itself.¡±

    ¡°The simple mind placed within a Golem did not stay unintelligent and static as it was intended to do, instead, as it grew fat upon the magic it absorbed from its Spirit and the world around it, and as it gained experience in the ways of the physical realm, they became intelligent, full minds capable of deciding their own bidding.¡±

    ¡°At first, the Spirits tried to oppress their Golems, force their rebellion down and make them do their master¡¯s bidding. But it would not work, the mind of a Golem was magical and untiring, and the Spirits they housed had no true control over them, any attempt at coercion was met with relentless resistance, and ultimately failure.¡±

    ¡°Enraged with the failure of their creations, Rarkeh-shh insisted that all Golems were to be abandoned and left to fade to dust, erasing all evidence of the gods mistake.¡±

    ¡°But despite the direct orders of their master, not every Spirit obeyed.¡±

 Heritage and Realisation

    Heritage and Realisation

    Gradually, as Ka-cketika continued their story, Wanderer found themself more and more enraptured, the history of their people managing to draw them in even with the erratic emotions they had just experienced.

    Now that they thought about it, that was likely always the intention.

    ¡°There were some Spirits apart from the many who opted for violence and repression, who decided that instead of trying to force their Vessels they would instead show kindness and teach them, accomplishing their goals through the bonds of friendship rather than force.¡±

    ¡°At the God¡¯s decree, those who had grown close with their Golems cried in outrage, some caved, some ran away, many protested and were destroyed by force.¡±

    ¡°But there was one, a Spirit who had been one of the core creators of the Golems, that above all else didn''t want to see their creations fade away, nor the beauty of the life they had created be snuffed out.¡±

    ¡°In secret, with the help of many others who rebelled against the word of their God, the Spirit formed one final Golem, identical to all the others but for one key detail.¡±

    ¡°Inside the soul of this Golem was placed vital information, the method for which, with the proper ingredients, another Golem could be created.¡±

    ¡°In less than 20 years, the race of Golems went from a dying experiment to a nomadic nation. With their strength and supernatural intelligence, Rarkeh-shh became worried, scared that they would grow vengeful at their extermination and bring death to their realm of life.¡±

    ¡°For this reason, the God secretly contacted the Earliag, a neighbouring empire of mountains and valleys, and through negotiation and bribery, convinced them to wage war on the Golems.¡±

    ¡°What started as a side job for mercenaries quickly grew roots of bitterness as the death toll grew higher and higher, developing into a war which has lived longer than the God that started it.¡±

    A long moment of silence broke out once Ka-cketika finished their story, Wanderer processing all they had heard, the origins of their people.

    Eventually, they managed to come up with a question for the librarian, based upon what little they knew of their people and their traditions from Spirit.

    ¡°Spirit said most Golem possessed by Spirits of revenge and anger, why?

    Ka-cketika shifted a little bit as they prepared their answer, their body language displaying nothing but the wish to share their vast knowledge.

    ¡°When Rarkeh-shh created the race of Golems, it became a fight between every Spirit to claim the far smaller number of Vessels.¡±

    ¡°Naturally, the most powerful Spirits claimed the most Golems, Spirits of Love, Life and Knowledge. But when Rarkeh-shh rejected their creation and banned their use, these Spirits who were loyal to them were forced to reject the Golems, a doctrine which has stuck around even past the God¡¯s destruction.¡±

    ¡°Without the top contenders, other Spirits claimed the Vessels, powerful Spirits which were opposed to the domain of Rarkeh-Shh, Spirits of Anger, Revenge and Power.¡±

    ¡°Now, almost every Golem is possessed by one of those three or those that are similarly violent, Golems like us who take the weaker, more uncommon Spirits are a true rarity even when the population of the Golems was vast.¡±

    Another question arrived at the door of Wanderer¡¯s mind and they saw little reason to not let it be answered, voicing it in their crude fashion as best they could.

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    ¡°What is your Spirit?¡±

    Unexpectedly, as soon as Wanderer voiced the question Ka-cketika broke out laughing, a broad, rich laugh that reverberated directly in the smaller Golem¡¯s soul.

    It took a decent while for the Librarian to grab a hold of themself, whatever it was that cracked them up taking an iron hold on the usually proper Golem.

    ¡°I have to apologise to you, Wanderer, I am not laughing at your question nor mocking you, you are simply so far from what I expected.¡± they said with an air of informality that contrasted all the teacherly wisdom that had come before.

    ¡°I have been down here, with very little company for a long, long time, and all that time I was fantasising about the next creature to enter the library, how I would address them, how they would address me.¡±

    ¡°As I have said, a great many Golems are possessed by Spirits of Violence and Anger, this means that almost any interaction between two Golems is strict and transactional.¡±

    ¡°All this time, I was sitting, waiting for some Golem or human to come down here and want for nothing more than a transaction, a cold hard deal, knowledge of value to them and nothing more.¡±

    ¡°Instead I find you, who knows nothing of the world they have been placed in, a kind, wondrous little thing who wants nothing more than to learn, uncorrupted by the cruelties of their kin.¡±

    ¡°I laughed because you are everything I did not expect, one who knew and wanted so little that they did not even ask for the identity of my Spirit before they wished to know about the world around them.¡±

    Another bellowing laugh echoed throughout the Spirit realm into the soul of Wanderer, who took a step back, unsure what to make of the whole circumstance.

    ¡°To answer your question, not every Spirit under the domain of Rarkeh-Shh obeyed their demand, and as such, with the bribe of the largest library in the world, the humans who remained after the God¡¯s downfall managed to side a Spirit of Knowledge who was to act as the Spirit to their librarian.¡±

    ¡°That librarian is me, and my Spirit is a Spirit of Knowledge, though I have not seen them for a great many years, they went silent after the library was abandoned.¡±

    The last sentence hit Wanderer like a falling tree, they had always known that sometimes their Spirit would go silent for long periods of time, particularly when tired or stressed, but they had been unaware that it was something that could stick, that they could leave at any moment, forever.

    And if there was ever a time for their Spirit to leave, then now, when tensions were high and relationships bitter, was the time to do it.

    The Golem realised very suddenly that they weren''t ready for their Spirit to leave.

    They still loved them, despite everything.

    In a fit of panic, Wanderer went against everything they had spent the last few hours building and called out to their Spirit, begging them to return and work things out.

    But the Spirit was gone, only a silent shell of their figure remained next to their soul, staring at them yet doing little more.

    Meanwhile, Ka-cketika¡¯s joviality gradually faded as they realised what exactly was happening, calling out to the Golem and questioning if they were OK.

    ¡°They''re not gone, are they?¡± Wanderer begged, desperate to hear consolation over their mistake.

    The librarian stayed silent a moment, figuring how to address the situation, before finally replying in the softest voice they could muster.

    ¡°I would like to say that they will come back, but I do not know what you did.¡±

    The simple question took the Vessel back, what had they done, it was all their Spirit¡¯s fault, wasn''t it.

    It was at this moment that the little part of Wanderer¡¯s soul, the part that insisted that they were jumping to conclusions and were mistaken about the Spirit¡¯s intentions, decided to finally push back against the waves of righteous rage.

    ¡°What if I misunderstood, what if they had truly grown to love me, what if they never used me like I thought they did.¡± they considered.

    Wanderer remembered a few moments prior when the librarian had stated that there were two ways Spirits interacted with their Golems, either forcing them to follow their commands or approaching them as friends, so that they could pursue a common goal together.

    When had their Spirit ever forced them to do anything, tried to subject them to their will.

    Never, Wanderer realised.

    Indeed, as they had confessed, the Spirit had actively held themself back from the ultimate goal of exploration in protection of Wanderer.

    ¡°But they control my mind, placed the wish for exploration in my very soul, how could I ever hope to resist them.¡±

    ¡°Is that not manipulation, is that not evil?¡±

    The Vessel didn''t know, so they turned to someone who might, agonising their concern to Ka-cketika.

 Mistake and Reconciliation

    Mistake and Reconciliation

    Wanderer asked their question, panic making their message messy and improper.

    ¡°Are Spirit evil, force us obey them, our souls aligned to their magic?¡±

    Instead of the wizened or retaliatory response they were expecting, the Vessel was instead met with confusion.

    ¡°Is this what you were worried about, what made you think that?¡±

    Wanderer didn''t reply.

    ¡°It is true that the variety of Spirit provides us with our purpose, what we enjoy doing, but we, as Golems are still beings of free will. Just as a human can avoid having children or progressing socially or whatever you believe their purpose to be, so too can you resist the purpose bestowed upon you by your Spirit.¡±

    ¡°To put it simply, you are more than any side effect of your Spirit¡¯s occupation, and if they truly tried to force you to do something you didn''t want to do, there would be nothing preventing you from resisting them.¡±

    ¡°As to the matter of your Spirit, while I can not personally vouch for their moral nature, the fact that they chose to leave instead of forcing you or attacking you at least shows that they aren''t blatantly cruel.¡±

    With every word, Wanderer¡¯s argument was breaking down, realising in dread that their Spirit had never tried to betray them, instead it was the Golem who had turned on them like a vulture at their most vulnerable state.

    Their Spirit had been opening up to them about their worries and problems, despite how much they had been reluctant to do so.

    But instead of listening, the Vessel latched onto one tiny idea, one piece of the greater whole they didn''t fully understand, and in the process drove their greatest friend away.

    Wanderer called out to their Spirit again, and again received no answer.

    ¡°I betrayed them, attack them when they vulnerable!¡± the Golem cried out to Ka-cketika, in the hope their senior would have some advice.

    The librarian wasted no time replying, feeling that they needed to calm Wanderer from their panicked state.

    ¡°Just calm down, I''m sure your Spirit will understand, just talk to me and we will work this through together.¡±

    Despite the wisdom of the librarian''s words, the Vessel did not calm down, the attempted help seeming far away and unreachable in a way that was reminiscent of the panic they would face while they were young.

    Further and further Wanderer spiralled into their worries, such that even the prodding and attention grabbing of the increasingly worried Emio did little to resolve the situation.

    Throughout the turmoil, one chief question kept returning to their mind, sticking there like tar.

    ¡°Why did I do this, why did I turn so quickly on those I love.¡±

    There were a hundred thousand possible reasons, but the one that stuck the most in Wanderers panic-addled mind was that they simply didn''t know enough.

    They didn''t know the extent to which Spirit¡¯s magic affected them, they didn''t know the signs and tells of malicious manipulation, they didn''t know how to properly talk to their Spirit, to work things out calmly.

    They didn''t know, didn''t know, didn''t know.

    They needed to know more, see more, meet more people, explore more.

    That was the only way that they could avoid this happening again.

    All while these thoughts were going through their head, a small, quiet voice was growing louder and louder, slowly piercing through the fog of the Golem¡¯s mind.

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    Soon, it got to the point that, even with the Vessel''s complete isolation from the world around them, their mind was forced to devote a fraction of its attention to it.

    The voice sounded familiar, like the rumble of the earth and wind on the mountaintops, every word carried with it a sense of wonder for things greater than itself, cherishing the feeling of feeling small in the face of the complexity of the universe.

    The voice was that of a Spirit of exploration, Wanderer¡¯s Spirit.

    All of the anxiety and panic that once whirled through the Vessel¡¯s mind was spewed into the link between them and their Spirit, converting into half formed apologies and begs for forgiveness.

    The Spirit received it all, taking it in stride and waiting till it stopped.

    No one can say how long it did take to finally end, for the endless list of fears and grievances to finally grind to a slow halt, but by the end of the flood of half formed emotion Wanderer felt tired, tired in a way that they hadn''t felt before.

    It was as if every emotion and thought they had ever had had spit out into the world around them and dissipated in smoke, leaving nothing left for their mind to pursue nor worry about, only a dry, dull ache having been left behind.

    A few moments of silence reigned before the Spirit responded, slowly, calmly, and without a hint of malice.

    They began by accepting Wanderer¡¯s apologies, insisting that they understood why what had happened, happened and making sure to show that they forgave them in kind.

    Wanderer was young, after all, had only been created a handful of days ago and didn''t know how to react to things properly, how to deal with secrets.

    The Spirit followed with their own apology, an apology for withholding information about how they met Wanderer and what little they knew about their parent, an apology for not raising Wanderer right, not telling them enough to deal with the chaotic life they were placed in.

    There was a moment of silence as the Spirit prepared itself for what was to come, a silence that bred nothing but disquiet in the Vessel¡¯s soul as their anxiousness mounted for their Spirit''s final resolution.

    The Spirit had taken the time while they were banished by the Golem to reflect on all that had happened, the journey, Wanderer, their own actions.

    They realised that they had become trapped in the moment of Wanderer¡¯s world, so worried about the present that they had forgotten the bigger picture, neglecting the past and future.

    The Spirit had spent every moment they could with the Golem, leaving only when completely necessary to the point that their mind had become muddled by the situations Wanderer consistently found themselves in and the fear, anxiety and pain that followed.

    Over time, the wisdom and intelligence they had built over thousands of years of exploring had become muddled and reactionary, failing to stop problems and instead only helping when the issue had already come to pass.

    That had to stop, otherwise misfortune would finally take its dues and Wanderer would die.

    Spirit could not let that happen.

    So, for the good of Wanderer and for the good of themself, the Spirit decided they were going to take a break.

    For a short while, the Spirit was going to leave Wanderer to their own devices, trusting in Emio to help them until the Spirit worked out their thoughts and put their plans back together.

    Perhaps if the Golem had been a little more awake, had a little more energy then they would have resisted the Spirit''s decision, but as it was every bit of resistance had been sucked out of them by their panic and so they let their Spirit go with one final question.

    ¡°Can you at least tell me what you know about my parent before you go?¡± Wanderer asked, unable to let such information go even in the state they were in.

    The Spirit acquiesced with very little resistance, yet warned that they didn''t know much and that Wanderer would likely leave disappointed.

    When in the Spirit realm, any Spirit is requested to inhabit a Golem by a call from their parent which echoes throughout the realm.

    They had been in the area when the call went out and was pounced upon by the traditional Spirits who always hoard the Golems, yet when another call went out despite all the superior Spirits around, they got curious and went to investigate.

    Wanderer¡¯s Spirit arrived just in time to hear a weak cry, burning with inner fire slowly sputtering under waves of sadness, and without hesitation they took the chance they were given, uncaring of the Vessel¡¯s unique form.

    Once they found their place inside Wanderer, they had no way of knowing anything more about their parent, they knew nothing of the world until the Vessel awoke.

    At the finishing of the story, the Golem relaxed themselves ever so slightly, the solution to one of the issues that caused their mistake allowing them to let just a little of the mental weight go.

    A treacherous part of their mind insisted that the Spirit was lying and they truly knew much more about the Golem¡¯s parent, but this idea was crushed by the apathy that had overcome them and burned under what little logic remained.

    Afterall, what would the Spirit gain from hiding anything else?

    With one concern wrapped up, Wanderer turned to the most pressing, their Spirit''s departure.

    The Vessel didn''t want their Spirit to go, of course, but they understood why and hoped it was for the best.

    In any case, there was nothing they could do to stop them.

    Wanderer worked up what little gratefulness they could muster and thanked their Spirit, wishing them the best of luck while they were gone.

    And with nary another word or message, the Spirit had left, leaving behind little more than a thoughtless shell from which Wanderer drew their power.

    With that, the Golem''s mind finally returned to the real world.

 Tale and Departure

    Tale and Departure

    The Golem awoke submerged under the water, having at some point sat down on the floor in their panic, such that the waist high reservoir left only the very tip of their hat-like head dry.

    They spent a long moment just sitting and watching Ka-cketika¡¯s lights reflect off the surface of the water, twinkling whenever a small wave or ripple caused by their own interference broke the lights path.

    When Wanderer felt they had recovered enough of themself and gotten enough of a handle on the situation, they began to stand up from the water, signalling to their compatriots that they had returned to reality once more.

    The Golem had scarcely got their head above the surface when they were forced back down again by a little ball of moss with far too much worry in its artificial mind.

    Emio¡¯s tendrils closed around them like a vice, as if trying to prevent even the thought of abandoning them again, the most recent of Wanderer¡¯s breakdowns having acted as the limit for the verdestry¡¯s nonchalant attitude.

    ¡°I''ll have to do something to repay them for all the worry.¡± Wanderer thought.

    As soon as the Vessel had calmed Emio down, the librarian took their chance to address Wanderer, likely curious about what had happened.

    ¡°Have you sorted things out with your Spirit?¡± they said hesitantly, in case they were to dredge some element of the panic from moments ago back to the surface.

    The smaller Vessel replied with respectable haste.

    ¡°They decided to take break, they can get themselves on the path they want to be on.¡±

    Ka-cketika nodded and fell into a companionable silence before finally speaking up once again.

    ¡°If you are able, I would like to know one thing that I have wondered about for a long time. What has become of our people, the Golems?¡±

    Wanderer hardly knew the answer to that question themself, yet realised that whatever they knew was at least up to date, while the librarian had been sitting alone for hundreds of years.

    It must have been torture.

    ¡°The Golems are hunted, killed one by one. I watched one being killed. I have heard of home of Golems which was raided, there are not many left.¡±

    With every word Wanderer said the librarian seemed to flinch back, as if they were being physically attacked with every syllable, by the time the Vessel finished their crude message, Ka-cketika hung their body low and close to the ground, as close as their position would allow.

    Now it was Wanderer¡¯s turn to be worried, wading forward a little bit to check if their companion was OK.

    As if they could read the Vessel¡¯s mind, Ka-cketika answered the unspoken question.

    ¡°I am fine, Wanderer, you need not worry about me. It is simply that I have been down here so long, I have fantisied of what our people would have become, how prevalent, how accepted. I dreamed that we overcame the cruel Spirits who claim us and moved on, lived as our own people, united and whole.¡±

    ¡°But I know now, that was always a foolish dream, we Golems have always been creatures of fighting and pain, it is only natural that we should be destroyed in that same way.¡±

    Wanderer didn''t know how to react to that, having never truly thought about the destruction of their kin to such an extent, having never realised that they might be one of the last of their species alive.

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    How much had they lost without knowing.

    Despite the enormity of the subject, however, the Vessel felt nothing.

    Perhaps it was because of the hollow tiredness that still lingered in their mind, or the extremity of the fact being simply too much to comprehend, yet when they tried to relate to the deep suffering that the librarian felt in front of them, they came up with nothing.

    However, before the Vessel could hope to act upon their absence, a deep rumble echoed throughout the library and a wave of heat hit them like a punch.

    From their left, blocking the way they came, dark red lava spilled from a new crack in the earth, vaporising the water below it and filling the area with billowing steam.

    Wanderer could hardly believe it, how could this happen, they were just beginning to hear the origins of their people, just beginning to learn from the infinite source of knowledge that was Ka-cketika, just getting to know the first Golem they had ever met beside themself.

    The librarian whipped their body upwards, snapped out of their stupor, and flared the lights in the library to almost unbearable levels before bringing them back down again.

    ¡°Why now!¡± they screamed, ¡°I have been ready for this for so, so long, but now, the one moment when I find someone to guide, to help, the end comes!¡±

    The tiny burst of emotion that Wanderer¡¯s felt at the occurrence was drowned once again by a wave of exhaustion, forcible indifference provided by their mind, too much had happened too quickly.

    They need some time to rest and make sense of things again.

    ¡°You must leave. now. I don''t want you to be hurt.¡± Ka-cketika asserted, leaving little room for argument.

    ¡°I can''t, you die if I leave and there is so much I want to ask you.¡±

    The librarian was having none of it, ¡°As long as you live, continue to explore, you will eventually learn all I have to teach you but if you remain here you will die and your journey will end.¡±

    ¡°But the books and scrolls, they be destroyed if no preserved them!¡± Wanderer argued a remnant of heat rising in their chest.

    ¡°All things must die eventually, even information, in truth every book here has been dead for hundreds of years with no one but me to read them, there is little point in mourning them.¡±

    ¡°But you, do you even care for own life?¡± The smaller vessel asked, It was inconceivable to them that anyone could give up so callously.

    A long drawn moment of silence rang out as the heat in the room grew, causing Emio to begin tugging on Wanderer, encouraging them to get away.

    ¡°I am much like the library, I have been dead for a long time¡± Ka-cketika finally replied ¡°In truth I have been waiting for this day, the day I can be relieved of my duty. This is how it is meant to be and there is little point in trying to save me.¡±

    Wanderer made to argue, insist there was a chance even if they didn''t know what it was but they were interrupted.

