The Scholar's Tale (Original Fantasy)

Book IV, Chapter 3

The fraction of the Rainbow Burst I had been given was a small, surly thing. Not just in terms of size: it was also petty.

Despite being able to shift size, it insisted on appearing as a small, cramped rowboat, though it lacked any oars. Despite being unable or unwilling to speak mind to mind like its parent (?), it had, in no uncertain terms, impressed upon me that it was going to steer itself.

I had decided to take the hint after every attempt to tilt the boat with my legs or arms ended with it righting itself with a low growl. It seemed harmless, at least: when I had grabbed its sides on an attempt to make it stop so we could talk, it had turned upside down and wrapped a tendril it had grown around my waist to drag me along.

Then, with no apparent means, it had blurred across the water upside down, turning a small stretch of sea into steam from the sheer speed. A normal human would've also been reduced to vapour by the friction many dozens of times over, but, enhanced as I was by my magic, I'd simply ended up pink-faced and annoyed.

Luckily, nothing but my dignity was harmed. As it had been dead for a while, I'd indulged the boat, letting it take me where it may. It knew the path, anyway. Midworlder maps were only useful when it came to small areas (and then only for a while, until the sea or sky surged to turn islands to dust and memory) and I'd never seen or heard about this island.

Serene Rest. In my experience, places with names like that were more sinister than ones with threatening names. Like that giant musclebound thug named Tiny, who'd worked me over as a youth. This island sounded like a cemetery.

I'd only heard of graveyards a handful of times, and had only seen a painting of one once. I wondered what Midworlder had come up with the idea of laying the dead to rest in ground that would become nothing most likely before a corpse could even rot to dust.

It seemed like such a waste...Vhaarn had taught us to give the dead to the sea, to feed its creatures so that we might always have plump, plentiful fishes. At least those would never disappear.

'Hmph,' I grunted, laying on my back in the boat. Maybe that was not always the case? Maybe there were islands stable enough to act as the cradles of civilisations that could last for...centuries? Millennia, even?

It felt surreal, but Ib had once told me of other realms it had glimpsed, but had always known, in truth, where seas were finite bodies of water scattered across the surface of celestial spheres called planets; the grey giant had also said such things existed far above Midworld's seas, something I'd heard of but hadn't really believed. Maybe it had been the fact that it didn't really concern me.

Allegedly, islands there were essentially the tips of pillars rising from a world's rocky skin. Maybe this Rest was something like that?

My hands were clasped under my head, which left my elbows dangling over the edge. The mana I'd infused into my body was the only thing stopping my legs and torso from cramping. The boat was so narrow it almost felt like a vise.

I understood it was to keep me from falling over or being thrown or pulled out by something, but honestly-

I glared at the sphere that had suddenly formed a sort of roof over the boat, rising from the sides faster than I could see. My arms had ended up awkwardly twisted above my head.

As I untangled myself, bending my knees for more space, I reached out to touch the addition to the boat. It was the colour of amber and felt like thick class to the touch. Maybe it was like one of those windows you could see through but not into?

Before I could wonder why the hell it had changed shape, the boat swayed in place, then rushed forward as if pushed. I noticed faint, colourless splashes on the surface of the sphere, and let out an "Ah," in understanding.

The clouds had arrived fast enough to outpace my perception, so mundane sailors would have only noticed the destructive rain once they started disintegrating, too fast to even scream. A single drop could turn a man in plate armour into smoking sludge.

The vile substance would, at worst, have made me blink if I'd let it get into my eyes, but I was still grateful for the shield. I didn't want to have to restore my clothes again. I'd lost them once when the boat had dragged me upside down, and I had this feeling the little bastard had gotten a laugh at my impromptu steam bath.

The melting rain was one of Midworld's nastier weather hazards: destructive enough to obliterate your crew and ship before you could do anything, but also persistent enough it could last for lifetimes over thousands of leagues.

As far as people could tell, the substance was unnatural, but not magical: according to my arcane sense, as well, there was no mana in it. This explained why antimagical tools, infused with the energy left in areas where mages had died in particularly horrible ways, could not stop it.

