Can’t teleport… can’t teleport! This is downright disgusting. An entire world spread out in every direction above me, continents and islands of forests and snow and mountains and… what could that giant pink splodge be? No! I can’t go! Got to walk. Got to get all this sand in my boots, that’s how walkers do it. I’m a proper hiker now. Sy the Rambler. 

Fighting Demons. Like, actual Demons. An entire planet dedicated to plucking people from their daily lives and forcing them to fight. So what they dress it up as payment for teaching us how to be more powerful – who asked for that in the first place? It’s like washing someone’s car without asking, then demanding payment.

And I mean, what kind of bad joke is this, anyway? A teleporter who’s not allowed to teleport, a religious nut, a guy with a speedy mind power that just incapacitates out final member, an eternally intrusive psych… Oh shit, sorry Angel.

But, if people from the infinite multiverse are drawn here, wouldn’t that mean there are infinite people? And infinite people would require infinite space, so wouldn’t having such an enclosed planet be way too constraining? Or maybe the consideration was more for creating a prison, to keep people from flying away from the planet. Infinite people, infinite Characteristics, surely many of them would be able to leave. Leave how though? The phone said Characteristics are unique, but can there be infinitely unique ways of accomplishing the same goal? Consider flight, for instance. You could use the power of your mind to do it. Or maybe like a rocket shooting fire from your feet. Or wings! But what kind of wings? The wingsofabird,thewingsofadragonmaybe-

Woah, that was close. Sorry, Angel!

He must have been exaggerating. Millions? Billions? Concepts of numbers so massive I have never even encountered them before, yet here I am with an understanding of their meaning. What was it Igelet had said? It was a matter of souls interacting, conveying information. So, Sy does have a soul then. Despite that deep seated, unyielding rage he has exposed beneath his superficial veneer. I had wondered to some degree if such violence had all but melted it away. And earlier, I didn’t say anything, but surely he doesn’t actually plan to steal things? Even with his evident lack of spiritual guidance, I would have hoped such an immorality was evident to all sensible beings.

Though… Igelet clearly wasn’t in the right frame of mind to elaborate at the time, but the implication was there… will this ‘Body Magic’ really make me live for centuries? Come to think of it, that bitch said something similar. What would I do in all that time? Would I get bored? Thinking about it more makes me wonder these things, but when Igelet first alluded to it, I’m sure like me Light couldn’t help but be stunned with the prospect. 

Speaking of Light though, I don’t think I will be able to get along with her if something doesn’t change. Her holier-than-thou claims of righteousness, her subtle narrowing of the eyes when I try to adjust for reality. I’ve heard and seen it a million times – ‘What a bum, why can’t they just work hard, like me, and maintain a Civilian License?’. Thinking some idealistic tripe about how everything will work out, as long as there’s some hope and prayer.

Obviously we had a bad experience with Miss Break Punch, but it looks like he’s prepared to take this entire world for his enemy. I’ve had my own perspective of this world warped so many times in the few hours I’ve been here that I can’t help but take what Igelet proposed with a grain of salt. It simply cannot be that every person we meet is as bloodthirsty as Sy and Break Punch. And as I meet and talk with these people I shall grow and be better at interacting with them. Of course, the same is for Sy. I need to talk more with him, help be the guide he so clearly has missed.

I swear to god, I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold my tongue if she tries any of that conversion crap on me. I mean, I know she’s from a different place, a different world, a different way of living. But that preachy stuff has never sat right by me.

Should I be speaking? It’s been a while since anyone’s said anything. We’re nearly at the desert now, and just getting close is making me feel more and more exposed. And the quiet. The wind has died down, so all I can hear is the crunch of stems under our feet. I know we need to be stealthy, but should I say something? I don’t want it to be too awkward.

Actually, I haven’t really forgiven her comments earlier. Not what she said - after all, her provocation did rouse me to actually fight back. And if what Light and Angel told me was true, saving them also saved my own hide. But for such an otherwise pious little princess, manipulating me like that came a bit easily, didn’t it? I mean, she’s pretty cool for thinking on her feet so quickly, but I’ve seen that degree of calculating confidence too many a time on the streets to be anything but cautious.

Also, the whole ‘I won’t fight, I’ll let others do it for me’ – what a… I really shouldn’t think like this. And the way she was behaving around Igelet, can’t she take a hint?!

Whatever. Whatever. This isn’t going to be forever, I can play nice. I just need to keep the tone light, keep the group together. She clearly has her reservations about me, but I can turn it around with enough time. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s get on with someone.

The problem is, he is a Liar. I can tell just by the way he changes his tone of talking – one way with me, another with Igelet. In a group he wears this mask of confidence and jovial comradery, but one-on-one his language and mannerisms adjust almost imperceptibly. It is like some twisted, intentional form of my Angel’s mannerisms… the worst and most tragic part is that I don’t believe he knows it even himself. A Liar so proficient he can deceive even himself is a veritable pit of spiritual decay. Will it ever be possible to expose the naked core of his persona? Then again, perhaps I have already seen it – that sheer, unrelenting fury. Lord, I know it is wrong of me, and I must work to strengthen myself, but simple sitting next to him sent waves of revulsion down my spine.

But I need to get over these feelings for the sake of us actually getting through all this.

Why can’t I get on with others as well as Light and Sy get on with each other? The way they bounce of each other, it feels like they’ve known each other for years. But I can’t think of a single thing to say.

Wait, wait. I have a phone. With a map feature. Damn, I had forgotten. Did I mention it earlier? Ahhh, I can’t remember. Conversations are such a blur. But if I did, do they expect me to be looking for it? Is that why nobody is talking. I try to subtly reach for the phone, but miss my pocket with a shaking hand. It takes everything to not fallintoDilationrightthere- ooh, that was close.

I look back – despite my earlier statement, I appear to be second from the front, with only Light in front of me. Igelet is scrambling to reach something out of his pocket – one of those futuristic phones, it turns out. He powers it on and stares at it intently, a faint computerised glow subtly illuminating his face even in this midday sun. 

Angel lags a little further behind. She’s walking so lazily, so calmly that the completely glazed look in her eye doesn’t catch me by surprise one bit. Speaking of those eyes… there’s just something I can’t get used to looking at. Yes, everyone’s eyes have been strange, but that pit of black in the middle surrounded by white sclera just feels downright penetrating… of course, she can hear this. I’m so sorry again, Angel.