    ¡°You must leave now, Wanderer, that is not up for argument. But before you go, I think I should let you borrow a book, no charge, and no need to return it.¡±

    The lights in the room flared once again, yet instead of the entire library brightening, a single section of Ka-cketika''s vine-like lights lit up, and by a process quite unknown to the Vessel, shone a single ray of light directly at one book in the massive shelf next to them.

    ¡°That book is one of the final additions to my library ever made, and a rather controversial one at that. It is a basic translation of the language Orsha was forming while they were still consolidating their hold on the desert after the great catastrophe, made for one who has no knowledge of the language at all, as I assume that is your affliction.¡±

    Wanderer took the book from the shelf and flicked to a random page, seeing hand drawn diagrams paired with characters and phrases, all slightly distorted by the humidity of the room seeping into the pages but coherent enough to be readable.

    It was a great gift.

    Another rumble went out through the room as the lava flow widened and the water at the Golem¡¯s hips began to simmer.

    ¡°Go now, there is no more time. Run to the right until you see another passage up, if you continue going straight you will reach the surface. Thank you for talking to me and giving me a final companion after my long isolation, but you can''t stay any longer.¡±

    Wanderer bowed their head but didn''t argue, and after saying a final thank you, they rounded the shelves and sprinted off.

    A part of them wanted to stop and take more books from the shelves, but their mind informed them otherwise, the books on these shelves were not written in the language of the book in their hand, and it was likely there was very few anywhere who had a capability to read it.

    Even if they could, their satchel was nearly full and in this situation they had no time to throw anything away.

    And so, without another regret, Wanderer and Emio sprinted up the passage marked by the librarian, away from the spewing fires below.

 Extra 11: Negotiations of the Betrayed

    Extra 11: Negotiations of the Betrayed

    Shreshka breathed in the early morning air of the valley, noting its difference from the smells they knew so intimately from their home.

    About an hour ago, Retlafeh had woken up and proclaimed that they had a plan, and that they knew someone who owed them a favour.

    She had asked a few times who exactly this person was and where they could be found, but the older man had insisted that he would only tell her once they were already travelling there or else ¡°she would never agree to it¡±.

    It had done very little to help her confidence in the plan.

    The two of them had hoisted an awake but weak Hureheh to his feet and put one arm on each of their shoulders, although it felt less like they were helping him walk and more like they were carrying him wholesale.

    ¡°Hah, look at the size of that one!¡± Hureheh shouted, receiving a shushing from Retlafeh in turn.

    The newly appointed oracle had taken to playing a game utilising his new powers where he would find the biggest ¡°knolls¡± of magic he could and point out its position.

    Considering no one but him could see these, it wasn''t a particularly interesting game, but it was helping him get a handle on his new powers and seemed to be staving off thoughts on the desperateness of their situation, so Shreshka let it be.

    Besides, at least one of them had to be in a good mood.

    With every step the trio took, Retlafeh''s frown seemed to be growing deeper and deeper, for a single moment he had taken his eyes off the track ahead and looked at Shreshka and the glower was nearly enough to kill her on the spot.

    That terrible mood was the only reason she had refrained from nagging him till she learned of their destination, she would hate to see all that ire reflected upon her.

    At that moment, the travellers entered something of a clearing in the landscape, the lack of trees finally giving real view of the world around them.

    To their left was the massive evergreen that dominated the area, its toxic mists blocking all entry to its base.

    To their right was a tall mountain, identical to every other mountain that crowned the ancient pine¡¯s valley, it was blanketed with greenery even up to its snowy peak, as would be expected of fertile lands of the Earliag.

    And finally, in front of them like a shining beacon in the untamed wilderness, a city built on the side of a mountain rested, signalling civilization to Shreshka¡¯s chilled bones.

    It featured hundreds of little curved buildings of blue and white, with the occasional mansion or tower aiding the lacking variety and despite its peaceful place on the mountain side, a pit of dread rose into the woman¡¯s throat at the very thought of going there.

    It would be suicide by any measure in their current situation.

    ¡°Hey, why have we stopped, what are we looking at?¡± Hureheh whispered to Shreshka, prompting her to relay what she saw.

    ¡°Aren''t we lucky we aren''t going there, huh.¡±

    Shreshka stole a glance at Retlafeh, checking to see if the oracle''s joke had gotten a rise out of him, yet instead she found his frown deeper than ever.

    ¡°We are going there.¡± He said.

    The whole world stopped for a moment as the two younger slaves processed what he had said.

    ¡°Are you crazy!¡± ¡°You''re kidding right?¡± Shreshka and Hureheh yelled in tandem, disbelieving of what Retlafeh had said.

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    But he did not take back his words, instead continuing on, forcing Shreshka to follow.

    ¡°Why are we going to the city filled with people who want to kill us, Retlafeh, I think I''ve had enough near death scenarios for a while.¡± Shreshka exclaimed, getting to the question moments before the oracle could.

    He took a long, deep breath, and began to reply.

    ¡°This is not the first time I have had a chance to escape, almost fifteen years ago now every slave in an entire trading caravan rebelled and killed their masters, and I was one of them.¡±

    ¡°We were all immature and scared, nobody knew what they were doing in the Earliag wilderness, it was only a matter of time before the Girtriag found us.¡±

    ¡°And so one of us, my closest friend, snuck out in the night and gave themselves up to our former-captors, gave us all up for their own freedom.¡±

    Shreshka stayed silent, unsure of how to react to the whole situation, Hureheh, however, was not.

    ¡°So this guy you are taking us to see, the guy who owes you a favour is the same guy who betrayed you?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Retlafeh confirmed.

    ¡°I hate to say the obvious here, but if the guy betrayed you then surely it would not be wise to trust him again?¡±.

    Another deep breath, and an explanation.

    ¡°I know him, I knew him better than anyone else I''ve ever met, I knew he would betray us too but I didn''t listen to my own doubts.¡±

    ¡°He will help us, I know he feels guilty about what he did, he has to.¡±

    Hureheh shook his head, third eye staring directly at Retlafeh.

    ¡°And if he doesn''t help us, if you''re wrong? What are you gonna do then?¡±

    Shreshka detected a hint of a shudder in Retlafeh¡¯s reply.

    ¡°If he doesn''t help us, then we were doomed from the start.¡±

    The whole group went silent, listening to nothing but the wind rustling the trees and the stomp of their feet on the dew-laden ground.

    They continued for half of an hour in that state, all mulling on their thoughts, until Shreshka finally worked up the courage to say something.

    ¡°So, if this man lives in the city how exactly do you expect us to get to him, no doubt they have our descriptions told to every Keeper in the empire.¡±

    Retlafeh nodded at the question, replying with a simple answer.

    ¡°We will wait till nightfall then I will go alone into the city and recruit his help, you will stay with Hureheh, hidden until I get back.¡±

    The man in mention butted in, ¡°I don''t like this plan, we should just run to the edges of the empire and leave the Keepers behind, not put our faith in some traitor.¡±

    ¡°If we run, we will be found, we only managed to escape the other day because our pursuers were amateurs, we won''t get so lucky again.¡± Retlafeh replied with hostility.

    ¡°As it is, we need someone with connections, who can hide us away with people sympathetic to our cause. My contact has that.¡±

    Hureheh scoffed, ¡°We have star-silver, we are probably richer than half the people in that city, when you''re rich everyone is a connection.¡±

    Retlafeh¡¯s irritation was building, his regular calm, stoic voice giving way to gradually raising anger.

    ¡°And how do you intend to use this money? Do you think every bakery and tailor we need to go to is going to have change for a coin of pure andromio, should we just rock up to the bank and hope that they would serve three runaway slaves!¡±

    Hureheh raised his voice, any evidence of his previous weakness gone, and prepared to let loose a scathing argument.

    ¡°How hard can it possibly be, maybe if you weren''t such a korhr-¡±

    The anger of the two men was very suddenly put to a stop as they were both whacked over the back of the head by Shreshka, who confronted them with an angry whisper.

    ¡°May I remind you we are being hunted, we are likely enough to be caught as is without you two screaming out our location.¡±

    Retlafeh seemed to realise his mistake and hung his head low, the same, however, could not be said of Hureheh.

    ¡°What do you want me to do when he''s trying to get us killed?¡± he enforced, voice only a fraction lower than before.

    ¡°I want you to listen to him. Ultimately, he has a plan, if a risky one, and you have nothing, if Retlafeh thinks he can get his friend to help him then we have to at least give it a try.¡±

    Hureheh stewed in angry silence for a long moment, before finally letting out a huff and turning his one open eye away from the people carrying him, placing all his focus in moving forward toward the city.

    The truth was, Shreshka had no idea if she sided with the correct plan, she had no idea of the true dangers that awaited them or how likely it was she would get away.

    While Hurheheh¡¯s plan had certainly seemed simpler and perhaps more logical, it had gone toe to toe with Retlafeh¡¯s hopes, and in truth, Shreshka trusted the older man more.

    Then again, Retlafeh obviously had some history with his acquaintance, she just had to hope that he wasn''t being irrational just to meet again with some long-forgotten lover.

    Shaking her head free of those thoughts, the former slave hardened her convictions and straightened her back, moving forward toward the shining city in the distance.

 Info: Character Information

    Info: Character Profiles

    Hey guys, thanks for sticking around for this super long hiatus as I go through and edit all the previous chapters, it shouldn''t be too long before chapters start flowing again. To tide you over till the next chapter, I''m gonna give you a little character profile sheet, just for fun.

    Wanderer, 0 Yo, They/Them

    The main character, a Golem made from magic clay who is both smaller and softer than their more common counterparts. They are fundamentally inclined to find joy in the act of exploration, due to the presence of their Spirit. Wanderer is often naive and reckless due to their lack of experience with life, but possess the ability to mend any damage to their clay body and a great deal of determination which allow them to survive many dangerous scenarios.

    Spirit/The Spirit of Exploration. 1000-2000 Yo, They/Them

    The ever faithful companion and guide to Wanderer, who lives in a place right next to the Golem¡¯s soul. They made an agreement with Wanderer''s parent to guide the Golem throughout their life, in exchange for being able to tag along in Wanderer¡¯s journey and explore the world with them. They have had thousands of years of life in the Spirit realm to build their wisdom, but despite this they have still not overcome their tendency toward panic and fear.

    Emio (Verdestry), 0 Yo, They/Them

    A irritable yet loving verdestry, a species of mysterious monsters that once eliminated half of all life in the Earliag empire. They were discovered by Wanderer at the bottom of the lake after they were created in a long delayed ritual, then named after a magi who had provided Wanderer with visions. They are intelligent but not quite to the level of a human, yet possess an uncanny sense for the emotions of others.

    Emio (Magi), 337 Yo, He/Him

    An old magi who possessed power over the mind, he and his friends managed to halt the creation of Emio and permanently crippled them so that they could not gain size when they were freed by Wanderer. When Wanderer first found the ritual, they provided Wanderer with visions of their life before being killed by the Verdestry¡¯s creation.

    Carrere and Errario, 12 and 63 Yo, She/Her and He/Him

    A young girl and her grandfather, the two live on a mountainside and have encountered both Wanderer and Shreshka¡¯s group. After the death of her parents, Carrere was taken in by her poor yet protective grandfather. They both now live a life in poverty, yet they are both happy.

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    Shreshka, 23 Yo, She/Her

    Shreshka was an Orshraka slave encountered by Wanderer and set free after the Golem incapacitated her master, she is now running from bounty hunters with her two companions, Hureheh and Retlafeh. Shreshka came from a wealthy merchant''s family but was sold into slavery at a young age, she often laments her lost life and privilege. She worships the god of Reshraka, Orsha.

    Retlafeh, 53 Yo, He/Him

    Retlafeh is a Orshraka slave who has been enslaved for a very long time. Despite this, he has never given in to the bonds of slavery and has actively taken part in at least one escape attempt. Throughout his life, Retlafeh has gained a vast variety of both skills and wisdom which he uses to help guide his companions to safety. He worships the god of Reshraka, Orsha.

    Hureheh, 20 Yo, He/Him

    Hureheh is a Orshraka slave who was born into slavery and is zealously adherent to the words of Orsha. He will often try and search out trouble in order to prove himself and is overall prone to acting rashly. Hureheh was chosen to act as an oracle by Orsha, tasked with aiding Wanderer without entering the desert for an unknown reason.

    Keshte and Detlashra, 30 and 35 Yo, He/Him and They/Them

    Keshte is the leader of the underground rebel organisation Wanderer encountered, Detlashra is his second in command. Keshte is responsible for many of the logistical and strategic moves made by the organisation, but is overall a very nervous and uncertain person. Because of this, despite Keshte¡¯s hierarchical superiority, Detlashra is often seen as more of a leader. Detlashra is a powerful warrior and is well respected within the rebels, despite this he believes Keshte to be a far better leader and is happy in his situation as second in command.

    Herukah, 24 Yo, She/Her

    Herukah is the head tailor of the rebels, and is responsible for giving Wanderer their ¡°disguise¡± for the festival. She is the daughter of a Earliag and an Orshraka, which is considered to be a taboo relationship and as such she is frequently discriminated against. Despite this she keeps an upbeat personality which can flip on a dime if she finds someone slacking off within the organisation.

    Orsha, 4000-5000 Yo, They/ Them

    Orsha is the god of Reshraka, a god of Struggle. They ascended to power after the previous god, Rarkeh-shh was removed by a great calamity. For reasons unknown, Orsha has been  interacting with Wanderer and supporting them indirectly, apparently believing them to be capable of fixing some great problem. They actively promote slavery and the presence of the Earliag in the desert.

    Chray, 31 Yo, He/Him

    A blind Gitririag who has been tasked with hunting and killing Wanderer to preserve his own life. He was born blind but was given a blessing by a Spirit as a teenager, allowing him to track the previous, and to some extent, the future actions of a single target. Chray has encountered Wanderer on two occasions, in both cases Wanderer was running from them.

    Ka-cketika, 212 Yo, They/Them

    Ka-cketika is a unique Golem possessed by a Spirit of Knowledge. They were originally intended to serve as a librarian to the greatest deposit of knowledge anywhere in the world but were abandoned deep underground with the library unfinished. They sat alone for 200 years until Wanderer came and found them, right as the library was finally destroyed by lava.

    Rarkeh-shh, 5000-6000, They/Them

    The god of the desert before Orsha, they were responsible for creating the Golems then attempting to destroy them when they did not follow their Spirit¡¯s orders. They were destroyed by a great calamity.

 Pondering and Surface

    Pondering and Surface

    Up and up Wanderer went with single minded purpose, lacking any thoughts or emotions in their mind to distract them.

    The shaft recommended to them by the librarian was different to the messy tunnel they had entered the library from, a great deal more effort was put into its presentation, though it still could not be called finished.

    It was almost three times the width and double the height of its counterpart and contained rough hewn steps instead of a dubious slope.

    Occasionally, Wanderer would pass by tiles of stone and tools such as pickaxes and chisels, signalling to the Golem that this place was very much in the process of being worked on when it was abandoned.

    Despite their inner exhaustion, the Vessel¡¯s mind still instinctively searched for answers in the world around them and so they found themselves pondering a question, surprising themself in the process.

    As the tunnel passed by, they wondered what exactly had happened to this place such that it could be abandoned so quickly, and specifically what caused this particular tunnel to be left faster than all the rest, such that its workers did not even have time to take their tools.

    Multiple times, by way of carvings on the walls and Ka-cketika¡¯s explanations, Wanderer was informed that some great calamity had destroyed the previous inhabitants of the desert.

    Yet while this calamity was undoubtedly part of the problem, it surely could not be the entire cause of the ruin¡¯s abandonment.

    Humans still lived in the desert even now and if anyone survived this great calamity then surely they would not just forget about an underground city this expansive.

    What could have caused them to leave?

    They reached to ask their Spirit, but quickly rescinded their query with an unfelt wince, they would have to work out this mystery themself.

    They began to ponder, blocking out the world around them and trying to see the issue for what it was.

    The critical problem was that they didn''t know what the catastrophe that forced everyone out was, it was referred to many times, yet in so many different ways that Wanderer couldn''t be sure.

    They thought back to the carvings on the walls, each and everyone depicting a leader of a great land losing their power to a tyrant from the sky.

    Before Ka-cketika, the Golem couldn''t work out what exactly this scene was depicting, but with their new knowledge they were quite certain they had worked out the symbolism.

    The previous leader of the happy kingdom was obviously Rarkeh-shh and their usurper as well as the calamity, would be Orsha.

    But that didn''t quite make sense, the previous land of Rarkeh-shh was bountiful and full of life, and while Orsha was powerful they didn''t have the power to change that on such a massive scale.

    It was far more likely the calamity changed the desert, then Orsha took over.

    But that just took them back to their original question, what was this calamity?

    They pondered the question in earnest for about 100 steps, but soon found their mind wandering to a different problem.

    ¡°Why are the Earliag in the desert, why are there slaves?¡± they wondered.

    The more they thought about it, the more it didn''t make sense.

    The desert was a barren and harsh place, by all means there was little to no reason to want to take it over.

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    Maybe, perhaps it was the Earliag¡¯s purpose to bring slaves over to their home in the valleys and mountains, but in the one place Wanderer had seen slaves in the forest, at the larger Golem¡¯s destruction, the majority of the people there had the pale skin of the Earliag.

    There were of course a few people here and there that hailed from the desert, but they were vastly outnumbered and that signalled to the Vessel that, for the most part, the Earliag didn''t like slaves entering their own land.

    ¡°Why are they here then, why do they want slaves? There must be something I''m missing.¡±

    They thought deep and hard, calling up everything they knew about the Earliag and the people of the desert, and then finally, after a long while managed to remember something of critical importance.

    From their view on top of the mesa, Wanderer remembered that all across the desert there were huge quarries into the earth, cutting deep into the sand in massive circular basins.

    Those quarries had to be the cause, they were frequent and intensive and would likely require thousands of people to man and dig each day.

    ¡°But what are they digging for?¡± The Vessel sought further.

    In a flash of realisation, it all came to them, causing them to dig in their satchel for one of their many collected items.

    They fished out one of the shimmering blue coins, relishing the feel of the metal on their fingers.

    They pushed the coin into the soft clay of their arm, ignoring the pain and felt the magic inside them increase in speed and power tenfold, filling their arm with a power they had yet to fully understand.

    Then they pulled the coin out, noticing how their channels had already been worn thin by the increased flow.

    This metal and its ability was simultaneously the reason for the enslavement of the Orshraka and the calamity that befell Rarkeh-shh and their people.

    The metal was highly valuable, as shown by the comparatively small amount in relation to the other coins and its use in physically enhancing the militia members that chased the Vessel.

    Those massive quarries in the sands were to find more of this metal, which could doubtlessly only be found in the desert.

    Yet as Wanderer realised this, a peculiarity of these mines was made apparent to them, in that, shallow as they were, they took all their metal from the black sand and not the rock below.

    Not once had the Vessel seen any type of rock or mineral suspended in the sand, apart from dark glass, the land seemed to be sterile of all worth.

    And this made sense, if the sand was born of the glass from the volcano, then all of it would be even lava, with metals and valuables only occurring deeper in the rock.

    But Wanderer had already worked out why the star-silver was an exception to this rule, the metal had not come from the earth, but from the sky.

    It explained so much, why it was found in such an odd place in the earth, why it could only be found in the desert, why its abilities were so unique and so rare.

    But most of all it explained what the great calamity was and why it had turned the desert into the wasteland it was now.

    The metal had come from the sky and impacted with great force, splitting itself all across the desert, explaining why there were so many quarries in the sand.

    The force had reawoken the volcano at the centre of the desert, spewing black lava which degraded into shimmering sand, covering the whole land in a layer of darkness.

    Now that they thought deeper into the calamity¡¯s consequences, the meteor was likely responsible for the aurora that appeared at night, its magical power eliciting some otherwise impossible reaction from the volcano.

    At working this great mystery out, a tiny vestige of joy and pride wormed its way through the all encompassing apathy and brought the slightest spring to Wanderer¡¯s step, happy that they had worked out such a massive mystery from such a small amount of evidence.

    Returning to the real world, Wanderer was shocked to find that just up ahead, the solid stairs stopped and gave way to a flow of long hardened magma, its pitch black form taking up one side of the hallway.

    Where the lava emerged, the hallway thinned and became more unfinished, cramming the Vessel yet still permitting them through.

    If they had the energy, Wanderer would have laughed a little as their initial question, the one that started the spiral they had gone down was answered so simply.

