Left, right, left, right. Marching was one torturously monotonous task, but it was part of every soldier’s day.

  Oris knew that, but he still hated it. He joined the army to protect people, not to walk for half a month and then stay in a new village where nothing happened before repeating it all.

  It was hell.

  At least he got to see the island in its entirety and had plenty of drinking buddies. But that didn’t stop him from getting melancholic during those endless marches through the forest.

  As fascinating as the forest- even the border regions they usually marched through- was, they never had anything to do. Some sang songs or had instruments they were allowed to play, so everyone kept the rhythm. Most of the songs were about glory, or the adventures the soldiers got into at cities- with the occasional song about promiscuous ladies. Oris had some tales to tell of his own, of course, but he preferred to share those with people he considered friends.

  He didn’t know why, but he had always been very peculiar about his definition of friends. Of all the soldiers in his unit, he considered only one his friend, while the rest were mere colleagues to him. Sure, he trusted them with his life and would give up his own to save theirs, but he also knew them as the loudmouthed idiots that tried to flirt with a woman strong enough to destroy a city because of her rack. They were his family, flaws and all.

  Yet another hour passed in monotonous walking. Michael, his best friend in the unit, kept babbling on about what he wanted to do once they reached Hollowmere, the safest city on Caldrith’s shard.

  “I’m telling you, they have the best desserts on the whole island- ranging from glazed sweet breads all the way to meats with honey glazes!” he explained, his steps as steady as ever, even while stepping over the uneven ground of the forest. “I know, I know, meat isn’t usually a dessert, but there’s history there. They used to get these big roasts on hunts that were then pounded down into fibres, soaked in the rendered fat of the animals- not really sweet but very nourishing. When they managed to cultivate the bees leftover from the Xendarii and establish apiaries, they had an overabundance of honey, so they slapped that bad boy onto everything. You know how the Xendarii are. They’re kind of all about abundance and we get to reap the benefits of it! Except for the Shattered Isles, I guess...”

  Oris gave Michael a non-committal hum, sweeping his gaze over the forest surrounding them. While he usually listened to Michael just so the time would pass quicker, he kind of zoned out at the moment, focusing on the sounds of wildlife instead. They were just on the outskirts of the forest so there wasn’t much to listen to, nor anything for him to worry about attacking their convoy.

  “... It’s like a brothel, but they also serve the best pudding ever! Honestly, I went there more than once just for the food- it’s one of the few places that are still open during the night,” he continued, resting his spear on his shoulder, “Once we’re there, I’ll treat you to a round- and a dance, I guess. Actually, are you into women or men? Nah, if you were into men, you’d already have gotten laid in the past weeks.”

  “I’m into women,” Oris answered curtly, a sigh escaping his mouth. This was the third time Michael had asked him about his preference. He should probably clarify his type again before Michael could ask. “Tall, athletic, and elegant. As I’ve told you plenty of times.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re boring,” Michael retorted as the clouds darkened instantaneously. “You’ve really committed that answer to memory. I’ll get the truth out of you someday... “

  “That’s the truth. I am a simple man,” Oris said, looking up at the clouds as they kept darkening. “Is it just me, or did those clouds come out of nowhere?”

  Michael looked up at the clouds, frowning as he tried to remember if the clouds arose naturally or appeared out of nowhere.

  “No, they’re pretty fucking weird,” he concluded, looking around for one of the generals but finding none. “You think it’s some monster or just a new oddity of the island?”

  Oris kept marching through the dirt, which quickly turned into mud as the rain intensified, mulling it over. He couldn’t deny that there was something wrong, but it didn’t make sense for a monster that could affect the weather in such a capacity to be so far out. Maybe we were just at the edge of a battle between two Apexs or one got beaten and fled towards us. Still, if it were fleeing, it wouldn’t use its powers for such a big effect unless it needed it to escape.

