The man hums to himself as he locks up shop and puts together his bag. The smile melts the instant his eyes lock on me. I turn one of his double-axes over in my hands, feeling out the weight and balance.

“No.”

I pass it to him by the handle. “No?”

“You are not following me to the garrison.”

“I am here to check on the progress of my armour.”

“And?”

“And?”

“You just happen to be visiting on the day you knew I’d be locking up the shop?”

I help myself over his counter and lean back against it. As suspected for a while, the back end of the shop actually stretches out nicely, with a singular stairway leading down to an opened door in direct view from the counter.

I nod my chin at his workshop below. As usual, there’s the smell of leather, metal, oil, fire, and a hint of moss and forestry that wafts up from the space.

“May I?”

“You’re already trespassing,” he grumbles as he pulls the last of the weaponry from the wall. “Why the hell not?”

I relieve him of the weapons and step aside so he can carry his bag and lead the way. His body is uncomfortably narrow against the walls as he lumbers down the stairs and through the opened door. I glance down at the faint etchings in the floor as I step through the entryway, noting the far more prominent half-circle beneath the orange lighting of the furnace. Elleven is quick to reclaim his livelihood and dumps them on a counter. He gestures half-assedly to another work bench.

“Your crap’s over there.”

The log cabin is spacious, with a high reinforced ceiling and a secondary door at the back. Windows are scattered about the walls, but the furnace seems to be the main highlight. He’s put all of his kit together near the furnace and what appears to be the main workbench. The other two are dedicated to their own projects, spaced further out from the station towards the wall.

The wall with the door we stepped through features a variety of weapons on one half and tools and equipment on the other. Despite the scatterings of projects on each of the workbenches, the cabin overall is remarkably neat.

I linger on the etchings of the half-circle another pause, then reach over to the door and close it.

“No! Don’t–”

“Is there a problem?”

The panic and fury on his face scream everything. Buttoning the red under his collar, he squishes the words through his teeth slowly.

“It’s fine. Just do what you came to do and leave.”

I walk over to the table and take a close look at the half-sewn scraps. Papers are spread beneath; one my initial specifications, the rest a detailed breakdown of how the armour would function and deliberate patterns and fabric choices. I touch the shoulder strap of the armour along the stitch line, mulling over his choice of thread and technique.

“So far, not bad.”

There’s the pride. It straightens his back and glimmers in his eyes as he brushes over the comment and finishes gathering his essentials.

“An interesting spell you have there,” I continue, straying back over to the wooden door and rapping my knuckles on it twice. “Looks like you needed two casters for this one.”

The grumbling returns at once.

“Yeah. Fat lot of good that did me.”

“Did you pay them properly?”

“I gave them their due. They were greedy assholes.”

“Sounds like you tried to withhold something.”

“I am not going to listen to your rambling about a fair price again. You’ve checked out your armour. Leave.”

I shrug my shoulders and open the door to reveal the forestry of the area. As suspected, the man’s cabin appears to be located in the forest just outside the capital.

“There’s a forest outside.”

“No shit. You closed the door, dumbass.”

“You told me there wasn’t a problem.”

“For you.”

“I don’t want to get lost.”

Elleven scowls. “I knew you were going to play dirty. Fine. But don’t you dare get in the way. And it’s going to cost you.”

“Material gathering?”

A sinister smile sneaks over his lips, eyes sparkling with inspiration. “We’ll be gathering something, alright.”

“Alright,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “It’s a deal.”

His smirk turns more and more sinister as we trudge through the forest, picking off the monsters in our path here and there and collecting their materials. Eventually, we stop at the glimpse of a bumble with green and black fluff.

I’ve always been fond of bumbles. Fluffy and friendly, but carrying a good bite. Like Canadians.

“There. That Rotrumbler. I want the sap from their nest.”

I study the little black and green bumble. It sniffs at a tree and nibbles the bark, then wanders to the base of the tree in a lazy little spiral and digs at the soil.