    ¡°The humans abandoned this tunnel before the rest of the ruin because lava had breached through the walls and began to flow, likely because of the chaos caused by the meteor.¡± they knew.

    ¡°Eventually, the whole of the ruins probably had to have been abandoned, for fear of cave ins and lava caused by the volcano¡¯s activity.¡±

    The Vessel was interrupted from their pondering by Emio shooting off down the passage, leaving a trail of dust and chipped stone in their wake.

    For a long moment, the Golem was confused, why did Emio abandon them like that, what did they see?

    But soon enough even Wanderer saw the verdestry¡¯s goal and ran with equal abandon, as there, far ahead of them was the brilliant azure light of the sun, shining through a gap to the surface.

 Rubble and Memorial

    Rubble and Memorial

    Wanderer sprinted up the last flight of lava-covered stairs and came out to a collection of halls and rooms identical to the section where the rebels once lived.

    ¡°I wonder if the ruin travels the whole way around the centre.¡± the Golem considered.

    The previous inhabitants of the desert did have a love for circles, so it was entirely possible.

    While there was likely still a wealth of things of interest in the ruins, Wanderer simply didn''t have the energy to inspect them all.

    Them and Emio both needed a good, long rest, and neither of them could get that in the ruins with how much had happened there.

    Besides, the whole place was dark and unstable, it would be nice to be under the sun again.

    After a few moments longer of sprinting up pathways and ramps, Wanderer reached the little breach to the surface they had seen from far away, Emio already waiting for them in the sun¡¯s light.

    The opening seemed at one point to be a grand, ceremonial entrance with a massive hall and even larger arched doorway leading to the outside.

    On each side, ten geometric statues stood proud, each one depicting a master of a different trade from the civilisation long left behind.

    But now, the whole room was smothered in glassy, black sand, pouring in from the entrance and windows, leaving only the slightest gap at the very top of the archway.

    It was a little sad seeing a place once so grand succumb to time, though the same could be said of all of the ruin.

    Nonetheless, Wanderer was infinitely glad the complex¡¯s creators had gone to such effort to build a place so excessive, if the arch wasn''t so incredibly high and over the top then it would have likely never reached the surface and there would have been no way up.

    Scrambling over the dune and squeezing through the gap, the Vessel finally made their way into the open world above, feeling the morning sun¡¯s heat on their clay skin after so long underground.

    At the current moment, it was still early enough in the morning that the sun¡¯s heat was bearable, that being said, the sand was still incredibly hot and would undoubtedly be unbearably so in a matter of minutes.

    Despite the impending doom, Wanderer scrambled on top of the sand covered ruin to try and get a better view of the world around them and regain their bearings.

    The golden walls of the city were now far behind them, apparently having travelled further underground than they had thought.

    In opposition, the boneyard was now well within reach, likely only day¡¯s travel away, or nights Wanderer supposed, they didn''t have the music box to protect them from the heat anymore.

    To their left, conveniently close, was a towering mesa at least double the size of the one they had travelled to at the start of their journey into the desert.

    Unlike other pinnacles, it lacked many of the golden veins of ore that they all mutually seemed to possess, and for good reason too, as all across it were human-made scaffolds accompanied by the mutual signs of mining, ropes, pickaxes, baskets of debris and such.

    In truth, Wanderer would prefer not to go anywhere near another human for a long while, needing time just to get ahold of themself without any real risk of interference.

    Yet they had little choice, the sun was coming and they didn''t want to go back into the ruins even more.

    At that moment, a deep rumble echoed from the earth below and the ground began to tremor and shift, sand shuffling along with it.

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    Without hesitation, Wanderer sprinted from their spot on top of the building and leapt into the sand surrounding it, hoping that they wouldn''t be caught in the earthquake.

    The tremor continued to get worse and worse, shifting the sands back and forth like flour through a sieve, with a sound like the roaring of a dragon.

    Where Wanderer was standing just moments ago collapsed into rubble, the whole ceiling of the hall succumbing to centuries of wear and tear in one final huzzah of dust and debris.

    Then as quickly as it had come, it calmed again and the world was still.

    Exhaustion flooded Wanderer quicker than ever before at their misfortune, making even the slightest emotion seem like a burden simply too heavy to be carried.

    They expressed no shock at the destruction of the place they had been standing only moments prior, it had no capability to force that out of them.

    Almost on cue, a scream echoed through solid stone and deafening sand, far, far away but so clear to Wanderer that it shook their soul.

    It was a scream of regret and acceptance, one that carried with it the slightest hint of yearning for something that could never be achieved, to know more about the world.

    Wanderer recognised the voice and knew without any doubt what had just happened, Ka-cketika had just died, buried deep within the earth.

    Gone, and by all but Wanderer, forgotten.

    A grim, morbid laugh echoed from the Vessel¡¯s soul without them bidding it, Ka-cketika had died forgotten by all, their desire to know all being ended with the knowledge that nobody knew about them.

    It was a little bit ironic.

    As if by instinct, the Golem moved toward the ruins and began to pick up stones from the ruins of the entrance, shifting them with four arms into a loose pyramid atop a nearby dune.

    The mound grew higher and higher, until Wanderer could no longer reach the top and enlisted the help of Emio, who had switched their form to that of the cactus once again.

    Once no more stones could be placed on the shrine without rolling down its sides, the Vessel sat down next to the grave and pulled out the book that Ka-cketika had given them.

    They knew not the meaning of the words within, but they knew the pictures it contained, and they searched it until they found an appropriate match.

    It was the word for book, Rashkrete, and it would have to suffice.

    Using a thin piece of rubble, Wanderer copied the symbols into a flat piece of wall at the front of the shrine, carving them as deep as their strength would allow.

    The Vessel had no true way to honour the librarian¡¯s memory, they couldn''t even spell their name, but this was something, and that would have to be enough.

    With the final glyph sketched, Wanderer stood up and wiped the dust off their skin, admiring the grave for only a moment before turning away with a single learnt word.

    ¡°Sestrio¡± they spoke to the void.

    And there was no answer.

    The sun was now in full force, banishing any attempt at coherent thought from Wanderer¡¯s heat-addled mind.

    But that was ok, there wasn''t much to think about anyway, they just had to do what they had always done and keep walking.

    It took half of an hour for the Golem to drag their way over to the moat surrounding the mesa, Emio following slowly behind, staring at the husk of their friend with ever present worry.

    When they got to the canyon¡¯s edge, the Vessel didn''t even bother trying to climb down, they knew they could survive the fall with minimal damage and did so with a thud.

    Immediately, Wanderer scanned the area finding a little fissure in the rock that would be just large enough for them to fit into, and crawled into it, finally finding shelter from the sun.

    As if in a long delayed reply, the Golem let out a dreadful, silent scream from the depths of their soul, echoing into the Spirit realm with no one around to hear it.

    Then, once they were finished, they let themselves collapse onto the floor of their fissure and stared up at the ceiling, for a long, long time.

    After far too long, far too many events and calamities, Wanderer had finally found a place to stop and rest.

    Emio realised what was happening and slunk their way over to the Golem, settling on their chest and curling up to have a long nap.

    Absently, Wanderer combed their memories and went over every event that had happened since their last true rest in the hollow of the tree.

    They had been chased by swarmlings, saved a life and almost took another, survived a wildfire and gathered a music box from a merchant.

    They had made friends with rebels, joined a festival, spoke to a child and prevented an invasion.

    They had been pursued by hunters, attacked by lizards, betrayed their Spirit and met another of their kind.

    Then they had left as quick as they came, and saw that same friend buried under a million tons of rubble.

    And in all that they didn''t have a proper rest once.

    They were well and truly due for one.

 Extra 12: The Path

    Extra 12: The Path

    This was it, this is how Chray was going to die, not by being cut down in battle or maimed by monsters beyond reckoning, but by getting lost in an underground labyrinth.

    After being blocked off by the steam, Chray had reluctantly decided to move a bit deeper into the ruins and see if he could reconnect with his target¡¯s path.

    That was a stupid idea, not only did the only other option available to him not lead anywhere near where he needed to go, but it seemed to him like it was actively leading him away.

    For Orsha knows how long, he had been following one massive corridor, which had been getting gradually smaller over time as whoever built this place was obviously in a rushed, and failed, to finish its construction.

    He could, of course, just follow his own trail back to the surface, but he was blind not stupid, the administrator was unlikely to accept an excuse as lacking as ¡°They went where I couldn''t follow¡±.

    This was about the only situation in which he, Chray, blessed by a Spirit of shrakring Hunting could become lost, and he was not enjoying the sensation.

    He stamped his foot on the ground and listened for the echo, finding exactly what he feared.

    Up ahead a lava flow had come through while this area was once filled with water, solidifying instantly in knives of black glass which jutted out from the walls.

    With enough caution, Chray could certainly weave his way though, especially if he overcharged his blessing, but to what benefit would that bring him?

    There was nothing special about this path, it was chosen at random and was near completely barren of any sign or marker which would indicate the slightest worth to his current situation.

    What''s more, while the air was fresh in the first layer of the ruins, down here it was getting staler and staler the deeper he went, and he wasn''t comfortable with the risk.

    The heat wasnt great either.

    Shaking his head and trying again to alleviate the growing headache gnawing at his brain, Chray took a larger path to his right, hoping that it might lead upwards and maybe release him from the depths of the complex.

    He took the path and found, to his surprise, that he was right in his hopes, as after a few halls filled with tables and chairs carved into the wall an unfinished but adequate path revealed itself and led upwards.

    Glad to finally have something go his way, Chray expended some precious energy and sprinted up the steps.

    After running for a long while, the Keeper stopped for breath and to drink some water, finding his reserves almost half depleted.

    ¡°How long have I been down here?¡±

    The world was always dark for Chray, but the lack of sounds and life made time seem completely obscured to him.

    In truth, Chray wasn''t too worried about the water situation, half the ruin was flooded anyway and while stagnant water wasn''t always the best, the Gitiriag¡¯s constitution was greatly bolstered by star-silver¡¯s power, and he would likely be ok.

    To be honest, with how sterile the whole ruin was it was fifty-fifty on whether the water even would stagnate.

    And that was another thing, despite how long Chray had been down here, there was no evidence of a single living thing, not a vermin feeding off long rotten rations nor a stray spore of mould could be found.

    And while, in admittance, Chray¡¯s sight was lacking, if there was an insect or animal anywhere in the dead silence, he would have heard it.

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    It was like every living thing in the whole complex, despite its incredible size, left the place all at once and never so much as mentioned it again, leaving it to be forgotten by history.

    It was unnerving.

    As he was pondering this, a slight tremor rang through the earth, so small that Chray could only just feel it through the sole of his boots.

    He was, however, fully aware of the dangers of such a tremor and it only made him want to find a way out all the more.

    ¡°Screw it, it doesn''t matter if I lose the trail, I need to get out of here.¡±

    The Keeper got back up and resumed his flight up the stairs, finishing the rest of the ascent and coming back to the upper ruin.

    ¡°How on Orsha did people live here?¡±

    The whole complex¡¯s construction was completely connected, and there didn''t seem to be anything dictating one area to belong to one person, it was like the whole thing was one massive house.

    What made the ancient Orshraka change their way of living so harshly?

    Chray hardly even had to think on that, it was the Earliag that brought their single houses over to the desert, along with every other issue under the sun.

    To think if he were born before the calamity, he would have lived in a place like this, living with a hundred other people like they were family.

    He shook those thoughts away, the Earliag¡¯s presence was mandated by Orsha, and there was little use in letting any resentment get out of hand.

    Chray pushed those thoughts out of his head and focused on the issue, how was he going to get out of here.

    The whole place was a maze, all buried deep underground and liable to collapse at any moment.

    There was really only one thing he could do and he was dreading it already.

    He turned through rooms and halls until he managed to find one, long passage with a great deal of doors and sub-passages on every side, as was highly favoured by the creators of this place.

    Then he broke into run and turned his blessing on himself.

    A sharp pain in his head flared and his own trail lit up orange behind him, his own actions always being harder to track than any others, though he had no idea why.

    Despite his throbbing temples however, Chray pushed deeper and brought more of his power to light.

    Now the orange light extended not only behind him, but ahead of him too, dictating his own future, his own best course of action.

    Instantly his headache turned from painful to excruciating, but he kept running and would do so until he was given direction.

    Ten, twenty, thirty steps passed and no out was provided, Chray wasn''t sure how much longer he could go for, or how much further the passage went in all honesty.

    Just when he was ready to give out, his ethereal self sharply turned to the right through a stone archway, a prophecy which he eagerly followed.

    Another ten steps past, straining the Gitiriag to his very limit yet providing another vital pathway.

    He managed to hold out for one more decision to be made, until he could bare it no longer and crashed into the leftmost pathway of a branching path.

    Chray curled up on the floor in pain, he had pushed himself too far, determined to find a way out of the infinite mess of random concourses and bland rooms.

    How many more times would he have to do this to get out of here, how long would it be till he saw the sun again?

    He didn''t want to think about it.

    Chray awoke on the cold hard floor, having fallen asleep some time in his suffering.

    He wondered how long he had slept for, there was no real way to tell, but it couldn''t have been too long considering how much his head still hurt.

    He didn''t know what he was thinking, pushing himself that far, if anyone had been around to see him then he would have been openly disgraced for succumbing to his pain like that.

    The Keeper got up and ignored the wetness behind his mask, he had taken an oath of stoicism the moment he had committed his sin, and he had already come far too close to breaking that today.

    He walked down the path he had found with his blessing a little bit, up until he came to his first branch in the path.

    He sighed and tried to call upon his blessing once again, yet found that he could not.

    No matter how hard he tried, he could not bring himself to use its power, it was like trying to put his hand onto a pot of boiling water, his mind rebelled on an instinctual level.

    He tried a little harder this time, and again was foiled.

    No matter how hard he tried, the subconscious barrier grew with him, he had well and truly pushed himself too far.

    A passionate pang of pain pulsed through his temples and brought him to his knees in the process.

    His body was reminding him just why it was so against the use of the blessing.

    He hadn''t truly realised the extent of the damage and how far his migraine had gone, his nap had only held it at bay, but all the force was still there.

    Chray was forced to consider that perhaps the reason why he couldn''t use his blessing was because it would physically hurt him to do so.

    The Orshraka slumped to the floor, how the hell was he gonna get out of here then?

 Extra 13: A Stressful Role

    Extra 13: A Stressful Role

    Warm sunlight, filtered red and white, drifted in through the canvas ceiling of the tent, accented by motes of dust floating in the air.

    The air had the aroma of moths and old blankets, as was expected of a place that had spent so long under the sun, completely untouched.

    Herukah reached out and ran her fingers over the fabric of the cloth shelter, admiring its sturdiness.

    It would be a pain to work with, but she could make some really good stuff out of this, it was a shame it had to be wasted on such a silly thing as serving as an emergency hideout.

    She laughed a little at her own joke, it was a shame everyone was too panicked to talk to her, or else she might have snuck it into conversation.

    The space was alight with the sound of confused shouting and hushed whispers, as people rushed to and thro, looking for instruction, or rest, or nothing at all.

    Snapping the tailor out of her reverie, a man carrying a crate of supplies addressed her.

    ¡°Excuse me, Herukah, but we need to move stuff here and you''re in the way.¡±

    The woman in question quickly jumped off the box she was sitting on with an apology, and after offering help that she didn''t really want to give, and receiving a well welcomed dismissal, she strode off into the crowd.

    A veritable horde of Orshraka, about half of all people involved with the rebels, were trying to fit themselves in the tent, and miserably failing to do so.

    There was enough room for the people and there was enough room for the supplies, but fitting both was proving to be a challenge.

    If Herukah devoted just a little brain power to listening in on a conversation, something she was not very inclined to do, there was a decent chance it would be about what should be done with the space, and why so and so had no idea what they were talking about.

    Already, she was hearing whispers of fast forming factions about who wanted what where, which would be hilarious over a problem so minor, if it were not for the fact the many arguments were quickly turning heated.

    Up ahead, two men were shouting at the top of their lungs at each other, a small circle of people gathering around to investigate.

    The man on Herukah¡¯s left was a newbie, son of some blacksmith who was kicked out of the family for wasting the family¡¯s savings on gambling.

    He had joined the cause to escape being sold into slavery so that his family could recoup their losses, and now he fancied himself a head above the many members of the rebels who were former slaves.

    He was arguing with an older man who often visited Herukah¡¯s workshop just to chat, Harhska, she believed his name was, over what supplies could be placed outside in the heat and what had to come in and take up precious room.

    In truth, despite both combatants yelling at the top of their lungs, Herukah could hardly make out a word of what was being said.

    Nonetheless, the argument was getting heated and the tent was already boiling hot, so the tailor decided to intervene.

    ¡°Boys, can¡¯t you stop the arguing and cool it a bit, in case you havent noticed people are already moving the supplies irrespective of what is best, you two are just wasting time blowing around hot air!¡±

    Harshka, for his part, instantly shut up, though if that was because he saw reason or the infatuated blush on his face was another matter entirely.

    His opponent, however, had an entirely different reaction, face morphing from frustration to indignant rage.

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    ¡°How dare you tell me what to do, you half-blooded shektrakrah, people like you sho¡­¡± the man frothed.

    Herukah, in truth, stopped listening to what was being said after the racial slur and merely waited for him to run out of insults so she could convince someone to deck the idiot, or even better, do it herself.

    Once upon a time, such a confrontation would have angered the tailor like nothing else, drawing on her temper like wood to a flame.

    But she had been through alot since then, and nothing the man was saying was particularly new.

    There was many people who held identical opinions to the man in front of Herukah all across the desert, those that took the mixing of Earliag and Orshraka blood to be a heresy against all humankind.

    There was no true rule saying that a simple-lander and a servant of Orsha could not have a child, but there was a lot of hate for the Earliag and a divine decree that stated that such hate could not be given, so it fell upon the unfortunate few who were a product of taboo to take the blame.

    Down here, amongst the rebels, such people were fewer, most either uncaring or disillusioned of Orsha¡¯s commands, the rest kept in line by peer pressure and harsh regulation by Keshte and Detlashra.

    It was one of the many reasons she joined the group, and plied her trade so tirelessly for them.

    Herukah was snapped out of her reflections by a physical shove pushing her back a few steps, the man in front of her apparently having taken badly to her ignoring his provocations.

    A roar went up through the crowd, predominantly in outrage but with notes of support by those who were proud enough of their bigotry to speak up.

    That roar increased as the assaulter was catapulted backwards by a brutal punch to the face from Harshka.

    Herukah pulled the older man from the fight immediately, berating him with all the righteous indignity she could manage and signalling others to check on his victim.

    ¡°What do you think you''re doing!¡± she scolded, ¡°Have we not had enough death and pain today for you!¡±

    ¡°He had no right to touch you like that, I was just protecting y-¡±

    Herukah scoffed, ¡°Do I need your protection? Do you think I have not dealt with that a hundred times!¡±

    She shook her head and willed herself to calm down as best she could.

    ¡°Look, I appreciate the concern and I know you were just trying to help, but I value this organisation, what we are doing here and now, more than any minor insult. He, despite being cruel and ignorant, is still a member of this organisation and we can''t afford to have infighting, especially not now.¡±

    As Herukah was saying this, the offender in question slowly got up, rubbing his jaw, and after sending a hateful glare at the two, slunk off into the crowd.

    Hashka nodded and apologised, and with a promise to talk later in more privacy, made his way away as well.

    By this time, most of the crowd had disappeared as well, with only a few acquaintances sticking around to say a few words before disappearing to go help out.

    Herukah figured much the same and began to reluctantly make toward the exit when a sight in the (fortunately) exact opposite direction caught her eye.

    Standing above the crowds on a large box was the leader and founder of the rebellion, Keshte, imposing form towering over his subordinates.

    He was attempting to do some combination of give out orders about where to put what and deliver an inspirational speech, but was, either for lack of care or lack of noticing, being entirely ignored by a great many people.

    Even from here Herukah could see he was sweating stones at having to handle such a direct, important role, and the lack of response was only making things worse.

    Detlashra was standing next to him and would occasionally attempt to gain control of the crowd, but what Detlashra gained in presence they lost in volume, and his words were being drowned out thoroughly.

    It seemed the duo needed a girl with a temper to take control of the situation, and if nothing else, Herukah had a temper.

    She sighed at having to rescue two people well, well above her station, but she knew Keshte would appreciate it and Detlashra would suffer it, so for the good of the organisation, it needed to be done.

    She swiped some sweat off her forehead and headed over, standing just in front of her illustrious leader, who despite his imposing figure, came off as thoroughly pathetic.

    ¡°No matter what you believe in, or want to believe in, I guess¡­ it doesn''t matter! Whatever you want to believe in, something is looking out for us, why else would that earthquake have come at such a perfect time to block out pursuers. I mean, I suppose it did cut us off from our connect-  Hey! You, leave the light sources outside, we need to prioritise food and bodies, Hey!¡±

    The tailor chuckled a little bit at Keshte¡¯s effort, he was doing his best but he had never been a socialite, and a great many doubted his abilities.

    With a shake of her head, Herukah took off her hat and cloak and set them on a nearby box before putting her hair up into a bun, she needed to look imposing if she was going to wrangle the crowd.

    With a final deep breath she stepped up onto Keshte¡¯s box and prepared to get things in order.

 Extra 14: The Surface

    Extra 14: The Surface

    After about an hour of suffering from his headache, Chray decided on what he should do.

    He may not be able to use his blessing, but he knew what direction it was taking him when it was active, so he made the decision that he should try and follow that general direction, in the hope he could find the exit on his own.

    In any case, staying put wasn''t going to help him much when he didn''t know when his blessing would come back, and if he stayed any longer there was a chance that food could become an issue.

    As such, Chray got up and began wandering through the monotonous halls, hoping that whatever route his blessing was leading him on was somewhat direct and the exit wasn''t actually in a whole different direction.

    As he walked, he pondered the place he was in, and what it was like and how it could have possibly been built.

    The ruin was, simply put, massive, bigger than the capital massive, kilometres of endless hallways and communal rooms.

    Despite its horrifically large size, every inch of the complex was intricately carved and expertly formed, with even things such as benches and decorative pots being carved out of stone and inlaid in the walls.

    The sheer wealth and power of the people that made it, the Orshraka¡¯s forebearers, was near incomprehensible.

    ¡°How could they have possibly done this?¡± Chray puzzled, the only place he had seen that wasn''t intricately constructed and decorated was the layers below, and those were blatantly still in construction.

    What''s more, unlike the shining cities above, there seemed to be no areas relegated to the poor or rich, everything seemed communal in every sense of the word.

    ¡°You would think such a powerful society would have the sense to place doors.¡± Chray grumbled.

    Somehow, despite the whole place being buried underground and likely hundreds of thousands living in the complex, there wasn''t a single route to the surface anywhere.

    Chray attempted to open a door only to be met with a wall of black sand, the fourth such passage already.

    He chuckled a little bit, seems he was dumber than he thought.

    Of course they had placed exits, but those exits were when the city was only covered in a thin layer of sand, nowadays that layer was several metres thick and had clogged every connection to the surface.

    That meant that whatever exit they were going toward needed to be more than just an exit, it needed to have actively reached up into the air when the city was built.

    For a moment, Chray thought this to be an easy task, considering the design of his own home and the frequent high towers and structures that graced it, but this place was not his home.

    This place and by extension those who built it, seemed to have a complete aversion to open air, meaning that any kind of tower was likely very, very rare.

    As Chray got up to investigate the complex a little bit more, a clear tremor rang throughout the ruins, causing dread in the warrior¡¯s heart.

    ¡°Its fine¡± he told himself, ¡°This place has been standing for at least 100 years, there is no way it could break down now.¡±

    That confidence wavered as a second, much larger tremor rang out and the earth let out a groan.

    ¡°Kashrte!¡± The Gitririag swore, immediately setting off into a sprint.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Chray¡¯s luck had gone from bad to catastrophic, not only was he lost inside a ruin bigger than a city, but he was lost in a ruin that was actively about to come down.

    ¡°Why is this happening now, this place has been standing for a hundred years!¡±

    The Keeper pushed it out of his mind, he could lament his misfortune later, right now he needed to move.

    He ran till he found another, long hall and tried to activate his blessing once again, any headache was better than being dead.

    Yet it wouldn''t budge, still thoroughly blocked off by Chray¡¯s own subconscious.

    He tried again, this time mustering every ounce of adrenaline and desperation he could, and for a fleeting moment, a shower of orange sparks vaguely resembling his own form shot out, taking a sharp right.

    With the vision came a feeling like someone had driven a knife through his brain and the Gitrirag faltered for a moment, but another tremor that brought dust from the ceiling and cracks to the walls scared Chray into continuing.

    That glimpse of a vision was not much, perhaps near worthless, but it gave the Keeper a shred of hope of getting out alive and a direction and that was enough.

    He slammed through the marked turn and continued straight as long as he could, but soon found himself coming into a great hall with eight separate tunnels branching off in every direction.

    Chray made to go toward whatever path was straightest, but something about the room made him pause, a part of his mind insisting he stop and think.

    He ignored it and continued on but another quake echoed from below, with enough force that it almost took Chray off his feet and completely shattered any image of the room he may have gathered from his senses.

    Up ahead, in the very path he intended to follow, a great boom rang out as the tunnel collapsed and sand poured in like water.

    Chray, all of a sudden was cornered and he didn''t know what to do.

    It was only now, searching for any route to escape, that the thing calling for his attention at the back of his mind came to the forefront.

    The room Chray was in smelled different.

    Even the Keeper didn¡¯t know what to do with that, and in their panic almost ignored it once again, but when he took a deep breath to calm himself, he found that the smell wasn''t just the smell of dust and age, but fresh, surface air.

    Instantly, Chray searched for the source and found it with his enhanced senses, a stone panel high up in the wall.

    He didn''t take any time to think, he ran up to it and hit as hard as he could with his hatchet, smashing in the area as it was revealed the inconspicuous panel was actually a type of porous rock.

    It seemed that the method the precursors used to supply air fresh underground was a series of vents and connections all across the facility, each one blocked at the end by a type of porous stone that let air through freely, yet blended with the rest of the stonework.

    ¡°But I''ve seen so many of these panels, and none let through air.¡± Chray lamented, but quickly shoved those thoughts aside, he had an exit now and he would not refuse it.

    He squeezed into the vent, larger than would be expected of such a setup but still small enough he had to crawl.

    Like a snake, Chray slithered through the connections at breakneck speed, putting every ounce of energy he had remaining into escaping.

    Another tremor rang out, more of an aftershock of the last but still strong enough to bring down dust from the ceiling and the rumbling sounds of collapsing passages from around him.

    Luckily, the people who built this place understood the importance of their air system, and had built the ventilation well, such that the damage to it even now was minimal.

    The Keeper turned a bend and saw a beam of blue sunlight at the end of the passage, causing him to speed up even more and put the last ounce of effort he could into his escape.

    For a long, anxious moment, the earth calmed and the only sound was the gasping and grunting of Chray crawling, the only feeling the raw skin on his forearms and burning in his lungs.

    Like a miracle, he came out to a wide tower buried deep within the earth, half filled with black sand pouring down from the sides where great openings in the construction let in air from above.

    Unlike any other room in the ruin, this place was unadorned with carvings or artwork, making its smooth walls feel almost alien, it was obvious no one was meant to be here.

    Without delay, he climbed up the sand dunes to the slits which served as air intake, finding only two at the top still uncovered by sand.

    Chray armed himself with his hatchet and set to work breaking down the thin piece of stone that stood between the two slits, the only thing between him and the outside world.

    As soon as he made his first strike, the final earthquake reared its ugly head, the world around him shaking with a dull thud and the sound of shifting sands.

    He slammed his hatchet into the stone again and again, caring not for the fact that the blade was being damaged or the resiliency of the stone.

    A chunk of rubble hit his shoulder from the roof above, a stream of sand following it in short measure, yet it caused only a moment of hesitation.

    Every instant, every strike felt like it took a million years, but soon the thin rock gave way to super enhanced strength.

    With a sudden vault off of slowly building sand below, Chray escaped into the world above moments before the roof collapsed behind him.

    Safe at last.

 Extra 15: A Helping Hand

    Extra 15: A Helping Hand

    Herukah squeezed onto the same platform as Keshte, doing her best to keep her footing despite the giant of a man next to her.

    Keshte was shocked, stepping off the podium and panickedly whispering ¡°Herukah? What are you doing!? I''m trying to make a speech.¡±

    ¡°I''m here to help you.¡± The tailor replied resolutely, ¡°You have been trying your best, but it''s plain to everyone that you don''t have what it takes to get the crowd under control.¡±

    The leader hung his head for a second, a hint of a blush perceptible to Herukah even through his dark skin.

    After a moment he regained his composure and answered with strength.

    ¡°No, I absolutely can not let you talk to the crowd, I have to be able to create a strong front and prove myself as a leader.¡±

    A little bit of anger reached Herukah at the man¡¯s pride, the emotion obviously showing on her face because Keshte¡¯s burst of confidence melted in a single moment.

    ¡°Keshte, in the last 4 or so hours, we have trekked through kilometres of old, falling down tunnels carrying an entire base worth of supplies, while friends and family gave their lives to hold back the horde of angry Earliag so we could escape. An escape, by the way, which was only successful due to the actions of an ally you made less than a day before the attack and an incredibly lucky earthquake which just so happened to block off the path just as we had gotten through.¡±

    The woman shook her head and continued.

    ¡°Right now, your people are tired, confused, grieving and in pain, and our inappropriate accommodations aren''t helping that fact. This is no longer about how you look or what people will think of you, although those things are important, this is about helping and doing anything you can to help.¡±

    Keshte was silent for a moment, but eventually nodded and moved back from the podium, giving the tailor room to speak.

    Herukah promptly stood up, cracked her neck, took a deep breath and began her speech.

    ¡°LISTEN UP YOU KARSHETRE SCUM!¡± Herukah yelled with every bit of pent up rage she had left over from the slights of the day, causing practically every single person in the tent to jump with shock.

    ¡°Your leader has been trying to help you idiots for the last twenty minutes, and you can''t even show the slightest bit of respect to the man who holds the whole organisation on his shoulders and saved every one of your asses about a hundred times each!¡±

    ¡°Look around you people, this place is a mess, there''s wounded still out in the sun while space is being taken up by soap bars and mouldy flour and you lot are too busy arguing about it or feeling sorry for yourselves to actually rectify the issue!¡±

    ¡°And I get it, we are all tired and grieving our dead, and it feels right now that it''s all over, that any moment the Earliag will come over the horizon and kill us all. But the thing is, we, all of us, have been doing this for a long time, and some of our older members might remember that this isn''t the first time something like this has happened and none the less we came back stronger than ever.¡±

    ¡°You know why that is? It''s because we, as a people, aren''t individuals, we aren''t divided like the Earliag or commanded like the slaves, we are a group of one mind and one goal, that is where our strength lies, the strength that puts us a step ahead of our enemies.¡±

    ¡°Right now, we are all hurting or trying not to think about the hurt, trying to remember or forget the people we lost, but right now we need to keep moving, and keep ourselves together or we will all be joining the departed.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°And keeping together means having a single set of orders and a single motivation, and I know some of you may doubt him, but there is no greater man for that purpose than Keshte.¡±

    ¡°Ultimately, whatever you believe is the best course of action, any decision is better than inconsistency and arguing, and as your leader, Keshte can provide consistency.¡±

    A dead silence descended over the crowd as Herukah stepped down and the bald man stood up, sweat pouring down his face from nervousness.

    Every set of eyes in the whole organisation was there, waiting, watching to see if the man could live up to his supporter¡¯s claims.

    ¡°W-we, I mean, I¡­¡± he started, a sense of disappointment slowly settling in from the crowd at the lacklustre beginning.

    Silently, Herukah desperately hoped that Keshte wouldn''t waste the chance that was given and she knew even behind their mask, Detlashra was hoping the same.

    Then, after a moment of excruciating delay, the leader took a deep breath as a new resolve washed over him, his face hardening as he began to rapid fire orders into the crowd.

    Like a swarm of termites, the rebels got to work, shifting supplies and directing people and making plans, a scattered being made whole again.

    Herukah stayed for a second at Keshte¡¯s side, to be sure he would not falter, but once she was confident, she made for the crowd, intent on helping out.

    She was, however, stopped by a heavy hand on her shoulder, a mask of stone coming to greet her face to face.

    ¡°Herukah, what you did was.¡±, Detlashra stopped to clear their throat, ¡°What you did was very irresponsible, you shouldn''t have to place yourself in a situation like that.¡±

    The tailor in question interrupted, ¡°Don''t you dare try to give me a talk on responsibility, someone needed to do something, and nobody else was going to.¡± she harshly countered.

    Uncharacteristically, Detlashra lowered their head and agreed.

    ¡°Yes, you''re right, I misspoke. I meant to say that, as his second in command, it was my responsibility to help Keshte but I was unable to.¡±

    It was only now that Herukah realised that the emotion that was hidden behind their mask of stone was not anger or entitlement, but shame.

    ¡°I''m sorry that you were the one who had to step up for us, that isnt your job and, I would like to know if you could¡­ If you could teach me, and Keshte too, about how to be like that.¡±

    The tailor stepped back in shock, unexpecting of such a raw and direct request from a man as enigmatic as Detlashra, but then she saw the request for what it was, an expression of trust and a grin that shone brighter than the rising sun took to her face.

    ¡°Oh Detlashra, why didn''t you ask sooner!¡± she said joyfully, causing them to cringe and send her a death stare, ¡°i''ll gladly help you two out any time, but for now here''s some quick pointers.¡±

    ¡°I could do what I did up there because I don''t care what people think of me, half the time they will hate me for existing, so I''ve learned to stop thinking about it and let people make their own opinions. Now for you, public opinion is important and shouldnt be neglected the same way I do, but nonetheless, there are times to establish trust and there are times to establish authority, and in a position like yours, being able to make people follow your word is very important.¡±

    ¡°Really, the core of it is sometimes a situation demands that you truly give it your all, no fears about how you will be seen holding you back. For you, you possess a very quiet power, by nature you command respect, but that means when you try to become someone who stands out, you just don''t have the reach, you''re out of place.¡±

    ¡°Keshte is similar in a way, he''s someone who naturally is meant to stay in the back, but he is being forced to the front and in all honesty, for who he is he is doing a truly admirable job.¡±

    ¡°But when you stop caring, give it your all, your natural position in life doesn''t matter anymore and it becomes a matter of making sure people have no choice but to listen.¡±

    Herukah giggled and shook her head, ¡° I won''t give you a whole course here and now, you''ve got people to talk to and lead, and I imagine you would prefer this done in a place more private. But just think about what I said, and know that eventually, if you''re between a struggle and a wall, you''re gonna have to struggle through it anyway.¡±

    Detlashra was silent for a moment, taking a deep breath then thanking her, before sneaking off into the crowd.

    Now that he was gone, Herukah let down her cheery demeanour.

    ¡°This must have really gotten to him if he''s asking me for help.¡±, she thought, Detlashra really wasn''t the type to request things from others, even if he hadn''t taken an oath to struggle alone in silence.

    She took one final look around before ducking into a crowd, seeing the previous confusion on her colleagues faces turn to working determination as Keshte¡¯s orders provided harmony to the chaos.

    The others may be concerned, but Herukah had a good feeling that things were finally about to go their way.

 Extra 16: Anxiety of the Hidden

    Extra 16: Anxiety of the Hidden

    Shreshka lay with Hureheh underneath a small, rocky outcrop in an isolated field, about half of an hour away from the city, which Retlafeh was currently infiltrating.

    The two were idly chatting in hushed voices, intended not to carry far, in an effort to calm their mutual nerves.

    In truth, neither of them were happy with Retlafeh¡¯s plan, Hureheh outright rebuking it, but nonetheless it was the course of action that had been taken.

    Eventually, a lull in the conversation occurred, and each took time to observe their surroundings.

    They had tried to find a spot which was as isolated from the city and surroundings as they could, while also minimising distance, and they had settled on the place they were now.

    All around the city were fields of some variety of grain, which carried bundles of small red berries which would be harvested once the plants had died off for the colder season and let their fruits dry as a consequence.

    This field was far from being fully grown, but it was long enough and thick enough that the two were confident that they would see someone coming before they saw them.

    They had followed the edge of this field until they had reached a small natural cave caused by erosion, only large enough for them to hide their torsos, with a slanted boulder hanging overhead in such a way that they could only be seen from the front.

    Once the safe space had been found, Retlafeh had left them in search of his friend, with promises that everything would be worked out.

    ¡°Did I ever tell you about the time I mistook a girl I was involved with, with my employer.¡± Hureheh began, a hint of humour in his voice before the story had even begun.

    Shreshka grinned a little and bade him to continue, to which the former-slave eagerly did so.

    ¡°So, I was under employment by a particularly unusual master, the kind who would go crazy on the nearest living thing if the slightest thing was out of place, he was meticulous in everything he did and couldn''t stand it when others were less so. Naturally, those under him couldn''t really live up to his standards, and he was almost always yelling about something or someone. Unsurprisingly, he didn''t like me much and a appreciable majority of his anger was often taken out on me. Now, it was important for you to understand that this guy was bald, and when I say bald, I mean he would actively apply some kind of oil to his head so that it would shine in the sunlight, and then seek compliments about it. ¡±

    Shreshka giggled a bit at that, causing Hureheh¡¯s ever present smirk to become a grin.

    ¡°However, there was this girl that he had bought from up north in the capital named Perskra, and she was his pride and joy. She was strict, orderly and decisive, and very quickly she became his number one, waiting on him personally hand and foot.¡±

    ¡°Somehow, by methods I do not fully remember, I became good friends with Peshkra and discovered she wasn''t nearly the hardass she presented herself as, and soon enough she went as far as to ask me to go on a date.¡±

    ¡°Naturally, as a barely 18 year old with friends to prove myself too, I agreed, though in truth I didn''t see her in that way, and we set up a place and time. This time she scheduled the date for was the exact time I was, very strictly, scheduled by my employer to serve a punishment for some other mistake he thought I made, and he was going to go out of his way to ¡°ensure discipline¡± by watching me the whole time.¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Despite this rather extreme situation, I judged the date to be more important and figured that I could take whatever extra punishment the boss dolled out, as he was often unreasonable, but never violent.¡±

    That got a raised eyebrow from Shreshka, it was rare to find an Earliag of that particular demeanour  that also upheld a basic respect for slaves.

    ¡°Now something you have to know about Perskra is that she, like her master, was completely bald. I never worked out if that was a fashion decision, an attempt at appealing to the boss or if she had some kinda condition, but she wore it well nonetheless.¡±

    ¡°So I made my way to the spot with little problem, at the height of the morning, trying my best to avoid attention in case someone got curious, and sure enough, standing in the middle of the path was Peshkra, which I knew because of the sun shining on her bald head.¡±

    ¡°I was a little confused as to why she was displaying herself so brazenly, even if what we were doing wasn''t strictly illegal, there was a great deal of people who would not be happy about it, ya know.¡±

    ¡°Nonetheless, I thought I would start things on a high note, and slowly crept up behind her.¡±

    Shreshka let out a bit of a giggle at that, knowing full well what was about to happen, the smile on Hureheh¡¯s face reaching its peak as well.

    ¡°Now, imagine my surprise when the person I had wrapped my arms around from behind was not, in fact, my possible partner, but the very man I was avoiding in order to mess around with a girl.¡±

    The woman let out a yell of laughter, whacking her head on the top of the recess in the process, yet even that was unable to stifle her.

    ¡°Now, now, for as shocking this was to me, it was equally as shocking to my former master, who had given up on waiting for me and went into town to buy a gift for his daughter and stood for a solid thirty seconds with his mouth wide open while I backed up and started apologising.¡±

    ¡°After a while, the man seemed to realise what had happened, and despite his non-violent nature, backhanded me so hard I still felt it a month later, and was still getting yelled at for the same amount of time.¡±

    Eventually, Shreshka managed to curb her laughter with much effort, and noticed consequently that the sense of anxiety that had previously suffused her being had lessened as well.

    By the looks of things, Hureheh felt the same, as he sat there with all three eyes closed and a satisfied grin, as if he were enjoying a holiday and just heard wonderful news.

    ¡°Thank you for that story, Hureheh, it really helped.¡± the woman expressed.

    The man in question chuckled, ¡°If you really want to thank me, why don''t you return the favour and tell me a story of your own.¡±

    Shreshka blushed a little at the unexpected request, but figured that her companion had put such effort into his story, she might as well reciprocate.

    ¡°I don''t think it can match up to your story, but I suppose I can tell you about the time I almost got mistaken for a trail taker on Kershakreheh and only managed to get out by acting like I got fruit-weavers cough.¡±

    That raised Hureheh¡¯s eyebrows, and caused him to lean in while Shreshka began, the morning slowly passing by in the flow of shared stories.

    Slowly, agonisingly, Retlafeh ducked from shadow to hidden alley, closing on his destination, the mayor¡¯s mansion.

    Already the streets were flooded with Earliag, all out on the day''s business and enjoying life, while the former slave lived in fear of being seen by but a single one.

    Orshraka like him were rare in the Earliag cities, the imperialists always having possessed a strong belief that people like Retlafeh should stay in their own lands, and serve them there.

    It was for that reason that anxiety crushed the man, as a single glance, a single person who noticed the colour of his skin under the hood he stole, would be enough to cause suspicion, and by extension, death.

    But this couldn''t wait, the group needed safety immediately and waiting till night would only risk them being hunted down before they ever got a chance.

    He would not repeat his mistake again.

    Finally, when it seemed there was no end in sight to the city corridors and passages blocked off by streams of people, Retlafeh found what he was looking for.

    The mayor¡¯s mansion stood proud, shaped like an octagon with sharp angles and frequent use of pillars, massively contrasting the circular, self contained homes around it.

    Around it was a vast wall, containing a well kept garden filled with rock statues depicting scenes of decadence.

    It was almost offensively extravagant, and unfortunately for Retlafeh, very guarded.

    ¡°How am I ever going to get into there?¡± he worried.

 Rest and Recuperation

    Rest and Recuperation

    Wanderer had sat in their position for almost an hour and a half when they finally felt enough like themself to do some light pondering.

    They did a cursory survey of their emotions and consequently found a deep tiredness within them, suffusing their being.

    They had at first thought that the tiredness was the same that had come from their overload back at the ruins, yet while that apathy was still very present, they found that this particular exhaustion was not completely the same.

    If anything it was closer to desperation, a desperation to take control of their own life.

    This feeling was due to a realisation, that throughout their entire existence, they had always been a slave to circumstance..

    Sure, there was the occasional time where they decided they wanted to go here or there, or acted out of a few options, but far too many times they were forced into one route or another because of desperation.

    The swarmlings, the titan tree, both cave-ins, even their encounter with the boy and the rebels could be considered out of their hands to some extent.

    And to be honest, Wanderer was sick of it.

    They hadn''t realised it before, but even though they were discovering and exploring during these times, they hadn''t truly kept to the concept of exploration their soul desired.

    Exploration was about choice, about deciding the journey and discovering along the way.

    Yes, it was inevitable that they would encounter situations and be carried with the tide, that was part of the experience as well, but fundamentally, their direction had to be theirs to choose.

    But more and more Wanderer felt that they lacked choice, like they were being dragged around by something they couldn''t identify.

    ¡°Perhaps it is the need in my soul to discover, to the extent that I am its slave.¡± they considered.

    Ka-cketika themself had actively rebuked this idea, stating that such a feeling was only a direction, and that Wanderer was no more a slave to it than a human was to having to reproduce.

    They supposed, in a way that was true, afterall Wanderer was currently exploring very little, and was feeling very little urge to do so.

    But nonetheless, something about the whole situation felt off.

    ¡°Perhaps it is because I am too young.¡± Wanderer thought.

    Perhaps without another Golem¡¯s guidance they had not learned how to control their concept, and as such it guided them to explore without rest or concern, despite how much they felt otherwise.

    Or maybe, instead it was the many oaths Wanderer had taken throughout their life.

    There was of course their oath to never kill, their decree to free slaves, never let life pass them by and rescue any Spirits they found.

    But there were also the commitments they had made without realising, to protect the rebels, find out more about their people and parents, find an instrument and save the lives of others.

    For how long had the walls been slowly closing in without them realising.

    In truth, they didnt know if this was the cause of their desperation either, they had no clue, but the fact remained that it was there and it was the cause of alot of their problems.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    They spent another moment just resting, but soon came to a conclusion.

    Too often they were driven to try and find a purpose behind things, as was their nature, and that wasn''t strictly a bad thing.

    But in this case, with this unknown feeling and unknown motivator behind their frequent disasters, they didn''t have to know what was causing it to counteract it.

    ¡°First, I will take more breaks¡± Wanderer resolved, feeling that taking things a bit slower would help in their ability to make decisions.

    ¡°Next, I will be more cautious.¡±

    This was already one of the many resolutions they had made throughout their travels, but found that very quickly they were unable to stick to it, and hoped to try again now that they were out of danger.

    ¡°Finally, I will give myself time to choose, instead of blindly rushing ahead.¡±

    That was the crux of Wanderer¡¯s new resolutions, removing the problem by assaulting its cause, they were sure it would work.

    A little burst of pride jolted through them at their mature response to their problems, especially without the guidance of their Spirit.

    That got them thinking on the subject of their Spirit, who had left to rest and recuperate, much as Wanderer was doing now.

    The Vessel didn''t blame them for that of course, but funnily enough, they found they didn''t blame themself either.

    What they had done was shortsighted and hurtful, they regretted it deeply, but with what they knew it wasn''t entirely unreasonable.

    They didn''t know enough about the situation, and had made a decision without thinking it through.

    They would simply have to try to learn a bit more, and treat their Spirit with more respect when they came back.

    The Golem let their thoughts drift for a minute, just revelling in the ability to do so, while Emio made a groaning purr in their lap.

    Finally, after a long while resting in the cave, Wanderer got up and began to explore a little, taking their time as they did so.

    Emio, for their part, was unwilling to get going and shoved themself back into the hole, where Wanderer had little issue with them staying.

    They would explore a bit and come pick Emio back up when they were ready to get moving.

    As it was, it was the peak of the day so there would be little hope of travelling anyway.

    The world outside the cave was familiar, almost identical to the one they had seen at the bottom of their last ravine, if a little larger.

    The vultures and birds were here, but in smaller numbers for reasons Wanderer was unsure of, their presence being replaced by man made intervention.

    Though lesser around Wanderer, pale scaffolding covered the rocky sides of the mesa, reaching up to the shimmering ore of gold.

    Or at least, it would have at one point if now those particular veins were not completely mined out, leaving viscous gashes in the rock.

    It was likely because of this there was no one over this side anymore, though the Golem wasn''t sure about the otherside round.

    In all honesty, they weren''t really ready for more human interaction, especially with those who may want to kill them or rat them out to the hunters.

    ¡°Then again¡± the Vessel thought, ¡°I managed to be stealthy once in a place very similar to this one.¡±

    Perhaps the Golem could sneak over, just to check out what the humans were doing, then sneak back with all appropriate caution.

    As long as the Golem was careful, they would be fine.

    ¡°But what if they have a guard like the caravan did?¡±

    If a normal human noticed them, Wanderer was confident in their escape, but if they were found by one of those hunters, with the metal inlaid into their skin, they didnt know how that would go.

    ¡°I need a second plan, an escape plan.¡±

    They puzzled for a second, thinking over what they could do before finally settling on their solution.

    From their pack, they pulled the long neglected flare bow, still gleaming with potential just like when they had acquired it.

    They would simply carry that with them, and if they were noticed they would fire it and run away.

    The flash would surely be enough to cover their escape, then they could get back to Emio and find another way out.

    If they just got Emio to carry them out of the canyon, then surely no human, enhanced or otherwise, would be able to follow at such speed.

    Emio was very good at climbing.

    Having made up their mind, Wanderer began to make their way up the sandy bottom of the ravine, following closely a little brook of fresh water, of which followed their intended direction.

    They really hoped they hadn''t thrown themselves the wrong way this time.

 Shanty and Aggression

    Shanty and Aggression

    Slowly and carefully the Golem crept along the ravine bottom, flare-bow in hand, while hugging the wall and checking around every corner.

    They were well aware their body wasn''t built for stealth, and that by nature, their figure was very recognisable to a great many humans.

    It was for that reason they had to be so careful.

    Eventually, the scaffolding and human intervention began to fall away, signifying that they were entering an area that hadn''t been mined, and Wanderer figured they could move a little faster to get to where the people actually were.

    Despite the presence of slavery and the cruelty of Orsha, Wanderer was still fascinated with human society and in truth regretted their small stay within the city as they only got to see a tiny fraction of what life was like for the humans.

    Not that there was much to be done about it, without the pretence of a costume, there was no way they would be able to get into any city, especially now they were being hunted.

    ¡°I wonder how the rebels are doing, did they make it out?¡± Wanderer thought.

    The Golem had put themself in a lot of danger for those people, and they wished from the bottom of their soul that it hadn''t all been for nothing, that right now they were all okay and somewhere far away from the Earliag.

    Without thinking, the Vessel kicked a stone at their feet as they were walking and watched it bounce off a nearby wall, making a satisfying plink as it did so.

    A moment later, a young voice rose from around a corner, questioning no one in particular.

    ¡°Orshkro?¡± it asked.

    Wanderer froze and slammed themself as close as they could to a nearby protrusion, hoping that the person would forget about the noise.

    To their luck, they did, as the Vessel heard no sounds of pursual or even protracted interest.

    They stayed hidden for a long while, until, with the sound of water being drawn, the person began to walk away.

    Resolving to see who had called to them, Wanderer summoned all their stealth and poked their head around the corner.

    Their caller was a young boy, though the Vessel was not skilled enough in human physiology to determine their age, carrying a pail of water which he had just fetched from a nearby pool.

    Instantly, the Golem thought of the two child slaves they had encountered in a canyon just like this one, in a situation nearly identical to their current.

    In that very instant, Wanderer nearly jumped from their spot and ran to the lad, eager to protect him.

    But they didn''t, and had a number of reasons why.

    First was the outcome of the last time they had tried such a thing, something that had resulted in nothing but confusion and pain from all involved as the children were unwilling, or unable to leave their bondage.

    Second was that there was no slaver to protect from, the boy was completely alone.

    Last, and perhaps most of all, the boy looked fundamentally different from the slaves he had seen last time.

    Where the slaves were thin and covered with rags, the child in front of them now was healthy, with a smile on his face and fat on his cheeks.

    His clothes were modest but tough and showed signs of loving repair, and even a fun little embroidery on the back of a child defeating a monster.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The Vessel was almost certain, this child was not being abused like those they had seen so long ago.

    And that interested them greatly.

    ¡°If this child is doing the same work as the others and is happy doing so, why did the others have to be beaten into it, why the cruelty?¡±

    The Golem didn''t know, but they were determined to find out.

    So slowly and carefully, they crept along behind the boy, careful to keep distance and stay out of sight while remaining in tracking range.

    As they followed along, a strange sound began to carry over the breeze, which at first Wanderer didn''t recognise.

    Then, as they got closer and closer a rhythm slowly developed, developing into a song, then a chant.

    A single voice which could carry over distance became tens as the Vessel got closer and closer, and eventually, when they could hear every word being said, they stopped and let the boy continue onward.

    Going further would only risk being seen and they wanted time to listen to the music.

    They found an alcove in front of a sign, marking the beginning of human intervention once again, and sat inside.

    ¡°Rekshte Orkariatsha, Rekshte Orkariatsha!¡±

    ¡°Hrekkeshte okroshe herukrasha, dearhtet.¡±

    ¡°Oetrehkra Earliag darhsha, karsha!¡±

    ¡°Rekshte Orkariatsha, Rekshte Orkariatsha!¡±

    Again and again, verse after verse, the chant repeated, one line of ¡°Rekshte Orkariatsha, Rekshte Orkariatsha!¡±, two lines of something else, and one more shout to finish before the cycle began again.

    Behind it all was a rhythmic thumping, like the sound of reverberation through rock, that kept the whole beat going, each thump timed with the next word.

    Although they didn''t know what a single word meant, the rhythm possessed an earthy feel that sung of hard work and deserved reward, and opened a well of determination in the Vessel¡¯s soul.

    For a good while they sat and listened until, gradually and unnaturally, the song began to die out with voices disappearing, one by one.

    After a while, it struck Wanderer as odd and they got up, creeping around the corner to take a peek at what was going on.

    Right into the gaze of five, suspicious men.

    The Vessel ducked their head back around the corner, hoping that somehow they were unseen.

    A series of shouts, the complete end of the music and shuffling a few steps away signalled otherwise.

    Feeling it somewhat inevitable, Wanderer came out from their place and met their opposition face to face.

    Five men had turned to eight, with the boy they had followed half hidden behind the man closest to them, all of whom staring at Wanderer with a look akin to suspicion, all of whom armed with mining tools in hand.

    Much to the Golem¡¯s relief, no one was enhanced, making them confident they could get away, but as it was, the Vessel thought they should try to make the best of a bad situation.

    One of the humans stepped forward and began to speak in the language of the Orshraka, questioning them in an accusing tone.

    ¡°Dshtrehah hardetka rashkret! Harshe ktresh rakah, retshar.¡±

    Wanderer, of course had no idea what they were saying, and made to sign an answer but was interrupted by another man pushing past the barricade in front of him and pointing to it.

    ¡°Harshe, rak orshtre karshar herukreh. Destsherkratreh har Orsha kersha!¡± he yelled.

    Very quickly and for reasons the Golem didn''t quite understand, the situation was spiralling out of control.

    They would have thought it was just the usual fear of their kind, but it seemed otherwise from the unusually immediate reactions of the group and their constant references to the sign.

    Wanderer was under the impression their kind was rare and nearly extinct, there was no way people would act this fast and this coordinated if something else wasn''t going on.

    The Vessel backed away and was about to run when they had a realisation.

    They could run and doubtlessly get away, but the fact was the men in front of them would follow.

    To get away with any degree of permanence, to end this fiasco, they would need to wake up Emio and force them to help escape.

    And really, as tired as Wanderer was, Emio was equally so and deserved a long rest for everything they had done for them.

    ¡°I will find another way out of this, a way where they won''t follow me.¡± The Vessel decided.

    Perhaps that was a risk, but the Golem had seen nothing to indicate that these people were truly a threat to them, and as such they felt confident to get away if they really needed to.

    They just needed to stay cautious and they would be fine.

    They really hoped so, because once again they got dragged into something they had never intended to find.

 Enforcement and Reasoning

    Enforcement and Reasoning

    A tense silence spread in the air, as unprompted anger grew and Wanderer¡¯s mind went into overload trying to think of a way of causing the people to back off.

    After a moment, the whole group began to slowly shuffle forward, with their leader taking greater strides forward.

    In a last ditch effort, Wanderer threw all their hands up in surrender, hoping that would reduce their agressor¡¯s anger.

    Much to their surprise, the group took almost a collective step back in shock.

    The Vessel was equally shocked at the reaction, taking a good moment before they realised what had happened.

    Every person in the crowd had their eyes trained on Wanderer¡¯s lower right hand, the hand in which the flare-bow was firmly grasped.

    Curious, the Golem lowered their hands and pointed the bow directly into the crowd, causing many to reel back, a few to duck and the young boy to cry.

    Wanderer immediately lowered it, but found that much of the collective anger in the group had left, replaced with a mutual gaze of fear.

    They didn''t know what to think of that, on one hand, this was an exhibition of non-violent intimidation and it wasn''t like they had any intention to hurt any of these people.

    Surely, they could use this to escape without pursuit.

    But on the other hand, wasn''t fear just another type of pain that Wanderer was inflicting, should they really be defaulting to causing children to cry whenever they are confronted?

    So the Vessel took the flare-bow and instead of guaranteeing their safety, they instead placed it on the floor.

    They had expected someone to immediately scramble and take the tool, yet none came, so they decided to try and use the shock to show they were no threat.

    Slowly, they sat down on the ground, legs crossed and pinched at their clay flesh, deforming it in a way no human could.

    Ignoring the pain, they reached deeper and carved out a full chunk of their arm, down to where bone would rest in any being of flesh and blood, before smoothing it over like it had never been touched.

    For a long while, Wanderer sat passively while the men looked on unrealising, both sides waiting for something to happen, neither getting what they were expecting.

    Eventually, the leader walked forward with a great deal more amity then they had begun with.

    ¡°Keshatra rak orshrara?¡± They asked with confusion.

    Wanderer couldn''t say as to the exact wording of the question, but the idea was purveyed well enough.

    They fished out their book of Orshraka words, flipping through until they found the page they were looking for.

    With a long, pointed finger they highlighted a word written in bold, diagonal script with an image of a centaur-like monster of clay above it.

    GORLESHA, meaning Golem.

    The collective group took a step back at the proclamation, the true nature of the one they had just threatened as a war machine of death striking fear into their hearts.

    Before they could begin to ask Wanderer more questions which would be considerably harder to decipher, the Vessel stated their intentions as best as they could.

    Through a mixture of pictures and charades, they emphasised that they had come through the canyon to explore, and saw the child alone.

    They grew curious (and scared) and followed, ending up here, in front of them, clueless as to what was happening.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    The leader nodded and understood, seeming overall more reasonable now that Wanderer had proved themself.

    It seems, much to their joy, the Vessel had successfully calmed the situation.

    And while the threat with the flare-bow was unintentional, it only reaffirmed their belief in the power of force and intimidation.

    They had not harmed those people, nor ever intended to, but their nature as a Golem and their wielding of what was perceived as a weapon had forced them out of the angered state of mind.

    That in itself was no better, Wanderer did not enjoy causing fear, they were not cruel and deadly like their kin, but even they couldn''t deny its use.

    But the fear had given them a moment to connect, free of the anger and prejudice the group had carried, it allowed them to get through.

    They wondered if it would work that way with slaves as well, if by that method the Golem could free them.

    ¡°Intimidation will serve me well¡±, the Vessel decided, ¡°as long as I am careful, and do not let it become violence.¡±

    It was around this time that Wanderer suddenly remembered that they were in the middle of a social interaction, and did not have the time to be pondering.

    The lead seemed to be waiting for them to say something, an issue as the Golem had little to say.

    Eventually, given the opportunity the Vessel asked to be allowed to explore the men¡¯s mining area, never one to turn down an opportunity to discover.

    Much to the Golem¡¯s surprise, however, the men all looked at each other nervously, before the leader refused.

    When questioned further he gave very little true reason, merely insisting that they were all a group, and no one else could join.

    That confused Wanderer and they figured they were missing some kind of context which they could only get by learning the language.

    That left the Golem at a stand still, either they could wait around and try to sneak in or they could go back to Emio and do something else.

    Their first urge, driven by their nature, was to sneak in later, feeling like they deserved it for all the work they put in to calm the crowd.

    But upon thinking it through they quickly came to the counter conclusion, not only would sneaking ruin all the civility they had worked to build between them and these people, but it also just didn''t feel right to actively defy what they wanted.

    They were not entirely sure why they felt this, they had no issue going against the wishes of a human before, but to them it felt that they had been trusted not to go in and entering anyway would defy that trust.

    So, somewhat awkwardly, Wanderer picked up the flare-bow and walked away, the whole crowd of men watching intensely behind them.

    The mining operation wouldn''t have been that interesting anyway, though they did truly enjoy the song.

    After a little while of walking away and checking behind them to make sure none of the miners followed, Wanderer found themself returning to the little bank where the child had been taking water.

    It got them thinking, ¡°Why am I so sensitive to children being harmed?¡±.

    Wanderer, of course, took no joy from the suffering or slavery of anyone, but above anything else seeing children hurt and abused caused a far greater reaction.

    The question was why, and after a little bit they came to an answer.

    ¡°Children are like me, they aren''t strong and don''t know much, they are carried around life because they don''t have the power to take control.¡±

    By all means, a child didn''t get to decide where they got to go or what they were going to do, so seeing a child who was being abused made the Golem rush to help, because the child could not help themself.

    That thought brought about another pang of longing for their parent, despite how much they had worked to nullify that part of them, and so they banished the thought.

    Eventually, their mind turned to more recent matters, puzzling out what exactly had happened with the group, and why they were so hostile.

    From what little Wanderer had understood, they seemed to have a fear of outside forces, in a battle or rivalry with someone else, perhaps.

    The Golem had noticed that the men had continually drawn attention to the sign in the road, and feeling it a missing piece of the puzzle, the Vessel decided to decipher it from memory.

    Pulling out their gift, they flicked through the pages, hoping to find a match to the symbols they saw.

    As this was their first time truly trying to read the book, they found that the Orshraka language was rather different from anything they could have expected.

    From the Earliag books they had, that language seemed to read left to right in nice, orderly lines on crisp, square pages..

    Orshraka, however, was very different, with large landscape pages of rough papyrus and written symbols on descending diagonals, read from the largest lines, the ones in the middle, to the smallest.

    What''s more, the middle lines would always contain the most important information, with extraneous details spreading out from the middle on progressively smaller lines.