  Meanwhile, the island already had a dozen different oddities like abnormal weather effects or gravity that suddenly flipped. All of it was just part of the island and whatever fucked up experiments the Xendarii did before they managed to splinter the planet. Seriously, they had the technology to splinter a planet and probably even domesticate the likes of dragons, yet their archives were basically useless until the governments used the remains of their technology to establish an entirely new division for archivists that focused on gathering information about monsters and islands alike.

  Sure, their mortality rate was insanely high for the first years until they got established as parts of hunting troops, but Oris had always wanted to undergo the procedure and become one. He glanced at the archivist of his unit, a short woman with blonde hair marching with the rest, and couldn’t help but feel envious. She had so much knowledge at the tips of her fingers, yet she didn’t even seem to care about the storm.

  “It might be a monster, there haven’t-“ Oris started, only for a deafening roar to stop him, forcing him to press his hands against his ears to not collapse.

  A glimpse of red crashing through the forest above them, followed by a deafening crash and a line of fire carpeting the entire road, immediately eradicated three full units of soldiers and set the forest ablaze despite the heavy rain. Smoke and fire filled the soldier’s vision as most of his unit threw themselves to the ground, trying to dodge a possible follow-up strike. The wet wood of the soaked forest threw up walls of smoke.

  Then it was already gone.

  Nothing, only the crackling of fire and sizzling of rain evaporating as it hit the hellish landscape that hadn’t been there a moment earlier. Michael tried to speak up, but Oris clamped his hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

  “It’s not gone,” he whispered. He nodded to the edge of the path, crawling over there to separate from the rest of the unit. It was definitely going after masses. Spreading out could only help their chances if it returned.

  The generals started yelling orders in response to the surprise attack, trying to muster up defenses against it.

  “D-Dragon!” someone shouted from the back of the convoy, only for another wall of fire to shoot through the road and kill everyone but the ones on the periphery of the blast.

  “A dragon? This close to Hollowmere?!” the archivist shrieked, running off into the forest, roughly in the direction of Hollowmere in search of protection. She wasn’t a fighter and hoped that the dragon wouldn’t follow her to a city.

  She fled, only to crash against a red-scaled trunk- the dragon’s leg. It had somehow moved across the forest and slipped through the gaps in the trees without getting noticed by anyone. In a single bite, the archivist was gone, devoured by the dragon in an instant.

  It stomped forward, letting its gaze sweep over the remains of the convoy before spotting Oris.

  “Ahh,” it sighed, its rough voice rumbling through the forest as it stepped closer, ignoring the panicked screams surrounding them. Its voice was like flame incarnate, the crackling of flames reducing fuel to ash mixed with an animalistic growl. “Target.”

  That single word made Oris shiver, an unexplainable terror gripping his soul as he realised that it was after him. He didn’t know why or what it wanted, but he knew that it was after him. This towering dragon that could eradicate him and his entire convoy with one move wanted him alive.

  He wasn’t an Incarnate mage, not even a learned one.

  It stepped closer, flames dripping from its maw like drool as it closed in. As it lowered its head, Oris relied on his drilled in instincts, thrusting his spear up against the underside of its scaly muzzle.

  It shattered uselessly, wood splintering as the red dragon came eye to eye with Oris. “Cute.”

  And just like that, he took a bath of fire.

  The flame caught him off-guard, having expected a swift death much like the archivists. Oris felt his flesh sear and his soul tremble as the dragon’s breath did more than burn. In that final moment, as darkness crept around his consciousness, the red beast leaned in close. Its eyes burned not only with heat but with an ancient, corrupt intent.

  Before his world dissolved into black, Oris saw something impossible: a shimmering sigil of crimson fire etching itself across his skin, a mark that pulsed like a living curse. The dragon’s guttural murmur resonated deep within him in a language he could not understand. “You shall bear my justice... if you survive.”

  The words were not meant for his ears alone; they seeped into his very being, altering the core of who he was.

  And then he passed out.

  “Don’t fall asleep again!” someone yelled, shaking Oris out of his unconscious state. “You’ll die!”