“It’s fine,” mutters Angel out of nowhere, and I practically drop my phone as my heart lurches. Is that about the near-use of Dilation earlier, or about when I realised I wasn’t doing my job? Either way, thanks for the reassurance!

How strange, the first thing anyone has said in five minutes, and I can’t tell which of the boys she is conversing with. Truly, how blessed you are Angel for such an ability! The name you have chosen is no mere coincidence – the ability to perceive the very souls of man! I can only imagine what I could achieve with this – how quickly I could help those who seek my counsel if only I knew exactly what it is that bothered them… then again, is the discussion not the prime goal, to get them to open up to their transgressions? Wait, have I exhibited Envy for Angel’s ability? My Lord I apologise with all my spirit, I shall not permit such eroding thoughts to chip away at me. I am utterly content with the boons you have bestowed upon me!

Ah, sorry, Angel, for bothering you with this.

Yes! There is a map! I can zoom in to some degree – there’s a small dot that represents the phone’s location. I zoom out and scroll forward –  how do all these geographies coexist so closely to one another?! The rich rainbow of where we are now transitions into some sort of desert-like area, only to become a turquoise forest!

Either way, we’re getting close to the desert. I can feel the ground changing beneath my feet – the firmness of the soil slowly getting more and more unstable.

And beyond Angel, now we’re further from the hill and have walked off at some angle, I can just about make out the small hut we had started out journey from. And off towards the base of the hill, the general shape of someone sitting hunched over a bench, looking in a completely different direction to us. As though she never cared a single bit. Huh, what a bitch.

Hmm, why is Light slowing down? We’re practically on the edge of the desert now – the flowers have begun to thin out and orange sand is taking the reigns from the brown earth.

 “I must admit, this is strange,” Light says suddenly, and I immediately pocket the phone. She’s turning to look at us, and I want to look like I’m paying attention. “This earth, it is strange, no? I wonder if it could be a trap of some kind. I feel my feet sink into it ever so slightly.”

I look down, my heart jumping to my throat as I expect to see her already up to her knees, but no, those woven sandals are still standing on the sand.

Adrenaline spike subsiding, I relax my grip on the knife in my pocket. Ew, I hadn’t realised how completely drenched it was with my blood in here. Everything else was able to dry in good time as Igelet woke up, but it seems like it was able to pool in the waterproof pockets of my hoodie. Gross.

Anyway – yes, that did cause me a sudden wave of aggression. I expected some kind of trap, but no. She’s standing perfectly still, on the sand.

She kneels over, and takes a handful before standing up. Thank god the wind died down earlier, or looking that closely at it would have got some in her eye for sure. I still feel tense – what could It be she’s found?

Has she seen something strange about it? Something small moving through the sand? A bug perhaps? I hope she doesn’t feel the need to show me. I have enough of a panic about bugs at home, I don’t need magical space bugs to be added to my catalogue of terrors.

How bizarre! Such fine, dry clumps of soil. In fact, it feels more like stone, and… yes, actually, they do look like hundreds of little stones! How could anything grow in this? Well, actually, it appears little does. I look up – those beautiful flowers clearly can’t live in such a dry, gritty reality, but a new sort of weed appears to dominate ahead – a short, thick clump of brown grasses, waving lazily in the breeze at knee height. They lay randomly spaced all the way through the orange plain.

“What do you mean?” Sy asks, an edge of grit to his voice. I let the particles fall through my hands like flour. How pretty the way it catches light in the sun. I wonder if there is a name for this?

“Never mind,” she mutters, not even bothering to look up to me. “It is just strange to me, this dirt. But it seems harmless enough. Now, onwards through this orange land, right?”

“Well, about that, I have a thought,” Sy says, and again I sense that change in tone as he addresses the greater group. How quickly he changes… Lord, please guide me. I take a breath, to calm.

“While we pass through here, we’re going to be sticking out like sore thumbs. There’s no telling who or what might find us, but just to be sure…” he kneels down, and forces a few fingers down his black, shiny shoe. He pulls out a piece of red metal about the length of his fist but only a few fingers thick. “I have two of these, and I think it makes sense to give one away.”

Ah, that’s the knife he had whipped out during that fight with… whatever her name was. Is it uncomfortable, having that in his shoe the entire time? Will he offer it to me? I don’t want to assume he will, just because he gave one to me last time. I don’t want to look over-eager.

Igelet subconsciously turns his hand over, as though to begin accepting. Ah, that’s a little awkward. 

“Angel, I was thinking you, perhaps? You handled this pretty well earlier.”

Ah, of course. It makes sense. I didn’t see what she did that was so amazing, but I suppose it’s possible that she has better experience with… actually, yes, it’s entirely probable that anyone is better with weapons than me, who has never handled one properly before. I keep my face entirely neutral, and nod in agreement.

Oh, poor Igelet, he looks utterly devastated. But what does he mean… oh! That handle did look familiar. But hasn’t my Angel seen enough violence with that? She would never have ordinarily done anything so vulgar if it weren’t for your rage, Sy. By handing her this, you’re practically making her complicit in your next assault!

“My Angel, are you sure you want such a thing?” Light interjects in that mothering condescension.

I wonder why Light disagrees? She must have seen whatever it was Angel did earlier. Regardless, I am again thankfully unaddressed, so I can just wait for Angel herself to respond.

And wait.

Is she okay?

What is she looking at? Her eyes are still glazed.

“Hey, Angel?”

“My Angel, are you okay?”

I walk up and clasp her hands in my own – she looks up to meet mine own eyes-

And in a flash of recognition, I’m me again. I can’t stop the rapid intake of breath. It feels like having just emerged from a deep sea dive… did I get that analogy from Igelet, I wonder? But whereas he felt it in a positive way, here it’s more of a sour shock, this sudden strike of the rooting of my perspective. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, and again I marvel at the reverberations of my words across four minds. There’s my own, the loudest. Then through Angel’s eyes I am elegant and refined despite the ties that bind her – this ability must take its toll! Lord, lend me the power to soothe her suffering! Sy glances sideways at Igelet – has he been using his ability again? Calm down, Sy, don’t be frustrated with him – but seriously we have to make sure he stops that. But how? Igelet, on the other hand, barely notices anything about, wondering too hard about when will I bring up the map? Immediately after Angel answers, or wait a bit? It’s a good find, but would that sound like I’m hogging the spotlight? ‘Look at me, I can do the most basic search on the internet, guys!’. Is that what they’d hear?

I return the gentle grip onto Light’s hands, and let go. I need a way to keep myself in the here and now, desperately so. Losing myself in the overlapping perspectives is so calm, and so easy, and so terrifying in retrospect. I can’t remember me walking here! Only everyone else.

“No, it’s not,” I respond, only to realise Light had yet to verbalise her statement. “Sorry, I mean, it’s not Igelet, I’m just finding it hard to focus.”

Different flavours of concern roll off all three, but I refuse to explore them. I need to stay as just me. What can I do? I subtly pull my arm up through my long, wide sleeve, and clench my fist as hard as possible. Woah, this is great! The tension and pain act as a rock, keeping me me. The world of swirling consciousnesses dulls by comparison!

“Anyway,” I say quickly, before Light can step forward and offer to carry me, “sure, I’ll take it. I don’t intend to fight with it,” I say in response to Light about to describe my inability to resist Sy’s potential bloodlust, “if I feel like that, I’ll pass it off to you. I just think I’ll be in the best position to defend us if we’re attacked, that is all.”

Light is suitably sceptical, but her unfounded reverence of me wins over and she does nothing as a smugly satisfied Sy passes me the hilt. By Sy’s own muscle memory I know I just need to squeeze like so and a sharp edge shoots out. And squeeze again, and instantly it retracts. It feels natural in my palm – of course, since I first stole it five years ago from that market in… no, wait, that was Sy’s memory, of course.

Through Sy’s eyes I notice him peak back towards Break Punch again, who is still indistinctly not looking at us. Curious… Sy, Igelet and Light’s thoughts and emotions swirl around me, but I can’t quite make out… no, there! A loose thought from Boom Punch. I reach out – it’s not even a thought, just the hint of a general feeling of boredom.

“I say we keep close, walk quickly, and we’ll be at the forest edge in no time. Then we’ll have cover, and can walk around the edge to get to the next supervisor or whatever,” says Sy in a way that grates with me through Light’s perspective, yet instils confidence in me through Igelet’s. But how to I feel, I wonder?

“And if, Lord forbids, anything does happen, please stay behind me,” Light says in such a way that comforts Igelet yet causes Sy to barely restrain rolling his eyes. “I shall protect us, come what may.”

If there’s one thing I’m sure I’m recognising, it’s that this is clearly a problem that needs resolving. Igelet is completely unaware that there’s any animosity here, and neither of the other two seem to feel conciliatory, so it must be me alone who recognises the need for bridges to be made. But I don’t want to talk to either at the moment… because I’m feeling their frustration towards each other myself. Ah.

Wordlessly, we carry on. Now we’ve crossed the threshold from plants to sand, everyone’s attention sharpens, and through four eyes I have a near perfect perspective. 

The temperature has remained the same, yet it feels a bit warmer. Psychological, perhaps? The sand is entirely still, there being no breeze whatsoever to disturb it – this is great, as any small movements would prompt me… no, prompt Sy to inadvertently teleport over and start slashing. The distance we need to travel is completely flat, maybe a kilometre or two. All that lies between us and the forest nestled between three mountains is sand and thick bunches of grass, gently waving in the wind.

Of course, that was not all we could see. In each direction there was more to see the higher and higher you looked. To our right, Angel is admiring how the orange dirt gives way to some purple field, to a rippling pool of water, and then more and more patches of random shapes of colour until all resolution is lost and the clouds begin to block off the scene. And to the left, Igelet sees how the sand continues a fair bit further than to the right, except there are some random piles of boulders and rubble. How strange – with no water and no cliffs nearby, how could they… oh, of course, they must have been the site of a fight between mages… or were they the weapons of mages, perhaps?

All the while, Sy keeps a close eye behind us. A paranoia has begun to grow in him, given the way he needs to remind himself not to teleport every few moments. It’s similar to Igelet’s thought process, except Igelet keeps stealing my attention with a rapid speeding up of thought so very analogous to scratching on a chalk board. He has been able to do remarkably well, though it’s clearly due to a strange limbo in his emotional state – if he were more stressed, Igelet would use his Dilation out of fear. If he were any less stressed and conscious of making a good first impression, he would have forgotten and used it by now. That horrific mental anguish will be unleashed upon me again, that’s for certain. Followed by fear and regret that’s not even my own. I’d say the pain is just barely worse.

 Out of unconscious caution we seem to avoid all the patches of grass, making for a simple obstacle problem. As we walk, the monotony of the environment combined with the evident lack of danger becomes apparent, and minds of course begin to wander.

Could it be that all the random environments are just because of mages? Mages fighting, or getting bored and planting stuff? It’s clearly not a perfectly natural environment. There’s a river, for example, far out beyond those rocks, but it’s completely straight. It even cuts from a field to what looks like a marble plain without making so much as a bend. So I wonder about these gently waving plants – could they have each been hand-planted? There’s no overall structure to their placement… at least that I can figure out right now. If I had more time, I would Dilate the world and think long and hard, but…

There, beyond the mountains, off to the right, what is that glittering iridescence? How I yearn to make my way there – even if this isn’t the Lord’s own realm, his presence is so clearly imbued into each spot of colour. The three mountains – with each step my awe of the magnificence of the scale only grows. It is bizarre – the concept of a ‘mountain’ has only been described in stories, told in the tongues of man unable to convey their sheer magnitude. 

My grip on the handle keeps slipping every other step, but I’ve got to be careful not to align it wrong or I’d gut myself. Though that would be the least of my injuries in the last few hours, it’s not something I want to try. My other hand appears to have found its way to my chest, feeling past the drying hoodie and shirt and finding no hint of scarring. It’s strange, have I always had this healing ability? I’ve had my share of bumps and bruises… but nothing too serious. Do I have this ‘Body Magic’ to thank for this? I look back – I just can’t shake the feeling that any moment I’ll look back and that bitch will be running headlong towards us. I look past Angel again, her hair unfocussed and that waist-length red hair forming almost a cap in her wake, bouncing up and down with each step. 

Oh. Break Punch is looking at us.