Its composition was interesting: my magic could not sense anything acidic in its makeup, but it wasn't hot enough to disintegrate things like small amounts of it did. Mayhap it held a supernatural power to unmake, like Ib's ability to break restrictions, but if so, it was too subtle for my senses.

I affectionately ran my hand along the inner rim of the boat for preventing the need to recreate my garb once more. It produced a sound like grinding gears, which I took to be approval, or encouragement for further stern-kissing.

I did not indulge it, however. Basic usefulness was not enough to be admired, and acting like my conveyance barely counted, with what a pain in the rear it was being. I could've ran on water.

But maybe I was being too quick to dismiss the grumpy scrapheap. If it posessed even a fraction of the steamer's abilities, it could shield me from attacks that might distract or wound me while I was fighting off a real threat.

We would see.

* * *

After seven days and seven nights, a number whose significance I later chastised for not noticing (why a week? For there surely was a reason. And how? I had counted the moments, down to the last thousandth of a second, and it was only after exactly a week that Serene Rest showed up on the horizon), I arrived at my destination.

The Rest was a forested island, with mountains rising at the edges, forming natural borders. Two things stood out, and - and this put me on edge instantly - the second? I noticed even without my arcane sense, which made me think it was being projected, rather than radiated as happenstance.

The first detail was the island's colour. Besides the grey mountains (which, now that I looked closer, were veined with blue lines whose nature I couldn't quite figure out, and which spread over the rock in a variety of shades), it was all a light violet, from the land itself to the trees.

Something in the colour reminded me of powder grains grinding between my fingers. There was this fragility, but I didn't let my guard now. The sea was easy to split with one's bare hands, as were most airborne poisons. Didn't mean they couldn't kill you.

The second, much more menacing detail was, ironically, the wave of peace I felt rising from the island as soon as I laid eyes on it.

Now, do not misunderstand me. There were places that could soothe my soul in moments, were I to merely glance at them: sunlit plains, crystal streams, wherever I got the chance to pile the corpses of my enemies. The island was nothing so natural or tranquil.

But before I explain why this land was more eerie than the sites of countless deaths, perhaps I should of my experience with dealing death.

Now, the last sight described was not something I often saw. It had been some years since enough people had hated one of my guises at once for me to not only lack any option but escape, but get to raise piles of their bodies.

Of course, I had to destroy such monuments to the foolishness of my opponents more often than not. Usually, they drew attention, either that of their brethren or of other, snoopy Midworlders. I had rarely ended up in situations where such corpse mounds would've served as warnings as opposed to taunts, so most if the time, there was little sense in leaving a trail of blood behind me. A visible one, that is.

At least I hadn't needed to resort to slaughter since I'd joined Mharra's crew. Thankfully, relief surpassed nostalgia.

The fact I felt any at all, however, dismayed me, somewhat. Had I grown so enamoured with bloodshed that I missed it, like a lover turning in their sleep and waking inly to see an empty bed?

I'd rarely killed with my hands. Usually, I'd skipped away from crews or fleets that had grown suspicious of me, after making sure they'd be destroyed by some natural disaster or boarded by pirates. I'd been relieved at every departure, of course, for I had lived again, but...

Did I miss that, too? The trickery?

The faith of Vhaarn was not complex, but then, it did not need to be. Its adherents wanted peace of mind in a treacherous world, not labyrinthine scriptures. Still, it was elaborate enough for me to know I hadn't been faithful in anything but name.

Fhaalqi reigned over every wicked thing in Midworld, from storms and quakes to invaders and sea monsters, and worse. Some said the moon was his eye, and the madness it bred the result of his mind encroaching upon mortal ones.

I didn't know. I wasn't sure what disturbed me more, the though of the Enemy of All having a permanent presence in Midworld, or the moon and the insanity it brought being an unrelated but no less pervasive evil. I preferred not to think about it, and recent events hadn't encouraged me to find out.

My mind was ragged enough on its own, no unnatural influence needed (or welcome).