  Oris tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids wouldn’t obey. Actually, he couldn’t feel them anymore. He couldn’t feel anything but the icy embrace of death and something on his leg. He couldn’t see anything, not even the usual flashes of light and colours one sees when they have their eyes closed.

  “You’re alive- for now! What happened?” the same voice asked, not an ounce of worry in their voice. Ah, it must have been a member of the Court then, only they would be so casual about mass deaths.

  Man, he hoped the last person he heard wouldn’t be a member of the court.

  What he wouldn’t give to hear another rambling, disjointed discussion of Michael where he spoke for both sides. That would be something he wouldn’t regret hearing last.

  Oh right, the person was still shaking him and talking. He should answer. He opened his mouth, but only managed a raspy, barely coherent “Dr-ag... on.”

  “Shit,” the other person replied, stabbing something into Oris’s leg.

  Wow, he could feel that. Actually, he suddenly felt his leg again. That must have been a healing draught they give monster hunters- but they’d never waste one of those on a footsoldier like himself.

  Ahh, he should probably take a nap. He always felt so much better after dozing off, especially if it was from pure exhaustion.

  “I need you to do me a favour. Can you do that?” the person asked, slapping Oris’s cheek to keep him from dozing off. They didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “Focus inwards, search for what you most desire and drill down on it. Grab it and don’t let it go. Your life depends on it!”

  Feeling returned to his waist and his other leg. He was in a puddle, soaked and caked in mud- or blood. So he needed to focus inwards?

  Pfft, that was such a stupid thing to ask of him. He was dying. He desired to live- of course. But other than that?

  He wanted to laugh, to be free. Gods, he wanted to be a kid again sometimes- to play and spend time with his friends. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for a new start. But that wouldn’t matter anymore, would it? Everything was black. He was already dead.

  Of course, this was all a fever dream as he clung to the last scraps of life! Was he just a disembodied soul right now? Did souls exist, or was he also going insane? No, souls were commonly accepted as being real- even the Xendarii thought so.

  Ah, he’ll never be able to get those Xendarii implants now. Damn. There went any chance of him to turn into an archivist.

  Right, he still had a chance to live.

  What did they say? To focus on his deepest desire and drill down on it?

  He wanted to be free, to feel more than what the monotony of his life allowed him. He wanted a new life where he could forge bonds with people without fearing their death every deployment. Being a soldier sucked.

  Right. He wished for freedom and for joy. Was that enough?

  “Good. Now, can you feel this?” they asked, pressing something cold and round into an open wound at his waist. Yeah, he could definitely feel that thrashing in pain beneath the mysterious potential saviour. “That’s a yes. Push your desires into it. This will give them structure, allow your magic to form and take on a physical body. Whatever you push in here will form your Incarnate. Be very careful.”

  This’d form his... Incarnate? He was gonna become a mage... Wow, he wanted this to be great. Freedom and joy, what else? He couldn’t exactly just write a list and transfer it, but he visualised himself grabbing the combined feelings of what he wanted and just shoving them into the orb. It didn’t work, because of course it didn’t.

  Nothing ever worked for him. But he tried again. He tried again and again, adding his frustration into the mix and shoving it all towards the orb. It didn’t work. Why didn’t it work?! It’s magic. Isn’t magic supposed to be easy?

  “Don’t panic,” the voice admonished him, pressing him down into the bloody mud. “don’t physically shove it into the orb. Let it flow into the orb like heat flows into ice.”

  “Du-mmb...” Oris managed to rasp out, laughing softly. He immediately regretted laughing, coughing, and sputtering. Once he wasn’t thrashing in pain anymore, he focused back on the orb.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Heat? No... This wasn’t like heat- he didn’t know heat. It was spaaaace. The orb was a void, and he needed to fill it. Was it even an orb?

  Of course it was. Orbs are super stable. He just needed to fill it like a void. Get everything he wanted inside there until it was full. DId he even need to fill it?