Wait, something’s wrong. The notion surges light electricity through me, clenching my fist and drawing me back to me. What was it? Sy’s adrenaline spiked when he saw Break Punch looking this way – is she doing something? I reach out into the kaleidoscope of personality, and amongst the chaos of Igelet, Sy and Light I find the barest hint of familiarity of Break Punch. Not a full thought, just a shade of an emotion. Happiness? No, more subtly, anticipation.

But that isn’t it. There something wrong, something I just saw that’s such a blatant contradiction that I felt like anybody else who could have seen it would realise. But I’m fractured between three people’s thoughts. What could it be? The plants, something about the plants? I eye the one closest to us, just coming up on our right. We’ll pass it in a moment. Short, barely knee-height, brown grass. No thorns, or anything I can see. Nothing at all threatening about it. So why is my heart starting to beat faster? This feels like one of Sy’s dreams – a dread I can sense but not explain. Is there something more to it? Is there something moving near it? Nothing I can detect beyond its fluttering in the-

Oh.

I grab a fitful of my frustratingly long hair, and pull in in front of me. I comes to rest dangling straight down. 

There is no wind. Yet the grass is moving.

“Get away from the grass!” I yell, and instantly all three are on alert. Sy jumps back from the nearest tuft of grass, whips his bloody knife from his pocket, and the blade shoots out with a snap. He does not see, as I can through Igelet’s eyes, that he has moved considerably closer to the tuft of grass that had been behind him.

And then, that tuft explodes… no, that’s not right. There was no sound, but each strand suddenly shot out from the tuft, thickening to a finger’s width and extending a metre in length in a random direction whilst quickly transitioning to a dark red, giving the illusion that the brown grass tuft had exploded into a ball of crimson spikes. One, however, is tipped in a dark blue - the one skewering both of Sy’s thighs.

And in his mind, for the briefest moment there is only confusion. No thoughts, just a palpable miscomprehension of the feelings of his legs. But as he looks down and sees, a primal rage surges and he instinctively tries to warp him to that place, only for a ripping pain to tear through his chest. Adapting to the feeling, he readjusts and teleports a few feet closer to Igelet.

He goes to turn, to comprehend what the hell was that?! but gaping wounds in his legs leave him with so little strength that he falls. No sooner than he hits the ground does another of the balls near him explode into spikes.

!*@#

What was that? Did someone trip? I take my eyes from the grass my Angel had warned us of to turn back toward the other three. I flinch at the sight of two massive balls of sharp spikes - where did they come from? Hang on, where are Sy and Igelet? The spike-balls are roughly where I had last seen them. All I can see is – my heart skips a beat. My Angel! Lying still on the floor, dust still swirling in the air from when she had fallen. 

I run towards her – I can’t see Igelet or Sy. They had been where these balls are – could they be under them? Did they fall from the sky? I quickly look up towards the incomprehensible layout of patches of colour in the sky, but I can’t see anything like these spike balls.

I skid to my knees and turn Angel’s face to the side. Despite her eyes being closed, the visible pain and restlessness is all too familiar: it’s due to Igelet.

For a moment I feel frustration – how can that boy not learn to control himself?! But wait, she’s still in pain, so he must still be alive. I turn towards the ball where Igelet had stood. And now I’m on the other side, I see that he has a valid reason for this.

He’s standing, arms raised above him, eyes wide in shock as he looks down. Both arms have a spike pushing up through them, as well as another through his abdomen, all smeared green with his blood. It takes me another moment to realise his feet aren’t touching the ground.

Lord, what can I do? Pray for him? These injuries are not something that – no, that’s not true. I remember Sy, a fist buried in his chest, being able to get up after only a few minutes. These injuries are trivial by comparison, but the sight of the spears still in there just make it so much worse.

I’m sorry my Angel, I will be back. I run up to Igelet, looking up to his eyes, and then a closer look on the spikes through him. I check behind – okay, these three are the only ones. What should I do? I could just pull him forward, off the spikes, but…

Five years ago, during an otherwise beautiful day, Mr. Bolt tripped whilst harvesting crops and had somehow fallen onto his scythe, just below the ribs. He was rushed to the Church, where it was just me and Father sweeping up after service, carried by his farm-hands. Father directed them to put him to the altar, and sent me to fetch Mother to tell her about the piercing and blood loss. As I ran out towards the market place where she was helping Miss Flash, I heard my dad practically roar at the farm-hands when they told him that they pulled out the scythe to speed up bringing him here. Father never really got angry, but I put my concerns aside until after Father and Mother had patched up Mr. Bolt, with my help. Later I asked why had allowed anger to consume him like that. He smiled to me and pulled me into a hug, and said:

“So they will remember.”

His words ring true now, and I march around behind Igelet and reach for the spike piercing his back. I place both hands on it, my right hand almost touching his back. I try to keep it as steady and firm as possible. The texture is unsettlingly rigid yet spongy, as though this thin skin sheathed muscles as opposed to wood or stone. Lord, please give me strength. 

Keeping my right hand steady, I twist my left hand to the side, neatly snapping the internal structure of the rod. I tear at the outer layer of skin, finally separating the rod entirely and leaving Igelet swinging freely from his arms, a rod extending a foot either side of his body.

Because all the rods seem to originate from a single point, I’m able to snap the rod through his left arm just as easily – it falls limply to his side, emerald blood practically flowing down his arm, off his fingertips. I move around him to grab the one piecing his right arm, when I remember his rule.

“Igelet, I’m sorry, but I will need to catch you so you don’t fall. Please forgive me.” I wonder if he can even hear me, but the sound of Angel spasming behind me suggests he heard. I do not blame him for not being able to talk. 

Again I make the break, but this time I don’t need to tear the skin as his weight pulls him down – I slide an arm under his knees and lower him gently to the floor. His eyes stay open, darting around frantically, but he barely moves. His breathing is erratic – clearly he’s in shock. Whatever has happened, we need to get him somewhere safe. Perhaps Sy can

Sy!

Where is he? I whirl around to the other ball of spikes, and clearly see his blood painting many of the spikes. But where is he? He could be on the other side, perhaps? I run forward-

It was only by chance I happened to be looking down, but in the fraction of a moment I saw everything. The small patch of grass I was a moment from stepping on went limp, and then each strand thickened and grew at an unholy speed – before I could land mid-run the crimson sharpened spears shot straight at me. 

