Amdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Outpost of the Monastery of the Western Reaches


    Bahamut and Livia discussed the options for instructors in various magical arts, housing, and teaching facilities. When Bahamut had given her some advice about logistical issues, Amdirlain had offered to help, but Livia shook her head.


    “The monastery needs to overcome some challenges itself,” argued Livia. “A few possess the Wizard Class and have access to Earth and Metal to speed up building.”


    “Can I at least move the training hall off the site if an agreement is reached with Sarah for teaching?” asked Amdirlain. “Then the monastery could repurpose it into a theory lecture hall, and I’ll build my own.”


    “What are you offering to teach them?” inquired Bahamut.


    Amdirlain smiled bashfully. “It’s been pointed out to me that I need to teach what I know to assess my understanding properly. My combat style is self-developed, and I’ve never taught it to anyone.”


    “Sensible. While your True Song can likely handle much already, sometimes it’s best to leave an understandable outcome,” said Bahamut. “Also, if you evolve further, it will draw the attention of nearby primordials.”


    Oh?


    “Does that come under the banner of requiring favours, or should we discuss that afterwards?” asked Amdirlain.


    The wrinkles around Bahamut’s mouth and eyes deepened with his broad smile. “Yes, let us focus on the monastery’s needs. What is the upper limit of students that might gain the Wizard Class?”


    The numbers Livia went over weren’t limited to those who’d submitted Affinity requests but covered a mix of students, teaching masters, and assistants. Though Amdirlain was already aware of the forty thousand students at the monastery, the number surprised Sarah. Amdirlain kept her nose out of their exchange until they had agreed on the number of dragons Bahamut would recruit.


    Up to two hundred dragons will call this place home. Oh boy!


    Livia thoughtfully tapped a building report she’d retrieved during the discussion. “We’ll need some lead time to construct housing for this many. I wouldn’t want to insult them by providing inadequate dwellings.”


    “Throughout the discussion, you didn’t say if you intended to recruit the dragons providing instruction from a heavenly or Material Plane,” observed Amdirlain.


    Bahamut’s brows furrowed. “Does it matter?”


    “I can see this becoming an advantageous location if the instructors are drawn from multiple worlds,” noted Amdirlain.


    “How would it be beneficial if I draw them from worlds?” asked Bahamut.


    Sarah snorted. “Likely the same thing I see. A neutral zone is an ideal meeting ground for finding a potential mate.”


    “That was my thought,” said Amdirlain. “But a moot point if you’re just going to recruit them from one of the heavenly planes.”


    “Gold and silver dragons are found on many worlds,” admitted Bahamut with a sigh. “Some of them could do with diversity in their bloodlines.”


    “Them coming from multiple worlds might be a headache to us because of cultural issues and all that,” said Amdirlain. “What do you think, Lady Livia?”


    “True cultural clashes can be a problem,” agreed Livia. “You have to watch for certain individuals throwing things into chaos.”


    “Isa is terrible at that,” said Amdirlain, ignoring Livia’s amused smile. “Of course, the monastery hosting them and giving the dragons a reason to socialise for a prolonged period is doing you a favour.”


    “There are other places dragons can socialise,” countered Bahamut.


    “The Dragon gatherings are places to brag and preen for mates, but some avoid them because of the usual drama,” noted Sarah. “Working here gives them a location without the usual posturing. Indeed, if you tell them they can’t recruit from here, the students aren’t potential servants they’re competing over.”


    “To make up for that, I’ll pay them a bonus for learning the local customs and keeping things calm,” offered Amdirlain.


    “But not for the actual teaching itself, as that’s up to their students to cover,” declared Livia.


    “Exactly. This is more a behavioural incentive to sweeten the pot,” clarified Amdirlain. “I’m sure it’s completely unnecessary and they’d be on their best behaviour with no need for chastisement.”


    One of the gold songbirds tilted its head. “What sort of bonus?”


    “Depends on how satisfied I am with their performance,” replied Amdirlain. “If they make me ecstatic, I’ll provide mithril bars, weaponry, or equipment for their future servants. It won’t be a matter of the first one to the prize. If they all achieve that, I’ll reward them all equally.”


    “That will put them into a more relaxed mood,” agreed Bahamut, his eyes gleaming with amusement.


    “Simply trying to learn the local culture to understand their students, I’d imagine they’ll likely talk among themselves,” said Sarah. “About what they find different from their homes, hopefully leading to an exchange of ideas. The key is, once they start talking, they’ll find common ground and next thing you know, mating flights are going on.”


    “Plus, the locals are big on titles and proper respect being shown, so far safer socialising around them instead of some species I can think of,” added Amdirlain.


    “I’ll take that into consideration for whatever repayment I request from you,” allowed Bahamut. “Provided anything comes of it.”


    Sarah grinned in anticipation. “Of course.”


    “With that, Lady Livia, we both have things to do. I’ll bid farewell to you and will now address Amdirlain’s questions for me,” said Bahamut.


    Livia rose from her seat and bowed respectfully. “Thank you for your time, Lord Bahamut.”


    “Shall we go to your training hall?” questioned Bahamut, and he gathered up the hat he’d set on the table with the songbirds reclaiming their perches upon it.


    With a nod of agreement, Amdirlain simply teleported there.


    As she had expected from conversing with Tyr, Bahamut had no trouble teleporting beside her into the courtyard, and Sarah was only a moment behind.


    “What would you like to discuss?” asked Bahamut.


    Amdirlain motioned to her room. “I hoped for your view on a harp that inspired a series of memories. They’ve continued to emerge even after I ceased to play.”


    She felt Bahamut’s attention linger on the harp. “You used a harp created by the Greek Gods while they existed outside this realm. What made you think that was a good idea?”


    “It was given to me by the sole member of their pantheon that still possesses a Mantle, and she suggested it might prove useful as a training instrument,” explained Amdirlain. “Using Analysis on it, Gideon provided no warning or smart alec remarks, just a bland statement about its origins.”


    “Perhaps they believe that would be enough to warn you off it, but left the choice up to you,” said Bahamut, and he headed inside. He paused by the harp and ran his fingers along its arch. “You’re fortunate there is no malice with it, nor is there any active enchantment linking to you. What were you trying to achieve when you played it?”


    Amdirlain flushed, embarrassed by the impulse that had led her to stick her nose into Ori’s past.


    “I’d retrieved a past life memory involving myself and Sarah, and it seemed to imply a different relationship between Ori and Shindraithra than I had understood from their initial oath,” admitted Amdirlain. “I sought understanding.”


    Bahamut’s brows lifted, and he put his hand to the rim of his hat and dipped it to shade his gaze.


    “You know I’d be able to see the amusement in your eyes even if you were kilometres away?” grumbled Amdirlain.


    “Landed yourself in the hot seat did you?” asked Bahamut. “It is a harp of muses, so it inspired understanding.”


    “Yes, and snippets of the memories have kept coming,” admitted Amdirlain. “It quietened down when we were waiting, but they were so distracting I was concerned about the danger if they continued.”


    “How distracting?”


    “Ori could handle far more songs than I can and she was continually listening to them,” said Amdirlain, and she tapped the side of her head. “It was like I was living every moment but all the choices were hers. Between the songs and her emotions, I had trouble following conversations around me when they surged.”


    “She had a very keen mind, even among those I knew in other realms. So it’s unsurprising you find her memories overwhelming,” accepted Bahamut. “Especially emotional memories involving Shindraithra. I believe the key is what you sought: understanding. That isn’t always gained in a moment but requires repeated exposure, especially when hard heads are involved. It was a shame the flame between them didn’t rekindle in later lives.”


    “Among other things, a badly worded promise was responsible for that,” advised Amdirlain. “Did you know promises fundamentally altered Ori’s mindset?”


    Bahamut lifted his gaze from the harp. “That I didn’t know. How did you learn of it?”


    “I felt her distress when a promise Ori made Syl settled in place,” explained Amdirlain. “I also felt her grief when she recognised aeons later what had happened.”


    “And that’s why you want to know what promises she made me?” asked Bahamut.


    The songbirds took wing when he dropped his hat to the table and pulled out a chair across for Amdirlain. Though the harp offered a convenient perch, none of them went near it, opting for the backs of chairs, and one landed again on the bent peak of Bahamut’s hat.


    “This is a sit-down conversation? Are you going to tell me about the birds and the bees?” quipped Amdirlain nervously.