  Wow, this voice sucked at explaining magic! Ah, voids filled themselves. He just needed to put everything he wanted to fill it at the edge of it so it could only get that! Hah, he was so much better than the voice. Who was the voice, anyway?

  Life or death situation, he should focus.

  He felt the orb gather all the emotions and desires he herded towards it like a sponge, solidifying them as whatever healing draught the voice injected him with continued to repair his body. His sense of smell returned at this point, allowing him to vomit in disgust as the pervasive stench of burnt flesh and ash assaulted him.

  As he lost his focus, the orb drank deeply from his emotions, soaking up whatever was near like a bone-dry sponge.

  “Ugh, what a waste,” the voice sighed before distancing itself from Oris. It seemed like he had failed.

  The orb didn’t seem to know that, though, continuing to devour Oris’s desires. Oris’s head throbbed in time with his failing heartbeat as the orb pulsed beneath him, a dark vortex hungry for every last spark of his desire. In that grim moment, the world around him faded to a dull, endless rain- only the sizzle of molten magic and the pounding of his pulse kept him tethered to life.

  A sudden, searing warmth spread from the orb across his chest, as if it were reconfiguring the very essence of his being. The pain was overwhelming, yet in it Oris sensed something awakening- a glimmer of power that was not simply his own but born of every hope and regret he’d ever carried. The orb’s void was no longer empty; it was brimming with the raw, unfiltered core of who he truly was. His deepest longing- freedom, joy, and the will to be more than a soldier- began to coalesce into something tangible guided roughly by his will.

  For a suspended heartbeat, time stood still. The constant patter of the rain, the acrid stench of burnt flesh, and the soft, mocking echo of that disembodied voice merged into a singular, resounding truth: this was his rebirth. With a convulsive shudder, Oris felt his wounds knitting together, as if the very fabric of his body was being rewritten.

  His eyes fluttered open, revealing an athletic woman that looked like she was around his age sitting in his lap, her weight non-existent as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was exactly his type, a blush creeping up his neck as he realised how little of his clothing had survived whatever had happened after the dragon attack. The woman was fully clothed though, wearing a simplistic robe with pants.

  While he felt a distinct connection to the woman, what really caught his attention was the way the space around them twisted and felt so... pliable. He felt like he could reach out and just pluck a part of space, not air, out and place it somewhere else. He had no idea how he would do it or what would happen once he did, but it felt possible.

  Like a new sense awakened, he felt the space around him and how the woman used it to make herself almost weightless. She was unaffected by gravity, technically floating on Oris’s lap as she held him close. Just like he knew that he could do it, he also knew that she could do the same.

  He also felt another person standing behind him, who he assumed the voice from earlier belonged to. He was large, built like a brick shithouse, and clad in thick armour with a lance on his back.

  “Hold on there, darling,” the woman on his lap tried to calm him down, looking around the battlefield with a detached, almost clinical look in her eyes. “I’m your Incarnate. Would you like to give me a name?”

  Oris woke up with a cold sweat, his head resting on something soft and smelling faintly of flowers. He didn’t want to move.

  Once he moved and properly woke up, he would need to work, and his body ached all over. That dream again.

  Why now? Was it because he encountered a red dragon? He hated that dream, made him cranky the entire day. If he was cranky, that would mean that Vaetra tried to cheer him up the entire day. Xendarii bless her heart, she tried her best. But she didn’t see the world the same way he did.

  “Shouldn’t we wake him up? We’re in the middle of the jungle,” Lio asked Vaetra, sitting opposite of her in the tiny clearing between the towering trees of the jungle.

  Vaetra sighed, patting Oris’s head. He realised that she had laid his head in her lap. “Let him rest. We’re safe and he’s not fully recovered. Have you read about this island in your archives? Any cities we should head for?”

  Lio shook her head. “Nope. Haven’t been on this island before but we can probably get a link in the nearest city. Did you see any from the air?”

  “No, I can’t see as an incarnate weapon,” Vaetra replied, scratching Oris’s scalp. “I only have my spatial sense and a rough impression of Oris’s senses.”