?

!*@#

So, it is the grass that is our assailant. Would this be a Demon? How many times must I learn the same lesson about this world? I must table all of my assumptions.

But, Demon, I cannot be defeated by you. Not for as long as there are those behind me who need me to help them. And not as long I represent the will of the Lord.

The spears hit me, and throw me up and backwards, so I’m sailing over where Igelet lies. Before I’m too far, I make out that the spike that had caught my chest has snapped at the tip.

I land in a tumble, and an instant later I’m thrown across the sand again by another explosive eruption to my back. Wait, what was that? But before I stop rolling, again I make out a series of spikes erupting from grass. I see! That must be it! I need to tell her or else – One shoots towards my face – for a moment I feel the instinctual fear as when I fell down those stairs, but I tighten my resolve and I’m able to deflect it’s trajectory with my palm to over my head. A pair of impacts catch my stomach and legs, and once again I’m shot at another angle skidding across the dry orange dirt.

Finally, I come to rest. I look up cautiously – I’m back to Igelet, though now the landscape consists of a few more spike balls.

I get to my feet steadily – of course, in doing the Lord’s bidding I have been spared the pain inflicted upon poor Igelet. My humble tunic is quite the mess – not only are the flower stains still there, but I’m drenched in Igelet’s green blood, which has stuck a fine layer of red sand to me too.

Okay, Light, this is up to you. The Lord has given you the tools to do His work, but this is not for Him to resolve. Prove your worth.

I kneel down to Igelet – he’s still awake, his breathing still irregular. As I settle into position I accidentally stick my hand into the growing pool of his blood.

“Wait here, I need to check on Sy. I think you’re safe here – you’re far away enough from the grasses.”

Wait, the grass – I look over to Angel, and scramble to my feet as I realise that she herself is practically laid across a tuft of grass. I need to move her – over here would be best!

“Sy…” Igelet gasps, as though not expecting the words to hurt as much as they did, “bleeding-“ is all he can say before he erupts into a coughing fit.

“Worry not, Igelet, I will be back in but a moment.” I say, trying to look him sincerely in the eyes, but again he refuses to meet my gaze for more than a moment. I run toward Angel.

No! Damn, she didn't understand. Why can’t I talk? I genuinely can't tell if it's nerves or the hole in my stomach. But if she get's this wrong, she's going to kill Angel!

I try to walk as evenly between two of the plants as possible, but one blossoms into a deadly sharp sphere. This time I lean in and stand my ground – the ones that hit my body shatter on impact, but one catches my arm, knocking it away. Gritting my teeth and thanking the Lord for His protection, I continue my run – only now I find my path cut off as one erupts just before I can plant my leading foot. This time I’m taken off into the air again, spinning backwards so I can see where I land. I hold out my blood-soaked hands to cushion my fall – instantly the nearest two grass tufts explode into spikes, pushing me crashing across the sand. I can barely keep track of my environment, but as I tumble I see more and more spikes shooting out. 

Again, I come to rest. This time, I’m some distance from both Igelet and Angel, and from where I had come I see a straight line of the spike plants. Thankfully, Angel is still safe.

But, why? Why is it that for each step I take I’m met with more and more of these spikes, whereas Angel is lying there, spasming periodically, with no consequence?

This puzzle must have a solution. And it must be one that I can solve alone. What do I know about this grass?

We’ve been walking through this red desert for maybe an hour, and in all that time we never encountered anything like this. The grass is the same here as it was anywhere, at least by eye. And it’s insincere fluttering in a fake wind has been consistent this entire time, even if it escaped our notice at first.

This suggest that something has triggered this response in this plant – no, this Demon. Something that I trigger with seemingly each step. Something that Sy must have triggered first. If he appeared next to Igelet, it’s possible that he triggered it again, as opposed to Igelet doing anything.

I’ve been running – this thing has only happened while I’ve been running to help someone. Perhaps Sy had made to run behind me earlier? I can test this.

I look towards the closest tuft of grass that’s not between me and Igelet and Angel– I don’t want to lose track of them. I take a breath – why is it so hard to run into these, despite my assured safety? Be confident, Light.

I take a resolute stomp in front of me, close to the patch. I quickly step back, but nothing happens. I try again, and again. I jump forward, practically onto the grass. Nothing happens.

Okay, so either this patch is special, or I’m not doing something to trigger it any more. Let’s see.

Slowly I walk back to Igelet. I brace as I pass each grassy patch, eyeing them suspiciously as any could droop then explode at any moment. But before I know it, I’m back to Igelet. 

He’s still struggling, but he seems less inherently stressed than before. I look over to Angel to confirm – yes, she seems a bit better.

“Blood-” Igelet begins, before he coughs again. I kneel to him: I want to check his wounds, but that would mean cutting away his clothes, which I don’t have the tools to do quickly enough right now. Not when there’s this threat around us. Blood is still running from the wounds… wow, there’s actually a lot more than I expected, now I think about it. I can see this reflected in his blanched face.

“Worry not, this is nothing to be worried about,” I say as reassuringly as I can, gently pulling the fabric of his sleeve away so I can get a closer look. It’s with the muffled scream of Angel I realise my mistake. “Sorry.”

No, she's still not getting it! Damn, why can't I speak? I can't... oh dear, I'm getting dizzy. I reach to my side, and with a shaking hand he cups some of the pooled blood, and raises it up to me. His eyes! Those usually darting, terrified eyes are beginning to lose focus.I need to reassure him, to bolster his spirit before he loses consciousness. It takes all I can to grab his hand, but instead I just hang my head over him.

“Listen, you will be fine! We’re going to get you to that forest, okay? If there are people, they might have medicines and tools. And if not, I can treat you better regardless than if we worry here. I am trained in these things. I just need to figure out what causes these things to explode.”

I look up and around. I need to think, but I refuse to keep Igelet in silence as his sight fades. I voice my thoughts.

“Clearly this demonic spawn wishes to claim our souls. It is only by the incorruptible might of my faith that I have survived these. It’s not responding to me running and stomping as I had thought. It only started attacking me after I freed you. But then it stopped after it knocked me around. Perhaps only a few can trigger in a row at a time?”

Igelet gasps, then erupts into yet another coughing fit. Blood droplets spray from his mouth.