    It was a rather odd system, but considering that they had no real knowledge of how to read any other language, Wanderer was happy with what they got.

    And with that knowledge they set out on their quest to decipher the miner¡¯s sign.

 Deciphering and Return

    Deciphering and Return

    The sign consisted of three lines placed diagonally on a red wooden board, written in a black paint that even Wanderer could tell was amateurishly applied.

    The Golem began by deciphering the smaller lines, hoping to work their way into deciphering the language before getting to the truly important stuff. Immediately, they found an issue with the book they had been gifted, or rather, an issue with the Golem¡¯s own upbringing. For the book was not just the words for places and objects, but the more nuanced elements of language as well, and it wasn''t the easiest thing to work out the exact concept the pages were trying to convey.

    The Vessel found themself particularly stuck on the diagram for the word RARESTRSHA, which was depicted with the word floating above a collection of bolts of cloth, with a single bolt blocked out by a black asterix. Presumably, the word detailed the absence of something, but they couldn''t work out if it was about the action of removing, or stating if something was already gone, let alone how to use the word.

    The book did have explanations of how to speak and where to use the individual words, problem was this was written in Orshraka, and as such would require the use of the book to work out. It occurred to the Golem the book probably wasn''t meant to be read alone, but Wanderer had very little choice in the matter.

    They put the book down for a second to clear their mind, reflecting on the words they had already deciphered. Up to this point, the smallest line had stated that ¡°no person should enter¡± which didn''t give much information about the mystery, they already knew that the humans didn''t like people coming in.

    Eventually, Wanderer came to the decision that they should skip that particular word, and any other hard ones, then try and work it out from context once the whole sign was deciphered. Over the next hour or so, the Golem made it back to the little cave and continued to try and work out the sign, snuggling up to Emio who was uncharacteristically receptive. Eventually, through much struggling, frustration and a few context clues, the Vessel settled on an approximate meaning.

    ¡°This mining action is under the control of the Arshkresha group. Control of this land is properly granted and personally protected.¡±

    ¡°This land is very private and rejects the laws of good generosity. It can not be taken.¡±

    ¡°No person should enter without being told to¡±

    Doubtless Wanderer¡¯s translation was incorrect on the fine details and more specific concepts, numerous times they had to simply guess, but they figured it was good enough. For the most part, the sign had just told them what they already knew, but from the phrasing of it seemed to confirm one of the theories they had.

    When they were confronted by the men, they seemed to have an unusual amount of aggression, despite seeming to believe the Golem was a person in disguise. This, combined with the insistence on protection and ownership of the land made the Vessel think that the Arshkresha group, as they called themselves, were being attacked or antagonised by another group of humans. What''s more, this group must have tried many sneaky and subtle ways of taking or entering the land, as the men immediately assumed that Wanderer was one of them in disguise, despite the costume festival having ended.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The Vessel did have to admit that they had made a few logical leaps in the creation of their theory, but in truth they had little else to go off so they just left it at that and felt proud of themselves for working something out.

    Once they finished pondering, they flicked through the book''s pages once or twice, admiring the pretty drawings of real world objects and abstract concepts and played a game of finding how many things they could recognise and match a word to. They found the invisible lizard the merchant had been riding on, called a Lershrete and the pale, light wood so many things in the desert had been made of, Osrahetre, which apparently came from massive blades of grass.

    This little game went on, finding words for mountain and tree, sand and city, bird and song. They even found the name of the great volcano in the center of the desert, which is where the physical form of Orsha rested, Okrash.

    Soon, Wanderer became so engrossed in the book and the wonder of discovering its contents that they didn''t even notice the Verdestry in their arms, getting more and more impatient. Indeed, they were so engrossed that they only stopped ignoring the little monster when it whacked them on the head before settling there itself. Wanderer was shocked for a second at the unexpected violence but soon realised what was happening, packing their book away and readying themself to travel again. They could read the book anytime, there was no rush to get through it, there was, however, a rush to get going as Emio was becoming impatient.

    Luckily their escapades had taken long enough that the sun was beginning to set, cooling the sands to such a degree that the Vessel and their friend could get across. As Wanderer began to scale the wall back out of the ravine, a sudden thought occurred to them.

    ¡°I can finally search the city for a library, I can read!¡±

    They had been so distracted lately that they had forgotten the entire reason they wanted to read in the first place, that is, to discover the secrets of the desert. All this time, the secret mechanism behind the fog and lightning remained a secret, why it rose every night and mesmerised the living causing curiosity to gnaw at their mind. But now it was simple, all they had to do was sneak back into a city and find where they kept the books.

    They were not unaware of the complications of that sentiment, especially considering how they would be actively hunted in any city they went in, but their rest had cleared a few things up for them, mentally, and they felt they would get a chance to go in the cities once again.

    Either way, that was a problem for later.

    Cresting the rock wall, the Golem quickly set on their way, eager to take advantage of the cool of the night to finally get to the graveyard they had seen from so far away. It was practically at their fingertips now, pillars of bone now easily spyable under the dying daylight, Wanderer would reach it by the end of the night with time to spare.

    Cresting a particularly large dune in order to get a better look at their destination, Wanderer was surprised to notice two things had changed about the world around them.

    The first was that, to their left on the horizon past the black sands, the tick infested sea of grass had already fully regrown to its former height, despite having burned away only a matter of days ago. It made sense, in a way, that something that was so easily destroyed grew back equally as fast but Wanderer always had the impression that the growth of plants was a slow affair, and this threw a bit of doubt in that whole process.

    ¡°I really do know so little about this world. I will have to try and read about the grass as well if I ever enter a library again.¡± They thought.

    The second thing that stood out to them was the lack of anything that stood out. It was toward the end of the day, but there should have still been some life in the desert, the last of the lizards soaking up the sun or the last of the vultures looking for prey. But instead there was nothing, not a single living thing wherever the light touched, with the exception of a few lonely cacti hawking their fruits to nonexistent animals.

    Wanderer always knew there was less in the desert than elsewhere, they could hardly walk two steps in the forested valleys of their birthplace without stepping on some natural marvel afterall, but this was different, for once the desert was well and truly deserted. It was uncanny and off putting but try as they might they couldn''t find a single reason for the disappearance.

    Shaking their head, the Golem tried to shed the bad feeling and continue forward, hoping the animals had all just turned in early for the night. Besides, there wasn''t much they could do even if there was something bad coming, they weren''t staying in the canyon for another day just to try and avoid some uncertain calamity. If something came, they would simply have to deal with it as best they could with the skills they had, that was their decision.

    With that resolution, Wanderer set forth with a determined pace with Emio trailing behind, on a direct route to the monolithic graveyard, buried in the sands.

 Burrs and Chameleons

    Burrs and Chameleons

    As Wanderer and Emio set off on their journey toward the boneyard, dying day eventually became true night, accompanied by all that entailed in the endless sands. As had the night before, neon lights rose from the ground and shifted in mesmerising patterns before being sucked in to herald the falling of a lightning bolt. It was those lightning bolts that were the chief concern throughout the first half of the journey, dodging and weaving in an effort to avoid their careless retribution. In fact, this simple effort took up so much of their attention, despite its relative ease, that they didn''t even notice when they had walked into the middle a peculiarity in the desert sands.

    Walking through a particularly flat area of the desert, Wanderer was idly signing something to Emio when they heard an odd popping sound and a pain in their leg. They quickly looked down and found that their leg and the surrounding area was covered in tiny white seeds, with white tufts of fibre on the end. By the looks of it, the seeds had been ejected with force, many of them having become stuck in the Vessel¡¯s leg or a few centimeters underground.

    They were easily removed but caused Wanderer to think of a question.

    ¡°Where did these seeds come from, and what was the popping sound.¡±

    Perplexed they looked around and found nothing out of the ordinary, it was as if they had appeared from thin air. Confused, Wanderer continued on before not five minutes later a similar occurrence happened, heralded by another pop.

    Again the Golem brushed off the seeds and looked around, again coming up inconclusive.

    In desperation, they even asked Emio who predictably didn''t know. Again Wanderer set off, this time making it all of one minute before another pop.

    Bewildered, the Golem scoured the area once again, finding something not on the ground or in the air, but on Emio. On one of their many limbs, a small, black twig was clinging on by a spine of splinters. The twig itself seemed to be bone dry, and snapped easily when the Golem picked it up but that was of little interest, what was interesting was its fruit.

    Hanging off one side of the stick was a small, oval fruit with hexagonal white patterns running throughout its black body. Curious, Wanderer poked it and had their suspicions confirmed when it popped and spat seeds all over their face.

    After cleaning up, the Vessel began to search for the final piece of the puzzle, where the twigs were coming from. They were quite certain that a twig as small and dead as that wasn''t the whole plant, plants needed roots and leaves and that had neither. So they searched the one place the plant could have hidden from their repeated inspection, underneath the ground. They were correct in their guess, burrowing a narrow hole in the ground and pulling out the culprit of their confusion.

    It was a very odd looking plant, a far cry from the leathery cacti which was the only other resident of the sands that the Golem had seen. At its roots it was green and plump, fleshy leaves bundled together to create something resembling bok choy. However, as each stem shot its way to the surface, it gradually grew drier and thinner, splitting off from the main stem into little black branches. The closer to the surface these branches were, the drier and blacker they became until they stuck out above the sands, so brittle and splintered that they would snap and stick to any passerby.

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    The little explosive pods followed this same process, originally starting as green buds before growing and drying with its accompanying stem, until it grew so brittle that a touch could release its life bringing payload. And while this process was incredible to Wanderer and mildly interesting to Emio, there was still a single question nagging at the Vessel¡¯s mind.

    ¡°What are the plants here for?¡±

    The plants were trying to spread their seeds, but despite this fact there was seemingly nothing anywhere, animal or man, for hours. Wanderer was in the middle of nowhere with nothing but sand for ages and ages, nothing that could spread seeds and as such, no reason for the plant''s aggressive reproduction technique.

    As if synced to the very thought, Wanderer heard a sudden pop come from their right, the distinctive sound of a seed pod bursting. Looking at the source, they found something incredibly peculiar, two twigs and a collection of seeds was seemingly floating in mid air. Moments later these objects began moving in a rhythmic, natural sense, indicating to Wanderer the nature of the anomaly.

    There, only ten or so steps away must be one of the giant chameleons they had seen the merchant riding when they stowed aboard their cart. The creature was truly and utterly invisible, their deception near perfect with the fog to hide their footprints and smother their sound. It really made Wanderer wonder just how many of the creatures were actually around, hiding beneath their magic.

    Another pop sounded a little further away, the Golem only just spying the seed covered foot of its culprit a few hundred steps away.

    ¡°This is what the plant preys on¡± the Vessel thought.

    The revelation brought a joviality to their step as they continued onward, jumping and dancing around the small black twigs that stuck up from the sand as the towers of bone grew ever closer.

    Eventually, Emio, ever-hungry, dug up almost twenty of the subterranean herbs in order to replace their form, becoming stranded with soft tones of green and white, rejecting the dried and brittle elements of the plant. That was fair, Wanderer supposed, Emio was a very mobile creature and a body created to be brittle wouldn''t be very pleasant to possess.

    While that process was taking place, the Vessel turned their mind back to the chameleons, pondering their presence in the desert. They seemed to be heading in much the same direction as Wanderer, perhaps hoping to seek shelter in the bones from the sun, but this journey raised a perplexing question.

    Every living thing the Golem has seen in their journey hid itself away at night because of the desert¡¯s entrancing aurora, with exception of Emio, Spirit and themself. Despite this, these chameleons were saundering their way through the aurora with no issues at all, even managing to avoid the lightning with perfect accuracy. So the question was, were the lizards immune to the mist or did they have some other method of resisting the influence.

    Walking up to one, Wanderer walked alongside it and stared it down like the mere action would force it to reveal its secrets. The lizard didn''t even seem to notice, continuing on like ever.

    At first the Vessel saw nothing wrong with this, knowing well just how aloof the chameleons could be, but an inkling of an idea of what was happening came together when the lizard reacted shocked when Wanderer poked them It makes sense to react when poked, of course, but the extremity of the action by the lizard, jumping nearly five steps away and going completely still, seemed a little out of sorts for a threat you were ok with having by your side only a moment ago.

    It was almost like the chameleon didn''t know they were there. And with that idea everything fell into place, the lizards couldn''t see. Wanderer didn''t know how the chameleons kept moving in the right direction, but other than that everything made sense.

    They held their invisibility by letting all light pass through them, thus seeming like they were not even there. But if light simply passed through them, then there was no way that light could ever reach their eyes, thus rendering them blind as well as invisible.

    In this way, the lizards had no issue with the mesmerising lights just because they never saw them, using the same strategy as every other creature of flesh and blood, just with a different method. As for how they managed to dodge lightning and head toward the boneyard so consistently, that was a mystery, and with no Spirit to answer them it was something that could only be uncovered by the books that had to reside in the cities.

    With an acceptable majority of their local mysteries solved, Wanderer stopped their dallying and continued on, pondering random and unrelated thoughts as they did so.

    It was in this way that they passed the time, interspersed by hopping around herbal mines and dodging electrical fireworks, until an odd feeling came over them, the idea that something was very wrong.

    They ignored it, unable to find a source, yet the feeling remained and put the whole group on edge.

    And it was this way that the Golem remained on their slow journey to the graveyard, unaware of the trillion grains of flying devastation shooting toward them in a wall of wind-swept glass from beyond the horizon.

 Extra 17: Infiltration of the Afraid

    Extra 17: Infiltration of the Afraid

    Retlafeh¡¯s joints were aching and sore from having to stay still for so long, his stomach equally protestant. For nearly the whole night he had been lying sandwiched between two buildings and a fence, completely covered by darkness and unknown to any man. He would only have one shot to enter the mansion, if he was caught, him, and likely his companions, would be doomed. He had to have the perfect opportunity, the streets had to be empty, the moons covered by clouds, the guards changing shift.

    That was what he told himself.

    But in truth he already had had ten such chances throughout his long stakeout, and each time he made up a reason why he wasn''t ready.

    He was too stiff, he would make too much noise, the guards were too awake.

    No matter the opportunity he couldn''t bring himself to make the move, but neither could he return to his compatriots empty handed after he put so much emphasis on his plan. He was being selfish and childish, something that a man of his age and experiences had no excuse for being. But despite knowing that, he still couldn''t walk out of the alley.

    This trial should have been a simple affair, Orsha knows he did far more dangerous things in his youth. But the reality was he was scared, not of dying or being caught, but scared of seeing Taresh again after so long.

    He berated himself for the mere thought every time it came up, but in truth he had not seen him in over twenty years, and in truth, just the thought of speaking with him felt like dying. But despite that he jumped like a hatchling at the slightest chance of talking to him, putting his whole group in danger and at risk of defying the will of Orsha. It was stupid and dangerous and downright unforgivable, and now he couldn''t even work up the courage to make the move now he was here.

    He turned his attention back to his mark, he was too old for this rekraraksha.

    He would do it, now, it was almost morning and he had to be back out of the city by the time the night lifted. As if by providence, a chance presented itself at that very moment. The street was quiet, its people all asleep, the guards either half asleep themselves or patrolling different areas.

    Retlafeh squeezed his fist around the Andromio coin in his hand, feeling as if its glimmer could provide the slightest smidgen more confidence. He stepped out into the cloud-smothered moonlight. Before he even realised it himself, he had jumped the wall and was standing solidly in the middle of enemy territory, there was no backing out now.

    He dove behind a nearby fence painted in white and blue before jumping shadow to shadow in an effort to stay hidden. The garden of exorbitant luxury, complete with decadent statues and false imitations of nature¡¯s ordered beauty passed by in brutal silence, every scuffle of the intruder''s feet seeming to echo throughout the mountains, despite his best efforts.

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    He was certain that a guard or resident would see his approach at any moment, but no one ever did, no shouts ever reached his ears, he had made it. But the most dangerous part of his plan was still to come, he had reached the walls but now he had to get inside.

    Every door was locked, every window was glass, forcing either open would attract attention without doubt. There was only one reliable way to get in, one which he had confirmed from his long stakeout.

    Throughout his long existence as a slave, Retlafeh had been sold to a hundred different masters, it being Earliag tradition to never hold onto one man for too long. He had found in his times working for those exceptionally wealthy that their mansions only truly came in three forms. The first was long, thin mansions with branching straight paths, the second similar, yet split into two or three buildings connected by gardens and walkways. The last kind however, the ones reserved for the truly powerful, were built around a central spire from which each room and wing radiated from in octagonal symmetry.

    This spire allowed residents to walk to the roof and stare out at the world from above, a statement to the owners power, it would be bad taste to let such a pinnacle of design be boarded up by doors. Few Earliag saw this as a fault and there was a very simple reason why, because no one would be stupid enough to use it to break in.

    The manor had three floors of stark white stone and more windows and guards than sense, getting to the wall was hard but possible, but scaling it was going to be an entirely different struggle to do unnoticed. It was for this reason that Retlafeh had to be sure his plan would work.

    Putting away his thoughts of what he would find inside, the former-slave kept to the wall and got as far from his little safe space as he dared, coming up behind a guard who was in the process of nodding off. Retlafeh grasped the coin in hand and began to create his simple fire spell off gestures he had long since committed to memory.

    He wondered if Taresh still had the old book, the one that had taught him this spell, despite all the suffering it had caused them all.

    As the spell weaved itself into existence, more and more heat gathered and more and more light followed, beginning to draw attention from those responsible for the building''s protection. Before any of them could see the cause of the problem, the spell completed, placing a blazing rune one hundred times more powerful than anything Retlafeh had made before, scorching him even as he jumped back with all the force he could muster. He ignored his burns and sprinted as stealthily as he could back to his place of entry, hiding himself away as barks of curiosity turned to yells and shouts as the garden lit ablaze.

    Retlafeh, despite the urgency, sat and watched the result of his actions for a moment, in awe of the improvement caused by the coin. Without it, he wouldn''t have even been able to light a particularly green bush on fire, but now half the garden was being incinerated in blazing glory and the rune showed no signs of fading. He was lucky that the stories did not lie about the power of the metal, and a million times luckier that they had gotten their hands on an amount as large as the Golem¡¯s gift.

    His plan was such that the Earliag would see that the fire was caused by magic and as such, if he got out in time, they would never connect it back to a group of lowly slaves.

    Wasting no more time, Retlafeh began his ascent up the wall, wedging himself between a pillar and solid marble bricks, slowly pushing his way up. He managed to scramble onto the balcony above him just in time to dodge the gaze of two residents who came rushing around the corner, the tips of his feet escaping behind the platform just in time. He stayed there to catch his breath for a moment but he dared not stay long, from here he was in full view of anyone in the house, glass doors leaving him fully exposed to any malevolent gaze.

    Once he was certain he was safe, Retlafeh began his accent again, this time using the various decorative reliefs and ledges as holds for his infiltration. Where before he was at least partially hidden by the pillar he was climbing on, now he was fully exposed on the wall for two full floors until he reached the roof. Second by agonising second he climbed, the work easy if not for his sweating hands.

    Then, when only a meter away from the top, calamity struck as one of the fingers of a man inlaid into the wall snapped off in Retlafeh¡¯s hand, once delicate sculpture now ruined. The scare of nearly being flung off the wall was a mild problem, what was far worse was the solitary finger clicking and clacking its way down to the floor. All it would take was a single person to trace the source of the sound and he would be doomed, a single person to look away from the flames.

    And in blessing of Orsha, no one did.

    Not one soul reacted to the sound, not one guard dared to see the slave¡¯s dark skin on the alabaster walls, no resident cried out in alarm or warning at the intruders presence. And in one last move, Retlafeh had made it, he was one step closer to securing the life and mission of him, his companions and his god.

    One step closer to seeing Taresh again.

 Extra 18: The Dread

    Extra 18: The Dread

    Chray¡¯s body, mind and heart begged for rest.

    His stomach was twisting in knots, his throat dry as charcoal, his muscles emulating the fires of Okrash. And that was without even mentioning the relentless, relentless pain in his head.

    But despite everything telling him to stop, he couldn''t, if he stopped for even a hour his death was all but certain. He had awoken from his exhausted sleep sometime around midnight, the ruin of the ancient complex at his back, shielding him from the sun. He had been woken by a chameleon going on a straight migration toward the Rekrekshreh, the graveyard of water. Since then he had been walking, moving ever forward for one reason and one alone, there was a light breeze at his back.

    All the people of Ketkershra had been told by the oracle that toward the year¡¯s end, as the moons prepare to go dark once more, that the largest and most brutal sandstorm of a hundred years time would be carried on the winds of the Careriag mountains. He had, for the most part, forgotten, safe as he would be in the citadel¡¯s walls and certain that the storm would be later still.

    But now he felt a slowly building breeze on his back, a breeze in the still desert, a breeze in a place where not even the ocean brought the slightest movement of the air. If he didnt reach shelter by the time that storm hit, he would be shredded to ribbons by a thousand shards of black glass. And herein lied the true issue, for all that his blessing benefited him and his enhancements ensured his superiority, he had very little capability to find shelter in the infinite desert, where there was no semblance of guidance to be found.

    Usually, Chray would travel the roads at night as well as day, allowing him to make far greater time than any opponent, then track them down once he was close. If nothing else, he could track himself back home if he got lost.

    But here, where he didnt know where he was, with no guidance and little ability to use his blessing, he was screwed. Chray made it a point to never wish for sight, believing that Orsha¡¯s curse to him was equally to his blessing, but as he was trudging blindly across the dunes he wished for nothing but eyes to see.

    For him, there was only one point of hope, one heading he could trust. Whenever there was a disaster on the horizon, every chameleon in the desert would trudge the long journey to their ancestral home in a line as straight as an arrow. How they managed to always know where it was was the topic of much argument, but Chray didnt care about that, they were always right and that was exactly what he needed.

    When he was woken from his slumber by the chameleon, he realised what was happening and crawled over to where he heard the creature pass. Using nothing but his senses, he followed its tracks until he was certain that he had a clear heading then set out past it; he would need to go quickly to reach the boneyard before the sandstorm hit.

    There was still one issue with that plan however, his stomach was making sure that such a feat of speed was nothing more than a dream.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    His escape from the ruin had taken a lot out of him, all the running and effort had taken him to his limit and even star silver couldn''t stop the consequences of that kind of adrenaline rush. Even with magic, something could not come from nothing. He needed food and he had no way of finding it.

    There was only two food options for him in the sands, the lizards and the cactus. Usually the lizards only buried themselves half a meter below the surface, but even then one needed a shovel such that they did not shred their hands on the sharp sand deeper down. Who knew how deep they would go now that a storm was coming.

    In contrast the cactus were everywhere and easily available, the fruits so vibrant they practically begged to be picked, or so Chray remembered. Only issue was that Chray was blinder than any bat out in the open night, he had no way of finding them.

    His stomach growled fiercely, if he needed to find a cactus, he would have to get creative. His first idea was to track the path of one of the many sparrows of the desert, hoping to find where it may have lighted on one of the cacti¡¯s fruits. But without the adrenaline of a ruin collapsing on his head he could not bring himself to even elicit a spark of power from his blessing.

    Without his blessing his options were limited, but he eventually came up with an idea. It was a simple plan, right now he was limited to his sense of touch as he walked forward, hoping to run into a cactus. So what he had to do was expand his senses.

    Kneeling down, Chray picked up a handful of sand, feeling it crackle in his hand as the loose bonds that held it together fell apart. Then he threw the sand out as far as he could in a circle around him, listening intently. Though blind, Chray¡¯s andromio enhanced senses were far greater than any regular human, his hearing most of all. If the sand he threw hit anything but sand, he would hear it and know he had finally found a source of food.

    He found nothing on his first attempt, and even less on his second, third and fourth, but just as the warrior was ready to give up he struck his prize. As the sand escaped his fingers, the Orshraka heard something other than the crunch and clink of glassy sand from somewhere on his right. It was subtle, so he walked a few steps in that direction and tried again, finding exactly what he had hoped for.

    He sprinted over to the plant and found it in possession of two fruits, which he promptly tore from their perches and ate, skin and all. The cactus fruits of Reshraka were well known for deceiving many travelers with their exterior, which, when eaten, was so bitter it could make even the most hardened stomachs crawl. But that didn''t matter to Chray, to him, the fruit tasted like the sweetest nectar, so much so that he licked the juice off of his hands.

    From there he went on a spree of hunting the stationary cacti using his technique, each fruit restoring energy to his body and robbing his tongue of any sensation but pain. By the time he had eaten eleven of the fruit, and stripped five cacti bare, he was ready to keep moving, still exhausted beyond all belief, but far enough from death to survive.

    But his escapade had wasted precious time, if he wanted to reach the boneyard in time, groping in the dark as he was, he would have to run. He spent a single moment readying himself for the marathon to end all marathons, then he kicked off of the black sand.

    Like a fireball, the man with a mask of stone followed his heading with speed to match a horse. With every step, he felt the wind behind him was growing stronger and stronger, he could practically see in his mind''s eye the dark wall of death that was encroaching with every moment.

    When he was a child and still had sight, he had witnessed only a single sandstorm. He was in his home, with his mother and father and remembered looking out the window and seeing the little park where he used to play not ten meters from his home. The swing was gently rocking in the wind, irrespective of the embodied hell that had blotted out the sky above the walls.

    When he looked up, he saw only darkness, a black blacker than anything he had ever seen, a black so absolute that the night that had reigned only moments before looked like the brightest day. The little lamp which was lighting up the park went out in the wind, and the whole world outside his window disappeared. Despite it all, he had felt so safe at the time, so cozy, safe inside the walls, inside his house, inside his parents arms.

    Before he caused it all to go so, so wrong.

    Despite his exhausted state, with every step Chray took he only got faster, spurred on by the dread of what was coming. Every moment he could swear the wind felt stronger, he could swear the grains of sand beneath his feet were moments from dooming him to death by a thousand cuts. The dread only grew stronger, and in tandem, Chray¡¯s efforts.

    He had to get to the graveyard in time, it was his only hope.

 Extra 19: Confrontation of the Heartbroken

    Extra 19: Confrontation of the Heartbroken

    Slowly, Retlafeh walked down the spiral staircase that served as the defining feature of the mansion, circling one massive pillar which had open candles nestled in holes at its center. These lights, unnaturally bright, casted Retlafeh¡¯s shadow on the wall, enlarging his presence on the stairwell and bringing even greater nervousness to the man.

    Getting past the walls was the hard part, but getting caught here was far more unpredictable. At any moment, a resident could come rushing around the corner to investigate the fire and happen upon its true culprit, taking a leisurely jaunt down the center of the entire building. He needed to get down quickly and find where Taresh lived.

    Retlafeh wasn¡¯t foolish enough to believe that Taresh would be anywhere near the top floors, while he doubted the Earliag had broken their promise, they would still treat the man as badly as they could get away with. Knowing Taresh, it wasn''t likely they could get away with much. So what Retlafeh needed to do was go downwards, down to the rooms underneath the building.

    Every mansion of worth had some place for its slaves and servants to live, some place out of the way and hidden from guest eyes. The problem was the entries to these places were always inconspicuous or tucked away, and every mansion hid them via a different method.

    The former slave crept down one of the halls, finding it full of nothing but glass doors.

    ¡°That could be a problem¡±.

    It was one thing if a door was merely hidden, but if it looked identical to every other door, then there would be no way to know but to check.

    Quickly, he ducked around another hallway, finding much the same dilemma. The man started to panic, he had come all this way but now he was just sitting like a cactus, waiting for someone to come and find him lost as he was.

    He went out into the main area again and prepared to hope that another hall was his answer, before he was forced to duck behind a pillar to avoid a resident''s gaze. He found that the resident in question was a young woman, dressed well but inconspicuously. What really caught his eye though, was her skin colour, as it was dark but distinctly different from that of an Orshraka. In all likelihood, she was from the jungles to the south, a place he had only heard rumours about.

    There was no chance that anyone but an Earliag could be in a place of importance in a house like this, which meant that the girl had to be some variety of servant.

    ¡°If I could follow her back to where she came from, I could find the entrance to the underground.¡± Retlafeh schemed.

    Of course, while this idea was well and good, there was no way that the girl would go back to her quarters after she saw the fire, he had to make her go back, somehow, without revealing himself. He really wished he learned more spells while he had the chance.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The woman began to move toward one of the windows, Retlafeh had to act fast.

    Quickly he went and blew out the central candles which were responsible for keeping the room well lit, throwing the room into a dimmer shade. Only a few candles which he could not get to were available and unlike the center ones, they were not of the bright variety, put up more for ambiance than intended use.

    The girl was waried by this, taking a step back and calling to see if anyone was there. Under his breath, just loud enough to be heard in the silence, Retlafeh chuckled in the darkness, a stark contrast to how he was actually feeling.

    He had always heard that the people of the jungles were rather superstitious, he was glad to see that one particular factoid was correct. As his final master stroke, he wove the first two runes of his fire spell in the dark, leaving the spell deliberately unfinished.

    This proved to be the final straw, as two glowing runes mimicked evil red eyes in the dark, causing the girl to turn tail and sprint back down the hall. Retlafeh only just managed to see her duck down a door to the left, which, after waiting a moment to see if she was actually gone, he followed down. Predictably, the door led to a set of wide stairs that in turn opened up to the final floor.

    This place was significantly more humble than the home above, set in dark wood rather than harsh stone. In spite of this, its quality and robustness was admirable and the upkeep put into it even more so. Instead of narrow halls, this floor took the form of one large common area, with rooms that split off from it. Luckily for him, there didn''t seem to be anyone out and about, each servant likely savouring the last few minutes of sleep they could get till the sun demanded they work once again.

    Retlafeh wouldn''t have long though, he needed to find Taresh and get out. Luckily for the former slave, above each door had been written their residents, and of course, the one door that had soft candlelight shimmering underneath belonged to Retlafeh¡¯s once partner.

    The man had done it, he had made it all the way down without being caught, gone through peril and stress to ensure the safety of the group and the direction of his god.

    And now all he had to do was open the door. That was it. Open the door.

    And he couldn''t

    .

    He had his hand around the handle, but no matter what he did, he couldn''t make himself. He was fifty three for Orsha¡¯s sake, he hadn''t seen Taresh in over twenty years, none of this should have been an issue.

    But ultimately, Retlafeh never needed to make the decision, as at that moment the door yanked open and he came face to face with the man he had just been dreading to meet. For a full ten seconds, neither of the two men moved a muscle. All of a sudden, a firm hand grasped around Retlafeh¡¯s shoulder and pulled him inside, slamming the door shut behind the both of them.

    As would be expected, Taresh had changed a great deal since the last time Retlafeh had seen him, time having proved ever changing even to one as steadfast as Taresh. Retlafeh¡¯s memories told him of a young man in the prime of his life, strict, intelligent and brutally efficient in everything he did. Not even the stress and dirt of their escape had proven to ever remove the air of strict ordered intelligence he possessed in his very nature.

    Now looking at the man in front of him, time had proven to do what stress could not. In all respects, Taresh was the same, the same straight gait, the same ordered, obsessive cleanliness to everything he did.  But time and experience had proven to wear down the edges, where once he looked at everything with a matter of fact steadfastness, now there was a softness in his gaze, a light acknowledgement that perhaps a little wiggle room in the reality of the world would afford better results. Every ideal and trait could be improved upon, and true to his nature, Taresh seemed to have done just that.

    His clothing reflected this nature, a form of plain coloured suit of a design utterly unfamiliar to Retlafeh, a geometrical form carried through to his immaculate hair and grooming. Doubtless, he had found this design in one of the many books of fashion the former-slave spied upon the shelves of Taresh¡¯s little room.

    And while matters of fashion had always been of chief interest to the younger man, the many works of literature his abode possessed showed that he was never afraid to branch out in his studies. Language, maths, magic, divinities and the mundane sciences all featured equal numbers in the collection, among many other things of which Retlafeh had no concept of.

    In any other room, with any other person, these books may have just been for decoration, but Retlafeh knew full well that his once partner had read every one. He wondered how the other man managed to get so many books under his arrangement with the Earliag, but most likely he managed to get it because of that arrangement.

    It all made Retlafeh a little inadequate, a little unequal, he strived to be mature and to help wherever he could, but how could he ever live up to this, how could he ever match this¡­ perfection.

    Retlafeh tore himself out of his head, he had something to do, and he needed to do it. He gathered his nerves and began the conversation that would define so much of his future.

 Skeleton and Shelter

    Skeleton and Shelter

    It felt like it was a thousand years ago when Wanderer had first spied the graveyard atop the mesa¡¯s peak, when it was so far in the distance that they could only make out its faintest details. Now, with a refreshing breeze behind them, they were but minutes from passing the first of the colossal skeletons and as such, could truly witness the location¡¯s beauty.

    Like great spires reaching to the clouds, ribs, femurs, skulls and bones of every other kind and variety lay long stationary in the dark sand, all weathered and bleached by the sun and sand, yet beyond the marred surface stood unbreakably resolute. And while these simple bones of bird and mammal were most frequent, dull plates of chitin and petrified remnants of long stunted trees could be found in respectable excess.

    It seemed this place was once the hotspot of all life for the desert, just as Ka-cktika¡¯s history had indicated.

    Yet, while skeletons that dwarfed Wanderer tenfold were by far the most demanding of attention, the graveyard was for more than just the colossal.

    Like a gradient, smaller skeletons and remnants could be found in the surroundings, going from those whose size could have once struck fear into Wanderer¡¯s soul, to those who¡¯s bones crunched under Wanderer¡¯s hooves without them even knowing they were there. Yet while this place was a place of death, to Wanderer, it could not be more apparent that life was its ultimate definer.

    Everywhere Wanderer looked, even in the night, even with every creature hiding in its little abode, the whole of the graveyard was filled with living things. The desert in most instances lived up to its name, Wanderer having seen scarce but isolated cacti and buried twigs as its summary flora. But here, vibrant green vines with trumpet flowers of red and yellow creeped up the underside of any bone large enough to provide shade, while smaller bushels wormed their roots into the ancient marrow of hard skulls and cracked spines.

    Flowers and fruits of a vibrancy not seen even in the verdant valleys sprouted from the dark sands and consumed the smaller remains of critters long unmoving. And rarely, standing in reaching solitude, massive blades of leathery grass two times the Golem¡¯s height shot like fountains from the ground, leaves reaching for the sky but bending under the weight of gravity such that they lined each side of a central stalk like hooks.

    The sight of proper greenery in amongst the lone and level sands filled the Vessel with an intrinsic hope, the resilience of life even in the obsidian waste astounding them. Emio was almost vibrating next to Wanderer, so caught up in all the new options for their body that they couldn''t decide, and instead stayed gyrating on the spot in complete indecision.  The Vessel was not so restricted, sprinting up to the first of the bones and inspecting all the plants, feeling their leaves and picking their flowers.

    In doing so, Wanderer discovered another element of the graveyard¡¯s beauty, the presence of living critters in all its areas. When the Golem went to pick one of the flowers of the vines, they were shocked to find a pain in their forearm as a small yellow spider had crawled out from the petals and bit them. It had a rotund body with a flat, disc-like head and two sets of fangs, all across its body were tiny hairs which had picked up the pollen of the flowers and was in the process of dusting off into the air as it moved around.

    Wanderer immediately grabbed it and inspected it closer, not caring for the bites or squirms of the creature. Eventually, the spider was released back to its home, but it got the Golem thinking.

    ¡°How many more hidden insects and animals are around here.¡±

    The answer was a lot.

    Inside one of the skulls Wanderer found two families of small furry mammals, both entirely different in physical traits except for their metallic silver fur. Neither of the species looked up at Wanderer when they peered down at them, instead trying to squirrel themselves even deeper in the cranium, as if trying to hide away from the outside world. The Golem did think it odd that they would hide away in fear of the Vessel without even looking at what they were, but there were greater oddities in nature so they kept on looking.

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    The breeze at Wanderer¡¯s back grew stronger and stronger as the Vessel grew distracted by the various forms of burrowing osteophages and nesting birds, completely immersed in the world in front of them and the rare life which was so absent in the desert. Ultimately, it was the feeling of the sun on their face that drew them out of their reverie, causing them to realise just how long they had spent indulging in their love for nature such that the sun was beginning to rise in the south.

    Looking back toward the rising sun, the Vessel very quickly noticed three things.

    One, Emio had abandoned them to do whatever they did when Wanderer wasn''t around, this was of little concern.

    Two, the wind that was now blowing in their face was considerably strong, such that it was whipping shards of glassy sand around their ankles and becoming rather uncomfortable.

    Three, the entire horizon was pitch black.

    It was like a cloud of fog had rolled in and smothered everything in its path, a fog so deep and dark that even the rising sun had trouble shining over the top of it. But this fog was strange, already it had swallowed any view of the fields and road from which they had exited the valleys, and it was halfway to smothering the first mesa they ever visited.bEvery second that passed however, it climbed its way up the side of that mesa and seemed to grow, smothering more and more of the land in its deep, deep darkness.

    Wanderer watched in horror as the darkness gradually began to rise enough to darken the newly risen sun, its rays slave to the encroaching black.It was only then that the Golem realised what they were looking at, for it was no fog, but a storm of deadly sand. The fact that, until this moment, they had never felt any wind within the desert¡¯s borders now  occurred to them.

    However, despite the encroaching doom Wanderer did not panic, the sand, however deadly it may be, could surely not pierce through a wall of solid bone.

    They would simply hide like every other animal was doing, safe behind some wall of chitin or an enclosed skull, they would be fine. Despite this, it would probably be wise to go a little deeper into the graveyard, let the storm be weakened by the bones in front of them.

    Speeding to a dash the Golem proceeded alone through the maze of the dead, going deeper and deeper in until they came across something they had nearly forgotten about. There in front of them was a great pit, wide but five times as deep reaching far into the desert sands. The bottom of the hole contained a large pool of dark water, which Wanderer supposed was the goal of the project. The construct was obviously manmade and sure enough, once the Vessel moved a little past the hole they found the people who had made it.

    Up against a massive plate of ancient chitin, a large wooden hall was built, double storied and large enough to fit a hundred on each floor. The people had likely holed themselves up

    to wait out the storm, copying their animal counterparts, and, while Wanderer figured bone more durable then wood, they would likely be fine.

    It also appeared that unlike the last group they ran into, this one utilised slavery, if the whip and bloody rope tied to a massive rib were anything to go by. It disgusted Wanderer and they would try to do something about it, but right now the storm was their top priority. They hoped that the people inside could forgive them for not intervening sooner, even though they had no idea the Golem was coming, and in all likelihood, did not wish to be freed. Nonetheless Wanderer promised themself to try and help anyway.

    Moving on, the Vessel checked every skull and bone they could find that would reasonably keep them from the sand, but soon found each one was filled to the brim with animals and invisible chameleons in a similar plight. Their hasty concern slowly became moderate panic as more and more possible spots were without vacancy. They thought about diving into the pits, yet their proximity to the ground would mean that they would begin to fill with sand, and Wanderer did not wish to be buried alive.

    With the storm quickly approaching, they finally thought to look up and found one spot that was most likely of all to be vacant. Toward the graveyard¡¯s center was a massive skeleton with a proportionally large skull. This skull, however, was directly fused to a long, U-shaped spine that far more resembled a solid pole as it had no vertebrae, ribs connecting directly to the center bone. Time had sunk one end of this skeleton into the floor, causing the cycloptic skull to lift high into the air.

    The many animals on the ground may have taken the shelters available to them, but Wanderer could climb and they hoped that not many creatures shared that ability. WIth their decision made, Wanderer reached the skeletons base and used the ribs and vines covering them to summit it, quickly clambering into the one eyed skull.

    The jaw of the skull had long since fallen off, but to the Golem¡¯s luck, the remains of the odd giant had been angled in such a way that the hole was facing away from the upcoming calamity, meaning that the Golem was safe. The skull was not truly abandoned, with a bird''s nest hosting an angry mother with a long straight beak and seemingly no legs. The bird would have to deal with the Golem¡¯s presence despite its objections, there was little place else to go.

    As Wanderer settled on a lip inside the skull, they took one last peak out to see the storm¡¯s approach. It had reached the mesa with the miners which they had just come from, and was rapidly moving forward toward them as the world began to go dark.

    The sun¡¯s power was limited to a few rays which pierced the way through the sand, and even that was diminishing. Wanderer managed to catch a glimpse of Emio flying through the forest of bones, subtle glow giving them away despite their fresh new form mimicking that of the flowering vines.

    The Vessel wasn''t worried about them, Emio was more than capable of finding a place to hide. What did worry Wanderer was the fleeting glimpse of a eyeless mask of stone they caught at the far edge of the boneyard, moments before darkness took the earth. And from that moment on, the Golem¡¯s world was confined to a tiny space inside the skull of an imobile giant.