  “Oh, what is it like to be a... scythe?” Lio asked, pulling out her tablet and tapping away at it.

  She kept going through the logs of Caldrith’s shard, searching for any mention of the red dragon or whatever that other monster was. It was massive but there were no mentions of anything like it.

  Vaetra said, “How is it for you to wear nothing but a shirt? I’m still me. I can’t move and lose a few of my senses, but I don’t feel trapped like you would. It’s easy for me, natural even. It’s another form of myself, but it still is me.”

  “That...” Lio looked up from the tablet, staring at the two as she mulled over Vaetras words.’ words. “That makes no sense. You lose your senses and your ability to move, yet you don’t feel trapped?”

  “It’s just right,” Vaetra said with a huff, running her hand over Oris’s neck. “You can’t understand. You’re just human.”

  Lio rolled her eyes and turned back to her tablet, going through more and more folders.

  The red dragon though, was a known and massive threat to humanity. She found a dozen reports of entire units of the military or cities getting burnt down because it saw them as a threat. A walking calamity, it earned itself the nickname of ‘Scarlet Death’.

  What was truly interesting though was that the newest log regarding it counted as classified and needed higher authorization than Lio had. She looked through any other log she could find, trying to find a connection or any reason why it would be classified.

  Archivists usually had one of the highest authorisations with the only people superior to them being the core members of the Court. From any angle she looked at this file, any context she could find, this looked like just another attack from the Scarlet Death. It was a scheduled route for the military convoy, but it never arrived. Scarlet Death must have eradicated them, but there was nothing hinting at why it was confidential. The convoy was just a bunch of soldiers and supplies, no classified experiment or high-interest target.

  What happened there that barred her from accessing the file?

  “Are you two alright?” Oris asked, revealing himself to be awake and sitting up. He patted Vaetras thigh with a grateful smile and leaned back against the tree trunk she was leaning against.

  Lio smiled. “Yeah, you really saved our lives there, Oris. Thanks. Have you been on this island before?”

  “Nope,” he said, taking out his canteen. It was dented, but he drank the content all the same. “I never left Caldrith’s shard before. Used to be a soldier, got Vaetra, and after some training, I got assigned to you.”

  “I think that’s the most I ever got out of you about your life before we met,” Lio joked, pulling out her own canteen and taking a sip, “Are you alright?”

  Oris sighed. “Yes, I’m just fine after falling from an island to another. Have you found anything out about that thing?”

  “The dragon is probably the Scarlet Death, widely known on Caldrith’s shard for wreaking havoc...” Lio said, trailing off as she noticed Oris staring at her intensely. She dropped her gaze down to her tablet and continued, “I’d guess that the other thing is what has been messing with the magic on the island- our target. We need to get back up.”

  Vaetra stood up and stretched, arching her back with a groan. “Speaking of getting back up, let’s get going. Humanity builds civilisation around safe deposits of resources- most commonly water and food. We should find a river or a natural shield of sorts. Food shouldn’t be a problem in a jungle this dense.”

  “Agreed,” Oris said, grateful for a clear goal. “It’s a shame that getting to an island further down is so much easier than getting back up.”

  Lio chuckled, continuing to go through files. “If everyone could fly like the Dusk Rider, we wouldn’t need all those big fancy ships we repurposed from the remnants of the Xendarii. How common are non-combat Incarnates anyway?”

  “Rather uncommon, from what I’ve heard,” Oris replied, standing up and pulling Lio along, “Due to the nature of the ritual, most people gravitate towards offensive Incarnates. A few people end up with support or defense oriented Incarnates, but those are rare. Incarnates are formed out of someone’s desires.”

  Vaetra grabbed Oris’s free hand, intertwining their fingers. “Very few people have goals as noble as my darling. I’ve heard from others that their wielders only care for them as weapons.”

  “Aren’t you a weapon as well?” Lio asked, trusting Oris to not let her walk into a tree as she kept looking at her tablet.

  Vaetra narrowed her eyes at Lio, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Be careful what you’re implying, Lio. I am not a weapon. I am his Incarnate.”

  “Yeah, right, right. Sorry,” Lio quickly apologised, actually looking up from her tablet to check if Vaetra was angry. “I just meant your other form- a scythe. That’s... not actually a weapon. Sorry.”

  Vaetra squeezed Oris’s hand, searching for the appropriate words for this kind of situation. She wasn’t used to talking with people other than Oris beyond the usual niceties. “I am his power and he is my wielder. I am not a weapon, but can inflict harm to protect others. The Court encouraged him to make me into a weapon but he told them off. He treats me like a person when so many others don’t.”

  “Vaetra,” Oris said softly, interrupting her before she could get too worked up. “Didn’t we talk about over sharing? There is stuff we don’t share with others.”

  “But isn’t she a friend?” Vaetra asked, tilting her head quizzically.

  They kept walking, an uncomfortable silence descending on the group as Lio stared at Oris, anxiously awaiting his answer.

  Oris squeezed Vaetras hand, tugging at it to redirect the groups course. “We have been on a few missions, not enough to make her a friend. She’s... a colleague.”

  “Wow, tell me how you really feel,” Lio deadpanned, pouting. She put her tablet away.

  Vaetra turned to Lio. “I believe he just did. Darling doesn’t lie very often.”

  “It’s just a turn of phrase, Vaetra.”

  The group’s lighthearted chatter gave way to cautious quiet as they continued through the jungle.

  “Silent,” Oris admonished the others, stopping dead in his tracks as he heard a rustle in the jungle. Something was trailing them.

  They quickly quieted down, heads on a swivel as they tried to find what had Oris so serious.

  He listened, straining his ears for any hints. He only heard something whispered, the faintest notes of language but he couldn’t hear any words. “We’re peaceful! Can you help us get back to our island, Caldrith’s shard?” He called out, tightening his hold on Vaetras hand.

  Something dropped down in the shadows of the trees, lithe and roughly humanoid. The group couldn’t make out any distinctive features. “Friend?” it called out, it’s pronunciation abysmal.

  “Yes, friend,” Oris replied, gesturing for Lio to take a step back.

  It looked like a monkey cast in the rough mold of a human- long-limbed and wiry, with arms that hung nearly to its knees and fingers that curled with a strange, dexterous tension. Its legs were bent oddly, like it was always half-ready to spring. Sparse tufts of fur clung to its shoulders and back, matted with leaf litter and streaks of moss, while patches of bare, leathery skin peeked through in places that made its movements oddly mesmerizing. A backpack was slung over its back, covered in patches and zippers.

  Its face was broad and expressive, with wide eyes that shimmered like moonlight caught in dew- intelligent, but distant, like it saw the world through layers of memory. A thin line of pale fur crowned its brow, and its mouth was too wide, giving every word a warped, echoing quality. A long tail curled and uncurled behind it, balancing with delicate sways as it crept closer.

  It cocked its head with birdlike curiosity. “Frrriend,” it repeated, voice like wind slipping through cracked stone. It waved them forward, jumping on the spot. “Home!”

  “I think they want to show us their home,” Vaetra said, “there might be someone there that can speak our language better.”

  “Yeah, or it might be a trap. Be cautious,” Oris replied.

  The native tilted its head, stopping dead in its tracks. “Tr-ap?”

  “No trap,” Oris said, shaking his head. He took another step forward, causing the monkey to jump up.

  It used its long limbs to grab the vines and pull itself forward, launching itself into the jungle. It disappeared from view in seconds, leaving the trio on the ground and staring up after it.

  “Oris,” Lio said.

  He sighed, Vaetra transforming into a scythe and settling into his hand with a comforting weight. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll carry you,” he replied, leaning Vaetra against his right shoulder and kneeling down to lift Lio on his left. Standing back up, he constructed a boundary around all of them.

  The native slipped down the vine and back into their field of view. It looked around, searching for Vaetra. “Frrriend?”