What? Why would that happen? These spears are nowhere near his lungs, so why would-

I’m a fool. A complete and utter fool. How could I be so stupid as to not think this would happen? It’s not just a spear, it’s a magical, Demonic spear that I have left to fester within him. That must have been what he was trying to communicate to me: ‘I am bleeding too much. Help.’ Sorry, Father, but I do not believe you had this in mind when you gave your warning all those years ago.

As quickly and smoothly as I can, I pull the spikes out of him, placing them gently to the side. With each he spasms, followed by a muffled scream of Angel behind me. As I predicted, the blood gushes much quicker from his open wounds. I go to tear at the hem of my tunic, but my hands are so slick I can’t get proper purchase. Okay, instead of waste time doing this, I’ll take him to the forest.

“Okay, Igelet, I’ll be careful and take you over to the forest now. I’m sorry to have to touch you, but I’ll go slowly and carefully, okay?”

His eyes widen, but there’s an unmistakeable fatigue in his expression now. He’s soon to fall unconscious, no matter how hard he fights it. He shakes his head vigorously, clearly trying to speak but either too dazed from blood loss, or too stressed as to how to verbalise it. By habit, I shh him softly as I hook my arms under his knees and back. Angel practically screeches behind me – I’m sorry, my Angel, but I will be back for you soon.

In a last-ditch effort to be free of me, he thrashes his bloody hand out to slap at my face, which a barely duck out of the way of. I forgive you, Igelet, I know you do not mean to hurt me.

The all-too familiar shifting of the dry dirt alerts me to the fact that another spike ball has expanded behind me. But, a bit further away than usual. For an agonising moment I worry that my Angel has triggered it, but she’s to my left at the moment. Then what? I turn, carefully keeping Igelet stable in my arms, and I see a whole wall of spike balls spread out in an arc centered on me.

Purifying realisation washes over me: perhaps he hadn’t been trying to get me off of him, he had been trying to tell me something. With his… ah yes, ‘Characteristic’, he had thought through the problem and figured it out, the exact trigger for the plants. This curved wall of spikes... yes, I am sure that they followed the arc of his slap earlier. This is an important clue.

As I lift him higher, I hear the rapid dripdripdrip of his blood pooling to the ground.

I understand now.

It’s blood. Every time I have been hit by the spear grass, it’s been after I’ve been coated in Igelet’s blood. As I have run, drops must have flown out in front or behind me. And Sy – he must have been the first to get hurt because he was practically dripping in his own blood since his punch to the chest. He got stabbed, and appeared next to Igelet to escape, unknowingly triggering the one near Igelet. Sy must be gone, either back to the flower garden, or in the woods. I pray he’s okay.

Oh, it makes sense now. Igelet had said before how the Demons are just like animals – well, this one’s clearly a plant. A plant that attempt to water itself by puncturing any source of fluid it detects. And the way Igelet’s deteriorated – clearly such a plant would want to spread such an injury further, to increase the number of ‘leaks’ in the victim. Such genius invention – if it were not for its sinister devilry, I may have thought this had been designed by the Lord’s own hands.

My route is simple, then. I cannot go slow – he’s bleeding too much. I raise him higher, and hoist him over my shoulder – how strange it is for the Lord’s strength to make it so trivial as to carry people my own size with such ease! I have it so his arms dangle at my back. I need to run as fast as possible – as I go he shall be dripping a trail of blood behind me, and he’ll be skewered again if I’m too close to the grass when it erupts.

But, those grasses are quick. I shall have to run faster than I have ever before, given the rapid dripping of the blood behind me. I crouch, trying to get as much spring into my initial step as possible. But first:

Lord, please enable me-

And I’m back. My sight is simply shades of red: my vibrant red hair sprawled out chaotically in the red sand. My head is throbbing – that was absolutely awful. Not only was it the regular searing sting of his Characteristic, but the fear and pain all through it compounded it a hundred times. It was impossible to not hide in Light’s thoughts, shrouding myself in a thin veil of confidence and faith that everything would be okay.

I gently get up – damn, my sleeves have rolled down again. In fact, as I try to stand I catch my feet and knees against the fabric. Stupid thing! It’s a lot more faded in red than when we had got here, so now it doesn’t even look good enough to justify this stupid non-functionality.

I can feel Light’s prayer flowing around me, as she stresses the tiniest bit that she won’t be able to move as fast as she needs. The blood flowing from Igelet’s arms is clearly unnatural – it’s much thinner than his regular blood as it splashes almost like water in the growing puddle by their feet. As long as those wounds are open, she has no chance.

I walk to them, slowly – even though I’m as dry as a bone, I still feel an emanating menace from these damned plants. But there’s a strange energy swelling in me – a confidence I don’t fully… wait, no, this is Igelet. He’s unconscious, undreaming, but his thoughts before passing out were calm. He must have figured something else out, maybe even thinking he’d passed on enough information for him to stay safe. He figured it out… I don’t know exactly what it was, but it feels like I know it…

“- Amen.” Angel mutter, and makes to dash.

“Stop!” I shout, breaking into my own run as Light falters and looks back to me. Curiously, I look so much more elegant and colourful in her eyes. With vindictive satisfaction, I rip the sleeves off at the shoulder. I catch Light’s shock: her beautiful tunic!

From Light’s instinct, I know how to tie the baggy stretches of fabric just above the bleeding gouges. I tighten it with all my strength before the fabric actually tears.

Why stop there? I pull up the skirt of the dress and tear off all the way up to my knees, and tie it around his waist. It won’t stop the bleeding entirely, but the flow of blood visibly slows. I pull the knot as tightly as I can, trying to dispel Light’s scandalised viewpoint from my head.

“What will you do, my Angel? You must keep your distance from us – will you promise to give us wide berth?”

I shake my head.

“Wait, Light. Your mind is cluttered right now. Explain the situation to me.” I speak as boldly as I can, emulating Light’s thoughts of her Father. The tone calms her somewhat, and she turns to face the desert.

“Igelet is bleeding profusely – if we do nothing, he will surely perish. The safest place I can see is that forest over there: if there are people, there is at least the hope that they may be open to helping us. However, we are trapped within this Demonic prison. Anywhere Igelet goes, he will surely be impaled by these accursed rods. I believe the path the Lord has set out is simple: if I carry him upon my back, by the Lord’s grace I will have the speed to outpace the blood drops before they trigger the plants.”