    “Perhaps it is something fundamental from a Primordial sense,” offered Bahamut, and he picked a spot at the table across from the entry and considered the stark room. “I see you and Livia have similar tastes in furnishings—minimalistic with refined accents.”


    “This is just a training hall I’ve hired from the monastery,” replied Amdirlain.


    “If you hadn’t liked what they’d provided, I’m sure you would have replaced it already,” countered Bahamut.


    “Would you tell me of any promises Ori made to you?” asked Amdirlain.


    Bahamut rested his hands on the table in front of him. “That would cover some fairly complex negotiations. Are you sure the promises Orhêthurin made are still impacting you? Her death should have removed the obligation.”


    “I’ve run into undead held in that state because of obligations unfulfilled in life,” advised Amdirlain. “Sarah released me from promises made by Orhêthurin, and I felt a burden shift around in my Soul.”


    “Some promises you will probably never learn about, and some agreements she had with me aren’t things I can discuss with you at this time,” explained Bahamut. “Nor are those promises items I can release you from even though your Soul is the same.”


    “What debt do I have hanging over my head?” groaned Amdirlain.


    Bahamut snorted. “The debt isn’t over your head, Amdirlain. Orhêthurin provided certain things, and the repayment of myself and others was to undertake specific endeavours for this realm. The annulment of those agreements would require compensation provided to Orhêthurin and Nicholaus and for us to leave the realm. However, since you’ve made it clear you’re not Orhêthurin, compensation would need to be supplied to Nicholaus. Even if I released you, I know of others who entered into agreements with Orhêthurin that you don’t have the means to reach.”


    “Where are they?” asked Amdirlain. “I can likely get to many planes remotely if not in person.”


    “Not in this realm,” clarified Bahamut. “The ability to travel between realms isn’t one most primordials or gods can even gain. Travel between realms is normally undertaken through the help of those few primordials found within a realm with the ability to Realm Step.”


    The locked power that was displayed in my Prestige Class. Why did you set up the Class to include it Gideon? Or did Ori leave her Soul with the ability?


    “Did that ring a bell for you?” asked Bahamut.


    Amdirlain nodded. “Something I remembered.”


    “Hmm,” huffed Bahamut. “On top of that, even if you were to regain the ability to move between realms or get help from someone who can, there is another challenge. I don’t know all the realms the pair visited, but I know they visited many. I don’t know how many of those visits ended with forged agreements.”


    “I remember Nicholaus kept remaking the forge room, and they’d stop off in a new realm each time,” allowed Amdirlain. “Though I can’t remember how many times that occurred.”


    “The creation of a realm isn’t straightforward,” stated Bahamut. “I have shards present in fifty-eight realms set at a rapid internal temporal pace that they visited before crafting this realm. On top of that, I know there were more places besides those they called upon.”


    Did the Greek Gods hound them across realms?


    “I know why they interacted with some of the realms, but what is your view on why they visited so many?” asked Amdirlain. “If a being created those realms, couldn’t they have learned from them?”


    “They weren’t being pursued in those realms, if that is what you were thinking,” stated Bahamut. “The answer to that is simple and complex. The most valuable commodity transferable between realms is knowledge. In every realm they visited, Orhêthurin or Nicholaus sought to learn how the local creators managed certain facets of the realm’s creation and balance. Though they weren’t just looking to make a copy, they often wanted the reasoning behind the creators’ choices. Sometimes Orhêthurin would soak up the realm’s underlying rules and the design of its galaxies, pay for the information in one fashion or another, and they’d move inside of a day.”


    She’d soak it up, and she considered herself Mortal? Oh yes, I’m a completely average girl. Fucking hell.


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    “But other times, they visited realms and rescued some inhabitants,” said Amdirlain.


    “Tia was one such that they freed,” agreed Bahamut with a frown. “Though I never got a proper explanation for why they opted to free her. I advised Ori that there were others she could gain the planetary knowledge from, but she sought after the version Tia could provide.”


    “The Mesopotamian gods ripped Tia’s body apart and used the halves of her rib cages to form the limits of earth and sky. But the life they grew between those boundaries provided a seal for her divided state,” explained Amdirlain. “The linkage between the Mortal and the Divine that Tia’s children crafted gave Ori an important key.”


    “You learned this from her memories?” inquired Bahamut curiously.


    Amdirlain nodded.