But enough of that. I was thinking like this to stall, but also to focus, to gird my thoughts against the malign mind of the shore I was approaching.

I couldn't have told you if the island thought like I did, or at all, but something that felt almost like a stream of conscience gathered around mine. It reminded me of those cloying clouds of poison, released by monstrous plants or things that only looked like perfume bottles and other such trinkets, used by assassins and soldiers alike.

Thanks to my arcane sense, I could tell that, while this presence was heavy, it was likely not meant to be deadly. Maybe it had killed weak-minded Midworlders in the past, but my magic kept silently insisting I remain wary, lest I open myself up to something it couldn't or wouldn't name or describe.

Hm. Was it like some sort of mental venom, then? A thought attack meant to soften up victims? Of yes, it likely had worked in the past. Mundane humans would've been like blind sheep to the slaughter here. Pit, not too long ago, I would've been ensnared too.

It was only my magic that allowed me to notice and hold off the danger, but even then, it was a matter of constant effort. It was not like putting up a shield or cowering behind a barricade; more like wrestling with one of those giant snakes with no venom, which strangled their prey to death.

Thank Vhaarn I had grown strong enough to withstand this force. Years ago, this mental struggle would've been less like grappling with one of those great land snakes and more like trying to survive the attention of their oceanic cousins, with fangs a thousand leagues long and bodies a thousand times that.

According to my research, which Ib had agreed with, being able to cross their own body length in a second made those sea snakes over sixteen times as fast as light itself, which explained how something heavier than almost any star could pounce upon Midworlders without being noticed before or after.

Not that it would have helped. Most sailors did not have the means to damage those titanic bodies, which could withstand their own power.

As the island came closer, I tensed, ready for anything. If my boat felt the island assailing its mechanical mind, it gave no sign - but then, it wouldn't.

No use going back, though. This was my destination, and the boat had taken me towards it, as uneering as its sire ship, before I had felt the island's power. It agreed that I had to be here, though if it could communicate clearly enough to share its reasons, it did not.

So. A monstrous, likely alive island that wanted to rape my mind. A boat I didn't trust, except in the sense I knew it didn't give a toss about me, leaving aside its orders to keep me alive and bring me back in one piece. A crew and ship I somehow knew, in my heart of hearts, that I could not return to until whatever I was meant to do here was over.

It had been a while since I'd had no one and nothing reliable around me. Had I really lived like this, once? And had the stint on Mharra's steamer been enough to change my weaselly soul?

I had travelled more safely under other captains without my paranoia dulling. What had been different? What had missed, then?

Love?

* * *

After a week of walking, I realised that either Serene Rest was bigger than it looked, or I was moving slower than I thought. Either hinged on my senses being compromised, but the first was more likely.

With my remembered quickness, I'd crosses the island in one dash, only to find a far greater expanse than I'd travelled behind me. The way back had taken much longer, and trying other routes across the land had resulted in similar reason-defying reshaping of the land.

What was more annoying, there wasn't even anything to lash out against. There were no critters on Serene Rest, as far as I could tell, not even insects, much less any inhabitants: only silence and perfumed landscapes. True enough to the first part of its name, but I'd be damned if I tried the second.

At one point, I think during the middle of the third day, irritated with my fruitless exploration, I'd tried to see if the island acted as a body for the inhuman mind that had brushed against mine. However, it had proved impervious against any physical or metaphysical assault I'd attempted.

Interestingly, it had shrunk away from my sword, forming pits so it cut nothing but air or remaking itself into uncanny shapes to twist away from my blade.

I wondered why. My sword did not let me hit that much harder than my magic, nor was it enchanted to be deadly beyond its cutting power. Why the caution, then?

I had heard stories of magical artefacts that had grown beyond their makers' design, but I liked to think I'd have noticed my sword developing new abilities.

Or maybe not. Serene Rest's influence never disappeared, for the island, like the immortal evils of myth and legend, did not grow tired or bored. Its touch was an insustent, clammy thing, which made my skin crawl and my hair stand up in disgust.

