The heat was immediate and fierce, as was required for most jungle plants. The moisture was intense enough that standing in it for mere seconds made every inch of clothing feel sopping wet.

Tilo looked up, shielding his eyes from the sunlight that fell through the atrium roof. The atrium itself was massive enough to afford space for the tallest of jungle trees. So dense was the greenery that it was impossible to see further than a few feet beyond the path that curled its way throughout the area. In truth, the garden was less of a garden and more of a maze.

Tilo could only guess what Nemo might have encountered by this point in time.

He lifted his arms, stretching, holding them far above his head before relaxing and bringing them in front of him.

“Here we go.”

He removed a pair of black gloves, revealing glimmering, blackened fingertips, as though he’d dipped them into charcoal. His eyes closed and he dusted his hands off. Sparks fell from Tilo’s hands as they made contact, falling for seconds before they disappeared into the air. Upon the final dusting, he slid the top hand a little further, pointing it palm first to the path ahead. His eyes narrowed, an internal heat building in his core. His mouth formed a word as his hand found its final place.

‘Yosdoul’

A light flowed from Tilo, whipping his hair as it went, drawn from all extremities until it reached his core, concentrating there until it was all collected. 

‘Kofas’

The light burst free, crying towards Tilo’s palm and then through it, soaring its way even further until the end was impossible to make out between the greenery. Tilo twisted his hands around, gripping on the stream of light. The effect was instantaneous and Tilo gave a joking salute as they jerked forward with immense speed. Where Tilo once stood held only a cloud of dirt blown up in the wake of his sudden vacancy.

It took the majority of Tilo’s focus to remain on his feet. He wrangled with the rope of light, hands clamped around it, standing in the way one stands while being dragged behind a ship on water skis. 

The light of the rope began to dim slowly, heralding the final destination - the something, or rather, someone- that Tilo was searching for. 

A flurry of branches that had grown onto the path suddenly found their way into Tilo’s face. He ducked, turning around in surprise, only to turn back and find the back of the Furvoeian.

“Watch out-!”

Tilo slammed directly into Nemo’s back, falling to the floor empty-handed, the light having disappeared into the Furvoeian. Tilo rubbed his head.

“I am very accident prone today, aren’t I,” he groaned, hurriedly putting his gloves back on.

“That’s-”

“Rhetorical. Sorry, I’ve been talking to myself a lot lately. I was trying to warn you about the atrium, but it’s a little late for that now.”

Nemo looked decidedly confused. “Is that what this is?” He hesitated. “That aside, how… did I get here? I’m sure I left the way I came.”

“Ah. That’s… now that I think about it, maybe a sign wouldn’t work. But that part’s not relevant - hello Nemo! It’s nice to see you again.”

Nemo smiled in return.

“Hi, Tilo. Nice to see you too.”

Tilo looked Nemo up and down, taking in his figure. The young man was broad-shouldered and tall, casting a shadow that nearly covered Tilo. Despite his disorienting height, he was friendly in appearance, possessing darker skin, amber eyes, and a face that no one would dare distrust. Just behind his asymmetrically cut bangs, the tips of pointed ears were visible. Slightly pointed ears were an obvious indication of distant Sylvan descent, which was all the more surprising given Sylvans as a genus weren’t known for their height. That said, with just pointed ears, the specific species of Sylvan was indeterminable; there were a few that were on the taller end.

Tilo, on the other hand, was of average height with short dark hair and dark eyes to match, though in comparison to Nemo, he seemed to be considerably smaller. His simple appearance, if only memorable because it wasn’t common to the kingdom of Mirell, was countered by the cobbled-together nature of his outfit. 

They hadn’t known each other for long, but during a previous encounter back on Nemo’s home island, they quickly developed a friendship. Still, with Tilo’s regular travels, every time they met was time to reacquaint themselves with each other.

Tilo held out a hand, silently asking Nemo to pull him to his feet. He politely obliged. 

Tilo spoke as he was lifted from the ground. 

“This place is chock-full of fortification magic. Through an ill-conceived attempt at assassination, I realized I need some sort of defenses. This one’s along the lines of getting lost. One of the better defenses, I might add, but it’s also the easiest to deal with in case the lost individual is someone who shouldn’t be lost.”

 He scratched his head. “Though, I guess that having my doors constantly open doesn’t inspire confidence in my ability to defend anything. Myself included.”

 Tilo looked up to meet the young man’s eyes. Nemo’s face was a mask of nervousness and frustration, however his frustration seemed to be mostly directed at himself. 

“I see. Then, am I-”

“In here by mistake, but very much welcome. No worries, I can guide you out,” Tilo stated reassuringly. “I will add that the way back is a longer one with two people.” 

“I want to apologize for just walking in. I thought you knew I was coming.”

“It’s alright. It was for the best. As far as I know, if you hadn’t entered uninvited, I would have been floundering around on that floor until someone found me.” Tilo gestured to the path.

“Why don’t we get started? I'll lead the way.”