    “Given she already knew Moradin and me before she released Tia, I had wondered why she hadn’t simply used what she learnt from us. Orhêthurin wasn’t forthcoming, only saying that Tia had provided a key she required,” advised Bahamut.


    “The realms your principal manifestation crafted didn’t have such traps,” offered Amdirlain. “In a way you could consider it a compliment.”


    Bahamut frowned. “Traps? She designed the mantles around what she learned from Tia?”


    “The seal didn’t just hold Tia. It also drew strength from her, and that’s where the mantles’ siphon effect on an individual’s strength came from,” explained Amdirlain. “Without that drain, Tia would have healed her devastating injuries.”


    “Now it makes sense, and the allure of the mantles catches many in their web,” sighed Bahamut. “Even the best of intentioned individuals can fall for the shortcut to greatness they believe the mantles offer. How much have you remembered about her life before this realm?”


    “Some time spent training, fragments of visits to yourself, Moradin, a few other deities, and the Fey courts,” said Amdirlain. “Did you meet her before or after she’d transformed herself?”


    “The first time we met in person, she already had her elven appearance. Though Orhêthurin’s eye colour slowly changed over the years as she refined her Primordial essence until it gained the golden hue she created the Anar with,” replied Bahamut.


    “Why did you pick that form?”


    Bahamut tapped his fingers on the brim of his hat. “It’s just a form I’d adopted for visiting Asgard. I knew what it felt like and looked like and figured it might cause less disruption here to appear Human.”


    “Just for convenience?” questioned Amdirlain.


    His form blurred, and across from Amdirlain sat a female Lizardfolk covered from snout to tail in liquid silver scales that rippled with the gentle breeze that came in the window. “Is the distortion in your True Form concerning you? Or is this part of what you’re still sorting out?”


    The words were spoken in a hissing tongue, but the intent behind them came through clearly, projected flawlessly by Bahamut’s will.


    I told Cyrus my True Form doesn’t matter. Then why does flesh matter? Love matters, the person’s nature matters, but flesh? Does it matter?


    “Hang up about gender from my last life,” explained Amdirlain.


    I did die, and I also took up a new name. Did my acceptance not come across convincingly enough?


    “A Human lifetime, and yet you’ve chosen an elven form as your public persona,” noted Bahamut.


    Viper’s digging triggered me to take on an elven form, yet it was so close to the form assumed during my confrontation with her in Yngvarr’s home. I should go back and listen to the song I released while I was out of it. I’m surprised it didn’t destroy me.


    “We had stories containing Fey and elves in the last realm I reincarnated in,” explained Amdirlain.


    “What we nurture and hold within ourselves wins out in the end,” said Bahamut. “This is especially true with Primordial beings. Where most intelligent species have access to classes, that isn’t the case with a Primordial. We instead have natures. You could call them facets of our focus.”


    “Why is that?”


    Bahamut smiled tightly. “Might I ask you a question instead?”


    “Okay,” agreed Amdirlain.


    “What is the difference between a Primordial and a God?”


    “Gods need worshipers. A Primordial’s strength comes from within,” responded Amdirlain.


    “Since their strength comes from within, why would you think a realm’s rules determine how they can gain strength?” asked Bahamut.


    Amdirlain opened her mouth to object and stopped. “Did someone set the overall rules for the Far Chaos and all the realms others have created?”


    Bahamut smiled and ignored the question. “This realm’s rules determine how species and classes gain experience, but that isn’t true for a Primordial. Nor do they get classes.”


    “What do they get then?”


    “The strength of their four strongest natures determines the manifestation they can evoke through their Primordial Will, or they need to go through the powers and skills of the realm.”


    “And those natures don’t increase in strength through experience gain,” said Amdirlain.


    “The realm only controls how a Primordial can express their strengths, it doesn’t influence how or if we can increase it,” said Bahamut. “The mechanism of experience is a construct of this realm.”


    “How do you increase your strength?” inquired Amdirlain. “You said it was more challenging than gaining experience.”


    “We refine insights into key facets of our natures,” replied Bahamut. “Which is far easier said than done, especially with the rules influencing how we can express them and how many we can tap to cause effects.”


    “What sort of things are you talking about?”


    “At a fundamental level, any concept you can think of, from very narrow to very broad. Some primordials double down by focusing on similar closely related facets in which to gain strength and broaden their reach when they cross tiers while others grow strength in several facets and combine them at a similar point,” explained Bahamut.