  With a flex of his magic, Oris lightened the burden of gravity on the group and jumped. They sailed past the native and up into the web of branches of the jungle. He landed gracefully on a large branch, tilting forwards and almost falling off before correcting himself.

  Like a bullet, the native shot itself after Oris, flying past the branch and reaching out in the last moment to grab it, arresting its momentum with a spin. The entire branch shook as it landed atop it, grinning at Oris and revealing its yellowed teeth. “Frriend good!”

  Before Oris could answer, the native jumped again, yelling something in its own language. This quickly spiralled into a silent race between the two as they jumped from branch to branch in increasing tempos. Oris made sure to hold back enough so that he wouldn’t exhaust himself any more. He was in unknown territory, and needed to be prepared for combat.

  The moment they could hear the rushing of water, Oris slowed down. The native took a moment to notice him slowing down, but adjusted its speed as well, slowly swinging along above Oris with a curious expression.

  After that, it only took them a few minutes before they came across something that made Lio positively giddy. Oris stopped on a high branch, looking over the sight in front of them.

  A large, sprawling complex constructed out of sleek rooms made out of a dark grey material laid hidden in the jungle. Dozens of angular rooms were connected by corridors, once made out of reinforced glass that had been shattered through the march of time. The biggest building of the complex had been burst open by a truly massive tree growing through its roof.

  Dotted over this trees branches were dozens of nests hanging from woven steel cables, wood and hundreds of branches making up the walls. They were barely big enough for one person to sleep and lounge there comfortably, hanging midair.

  “They have a Xendarii complex?!?” Lio squealed, squirming on Oris’s shoulder. “Please let me interface with it! If the indigenous life here still lives inside of it, that means the archives here haven’t been touched in years! If this was a lab, and the computers are still working, we could be talking about the find of a century- well, this century.”

  Oris readjusted his grip on Lio, leaning his head away to try and not get an elbow to the face. “Lio, we’ll go there in a bit. Calm down,” he said, taking a step forward and dropping down onto the ground. After using his magic to cushion their fall, he let the boundary dissolve.

  “Home!” the native yelled before swapping back to its native language and shouting something towards the huge tree.

  Setting Lio down, Oris kept his hand on her shoulder to stop her from running away as Vaetra turned back into her humanoid form. She grabbed Oris’s hand with a smile, taking in the complex and the surrounding jungle.

  The native slinked over to Vaetra, poking her arm. “Tool?”

  “Not a tool,” she replied, her smile straining as she turned to the native. “Please call me by my name, Vaetra.”

  The native stared at Vaetra, unblinking.

  “Ah, my apologies. My comrade does not speak your tongue,” a scratchy voice called out. The owner of the voice dropped down from a nearby tree, walking over to the group. They were of the same race as the native that led them here, but taller and dressed in a medley of fabric scraps. A pair of Xendarii goggles on its face with one of the two large circular lenses cracked. “There are few of us that learned the Xendarii language, but it is interesting to see that we are not the only ones with access to their technology.”

  “Wow!” Lio exclaimed, gaping at the native. “You speak it so well! Are those woven carbon fibre cables holding up the nests- are those nests even yours? Sorry, I didn’t want to assume it just because your... comrade is good at climbing. Is that-“

  “Lio, please,” Oris said, trying to calm her down.

  The native laughed, high pitched and screechy. “It’s alright. But please speak a bit slower. Every audio file I read was spoken slowly. I am Mr. Zavari- Actually, I do have a question for you if you do not mind. Is it mandatory for a Mr. or Mrs. to be in front of your names?”

  “No, that’s just for formalities. So you have access to the audio files from the complex?” Lio asked, immediately following it up with another question.

  “Yes, we do,” Zavari replied, glancing at Vaetra. “I would like to continue our conversation somewhere more comfortable and appropriate if you are fine with that?”

  The trio shared a look and exchanged a few quick hand signs before Lio answered, “Of course. Lead the way, please.”