I clicked my tongue, weary in mind if not body after seven days and nights of wandering. What was I missing.

I placed my sword against the ground, point-first, and this time, the island did not try to move away. It was, I had observed, seemingly able to sense my intent, and only retreated when I wanted to harm it.

I leaned on my blade as if it were a cane, staff resting on one shoulder. If I decided to channel mana through it and blast something, it would be easy to get into position.

Why was I here? To put on a show, yes, but in front of what audience? I was the only person around, unless one counted Serene Rest, which I wasn't inclined to. My misgivings aside, its behaviour reminded me more of those predatory bugs that harassed their prey and pounced upon it once it was weakened than anything humanlike.

Like the island, such killer insects seemed to possess deep thinking, what Ib called sapience, but, also like them, I believed it was only aping what I'd recognise as faculties - else why hadn't it tried to communicate over an entire sennight, instead of scrabbling at my mind like some stupid animal?

I gave my surroundings a dubious look. The entire island looked the same, without anything that could be called a landmark, as if it were a simpleton's idea of an island.

Even the mountains at the edges seemed identical, rising like grey, jagged spires through pink mist and into an equally pink, cloudy sky. All soft colours and contours, pleasing to the eye, but not to me. I could swear there had been no fog around the island when I'd first seen it, and the sky above it had seemed normal.

I couldn't remember when that had changed, and I didn't like that. Memories were the foundation of my magic; of my life, too, with how my past had defined me for so long. Forgetfulness, senility...appalling in on themselves. If induced, as loathsome as control of my mind.

The memory of scaling those stupid mountains - the boat had stopped at the rocky beach that led to the mountains' bases, feeling annoyingly smug, though I'd have been hard-pressed to tell you how I could spot that, besides feeling what passed for its emotions - would have probably been enough to prevent me from relaxing even without the constant attempts at mind control.

The ground was uneven but easy to walk, spongy, bending under my boots. Violet and soft, it was covered in something that resembled moss in most places, though equally-soft gravel and dirt replaced the growth in some places.

I needed to get away, or finish what I had come here for. Knowing symbolism as I did, the second was far more likely to happen. Between my memory and my magic, I was confident I could find my way back to the boat. What I was far less confident in was being able to get away.

A scenario I often imagined featured that rusty tub throwing me back on the island, while sniggering, but even if I did get back to the steamer, then what? I needed to teach and learn here, Vhaarn knew what.

I could easily imagine Ib dragging me back and preventing me from leaving until I saw something that would feel obvious afterwards, leaving me feeling like a moron. Maybe I was being unkind to the grey giant, but I couldn't be arsed to be more considerate, at the moment.

I knew, as surely as I knew the sea went on forever, that there had to be something more to this island. Serene Rest had some sort of lure that had doubtlessly undone minds weaker than mine. My magic agreed as much.

Where were they, then? Had they rotten to nothing after wasting away, too enthralled to eat and drink? But surely the island did not draw people to it just to watch them die. I could easily imagine it being a cruel fool, but what if it did...more? What if it ate them? Or dragged them underground?

Being trapped in this foul clump of dirt forever...just the thought made me grimace. I didn't know whether I'd end at Vhaarn's side after I died, but I'd rather die in a way I believed in. Vhaarn teached his worshippers to never harm without cause. Did I qualify?

Ach. Worries for another day. Whether I ended up in the Pit, to be tormented by Fhaalqi and his slaves for eternity, or in the realm between for him and his brother to judge until enough changed for my undying soul to reach a proper afterlife.

Or not. Some waited forever.

I could not afford to get distracted. My spirit would go where it would. I could only hope to live well.

I believed the islands' previous victims lingered here, in one form or another. Who else was I supposed to put a show on for? The boat?

If I wanted a silent fool to sneer at my every blunder, I'd just talk in front of a mirror.

I absentmindedly started to brush some of the violet dust from my overcoat's collar, then stopped, struck by a thought.