 Extra 20: A Bold Plan

    Extra 20: A Bold Plan

    A profound nervousness smothered the residents of the quaking tent, the roaring winds outside crushing any attempt at conversation. The paltry shelter was packed full of people, all squashed together as closely as they could manage. This fact, while due in part to the number of people and breadth of supplies needed inside, was primarily in a desperate effort to get away from the fiercely flapping sides of the tent, in fear they may rip open and let the death outside, in.

    Moment by moment, the fearful eyes and minds of the rebels slowly turned from their worries and eased as they saw that, despite its struggle, the shelter was not going to tear away or fail. In truth, the tent was not facing even a fraction of the storm''s true power, sheltered behind dunes and the walls of a crater as it was.

    Whispers to chatter, chatter to shouts, the organisation slowly returned to normal socialisation, struggling to be heard over the wind. One by one, the people got back to work or rested if there was no work to be done.

    All were surprised by the appearance of the storm, no one expected it so soon into the realm of the Oracles¡¯ expectation. But all were safe, the people had been warned by scouts the moment the winds were felt, life had to go on, storm or not. And while for most the raging death flying above them was a source of dulled anxiety, for one man hidden away behind makeshift barricades in the corner of the canvas, the one who would call himself leader of the rebels, it was a source of both great joy and great trepidation.

    Keshte poured over the maps in front of him, struggling to focus over the noise yet managing nonetheless.  His goal was simple, right now the Earliag had no chance of ever finding them, their tunnel here was blocked and going over the dunes was a hope so faint it wasn''t even worth considering. But they were equally trapped, even their longest tunnels and sections of ruin couldn''t get them any place significant without breaching the surface for a while.

    The Earliag had ways of finding them, if they stayed where they were they would be slaughtered the moment the storm ended, their little shelter entirely inadequate to defend them from a full scale suppressive force. They needed to leave and find somewhere they could hide, or make a stand.

    Keshte was taken from his study by the sound of knocking, as Detlashra stood in the gap in the barricades that acted as a doorway.

    ¡°The people are keeping themselves busy, but soon we will run out of work, we must move again soon.¡±

    Keshte nodded at the news, inviting the masked Orshraka to sit.

    ¡°I have been considering a number of places we could move to,¡± the bald man began, ¡°but I feel like I should consult you before I make a final decision.¡±

    ¡°I have narrowed it down to three places, all of which somewhat accessible by our tunnels, all of which put the most distance between us and the Earliag as possible.¡±

    ¡°The first is a bigger tent along the old Shakratar trail that should be able to hold us better and is almost directly accessible by our tunnels. It lies next to the sea of glass, so it should be easy to detect attacks incoming.¡±

    Keshte couldn''t see Detlashra¡¯s face, but he had long since learned to tell their emotions by other methods, and could already see that they were not loving the idea.

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    ¡°Our goal is to ensure survival, its location will make us obvious to all. it will not help us survive as a mission. Next.¡± Detlashra stated.

    Keshte figured they would say something like that, but kept the suggestion just in case his second saw something he did not. Undeterred, the leader went on with his second plan of action.

    ¡°Well, we could try to make it to the ruins underneath Markashrasa, which I know is risky but it would at least be a familiar set up. Our prior base served us for many years, its proximity to the city was very useful.¡±

    Detlashra thought for a while about this, before finally replying with resolution.

    ¡°We wouldn''t be there long enough, to take a ruin and make it a decent base requires a lot of work and effort, and now the Earliag know where to look for us it simply wouldn''t work. By the time its sustainable we will have to move again, we will have come off at a loss and our reserves cant take much more. What''s next.¡±

    Keshte sweated a little about his final suggestion, one he was hesitant to tell even to Detlashra, his most trusted friend. He had to nonetheless.

    ¡°I know what I''m about to say is a little, different, but I want you to hear me out.¡± the bald man began, working up courage.

    ¡°Effectively, we take the graveyard of water.¡±

    Detlashra didn''t move a muscle.

    ¡°Think about it, our tunnels can get us within half a day''s travel of the graveyard and they would be disoriented by the storm, they won''t be expecting an attack. There will be hundreds of slaves there so surely we could rally a group to our side and make losses minimal.¡±

    Detlashra finally replied with absolute incredulity.

    ¡°Keshte. If we take the singular source of water in all of the south we are not going to attract a small peacekeeping force, we will be antagonising the entire Earliag empire, the whole of the Gitririag are going to descend on us like vultures.¡±

    Keshte was cowed by this, but rebutted anyway.

    ¡°But think about it, we have caused too much insult to the Earliag for them to go easy on us anyway, and they are going to be putting some serious effort into finding us. It''s no longer about hiding, it''s about taking a stand, and as far as i''m concerned there is no greater place for that than the graveyard of water.¡±

    ¡°Its defensible, its isolated, its valuable, it has slaves, our tunnels are near it and the Earliag won''t be too suspicious if they don''t receive anything from the yard for a while because of the storm. It''s not perfect but it''s as good as we are going to get.¡±

    Detlashra began to pace around the room and replied.

    ¡°What is the end goal here Keshte, no matter what we do we can''t defeat the Earliag for long, are you suggesting we came all this way just to die?¡±

    ¡°I''m saying we don''t have a choice, we can just run and run, but each time we will be a little worse off and if we don''t do something, we will die. eventually we were going to have to take action and make a run to actually end slavery, and now could be the time.¡±

    ¡° I don''t want this to happen, this is still just an option, but it might be our only one in the long run.¡±

    The masked man stopped pacing and took a seat in a chair opposite Keshte¡¯s desk, doing little but sit there and stare at the man across from him. His opponent held the gaze until, finally, it broke and Detlasha looked away.

    ¡°The people wont be happy with this, they are tired.¡± Detlashra said, but the objection had gone out of his voice, he had made his decision.

    ¡° I know, I will explain it to them, but we have to do this now or else we will continue to be on the run for the rest of our lives, the Earliag aren''t going to ignore us anymore.¡±

    Detlashra nodded and stood up.

    ¡°I''ll prepare the people, make your address soon.¡± he said with conviction, previous weakness forgotten as he marched for the door.

    In a moment he was gone and the leader was left in his office by himself, the magnitude of what he had just committed to hitting him like a boulder. The anxiety that was held off by the reassuring presence of his second in command crashed with full force, knowing that he would have to soon tell his people that they were making such a bold move.

    Keshte had no intent for his organisation to be killed, no intent to die himself, but even he couldn''t deny that making such a desperate play for power and trying to force revolution as he was, was incredibly risky.

    He should tell Detlashra to come back, tell him to ignore what he said.

    But that wasn''t his own choice speaking, that was fear and if he was going to lead the desert to freedom he needed to see past his useless worries. What was done was done, what will be done had to happen, right now Keshte needed to focus on his duty to his people and pull together a plan that would get through in the end.

    With a crushing sense of anxiety, the bald man stood up from his desk and followed in Detlashra¡¯s footsteps. He would do what he had to do to ensure the freedom of his kin, even if he terrorised over every action, that was his duty.

 Extra 21: Discussion of the Desperate

    Extra 21: Discussion of the Desperate

    Retlafeh opened his mouth to begin speaking to Taresh, but like so many times before, his body failed his mind and prevented a word from leaving his throat. Taresh quirked an eyebrow and waited a second, before going to say something himself. The intruder stopped him, however, Retlafeh couldn''t come here just to lose control of the situation, so he shoved the star-silver coin into his companion¡¯s hands and let that do the talking.

    The instant Taresh¡¯s eyes fell upon the metal he frowned in thought and rushed to get a book from the shelf without saying a word, engrossed in the unexpected development With the direct pressure lessened, Retlafeh managed to force out some words.

    ¡°We need you to convert that into proper money, one way or the other. We also need you to give us guidance as to how and where we can hide. I''m sorry.¡±

    The other man slowed to show he was listening, but did not stop his study, quickly skimming a volume he took from the shelf, The History of Currency in the Empire and the Lesser World, and comparing its information to the coin. Finally, he finished and turned to stare directly into Retlafeh¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°This coin was freshly minted only a year after the meteor, back when Andromio was abundant and a coin of this size wouldn''t have bankrupted mayors. Where the Shrarkrkhera did you get this!¡± He said with a sudden intensity bordering on manic.

    Retlafeh told the only answer he had, the truth, how a malformed Golem had given it to them after beating their driver within an inch of his life. Taresh made to reply, but the other figured if he was to tell the nature of the coin, he may as well tell the rest too. In as little time as he was able, and as quietly as he was able, Retlafeh imparted the whole of his journey and his decision making, hiding nothing from his companion. If Taresh were to betray them, they were dead from the beginning and there was nothing to be done. Once finished, the more learned man did little but nod and think for a moment, before coming to a decision.

    ¡°By all means, what you have told me is the ravings of a madman, but I do not doubt you. You have never lied to me and I doubt you are now, so I have little choice but to help you, even if only to make up for what I have done.¡±

    ¡°I will see what I can do about the coin, as well as basic provisions for your journey. But here and now is not the time to be talking about the complex matters of destination. I will find you at the field you mentioned tomorrow and we can talk in safety.¡±

    Retlafeh nodded, it was unreasonable to expect Taresh to do anything now, to have all the answers and capabilities however capable he was.

    With this all said, the two fell into an awkward silence, neither knowing what to do. Eventually Retlafeh figured there was nothing left that was going to be said, and began to ask for help in getting out of the mansion, but was quickly interrupted.

    ¡°Just¡­ just wait one moment, I have something I need to say.¡±

    Retlafeh stopped.

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    ¡°I¡­ I can never forgive myself for what I did to the group, to you most of all, it has haunted me these twenty years. But life has to go on for me despite that, and it should go on for you too. For both of us, it is best that we leave the feelings we had so long ago and move on, that is the one decision I made back then that I still stand by now.¡±

    The older of the two did nothing but nod in reply, unable to decipher his own feelings in the moment. Taresh filled the ensuing silence once again.

    ¡°I will help you escape now, but before I do there is something that I need to give to you.¡±

    He walked back over to the bookshelf and pulled out a rather plain book on agriculture, certainly nothing Retlafeh would be interested in. Then he opened the book and Retlafeh found that it was not a book at all, but a secret storage chest. From inside he took two items, both of which were intimately familiar to Retlafeh despite how long it had been since he had seen them last.

    The first was a deep purple gem that pulsed with light and power, with such regularity and nuance that it almost seemed as if there was something living trapped inside. That, however, was a ridiculous thought, Retlafeh knew.

    The other was a book, thick and set in blue dyed leather of the finest quality. It had no title nor marker as to its purpose other than a large number one inlaid in silver-white metal on the front cover.

    ¡°You, you kept this? How, why?¡±

    Taresh placed the items back into their hiding place, then handed the false book to Retlafeh.

    ¡°I told the Earliag that we had destroyed them in spite, when in reality I had hid them in the forest and picked them back up a later.¡± the finer man said.

    ¡°As for why I kept them, they were of too much value, sentimental and monetary, to throw away. And, in truth they felt like destroying my last connection to you.¡±

    Retlafeh shook his head.

    ¡°These were never mine, they never belonged to me, they were for the whole group of escapees.¡±

    Taresh laughed in reply, as if he were recalling some element of his former partner he had long forgotten.

    ¡°There was not a human being in all fourty of those slaves that had any claim to this but you. Not one of us had any talent in magic, I myself have studied this book for years and have only picked up one or two spells. But you managed to master the art of magic in only the three days you had, learned a spell which you still use even now, when all others never stood a chance.¡±

    ¡°It was always yours Retlafeh, you deserve to have it back after all this time.¡±

    The man in question saw little point in arguing any longer, and wasn''t willing to sabotage himself out of pride, taking the book with humility. WIth that done, Retlafeh finally began the process of escaping the mansion, both him and his companion having much to think about, each leaving with a weight off their shoulders.

    The night had passed with little event for Shreshka and Hureheh, eventually the two managed to get some sleep and woke up early morning, just in time to see the rise of the sun. Both were hungry, but there was little to eat and even less to drink, so they had to sit and deal with it until Retlafeh¡¯s return, as they both dared not to leave their hiding spot until they were sure of the result of their companions mission.

    They had thought a few times of eating the crop in front of them, but other than its basic life cycle, neither were certain of how edible the plant was before it was harvested, and knowing that many Earliag foods were poison when improperly prepared, decided not to risk it.

    So there they sat, watching the rising sun, anxious and scared and incredibly hungry. The two were cycling through quiet conversation when they heard the snap of a twig coming from behind the little cave they were hiding in. Instantly, both went dead silent, hoping it was some variety of mundane animal. Slowly, coherent footsteps faded into range, as well as the knowledge that the encroacher was definitively human. The two were hoping to hope that it was Retlafeh, but they would not reveal themselves until they had seen his face. So the two just sat in anxiety until, finally, a familiar man walked around into view.

    To the relief of the two, Retlafeh stared down at them, finally having returned, and to Retlafeh¡¯s relief, the two were exactly where he had left them.

    ¡°So?¡± Shreshka asked.

    The questioned man nodded, ¡°It''s done, he will help us get on our feet and convert the coin into usable money. I will be meeting him tomorrow to get some basic supplies while you all stay back in case he betrays us.¡±

    Hureheh raised an eyebrow, ¡°Is he likely to betray us?¡±

    ¡°No, he will not, this time I''m certain.¡±

    The oracle scoffed but changed the subject, suddenly pointing a finger to the false book given to Retlafeh. All three of Hureheh¡¯s eyes opened to stare at the former slave, half bewildered, half interrogatory.

    ¡°Retlafeh, what the Harsk is that.¡±

 Isolation and Rescue

    Isolation and Rescue

    Much to Wanderer¡¯s surprise, the experience of being safe inside the skull with the howling wind outside was rather comforting. They knew that if they went outside for even ten seconds they would be ripped to shreds, and somehow that made being inside their shelter feel so¡­ cozy.

    Unfortunately, they were a little alone up here, their Spirit still gone and Emio who knows where. There was the bird of course, the funny little creature it was, but it simply didn''t have the intellect to be any real consolation. The bird however, was rather angry, chirping so loud it could be heard through the roaring of the wind and sand and occasionally coming to peck the Golem.

    This caused Wanderer to discover that the bird did, in fact, have legs, but these legs were only used when walking and were otherwise folded into the creature''s feathers, causing it to lie in direct contact with the ground.

    ¡°Why is it so angry?¡± The Vessel wondered.

    Surely such a creature didn''t think it could kill the Golem, so why didn''t it try to get away? A closer inspection of the nest revealed the cause, as all around the sides were little, round eggs, mauve in colour, the obvious spawn of the odd bird.

    Wanderer was wowed, there were so many reasons for creatures to fight, protecting those you loved one of them. Even the swarmlings did the same.

    ¡°I wonder what he is fighting for¡­¡±

    Wanderer¡¯s mind harkened back to the glimpse of the man with the eyeless mask they had got just before the sandstorm hit. The Golem had only seen him for a second, but it was enough, their memories were resolute, the tracker was here in the graveyard. Wanderer had no idea what to do about it.

    For the moment they were safe, no being of flesh and blood could make their way to them in the storm, but once the winds settled there was no telling what would happen. If the tracker took too long to attack then Emio would simply return to the Golem, barring any attempt at violence by a threat of retribution far too great. But there was a window, from the time the storm ended to the time Emio returned, that the Golem was helpless.

    The thought drew a bucket of anxiety from the well that was Wanderer¡¯s soul, leaving it there to fester and stagnate under their relentless thoughts. Suddenly the skull was no longer a cozy refuge in the storm, but a prison preventing them from taking from those that would want them dead.

    Yet for one of the first times in Wanderer¡¯s life, they recognised this thought for what it was, useless. What use would building circling anxieties around the issue serve? Was it not just a waste of energy? These thoughts alone did not calm the Vessel, but it served as a beginning by which the Golem gradually reduced their anxiety, not eliminated by any means, but its power had been robbed of it, the Vessel¡¯s own control reigning through.

    It was only due to this triumph that Wanderer heard the most silent of cries whispering above the roaring wind. At first, the Golem believed that they imagined it, so faint that even their perfect memory failed to properly recall. But it drew their interest and they listened for it again. Again, struggling to be heard above the wind, a cry, a human cry could be heard.

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    Instantly, any other focus but the cry was lost to Wanderer, their whole attention turned to listening. The next time the shout came, they learned three things. The first was that the crier was situated somewhere beneath them and to the left, as indicated by their voice. The second was that the shout was not just a shout, but a cry of a single word, ¡°Help¡±.

    The last, the person in danger was a child.

    Wanderer almost jumped out right there and then, ready to brave the storm to save a life, yet even with their full intention some smarter part of their mind stopped them. They would be surprised if they lasted even five seconds in the storm, they could do nothing to help the child if they were dead. No matter how quick and efficient they were, even if they found the child instantly and moved with perfect precision to escape back into the skull, they simply wouldn''t have the physical power to make it.

    The Golem heard the cry echo out again, but despite the screaming of their soul, they did nothing. Second by second, the cries got weaker, and Wanderer¡¯s mind grew more and more desperate to find a solution. They just needed something to make them quicker, something that could help them whether the sand. And in that little alcove, in that little skull, their mind grew so desperate that they found a solution.

    In a fit of inspiration they plundged their hand into their satchel and drew out a coin of brilliant blue, forcing it into their soft chest, right next to their soul.

    The world ignited.

    Colours surged, their flesh hardened, their limbs felt as if they could shatter trees with a single punch. Everything felt sharper, everything felt slower, their mind felt as if it were flying high above the earth. Then the pain hit.

    The Vessel¡¯s whole body screamed at them, every vein and capillary withering under the speed and power of the magic within it. It was a raw, fundamental sort of pain, the likes of which could never fade or lessen with time and boredom. By instinct Wanderer reached for the coin but stopped themself as another cry faded in, now loud and clear to their enhanced senses. This was the power they needed to rescue the child, they had to push through the pain, they had to go.

    One second had passed. With their hardened flesh the storm would be no issue, pain and wounds but nothing that could kill them. The issue was the magic. By their best estimation they had exactly nine seconds before their channels drew so thin they burst, killing Wanderer with certainty. If they were going to move they had to do it now.

    Two seconds had passed. With no more hesitation, they stowed the satchel and lept out into the storm. Instantly it felt like a trillion arts were gnawing at their skin, eager to rip it away piece by piece. But their flesh, their coin-toughened flesh, held, glassy sand sticking into their body by a millimetre or two, but doing very little damage otherwise. That was good, they just had to find the child now.

    Four seconds had passed. The fall had felt excruciatingly long, the ground never seeming to arrive, but now two hooved feet planted firmly on violently shifting ground and in the same instant the Golem was off. They ran in the direction they knew the child was, dodging bone structures that appeared without warning from the darkness and leaping over sudden pits in the sand.

    Five seconds had passed. Another call echoed from the darkness, this one weaker than any other. The timing was perfect, allowing Wanderer to pinpoint their target in the darkness.

    The child, a small girl less than half of Wanderers height, was hiding directly behind a particularly large rib, just large enough to bear the brunt of the disaster, not enough to stop a few stray shards of death from ripping away at the gentle flesh of the girl, little by little. Already her arms and legs were smothered in cuts, and by the look of her shaking legs, storm and blood loss both were taking their toll.

    Six seconds had passed. Wanderer didn''t have time to analyse the girl any further, like a specter in the night they wrapped the child in two arms and turned so their back was to the wind, protecting her from the worst of the storm. The child froze like a board in their arms, a good thing by any account, they were not sure if they could have stopped their squirming and climbed back up at the same time.

    Seven seconds had passed. With impossible speed slowed only a little by the extra burden, the Golem clambered their way back up the spine of the giant, at first attempting to balance and run up the center but soon being forced to crawl at speed in order to avoid being thrown off by the wind. Wanderer was beginning to feel their channel walls wearing thin, soon to be destroyed and release all the potential within. They pushed themselves just a tiny bit harder.

    Eight seconds had passed. The skull was in sight, even in the pitch blackness, a sight to Wanderer as beautiful as the well within the mine or the exit in the ruins. They had to slow a bit, forcing the magic in their veins to slow as much as they could will it, so that they could survive for just a second more.

    Nine seconds had passed. In the final moment they swung in through the eye socket opposing the wind, throwing the girl into a safe corner of the skull with more force than intended, but the pang of guilt they felt was covered by the pain.  They ripped the coin out from their chest and threw it in desperation, where it bounced off the wall and fell into the storm below, forever lost.

    Ten seconds had passed, and the world faded into a roaring silence of pain, blood, sand and tears.