As she speaks, I feel the combat raging between her faith and her pragmatism. Of course, the path the Lord intended must be correct, but who’s to say this is necessarily the right one? What if there’s a path I have not seen yet? This blood is practically pouring down, can anybody truly run that fast? I clench my fist again, sharpening my perspective and better illuminating the confidence within me. I place a hand on her shoulder, I look back to my Angel, and her expression fully soothes my soul. Her inverted, white-centered eyes shine with self-assuredness and determination.

“You’re right, Light. There is another path. Igelet realised it before he fell unconscious, and although I didn’t focus on the thoughts, I heard them nonetheless.”

Light’s heart swells. Brilliant, my Angel! Tell me, what is it?

“The path before you has been demonstrated. Avoid the spikes? No, Light, you need to crash through them!”

Ignoring Light’s confusion for a moment, I quickly kneel and tear a fistful of fabric at the knees of my dress before dropping it into the pool of Igelet’s blood.

“My Angel, I don’t –”

“The rate at which these plants expand into spikes is what makes them so deadly. But once they are extended, they are just regular sticks – you were able to break them with your bare hands earlier, and Igelet also saw how they would chip off your body.”

I can see her mind racing, trying her best to align her sense of hope with what she has misunderstood.

“But look, the spikes are too high, I can’t run through -”

“Look,” I point towards the arc of spikes Igelet had created with the wave of his hand. Light looks: I still don’t understand, my Angel. There’s no way I could run through that whilst keeping Igelet safe. But the heavenly glow of confidence about her… I study the exact direction in which her finger points, between two of the spikes balls.

Oh! I see it now!

“I need to run through the places where they overlap!” she breathes as she thinks it. “The spikes don’t face me there, and it’s where there are the least spikes to run through.”

“Correct,” I say as I kneel down to pick up the bloody rag. “We’re going to take separate paths here, Light. I’m going ahead, and figure out if anybody is there, and if so how we can best approach them. And your path is here!”

I ball the bloody rag and throw it as hard as I can towards the forest. As it spins, green droplets spray in all directions, raining down into the desert and prompting the explosion of dozens upon dozens of spike balls, completely obscuring our sight of the forest at all.

“Take your time,” I say, taking a step forward while being careful not to step into the pool of green blood. I try to strain my ability, to search out for any hints of consciousness in the direction of the forest. I can feel… something in that general location, but I think it might be too hard to pick up on distant thoughts if they’re entirely new to me.

“Be careful, my Angel,” she says, as she takes a deep breath and adjusts Igelet over her back.

“Light, I know you can do this.”

The words escaped me, but for a moment I wonder where they had comes from. In the following afterglow of confidence melting Light’s overly tensed muscles, I realise it had been something she had hoped I would say.

Without another words I run around the myriad of spikes – true, free running for the first time. My recollections of running in general are strewn between those of Light, Igelet and Sy, and nowhere in those did any of them bound with such speed and fluidity. I can even sense the awe of Light watching my from behind, as fast as a swift and twice as agile, as I make erratic jumps to avoid the denser patches of grass, just in case.

Focus, Angel! As I run, the desert flying past me, I can feel Light’s contributions to my world slowly diminish. Her golden consciousness always stays visible to me – it’s as though now I know it’s there, it may never get small enough for me to miss in entirely. But I cannot waste time to look back and focus on her – I need to read ahead.

Without the dominating perspective of any of the other three, I can start to make out a swirling chaotic mess of minds, roiling and boiling turbulently. Had I always been aware of its presence, deep down? I don’t know why, but instinctively I know better than to try to dive into this sea of perspectives – would I ever find my way out?

As I run and run and run, untiring as I get closer to the edge of the forest, I realise the trick – small swirls and bubbles of minds slowly start to grow, and the more aware of them I become, the larger more they disentangle from the mental mess. Not enough for me to pick up on any particular thought – in aggregate, however, I feel waves of minor stress, nostalgia, and casual enjoyment.

I slow as I reach the boundary of the forest – wait, I need a plan for this. I can see how Boom Punch intuited this place to be unnatural – the trees are too evenly spaced. Their deep-blue trunks are smoother than any of the memories I have seen – if it were not for peculiar stretch marks in waves along the surface, I may have presumed them to be entirely fake. Even the leaves, curiously light blue, are thicker and waxier than any I have seen except for the most exotic locations in Sy’s memories – and certainly those leaves did not exist on trees.

Thinking of Sy, the memories of that creature – a Demon, of course – come back. True, that had been from a forest a great distance away on the other side of the mountain range, but from Igelet’s reading and Boom Punch’s thoughts I know them to be more common than I am fully comfortable with.

No matter, this isn’t the time to be scared. Those memories were of Sy, who was unable to feel the feelings of those in his vicinity. I doubt I am capable of being ambushed in such a way.

As I cross the threshold, I’m met by such sudden darkness that I almost feel like I could bump into it. My feet make contact with the ground, which has already shifted to a bouncy soil texture. This place really is unnatural. As I run, despite the growing darkness I’m surprised that I can see just as well as outside. Twigs snap and dead leaves crunch underfoot – perhaps this is why such a barrier was placed? I can see the minds beginning to take form, and also why I was having such a hard time locking on to anyone. It’s that there are a fair few people - five, I think? There’s a superficial surface of contentedness, but a surging undercurrent of tension stopping anyone from fully relaxing – a pair are chatting whilst setting wooden containers upon a table, one is sitting within a tent sorting through a bag, whilst three others are scattered around tying balloons and bunting to the trees encircling the glade. A fayre? A party? Yes, that’s definitely the feeling. What for? I latch onto one mind at random – though glimpses I see the mind’s owner is climbing down the tree after having tied the banner across the width of the clearing: “Welcome back, Back-Burner!”.

My near-collision with a tree shocks me out of the perspective. Curious – that was a simple observation, I didn’t get pulled along at all. Am I getting better at keeping my head, or is it just that I’m too far away to get stuck?

What am I going to say? They’re focussed on work, but what if I appear and they attack? Then Igelet’s definitely done for – either he’ll bleed out, or he’ll be killed. So I have to find an in – there must be some way I can convince one person to help us out. I’m closer now – I’ve slightly course corrected to take me where the minds are strongest.

But before I can think more, I catch my foot on a particularly thick branch, and-

??? 1: Woah, what was that?

??? 2: Oh my gosh, is it him already?! I thought we had more time to set up, guys!

??? 1: No, he’s meant to be coming up from that mountainside, right?

??? 3: So, an intruder? Shotgun not.

??? 4: Shotgun not.

??? 2:Shotgun-

??? 1: Shotgun not!!

??? 2: Ugh, whatever. Twi, start on the area after you finish with the table, okay?

Okay, that was different. Much more structured, calmingly comprehensive, too. I don’t sense overt hostility in any of them, mainly frustration – particularly the consciousness most rapidly starting to saturate my perspective. 

I stop – there’s no need for me to rush into this, not when I can search out for more info. I lock onto the expanding field of thought, and dip my proverbial toes in. My vision becomes hers’: jumping and skipping through the forest, expertly twisting and carefully placing my- I mean her feet as not to make excess noise. Such expertise – she’s not even thinking about it! Instead, swirling through her mind are thoughts of the rest of the jobs. For god’s sake I don’t have time for this! More streamers and signs, we gotta dig out the pit, sort the – oh, where the hell is Erratz? If he’s gotten high or lost any of the meds again… I’ll fricking unscrew his head. 

I knit my brow – I had hoped to find something more useful. Is she planning to attack, and if so, how? Actually, I get the sense that she will find this only to be a minor inconvenience, that will be wrapped up in a bit. I need to root through the thoughts with a finer tooth comb.

I transition to her perspective again – I try to focus less on the steps, and more on her body – no, I can’t make out any sort of – wait, there! An awkward step and I felt something bump into my-her leg, and instinctively I recognise it as her fine wire whip. Her sight starts to dart around – now, would the noise have come over from here? Who’s even here to gate crash anyway? I’m pretty sure we wiped out the small-fry Demons from the area, but an assassin or troll would know better than to make such a noise. Unless they wanted to ambush me alone? Ha, I could use the stress relief.

Okay, so compared to Boom Punch, she’s a lot less blood-thirsty. To her this ‘fight’ is a chore, and she just wants to get back to setting up the party? That might not be the worst thing. Perhaps we can just speak?

“Hello?” I call out, trying to keep my tone as measured and even as possible. The words reverberate in her head, with a distinctive element of fear. I grind to a halt – who was that? She sounded a bit nervous… wait, don’t tell me!

“Hello!” she calls back looking around through the trees to see me. Based on what I can see through both of our perspectives, I’m hidden behind a few layers of trees between us yet. “Would you happen to be a newbie? If so, get lost before I kill you, we’re doing something here at the moment.”

“Thank you, you really are considerate,” I reply, feeling out what makes her happiest to hear. Wait, why do I feel so calm talking to this kid? “But my friend is in serious danger – he’s been stabbed by a Demon. Would there be any among you happy to help us out?”

I try my best to latch on to the following jumble of thoughts. The first is that it clicks with her why she feels so at ease to hear my voice – it’s that I’m speaking her language. I’ve noticed that in my talking to the other three, and I can’t really explain it. It just feels natural.

The next thought is how she might locate me – I could just spin the trees, but that might ruin the hide and seek later!

And then a thought worth its proverbial weight in gold. I mean, we could use an extra set of hands. And I did promise Jabber I’d help him collect specimens sometime…

I try with all my might to somehow widen the perspective around this ‘Jabber’ person.  It’s hard because of how quickly she thought of something else, but I was able to pull out a couple of memories – memories of him and his treasured collections of poisons, and dozens of snooze-inducing stories about his experiments with them. There!

“You see, one of the plants out there got him. I think the injury might be infected, or poisoned or something. We just need a doctor or someone who knows about that stuff! The rest of us can help out with whatever you’re doing, if you need help”

Drat, I wasn’t subtle enough about that. Unlike Sy, Igelet and Light, the idea of a telepath comes to mind quite quickly to this woman. Stupid pervy telepaths, stop rooting around in my head! Unconsciously, her thoughts turn back to Jabber for a moment. Time to throw subtlety out the window.

“I mean, if I’m not mistaken, you did promise to collect and test various poisons in exchange for his cooking, right?” It appears Jabber makes an excellent sort of sweet mushroom stew that this woman particularly likes. For a moment there’s a flash of frustration, but a glimmer of hope start to shine through that maybe with extra hands for menial work they might be ready before the guest of honour arrives.

“Sure, bring him in. Jabber’s messing around in his tent, useless as always. But you’ll put your hands to good use until everything’s ready – I swear of you mess this up for us I will spawn camp the lot of you.”

It’s halfway between a promise and a threat: I can’t tell if she really would kill us over and over again near our room in the flower garden. But at the very least she would send us back there the instant we made any mistakes. It’s a risk, there’s no conceivable way we could fight back. There’s the same self-assured confidence as I could feel emanating from Break Punch, but here was none of the boredom or interest in fighting that enabled us to survive previously. But Igelet needs attention.

“Okay, agreed! Two of my friends will be here shortly. Thank you!” I search the swirling thoughts to lock onto Light: they’re becoming more vibrant, implying she’s getting closer. From the woman’s perspective, I see her walking casually forward, no longer taking precautions to stay quiet. I hear her slowly approach with my own ears, when she walks past a tree and our eyes lock.

I recognise here from the thoughts earlier – this is Spin-Spin, the hostess of the party. The first thing I notice is her icy, irritated smile, contrasting where her vibrant pink face framed with an inky purple bob-cut of hair. Looking closer I note the discolouration under her eyes – she looks a lot more tired than she feels. Unlike Boom-Punch, she’s dressed for a combination of casual enjoyment and fighting – her striped green top and blue jeans are form-fitting, much better for fighting than, say, a big stupid dress. Coiled and hanging from her hip hangs a silvery bundle of wires I recognise as a whip, which reflects light even in this inky darkness.

“Well, until then, let me properly introduce myself. My name is Spin-Spin. Big fan of parties. I’ve been planning this for a friend for weeks, and if any of you do anything to compromise it, you’re dead.”

“And mine is Angel, and I think I might like parties too,” I say, wondering to what extent the prospect of the various games swirling through Spin-Spin’s mind excite me directly, as opposed to being just an echo of her.