What if I was looking in the wrong place? The physical world, that is. The island was a hunter of thoughts and senses. What if its victims persisted in its mindscape?

Until now, I'd struck at it, but what if I needed to meet it mind to mind? Not in a clash, but...with open arms.

Not a thought I relished. It was better than being effectively trapped here, however, though I knew part of the reason I was trapped was my own mindset, something which certainly hadn't happened before. The realisation almost floored it, let me tell you.

Sitting down to steady myself, lest I be toppled by my own wit, I crossed my legs, then my sword and staff above them, gripping them loosely. I needed to be able to defend myself, but I couldn't afford to be distracted by the world of matter.

The dust, which had previously stuck to meblike grasping fingers, gathered again, pressing into my boots and clothes, but I kept it away from my face with a burst of mana.

The island must have understood, because the pressure lessened, until...

* * *

I did not know if I had fallen asleep, but when my attention returned to the world inside me, moving away from the one inside my mind, it felt like waking up.

I was groggy, blinking something not quite like sleep out of my eyes, and numb. My joints actually cracked as I rose to sit. Violet dust fell off me like flakes of dead skin, not one grain remaining on my clothes. This was not the only uncanny detail I noticed, but it made my heart beat faster nonetheless.

As I became alert, I tried to raise my weapons. They might have been new, but the instinct guiding my hands was old: I had fought with blade and cudgel before my magic was anything worth talking about.

They were not in my grasp. I turned around, only to see the spot where I'd fallen onto my back was free of dust. The grains stopped a hair from where my body had been, forming an outline. The spongy, bloated ground looked as inviting as the layer of fragrant dust, but all I wanted was to jump to my feet and find my sword and staff.

Nothing about this island appealed to my heart. There was only trickery, attempt after attempt to worm its way into the core of my being and leave me hollow.

The pressure of the mental assault had ceased, leaving me blessedly unburdened, but that only made the other dangers clearer.

I could practically see it: some tired wretch laying down to rest, only for the ground (Serene Rest's skin?) to seize them and drag them to their doom.

I was not a warrior. There were people who only felt alive with a weapon in hand and blood drenching their bodies, and I pitied them. But the thought of curling on the ground and being drained to death, or worse, by this monstrous place offended something within me.

There would be no dignity in such an end. Not a peaceful death in bed, in a lover's embrace, or surrounded by family or the fruits of one's work. Not even death in battle.

Pitiful...

Noting the landscape had changed again, going from plain to valley, I noticed a couple of glimmers in the distance, one bright and sharp, the other duller. My sword and staff, catching the feeble sunlight?

So far...

Oh, it might have looked like a distance I could cross in a single stride with mana singing in my veins, but I knew better. The island was as treacherous as it was persistent, traits that, thankfully, were not always found together.

No such luck now, though, so that did little to comfort me. I'd have to survive first if I wanted to enjoy being able to overcome weak-willed schemers and stubborn idiots.

I pressed a hand to my face, rubbing my eyes, before pinching my nose. My head was clearing, but I still didn't trust anything in its place, the certainty I was in danger aside.

Looking down at myself, I saw my black boots were shiny enough to serve as mirrors, if need be, as clean as my grey trousers and the brown long coat over my white shirt. None of that made any sense.

I was not unwashed, but few sailors gave a toss about cleaning themselves up until they looked like children's dolls. I was not one of them, though I could have afforded to. There was just no point in being so...spotless.

The fact I could tell this shirt was white was eerie in of itself. Usually, it was closer to a dull grey, broken up by stains of obscure origin. Nothing my magic or Ib's power couldn't fix, but there was no need to fuss over such details.

I looked like a princeling. Like some corsair hero dreamed up by a maiden with too much time and imagination.

The thought brought a wan smile to my lips. Had I not decided earlier to look for Serene Rest's victims, without even knowing if there were any?

I could not call that heroic, though, if only because the idea of me as a saviour made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

If I was the hero, I didn't want to meet the villains.

I started towards the glimmers I'd spotted earlier, the dust parting around my boots without even raising clouds of it. A few strides after I'd set off, I felt hands grasp my shoulders, so gently I could hardly say I'd been grabbed.