The bark where it had nibbled tinges green like moss.

I see. Different colours. Different purposes.

Fascinating.

Karmel had left me her pouch. I pull out a sheet of paper, draft her a brief letter, and deposit it into the pouch alongside a vial.

Two pop out with a spell incribed on the slip.

Elleven smacks me on the shoulder. “Catch up when you’re done,” he says, withholding a cackling grin. I know his game but choose not to comment. “I’m gonna find a place to camp.”

I return my attention to the Rotrumbler. It has noticed my presence now, observing me with beady, wide eyes. They’re not the only eyes on me.

I pull back my sleeve, checking the condition of my magic. The bar has been split from two into three inequivalent sections, each with their own state of fullness. Thankfully, the spell Karmel inscribed doesn’t take too much; I’ll need it later.

A slight vibrate in my pocket distracts me. The Rotrumblers are non-hostile at the moment. Taking the phone from my pocket, I read the text on the screen and tap out a reply.

Welcome back, Tammy.

I can see the rolled eyes and slight smile in the response.

Ready for the show?

Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

You’re the main attraction.

Ugh. Let’s hope not.

 I smile, but my response is serious. Me too.

Playtime over, I pocket my phone and return my focus to the Rotrumblers. When I meet up with Elleven a bell later, one vial extended to him from a rock on the side of the road, his expression slackens with disbelief.

I hop up, tuck the vial into his pocket, and gesture him onwards.

“Should’ve known I couldn’t get rid of you,” he grumbles, pushing ahead.

I glance back at the snapped twigs and disturbed branches that border the edge of the forest. Indented in the soil are large, clumsy footprints.

“Is that what you were trying to do?”

“Shut up.”

The journey is more or less silent, with only mild chatter here and there. Eventually, we spy a military garrison in the distance.

“Thank you for the company,” I say, stepping back.

“You’re not following me the whole way?” he asks, a slight rise of his eyebrows and a tone of indredulous disbelief.

“Would you like me to?”

“No!” he says, quickly.

“Well, you are welcome to join me anytime,” I say, setting off towards the outpost situated only a couple of hours to the left.

He makes a sound resembling a half-word, shuts up, and trudges along. My phone vibrates again.

You call that an invitation?

I cock my head. What’s wrong with it?

You didn’t tell him anything!

I pocket the phone and get to walking. I would have appreciated more time myself, but this site still hasn’t been confirmed.

Elleven is smart. Either he’ll come, or he won’t.

Midday in twenty-nine minutes. If the Hourglass is to be believed. Sitting down at the outskirts of Elven Outpost 3, I close my eyes to concentrate.

Entering Standby Mode

MP Consumption Reduced to .5%

Unlocking Menu

It is like my phone has projected its screen against my eyelids. I sort through the options carefully, combing through each of displays to locate a singular locked folder.

Error. Access Denied.

I scrunch my brow, drumming my fingers against my lap. Renavigating the menus, I try another approach.

Error. Access Denied.

One last try, I hop into the contact menu and the settings.

MP Consumption - 2%

Establishing Connection

Ivans enters my head, confusion palpable.

Ryan? What are you –

MP Consumption - 2%. Remaining MP 11%

I don’t have long. I need you to grant Memory Access.

What? Where are you? Everyone’s been searching and there’s only a few minutes left.

I know. Grant me Memory Access.

What –

MP Consumption - 2%. Remaining MP 9%

Ivans. Please.

He stops. You’re there, aren’t you.

A soft smile. I tried so hard to respect his wishes. But I cannot delay the matter further. There are ripples I have to fix.

A flurry of thoughts. But only one that is deliberate.

Okay.

His thoughts are tinged with dejection and weariness. But, at the same time, relief. I cut the connection, navigate the menu, and slip into the folder through an alternative channel.

Warning. Limited Access Granted.

Standing up, focus fixated on the folder, I walk over to the exact spot that Ivans had stood at the incident of the event. Sensing my intentions, the countdown for the Wave slots itself over the folder and to the side.