    “The same way a Prestige Class is a combination?” questioned Amdirlain.


    “Similar, and it might be where Orhêthurin developed the idea, certainly the obtaining of insights and understanding is how the powers and skills progress,” said Bahamut. “This is the only realm I’ve seen with a Prestige Class system like the one she set up. It is also the only one I’m aware of that lets a Primordial use only its strongest four facets to evoke their capability within the realm.”


    “They can only ever have four active?”


    “Yes, but they can alter them with growth. If Primordial with a minor facet of inspiration that they couldn’t select as one of the four wanted to strengthen that facet of their being, they’d have to serve as a normal muse to develop it. If it’s strong enough, the next time they increased their tier, they’d have the option to select it as one of their quartet to manifest through Primordial Will.”


    “You can see Profiles?”


    “No, but upon transformation you see reality, and your interaction points with it express the nature involved,” explained Bahamut.


    The memory of the thing she’d seen bound in the Abyss sprang to mind. “And those who object end up bound.”


    “Bound or expelled,” confirmed Bahamut. “It depends on the rules they tried to break.”


    “But the only example you can give me would be simplified ones,” said Amdirlain.


    Bahamut nodded. “The insights into both your natures and strengths has to come from within, just as a Primordial’s strength lies within themselves. The more similar natures we strengthen the more our nature influences how our powers are expressed and what we can do with our Primordial Will. Do you know what that is?”


    “Ori made True Song based on her manifestation of that ability,” offered Amdirlain.


    “Don’t forget Resonance,” said Bahamut. “A Primordial’s power manifests based upon how they see reality. For Orhêthurin, that was her music, whereas I perceive everything as energy flows. When she explained her abilities to me, it sounded like complex multidimensional equations facilitated through music.”


    “That’s fair,” allowed Amdirlain. ”Certainly, the musical notation for it is along those lines.”


    “You didn’t need my help with the harp. Still, it''s not something to leave lying around casually. Should I take it with me, or will you secure it?”


    “I’d like to keep it since you said it wasn’t a threat,” replied Amdirlain.


    “Just be careful what you’re trying to use it for next time you touch its strings,” said Bahamut. “What else can I help you with?”


    “So, to break through, I’ll need to gain insights into the strongest elements of my nature?”


    “It’s not as simple as that, and I’ve said too much if you’re already contemplating it,” said Bahamut. “You’ve got a lot of growth to go. Custodian told you to get strong, so the only advice I will give you is to gain as much ability to channel energy as you can with your classes.”


    “Magic rating?”


    “Any sort of energy,” clarified Bahamut. “For Mana, it''s your magic rating, psionics the key is your Intelligence, and True Song’s key is primarily Endurance. If you were a Priest, the key is Willpower or Charisma, depending on your deity.”


    Sarah huffed. “It sounds like the eastern Dao, finding a path that expresses your truth. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn with a side of stubborn.”


    Amdirlain showed Sarah her palm. “Never mind, Sarah. Have you met any of the Jade Court, Bahamut?”


    ‘Talk to the hand indeed,’ laughed Sarah mentally. ‘No respect for your Grandmaster Sugar Mama?’


    Bahamut shook his head. “Other than Master Farhad and Lady Livia, not as yet. Their heavenly Plane is on a different axis to the outer planes I’m used to travelling. Maybe I should travel and see the Jade Emperor and check if such teachings would merely waste your time.”


    “It’s not just that aspect of the Jade Court I’m curious about. I’m trying to understand how they readily access the Material Plane. Do the same rules apply to a Primordial to access the Material Plane as other beings from outer planes?” asked Amdirlain.


    “No,” said Bahamut. “If they did, Orhêthurin wouldn’t have been able to live on various worlds over the initial aeons. It’s not normally an issue, as most Primordial beings don’t even like sending avatars to planes that don’t mesh with their nature. The Gate that allowed Leviathan access was only required because of the dimensional disruption afflicted on Veht? before the attack.”


    A memory of the ecstatic feeling that rose from within Orhêthurin as a new world bloomed had Amdirlain blurting a question. “Was Ori’s nature Creation or Life?”


    “Fishing for that sort of information will have me cut short my visit,” cautioned Bahamut. “I don’t want to hamper you. Incomplete answers will increase your preconceptions and, in turn, the difficulty of your task. Everyone’s answers differ, as true understanding can only come from within.”


    That sounds like something Kadaklan might say.


    “That certainly sounds like the Jade Court’s paths. Alright, so your sole advice is to get better at channelling energy,” murmured Amdirlain. “That removes a lot of Class options that I’ve currently got.”


    “Like you’d take any lesser Class options!” snorted Bahamut. “You asked me for magical instructors for yourself. Might I ask why you didn’t request Morgana to assist you personally?”


    The grief-stricken tones she’d heard in Morgana’s song before Amdirlain had left Claughuthruuazex to his last flights touched raw nerves of emotion.


    “I didn’t want to impose on her. I heard enough to be sure she’d still be mourning Claughuthruuazex,” replied Amdirlain.


    Bahamut frowned with concern. “I assure you she’d appreciate a distraction, but that is up to you.”


    “Let me think about it, and I’ll let you know,” responded Amdirlain. The echoing loss had words on her lips before she could reconsider. “Is there a way for a being not born a Primordial to become one?”


    “Other than one who is regaining such a state?” enquired Bahamut, and at Amdirlain’s nod, he continued. “I’ve heard of such events in other realms, but I’m uncertain if any have occurred here. Truthfully, it’s outside my area of interest, and the tales I have heard haven’t drawn my attention enough to check. What does concern me is your uncertain situation. You’ve two challenges ahead of you: regaining the state and doing so in a fashion that allows you to advance through the tiers again.”


    “Being a Primordial isn’t enough?”


    “Amdirlain, don’t waste my time. We both know it wouldn’t be enough for you,” said Bahamut sternly. “You’ve got the feel about you of someone that won’t rest without the power to make change.”


    “And what do you think will happen if I don’t break through to being a Primordial?”


    “You’ll end up a strong Outsider of whatever Plane resonates with your Soul,” advised Bahamut. “Whatever Nicholaus or Orhêthurin did to allow her Soul to be reborn seems to have come undone with your evolution to Fallen.”


    I’d be immortal, but Sarah is merely long-lived? Merely?


    Amdirlain pretended to sigh in relief. “I figured that would be the case.”


    “Given your ability to make enemies, if that occurs, you’ll be in great danger no matter the Plane you live on,” observed Bahamut. “You’ve repeatedly shown your willingness to pick fights with anyone who disregards others, so I hope my words don’t tip the balance away from your restoration.”


    The chime of Gideon’s awareness touched against Sarah.


    “One hundred seventeen beings from the outer planes have become primordials,” murmured Sarah. “Only one of those obtained the ability to progress through the tiers. All of them were divine beings who internalised their power.”


    “Your Analysis Skill?” enquired Bahamut.


    “Yep,” replied Sarah, smiling at Amdirlain. “It seems you’re not the first to have gained an evolution or three.”


    “An individual’s Class visions don’t clarify how they got the options,” said Amdirlain. “All the uncertainty obscures things.”


    “Whereas you know what’s involved,” said Sarah, reassuringly squeezing her hand. “Now you just need to beat the odds.”


    “Proper preparation prevents piss poor performance,” quipped Amdirlain. “If you’d tell me what question you focused on to get that information, I’d like to see what snark Gideon has for me.”


    “Later,” agreed Sarah. “Though you might not have your Analysis high enough.”


    “True, there are a bunch of abilities I’ve not pushed along,” admitted Amdirlain.


    “Like your Lesser Gate?” laughed Sarah.


    Bahamut snorted, and his sapphire gaze twinkled with suppressed amusement. “A demonic ability? Have you ever used it?”


    Amdirlain rolled her eyes. “Not once. I had better things to do with my time than pull in random demons to kill.”


    “That’s because you like your lists,” said Sarah.


    “I need to get better at tackling them in the order I intended instead of letting someone else play hijinks with my priorities,” said Amdirlain.


    “Time will let you determine what things require urgency to address and what are merely distractions,” advised Bahamut, and he picked up his hat and rose. “I’ll line up a teacher in case you decide not to ask Morgana for help.”


    The songbirds reappeared on Bahamut’s shoulders before he vanished; his Planar Shift left lingering Celestial energy in the room.


    Amdirlain hummed thoughtfully and vacated the room despite Pain Eater not reporting a problem.


    As she stepped onto the white gravel layering the courtyard, Sarah provided the wording she used to seek information from Gideon. Still, all Amdirlain got was a brief spike of resistance.


    “Nothing,” admitted Amdirlain. “What is your Analysis rated at?”


    “It’s in Grandmaster rank,” replied Sarah.


    “Yeah, I’m not even close,” laughed Amdirlain.


    Sarah shrugged. “It’s not like you don’t have other options. Isa doesn’t even have it at Master rank since she’s relied so much on Resonance.”


    Amdirlain opted for the bench that set her back to the nearest building. As Sarah sat, her form shifted into the male Elf.


    “You accused me of cheating,” grumbled Amdirlain playfully.


    Amusement flashed in their sapphire eyes. “Am I not good enough eye candy for you?”


    “I don’t even know what to call you in that form,” protested Amdirlain.


    Sarah shrugged casually. “I don’t care what you call me: Sarah, Syl, Shindraithra, or scores of other names. It’s not like I’m coming out as trans and need a lipstick name.”


    “They all feel like your memories?”


    “Yes,” replied Sarah. “Though I see the memories tinted through the lens of my current sensibilities, they all feel like mine, just a younger me.”


    Amdirlain shifted uncomfortably on the bench and flowed upright, pausing as Sarah released her hand. As long steps carried her about the courtyard, Amdirlain grew aware of Sarah’s gaze. Amdirlain flushed and smiled sheepishly. “I never used to react to you watching me.”


    “I was very aware of that,” replied Sarah. “Not that I was constantly watching you. I was careful to guard against that sort of creep-fest behaviour, and it seems I’ve got my own adjusting to do.”


    “Did I rattle more than my own barriers?” asked Amdirlain. “I’ve been oblivious, and you were guarded, but your body language has loosened up.”


    Sarah’s warm smile was fleeting. “Hope does that, Am.”


    “We might be here a few years,” noted Amdirlain nervously, seeking to change the subject.


    Sarah laughed gleefully in a warm tenor. “That would truly be a hardship. Years of your company without worrying about something trying to kill either of us. We didn’t have that luxury on Qil Tris hunting Eldritch.”


    “Having a home here doesn’t mean I can’t take jaunts to get into trouble elsewhere,” refuted Amdirlain. “Day trips to blow things up and create more demi-planes. I’m still thousands of demi-planes short of the number I need to fulfil my goals on Qil Tris. Though I should also set up a surplus for the rise of additional cities.”


    “When were you planning to do more?”


    Amdirlain wrinkled her nose. “Tonight?”


    “According to the monastery schedule, it’s not far after midnight,” noted Sarah, and she waved at the gentle sunlight. “Hard to tell, right? Since it’s still technically night, did you mean now or after your lessons today?”


    “Good point,” acknowledged Amdirlain. “You’re right. I’ve got hours before Kadaklan shows up for my morning lesson. Shall we go now?”


    “Are you sure you want me along?” questioned Sarah carefully. “You might feel better for some private time, and I don’t want to be crowding you.”


    Amdirlain’s gaze shone with conviction. “I want you along.”


    At Sarah’s responding smile, Amdirlain extended her hand.


    Sarah rose and strode across the courtyard to her, blurring between forms with each step. “What way do you want me?”


    “I don’t know,” replied Amdirlain softly, ignoring the playful innuendo. “Most of all, I want my friend, and I’m scared I’m going to screw up. My self-doubts whisper, and I need to listen to your theme to get the thoughts to quieten, but that feels nosey and cheating.”


    “I’ll stop teasing you about that,” said Sarah. Strong fingers gently cupped Amdirlain’s face in long fingers, and a soft kiss brushed her forehead. “A friend-zoned guy needs to stay away for a time so a lady’s mental canvas can reset, but you’ve got a perfect memory, so leaving it be will never reset your attitude towards me without us working things out.”


    Resonance dipped deeper, letting Amdirlain take in the unguarded care and concern. “Let me do something easier than emotions for a time. With something to distract my mind, I won’t be so caught up in my baggage.”


    “Creating a demi-plane is easier than untangling emotions,” agreed Sarah.


    The pair vanished, and an idle breeze played with a shed songbird feather.