Julia watched, fascinated, as her fingernails morphed into claws sharp enough to match Trixy’s—then instantly reverted to their usual shape. Her body had felt more…malleable since becoming a demi-spirit, but the effect became even more pronounced after she gained her new Class Skill. Perfect Control allowed her, as the name would suggest, a level of control over her form she had previously lacked without realizing it.

  When she became a demi-spirit, she gained new control in ways that were hard to describe. It felt like a lag between her brain issuing her body an order and its execution was removed. Her body executed her orders instantly. Now, it felt like her body and mind were one—she felt no distinct divide between the two.

  She no longer felt restricted by physique or biology. If anything, she was restricted most by her own imagination. Despite all her changes, she was still human in her mind—no matter what her Status, the System, or even the world itself tried to tell her.

  It was difficult for her to imagine her body doing inhuman things—hence why her experimentation thus far was for mostly-conceivable biology: elongated claws, pointed ears (when she was sure the elves weren’t looking), and sharper teeth. Maybe she could try more exotic features…webbed feet, perhaps?

  “That’s both cool and disturbing to watch,” Taln?r said as he sat down next to Julia, making her jump a little in surprise. She was sitting with her back to the wall of hard-packed dirt while the others rested.

  The healing had gone well, with only minor scarring thanks to Taln?r’s magic. He seemed to be doing something particular with his mana rather than just flooding the region as Julia would have, but even her Truesight was having trouble figuring it out.

  Still, healing sapped nearly as much energy as the wounds themselves. Sahira was sleeping like the dead. Julia had been shocked at the number of festering wounds she had. It made sense that the tank would be the most wounded, but it was still surprising that such a heavily-armored individual could acquire so many injuries—even if they were mostly minor cuts and scrapes.

  The corruption she’d scraped free from Sahira’s flesh suggested the injuries had accumulated over at least a full day. She hadn’t even flinched during treatment, but that bravado had belied how much of her energy the wounds and subsequent healing had consumed. It was evident in how soundly she slept now.

  Nadhem finally accepted healing when he saw both Taln?r and Sahira healed without any complications. He didn’t have as many as wounds as Sahira, but he had suffered a large gash to the left side of his midsection during one of the skirmishes. They had been ambushed while using their shoe-boats, and Nadhem had been the unfortunate first target since he was in the lead—being the scout.

  He said not a word during treatment and then slumped onto the far end of the shelter, drifting into a restless sleep. Julia was fine with this, as it was much better than his constant dirty looks.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Taln?r said as he relaxed back against the dirt enclosure. “Thank you for your help today, Julia, child-of-N?r. While our chances against the nashiin were slim, surviving their foul rot was even less likely without you.”

  Julia nodded, “Not a problem. I’m happy to have living people to talk to after wandering the swamp for over a week,” she said, pausing for a second.

  “Do you mind if I ask you something?” At his nod of confirmation, she continued, “Why do you call me child-of-N?r? Did you get that from N?ralin—my surname?”

  Taln?r nodded. “It’s very close to N?r?alin, which in our tongue means ‘child?of?N?r. Is your tree associated with the Jadhariin, our people, somehow? I can’t imagine it as a coincidence,” he reasoned.

  “I…don’t know, honestly. My…uh…the man who raised me after my parents died, he gave me my surname since I wasn’t sure if my parents had one originally—they died when I was very young.

  “He was a man well-traveled, so it wouldn’t shock me to learn he’d encountered your people before. Though, his name was Braden. I don’t know what connection there is to this ‘N?r’ person,” she said thoughtfully.

  He nodded sadly. “You say ‘was.’ He has also passed—the man who raised you?” She nodded. “My condolences, Julia. To lose so many branches… a tragedy.”

  She nodded, but her mind was becoming distant. She’d been shoving the thoughts and emotions to the back of her head for over a week now, but they hadn’t gone away. Now that she was thinking about him without restraint, so many thoughts and memories were bubbling to the surface of her mind—as tears were now forming in her eyes to match.

  She thought of running for her life, as fast as her tiny little legs could carry her. She ran into Braden at the bridge with the sounds of her family dying behind her. He squatted down so they were eye-level and listened to her incoherent babbling—somehow managing to distill her peril from the ramblings of a four-year-old child in the midst of panic.

  He held her hand as they watched her parents and the few other victims from Rockyknoll burn on the communal pyre, bodies so mangled that they were placed in cloth sacks. He took her back to his home, wiped her tears, and fixed her a sandwich to eat. He sat with her on the couch in silence when she didn’t know what to do—could barely figure out how to even continue existing—just so she knew he was there.

  He answered her questions for hours a day, sometimes the same ones over and over, always with a smile. He taught her what she wanted to know—and the cost of knowing it. He showed her how wonderful the world was. He showed her how much beauty there is and reminded her the sun will always rise, no matter how dark the night might seem.

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Julia was sobbing now, her head on her knees that she pulled up close to her chest and wrapped her arms around. She was vaguely aware of soft humming beside her, but she simply couldn’t stop the deluge of thoughts and memories that were overwhelming her.

  Her unleashed emotions rocked her body and mind for an indeterminate amount of time before they began to wane. She sniffled and wiped her nose against her pants, Braden’s final message ringing loudly in her mind—an encouragement pushing her onward, and also a curse pushing her further from him with every step.

  She would keep moving forward all the same. His memory lives on with her, and she would carve her memories of him, and the values he taught her, on the world like inscriptions on a blade.

  She glanced around to notice that all three elves were clustered around her closely, eyes closed and heads down, as though in some kind of ritual. They were humming lightly, a beautiful, lilting melody that—while mournful—spoke of the spring coming after a long winter.

  The melody came to an end when the elves noticed Julia’s gaze. Now that all eyes had shifted to her, she suddenly felt her cheeks heating up. “Sorry—uh, sorry about… about losing it. It’s just—it’s all still fresh. I’d been—just—shoving everything down while I tried to figure out where I was, what was going on, and—and—” Julia blurted, her word-vomit ejecting in a torrent before she could form more coherent words.

  “Peace, Julia N?ralin. Apologies are unnecessary. The Song is sometimes a revel—other times a dirge, but it must be sung nonetheless. Grief knows neither time nor place—that you remained focused on survival for so long after such devastating circumstance speaks to strong maturity—surprising from one so young.

  “Indeed, when made safe again is our home, a powerful lament will be sung for all that was lost,” Sahira said gently and mournfully.

  Taln?r—and even Nadhem, surprisingly—nodded solemnly. Sahira and Nadhem both stood and made to move back to their original positions in the makeshift shelter. “I am rested but not recovered. I will sleep my strength back now that the Song has reached its natural conclusion,” Sahira said before nodding to Julia and lying down. Nadhem also lied back down for some shut-eye.

  Taln?r leaned back against the wall again, but he didn't move away. Julia rested against the wall with her legs crossed under her. “What exactly is the Song? I heard you humming, but I get the feeling you’re not speaking literally,” Julia inquired after a moment.

  Taln?r glanced over at her and smiled as he replied. “Indeed; the Song encompasses all life in the marsh, and even some of the swamp we are in now. It originates from the Mother, and we dance and sing to its rhythm,” he said with an air of reverence.

  Julia was…both more and less confused than before she asked. That cryptic answer could’ve given anything Braden had said to her a run for its coin. “So, it’s…a sort of ‘rhythm’ that life in the marsh sways to? That’s all very…metaphorical,” she said.

  “Ha, yes, the Mother is both wise and mysterious. Your frustration with metaphor echoes many a young elf’s. They complain of the elders answering their questions with riddles,” he chuckled. That sounded very familiar to her.

  “The Song originates from the Mother, but who is she? Is she like…the leader of your people—the Jadhariin?” she asked.

  He looked over with a smile. “Yes, and no,” he said with amusement, laughing when she threw her hands up in defeat. “She is a sort of…what would humans say…spiritual leader? We have elders that guide the specifics of our people’s lives. The Mother is a grand spirit who rests at the center of our primary village, Veshari—the-place-of-awakening.

  “She does not belong to us, just as the marsh is not ours. The Song originates from her, and life in the marsh marches along in time. We are a part of her and the Song just as all other life. We revere her, for she has existed since the previous Asr?n—the time-before-time, but she is not involved with us more than any other creatures in the marsh,” he explained with even more reverence.

  A grand spirit, he said, and they revere it—her. No wonder they trusted Julia more when her spiritual nature (and Trixy) was revealed. And this spirit existed in a “time-before-time?” What exactly did that mean—wait. She suddenly remembered a conversation she’d had with Braden not too long ago.

  “I’m glad it worked out for you, Jules. Remember the warnings I gave you about summoning, though. It’s powerful, but it should not be your first option for anything. Even that Fey Heart, as beneficial as it is for you, degrades the reality around it just a bit,” he said.

  Julia’s smile vanished. “It what? Why didn’t you tell me that before I stuck it in my body!?” she shouted in fear. What did “degrading reality” mean? Was it going to poison her!?

  “Don’t worry. It’s not doing anything harmful,” Braden chuckled. “Believe me, Julia; I would never suggest doing something that would harm you. Not without making you fully aware of it, at least. When I say it’s ‘degrading reality,’ I just mean that the Fey were from a time when the rules and laws of reality were different.

  “That heart plays by a different set of rules than our current reality does, but the System was present for both its reality and our own, so it’s not an issue. It’s constantly rewriting and merging the rules between the two clashing realities to solidify the heart’s existence here.

  “In this exact, specific case, it’s fine. However, this is one of the main dangers of Summoning. When the System has to modify the existing rules of reality, strange things can happen.

  The Fey were from a time “when the rules and laws of reality were different.” Braden had previously talked about different “iterations” of reality—was this what Taln?r meant? The Mother was from a time when the laws that governed reality were different? And she’s still around!?

  This was a monumental, world-shattering realization for Julia—especially considering all the dabbling she’d done with summoning, and how heavy Braden’s warnings about “things from out of time” were.

  Julia looked over at Taln?r—realizing she had been silent for quite a while—to see a big, stupid grin on his face. He knew exactly how significant this revelation was, and he was positively beaming at her reaction to it.

  Well, she’d show him—she had enough questions lined up to make sure he regretted ever dangling a thread like this in front of her. She’d tug at it so thoroughly that it would pull the smile right off his face.