I run into Byrak on my way back to my housing unit—another khimaera Praetor, one that I might call a friend. Maybe. 

He’s a tall one, tall enough to tower over me and most others. His neck, arms, and legs look to be made of wood, and he has three fingers on each hand, two and a thumb.

His face is pale green, and he has only one eye, his right one—forest green iris, yellow sclera, bright green slitted pupil. The other side of his face consists of three outgrowths of wood resembling horns; out of his right temple he has a large wooden horn, and another smaller horn lower down, at his cheek. His hair is a darker but pale green, brushed back and pulled into a low ponytail going down to his waist. 

He’s wearing his Praetor outfit, as usual—black polymer-alloy like Klaer’s covering his forearms, shoulders, and neck, along with a black undersuit and a gray robe. 

He smiles when he spots me, but I have no doubt he sensed me first. Folks that lose eyes in khimaerization often train their extrasensory abilities to compensate. 

“Eirien,” he greets. “How are you?” 

“Fine enough,” I say. “I met with Syne.”

“Ah,” Byrak nods understandingly. “They must have gotten you with their speeches.” 

“As they do.”

“As they do,” Byrak agrees. “Were you heading back to the housing area? I was as well, shall we walk together?” 

I shrug. “Sure.” 

So we do. For much of the way, we don’t speak. The click of my shoes and the tap of the wooden points of Byrak’s feet reverberate in the halls. This place really is too spacious for the Praeta’s size; we don’t see anyone else as we walk. 

“How have you been, Byrak?” I ask, eventually. 

“Well enough,” he says, corner of his mouth twitching up slightly. “I was busy along with all the others here—there’s never been so many monster attacks in a single day before. I was able to capture one. Ah, though…” he grimaces slightly. “Oekar killed one and chased one off.” 

Oekar… another Praetor, one with a chroma of red fire. And also Byrak’s flatmate and Praetor partner. Sometimes I worry he’ll set Byrak on fire, but apparently that has happened a few times and Byrak is fine since he ‘Stays Hydrated.’ 

“I’m not much better,” I admit. “I—well. Kiun made an appearance today. He killed someone I was about to capture, and Klaer chased one away.”

Byrak blinks, and then stares at me. “It’s been about a year since his last appearance, right?”

“Yes,” I say. “And the way he was acting, it seemed like he knew something about why the monster attacks are increasing in frequency.” I glance over to Byrak. “How many were there today?” 

Byrak frowns. “Two between you and Klaer. Three between me and Oekar. With other pairs… I’d guess around ten today.”

“There were only three yesterday,” I mutter. “I hope this isn’t exponential growth, because if it is, Catharia help us all.” 

“There have been six before,” Byrak says. “It seems to fluctuate. But if there is actually a root cause… well…” 

“We should hunt down Kiun and make him spit out whatever he knows,” I say bluntly. 

Byrak huffs. “Wasn’t he your childhood friend?” 

“Childhood friend. After—” I pause. “After my khimaerization, I was a bit preoccupied. At some point he went missing, and at some point after I… got things sorted, he shows up as a khimaera, hunting down monsters and being some sort of public menace. So, yes. ‘Was.’” 

Byrak hums. “We could get Mekah on it. They’re one of our best trackers.”

“I… guess that could work.” Given that I still can’t go gallivanting off on my own. 

But you can. 

I can’t, I mentally snap back, and I feel—an echo of surprise. 

“Eirien?” Byrak waves a hand in front of me. “Are you alright?” 

“Oh, um… fine.” At Byrak’s dubious eyebrow, I sigh. “Syne thought—well, I guess they confirmed that I have a developing espira. I hear a voice sometimes, and I guess that’s… them.” 

Byrak’s eyebrow lifts even higher. “You’re starting to develop an espira?” 

“So it seems.” I sigh. “My magic has always been too strong. I really didn’t think it was possible. I’m not exactly the person that’s most in touch with my identity.” 

“That’s only one theory as to why they form,” Byrak points out. “The other most popular ones being the magic power theory and the blessing theory.” 

“The Catharia don’t bless folks willy-nilly,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Some people don’t even believe they exist.” 

“Do you?”

“I believe in the thought that espira scatter into some sort of collective state. Whether that state is conscious or not and whether it has godly power or not is another question. I mean, espira are practically gods already. Syne runs the entirety of Civilization. There are espira who build, deconstruct, and reconstruct cities in a matter of hours. I’m sure there are plenty guarding the sanctity of the Wilderness; Faeval is a historic one, keeping humanity’s grubby hands off vast reaches of forests in the first age of industrialization.” 

“Fair enough,” Byrak says. “I have to say that I’m curious about what it’d be like. I don’t have an espira right now and I don’t know if I ever will, though.”

I hum. “Would you want to espirate, if you do form one someday?”

“I wonder,” Byrak says. “Some say it is like a death. That is a bit intimidating. Still, shedding the mortal coil and becoming my true self sounds nice.”

I hum in agreement. By now, we’ve reached my unit—Byrak’s is further down. “What are your plans from now?” I ask. 

“I will be having a checkup with Arrin, and then I will return to my plants,” he says, smiling slightly.

“Right, of course. Should have known.” He researches the plants of Khimaer, and how iether affects them.  

“And you?” he asks. 

“I’ll probably try some of Syne’s exercises, and then…” I give a wry sigh. “Back to research for me as well, until there are too many monsters for all of you to handle again.”

Byrak hums. “There are so many rules you follow, some of which I feel are unnecessarily put on yourself. Might I suggest going out on a walk tomorrow? Doing nothing can be helpful for the mind as well.” 

I open my mouth. I close it, pause, and then sigh. “Maybe, I’ll think about it. There’s just always more to be done.”

“Yes,” Byrak agrees. “It is endless, so be sure to rest when you need it.” He gives a nod. “I shall leave you to it, then. It was a pleasure to speak with you.”

“Likewise,” I say. “Good night, Byrak.”

“Good night.”

He leaves and I enter my unit, catching Klaer watching something on our large display. She glances up and waves, and I wave back. I say nothing, though, as I retreat to my own room. 

I sit on the floor, taking out my fragment of Syne. “Alright,” I say. “What have you got for me?”

Bonus: