An Age of Mysterious Memories

As we approach the room ahead at the end of this long wind in the tunnel, the warmth that should paint a clear picture of the world around me is now a miasma of fluctuating, chaotic patterns. It’s as if the air itself is in turmoil, the very heat signatures rebelling against the order of my perceptions. What could turn my reliable scans into this tempest of confusion?

Glancing at my companions as we levitate closer and closer to the source of the disturbance, I ask, “Te, Lil, you guys have any idea what could be jamming my thermal senses with static?”

Lil, sticking his tongue out sideways, and gazing up-leftwards, thinks hard on it for several moments while Te ponders aloud, “I’unno Air, are they magical senses? Could it be like, more anti-sorcery anti magic field-y nonsense?” Since I’m shaking my head, Te continues to guess, “What about, I dunno, you said thermal, right? What blocks thermal stuff, cold stuff, insulated stuff, stuff like that? What are some insulated thi— you’re getting that look, that look that you have when you just brained something out.”

Gnawing my lips, I nod as I close my eyes. I imagine I do have a look of realization on my face as I pose, “Really, brained something out? Anyway, heh. Insulation is right Te. Remember how the outside of this fortress is insulated?”

Raising an eyebrow, Teuila answers in a querying tone, “Yeah, I guess. It was all sandy, why—? Oh.”

Glancing between the two of us, it takes a few seconds longer to dawn on Lil. When it does, he rolls his eyes and grumbles, “So we’re about to go to the beach? Ugh. I hate sand. It’s rough, and coarse, and it gets everywhere. It’s so irritating.”

My brain train decides to derail and flip off a cliff into a blue screen of death. After my momentary BSOD, I try to get back on track, both in my mind, and on our course of action. When my senses return to me, I hear Lil finishing, “Besides, do you know how hard it is to get sand out of scales if Lu isn’t around with Reggie’s magic soap stone?”

Smirking, Te slaps Lil’s flank and offers, “If you ever need help with a big scrubdown, you can hop in next time I’m giving Lucky a bath, and I’ll scrub yer scales out Dragbutt.”

Despite the teasing nature of Teuila’s offer, Lil graciously accepts, beaming a smile at her as he responds, “Will do, It’s-A-Secret!”

While I understand that we’re going into an ancient Sand’s lair, I’m still surprised that somewhere up ahead, soon, there’s so much sand that it fritzes out my thermal senses. Does he have a room that’s magically packed with sand that he swims through? Are we going to have to dig out way to the next segment of his stronghold? I think we’re only seconds, to a couple of minutes, from more pursuers checking in on the group that we slew earlier. We’ve probably got at most an hour between now and when the horde starts to nip at our heels. I don’t think we can make progress fast enough if we have to dig through several hundred meters of shifting sands to make it from room to room from here on out.

Unintentionally holding my breath, I cast a glance towards Teuila, wondering if I should have her try to rush us forward, and just deal with the consequences of any traps she accidentally triggers along the way. She’s fast enough, she might be able to evade some of their effects regardless. Maybe. Then again, some spells just need a triggering target, and don’t need to aim to hit that target. For all I know, there could be spells that cause instant death to whomever trips them. I shudder at the thought, since I know that in a certain tabletop roleplaying game, there is actually a spell that does exactly that. In fact, most of the spells I’ve learned are from that very roleplaying game, so I’m quite terrified of the implications of the possible spells that may exist on Rayileklia, especially that death word.

Thankfully it has some limitations that would make it difficult to land on Teuila, namely it requiring the target to have sub three digit hitpoints, or somewhere around there. If I recall my estimates of her stats pages, adjusted for the growth she’s done on Rayileklia, she has, what was it, almost ten thousand? Over ten thousand max health? Definitely over nine thousand for sure. Not that she’s been at max health much since the war started, as far as I know. I don’t know what her regeneration values are like, or even were like. Regardless, I don’t want to risk something like that occurring. I can’t take chances. Not after what I saw in retrocognitive time. I know I said I refused to believe it, but it still shook me all the same.

Remembering that breathing is a thing, I exhale and gasp for breath momentarily, while rolling my shoulders, trying to let loose the tension in my muscles. Yet try as I may, I can’t shake the edge that continually creeps up in me, keeping me on, well, edge. Bluh. Rattling my head, I pat Lil’s flank, stroking it for comfort, more for me than for him, but he wiggles gleefully all the same. We haven’t spent as much time bonding or reconnecting as I’d like, since we reunited.

As if reading my mind, despite my psychic-blocking circlet being in place, Lil laments, “We should be hanging out more when we’re not on missions pal. You’re my mega best pal still Rej, mega mega mega best. I’m sorry about all that stuff, y’know, when we got here, this world. And the stuff when momma had to save you. I missed you a mega bunch, mega mega mega bunches. I don’t know how you do it, be so sweet, such a sweetie, so good to everyone. Even the baddies. I guess I never got that, until Qlaxi.”

My eyes wet with still-forming tears, I nod along with Lil as he draws a shuddering breath, both of us regretting my slaying of Qlaxianna, She Who Burns. I only gave her the one chance. I didn’t try to de-escalate the situation when she attacked us, because of my personal stakes in who she had killed. Gripping Lil’s neck, I weep into it for several moments as we continue levitating down the corridor. I’m grateful for his strong claw upon my back and wings that wrap me up in an embrace. Sighing softly, I draw back from the hug, and Teuila raps me gently on the skull, taps my face in a mock slap, and lightly socks me in the shoulder as she casts her gaze aside, avoiding meeting mine.

Nodding to Teuila, I agree, “Yeah, I love you too Te,” and I’m only slightly sorry for the blush this induces. Wearing a half smile, I nod along to no one in particular, trying to collect myself and my thoughts.

Even with Lil half-shrunk like this, since he’s retaining his draconic form, it takes three of my TK-squares to levitate him along, while Teuila and I stand with an arm about each other’s waists on a single square. Honestly I should probably be using all four for Lil like this, because they’re so small that he has to sit like some kind of tricycle.

I’ve got one TK-grip under each of his rear limbs, and he’s got to squash his foreclaws together to balance on the one in front of him. Not that he can see where it is, but he trusts me. That, and thankfully my TK senses help me automate some of the process of what I want to do with my telekinesis.

Interjecting some humor to the tedium, Teuila begins making her play for a new title, “Foley Expert of the Onyx Dawn,” providing swooshes and swishes as if we were the food on teaspoons aimed for—. I can’t help rolling my eyes and loosing a chuckle. Here she is, Teuila the mighty, floating along at my side making gooberific sound effects that might entice a toddler to clap their hands and open their mouth for a bite of food.

Muttering, I jokingly chastise her, “Focus up Te, we’re almost there. No telling what we’ll find up ahead.”

Grinning cheekily, Teuila simply shoulder bashes me in response. This causes a chain reaction in which I have to shuffle my telekinetic grips in order to catch myself, keep Lil from falling, and catch Teuila since I dropped her to catch myself. So of course I respond in kind, shoulder bashing her, causing me to have to do the whole thing again. The elation on her face is worth it. We haven’t roughhoused enough for her in a long time. I—. I haven’t been who I’m most happy being, with my beloved inner circle, in a long, long time. Since before we died on Can’Z’aas, long before. My eyes wet with tears and I cast aside my gaze to blink them away.

I want peace and happiness for everyone who desires it, so long as it doesn’t come at the expense of others. Why do there have to be wars, apocalyptic scenarios, dangers untold, and everything else that’s constantly pouring forth into our lives? My heart pinches, and aches painfully, distracting me further from what I should be focused on. I can’t help it though. I’m me, distractable as ever, Reggie Shellcracker. It’s not even that though. It’s all of this. Rayileklia often seems more fever-dream than reality. I know Luni would try to keep my mind from going down this path, but what if—. Huff. No. That’s not a constructive line of thinking.

Focus up Reggie. We have to do this. We will do this. Only a couple, maybe a few more obstacles between us and Al’pa’ca. If there’s anything we can do to prep, we should be doing it. Hm, what about our RS2 side-stage forms? We should have been engaging one this entire time, but it’s hard to estimate when we’ll get somewhere, so that I don’t have to maintain it for longer than it’s capable of being maintained. My lycan form would be pretty good for defending a single hallway, just blocking a horde with my constantly regenerating bulk. Huff, no. I can’t risk being in a form that can’t wear my mind-blanking psychic aegis circlet.

In a horde of thousands of foes, I’m sure some of them specialize in psionics, psychic effects, mental domination, brain blasting, or other related powers. Being immune to that is far too important to give up for some physical durability. It’s such a balancing act though, a gamble and guessing games. If I don’t choose right now, I probably won’t have the form up in time for it to matter at all. If I don’t live through enough physical punishment to get to the point that I’m facing any of the psychic mages in the hordes, then it would have been better to go with regenerating bulk. Hm, the lightning cat form. My form based on Linti, Lightning Hunter. I could wear the circlet and my armor in it.

That brings to mind another thought though. I’ve got a lightning-spiritswarm riding around within me, bonding to my organs. I’m already part lightning, more than most people, and was even before I took in the spiritswarm. I’d been using passive internal electrokinesis to augment myself since before I ever even died on Can’Z’aas With my new symbiote, am I at risk for being controlled and manipulated like the elements I’m sure our foes wield? It’s the same reason I didn’t want Teuila to summon her storm elemental. If a foe could wrest control of it— wrest control of me—. Drawing a ragged breath, I shudder at the thought.

There is a slight possibility that elemental mages, archmages in the horde above us could manipulate the lightning within me, to possibly manipulate me. If that’s the case though, then I should do my absolute best to be as in control of myself and my internal lightning as possible. I guess my hunter cat form is the best play in that case. A massively high dose of regeneration, and focused control over my own internal lightning, and—. My lightning-cursed leg-guards. Their curse might just prevent me from being controllable by external elemental manipulators. It’s a gamble, but it’s like a deuce in the hole for me. Not quite an ace, because I’m not certain it’ll trump anything they can throw at me. It’s something at least though.

Finally, we arrive at the next obstacle between us and Al’pa’ca. Frankly, I’m a bit stunned. It appears to be a brightly lit, sprawling desert. The air is relatively thick with winds whipping sand about. I guess that accounts for my thermal senses going wonky. Checking the interior and exterior edges of the tunnel leading to this desert doesn’t yield any hints at transportation magic or anything. This desert is actually here, deep within Stormspire Peak. Or whatever the hell the name of this place was, or is.

Glancing at Teuila and Lil with a raised eyebrow, Teuila shrugs, and Lil offers an approximation of a shrug with his draconic shoulders. If all we have to do is cross a desert, swiftly, then we might be able to actually gain some distance on the horde that will be bearing down on us soon. Drawing a deep breath, I loose a sigh of relief. Still, it’s better safe than sorry, so we should enter and explore a ways inwards before committing to what might be a risky tactic that could get Teuila hurt.

If I weren’t worried about magical traps that might lock her down, temporarily or permanently, I’d have her snag Lil and me in the portable hole again, and ask her to book it down to Al’pa’ca. There’s still too many risks between here and there though, all of them unknown, and I’m not willing to gamble Teuila’s life, our lives, the fate of the world, on none of them being one of the things she’s weak to. Flicking my head inwards, Teuila and Lil both nod silently, so I continue to float us into this wide-open desert. I’m curious if this is some sort of spa room for Al’pa’ca or something, just some place that an ancient Sand would like to hang out.

Then, a realization dawns on me, a memory of the desert's breath, the whisper of a thousand grains of sand rubbing shoulders in their frenetic dance. A prelude to the storm, a sandstorm's birth, unseen but felt, a ghost in the machine of my thermal senses. It's the only explanation that fits the entropy before me — the land is about to unleash its fury, and we're in the path of its impending wrath. I hear coughing, choking, and I turn all too slowly, as if fighting a time dilation.