As the seconds approach zero, I can feel the phantom of his limbs overlap my own.

Synthesis Complete. Remaining MP 5%

I ready two knives and assume a stance. Follow the pattern; kill the monsters. Simple enough in theory.

A purple-green cloud congeals above my head and swirls into a vortex. But instead of tangible, physical creatures that spill from its gaping mouth in droves, a pool of darkness seeps like rain from its depths, encircling the area and muting all sound.

Black beads strike the ground and roll in waves to the edges of the outpost and beyond. At a radius of two and a half bells, something purple collides with the beads and sweeps them up, swirling into a vicious storm shield. The spray of purple and black colliding sprays through the entire area, brushing against my cheek.

Sand.

Ivans doesn’t linger. Phantoms are falling from the sky now, though at the time they were much more real and tangible. He immediately mirror-steps to the rest of his group.

At a distance of only a couple of metres, the images begin to fray and scatter. The monsters in my immediate proximity vanish. I take a nasty claw across my arm from sheer reflex and close the distance quickly – re-establishing connection to the memory.

Invitations Accepted: 13/15

Warning: Insufficient Mana

Warning: Item Damaged

Pain blooms in my hip. I pop a vial at my hip and chug.

Conditions Met

Initiating Transfers

Discarding the vial, I stab through the phantom eye of a monster and drag it to the ground. Ivans teleports again with the group. I chug another vial, search for the traces, follow, and keep attacking.

Warning: Insufficient Mana

Fuck, Ivans. Couldn’t have held back on the teleportations a bit? He’s gathered everyone and regrouped, having figured out there’s no escaping past the barrier of the sands. Someone has a barrier over them. He flits about the battlefield, searching and recovering miscellaneous soldiers and individuals, travelling merchants and a couple of elves with pointed ears. Teleporting every last one over to his men with the barrier.

Each teleport grants me only a few seconds to handle whatever enemy I can spot, search him out, and rejoin his path. Identifying the enemies, the allies, and the bloodied bodies and struggling warriors is sheer chaos. After a few minutes, I give up on attempting to shadow his exact route, focusing instead on maintaining the fraying to its minimal and never losing eyesight of the conflict.

And that’s when it happens. The oversight.

I trip over something, an invisible leg or a rock, and slam straight down into the grass. My vision stirs, wavers. The sound of something popping in the distance.

The connection is lost.

Warning: Insufficient Mana

Warning: Item at Critical Capacity

Invitations Accepted: 14/15

Warning: Item Damaged

Initiating Transfer

I claw the grass and uproot the handle, the taste of blood in my mouth. Spitting up a gob, I dig my knife into the invisible claw dragging at my back and wobble to my feet.

The sound of a boom ripples through the ground, nearly knocking me back onto my ass. I flip over the unstable dirt, touch my feet back to the ground, and activate a shield over my arm to purchase a handful of seconds.

“Fucking troublemaker,” Elleven mutters under his breath. He swirls a two-handed hammer around in his hands as my shoulder knocks into his back, fending off the invisible monsters with a casual irritation. “The fuck did you drag me into?”

“You came.”

“My wife is on the other side of this splash zone. Of course I fucking came. What’s the plan?”

The hammer slows briefly, clipping one of the phantoms. He completes the follow-through and elbows something else, then returns to the spinning.

“Find the memory. Kill the monsters.”

“Make it quick. Can’t cover us if I don’t know what the fuck I’m hitting.”

I pop open and down my last recovery vial. Taking a deep breath, I return to the menu and access the channel. I drag Elleven over to the connection point, settling into Ivan’s phantom once more.

Last chance. Better do it properly this time.

The phantoms blink into view almost immediately. I kill the one aiming for Elleven’s skull with a toss of my knife and procure a fresh one from my hip.

“Stay close and do exactly as I tell you,” I say to Elleven.

He nods, a deep scowl on his lips.

Round two, start.