I felt like the Fates had finally come through for me, bringing me to Berindal—I may not have enjoyed their methods to get me here, but I couldn't argue with the results! For once, I felt heard. I felt complete. Even when I'd reached out and gave my champion a bde and a fighting chance, I operated an extension of someone else. But in this museum, with other artificed entities just like me, I was a full participant; the others would nod along as I recalled the sights from the cozy magic shop's front window, or they'd answer my never-ending questions about the Silvaln Spheres. Cerulean's understanding of the mist in particur fascinated me, although most of their expnation about 'transfigurable quanta of biomagical particles' soared over my ghostly head.

  Fortunately, Amethyst knew the best way to reinforce Cerulean's words was with a demonstration. "We might be a little rusty, it's been a while since we've been able to do this for a champion," they said, "but weaving our mist into fabrics can save the life of a champion. We can make cloaks to keep them warm, or padded jackets for protection. Or, we might make the cssy dress that allows a beggar to sneak into a ga." Purple smoke poured from Amethyst's core, swirling and solidifying into tendrils that interlocked with one another, until a long purple gown with puffy sleeves and a fred skirt materialized before us. With a pair of floating opera gloves approximating the position of arms, the unworn clothes turned to me, waving a hand in greeting as Amethyst puppeteered the fabrics from their relic.

  "Ah, I remember that night! May I have this dance?" Cerulean followed suit—with a suit. Blue trousers and a jacket formed from their mist, bowing to Amethyst's gown. The two swayed back and forth for a moment in the cramped gss dispy case, awash in the soft rays of the sun sneaking up above the mountains in the distance. "Although, I must admit that I'd always preferred forming dresses over suits myself. There's only so much decoration I'd ever been able to figure out how to incorporate into this particur design. What do you think, Viridian? Is it too pin?"

  I gnced down at the small pile of brass and silver discs hidden at the bottom of the dispy, glinting in the morning light. "What about using something from your collection?"

  Cerulean paused. "...Hmm. Isn't it amusing how the obvious answer can be sitting right in front of you the whole time? I think I have a set in silver that might work, let's see." They conjured another little avatar out of mist, drifting down to their collection to search for a suitable combination of silver decorations. Amethyst chuckled as we watched Cerulean become absorbed in their button-sorting task.

  "So, what makes us 'augment' relics?" I asked the dress-shaped Amethyst—I didn't want to disrupt Cerulean's efforts. "It can't just be that we can give a champion a nice outfit, right? With Janine, I felt like I could push her behavior in subtle ways. She was still the one swinging my sword, but I'd see an opening or a threat and she'd immediately respond to it. Is that what it means? Do you and Cerulean do that too?"

  Amethyst tapped a finger of their opera gloves to an invisible chin. "That sounds like a very crude use of our infusion technique, but you're on the right path," they said. "You might not have been able to perform it properly until you had a better handle of your mist anyway, all our techniques rely on it in some way or another. Anyway, how much time were you spending in close proximity to Janine?"

  "I was almost always in arm's reach for about six years, I'd say."

  "It's safe to think that she'd inhaled some of your mist then, yes?" Amethyst's dress shape colped upon itself, and what purple smoke didn't form back into a spectral body spiraled back into their relic. "Infusion is better experienced than expined, and it requires trust and patience from both relic and champion for it to work. But when it works? Well... it'll change how you see the world, quite literally. You won't want to let go of it. In turn, a champion gets full access and knowledge of our powers at their fingertips. Someone infused with Cerulean would seem like a wizard with decades of experience even if they'd never cast a spell in their life. I imagine you have knowledge about handling a sword if it's what you turn into so often."

  My eyes widened in awe of this new revetion. "Anyone could just be a wizard or druid like that? That sounds incredible! Why are you in a museum instead of using this infusion magic all the time around here?"

  "A point of pride, I presume," Cerulean said, affixing the final button to front of their blue suit. "People these days take pride that their family trees are interleaved with supernatural properties, they aren't keen on the idea of outsiders simply gaining such abilities in an instant. And the students of Berindal Academy already assume they know everything about wizardry, so I have no appeal for their studies. They've outright forbidden the study of druid magic ever since the incident in Wandforge a hundred years ago, so students are hesitant to try anything with Amethyst. Even with the other dozen or so major benefits to infusion, it doesn't appeal to them the same way a magic staff that sees through walls might. Now, how does the suit look now?"

  "I think it's lovely," Amethyst said. I nodded in agreement.

  Satisfied with their test improvements, Cerulean allowed the suit to dissipate into mist as Amethyst's had. With nothing to hold on to, the buttons fell off the suit, ccking against the floor. "Remember to have your champion wear a base yer when you master the mist-weaving techniques, Viridian. We found out the hard way that even the solid clothing we make has a maximum range it can be from our relics until it vanishes. Do you recall that, Amethyst? That one time with Alex and Charlie?"

  As the two relics reminisced about old adventures again, I turned my attention toward the sound of footsteps approaching, a solitary pair of boots echoing throughout the museum. Moments ter, a smiling Professor Promell stood before us, clutching a scroll in her bony hands. "Good morning, little relics," she said. "I have wonderful news!"