I turned, surprised but expecting a new trick, only to face my childhood friend.

Aina was tall for a woman, just a hair shorter than me, and fair-skinned, with a heart-shaped face amidst waves of hair as blue as the clearest sky, as her eyes, as the garment that barely concealed her form.

To speak with the clarity of hindsight - of course she fit my preferences. I'd never liked thin girls except in the way I liked flowers, that is to say, they were pretty to look at. It came as no surprise that Aina was all curves: I'd known she'd grow up to be beautiful long before I'd known what the word really meant.

My weapons didn't return to my hands when I remembered them, nor did exact replicas of them appear. Thankfully, I hadn't been relying on things going that easy.

Unarmed, I raised fists crackling with mana as Aina, a shy smile on her face, moved closer to me, giving her a warning glare.

She stopped, her smile growing brighter, for some reason. She showed a few teeth as she pressed her fingertips together, twirling them in a gesture I thought too girlish for what looked like a grown woman.

Another insult to my sanity. Subtler than the previous, but that was not saying much. Did Serene Rest truly have no ideas beyond dredging up my memories to throw me off?

But this was not really a memory, was it? I couldn't say I knew the woman my friend from boyhood had grown into, but if this had truly been her, I would've felt the moon's influence on her, damn my beleaguered senses.

Furthermore, and far more importantly, Aina would not have approached me like some coy maid. I refused to believe she, or I, had changed so much she'd be speechless at the sight of me.

So, who was this, then? This apparition clad in nothing but a sheer blue ribbon wrapped around her body, that covered only her breasts and womanhood, in the loosest sense of the word?

'You are not her,' I said, voice coming out rougher than I'd expected, as if I'd been chewing that acrid-smelling weed some sailors went for instead of tobacco. Some people, who clearly hadn't considered my sense of smell, said the only problem it caused was a fairly harmless longing.

Defying my expectations, the Aina lookalike didn't deny my accusation. That was usually the first response in such situations, followed by a request for clarification. She knew what I meant.

Instead, she backed off, spreading her arms. 'I am no less real than your giant friend would be if it regrew from a discarded part of itself.'

'Poppycock,' I replied. 'You are not related to Aina in any way besides appearance.'

'Does that make me less of a person, Ryzhan?'

The part of me that still lived on the run felt vaguely irritated that Serene Rest and its slaves (or were they not separate from it at all?) already knew my true name, but then, I'd opened my mind to it, hadn't I?

Being honest allegedly helped, according to some. I still hadn't seen hide or hair of the island's past victims, however, and if this woman was truly Aina, and one of Serene Rest's prey, I'd eat my boots.

What she was, though, was something to interact with. Maybe I could get under the island's skin by telling its puppet off, or even better, destroying her.

'Are you?' I answered her question with one of my own. 'A person?' I raised a finger before she could reply. 'Know nothing you say will convince me of this place's good intentions, or that you're not under its sway.'

Aina shook her head, stifling a giggle. I felt a frown begin to creep over my features. Usually, when people laughed without me trying to make them, it was at my expense, and involved either failure or some ridiculous thing I hadn't noticed.

Noticing my expression, Aina's own features softened, and she sat down, before moving to her side and propping herself up on one elbow. 'Please, do not misunderstand,' she said, gesturing at the ground. 'Sit with me, and I will explain everything.'

'Everything? I doubt you know that much,' I said acidly, but complied with her request. The fact her clothes had changed to an opaque dress, so that she no longer looked like some desert warlord's concubine, helped make things less mortifying.

That hadn't been the Aina I wanted. It wasn't just about flaunting herself, though that would've only been fine if Serene Rest hadn't been observing us. It was how vulnerable showing that much skin made...her...

Godsddamnit. Had I forgotten "she" wasn't in any danger, puppet of the island that she was? The real Aina would've likely turned Serene Rest to scattered dust by now with the power that had come with her lunacy.

And on that note - "not the Aina I wanted"? How convenient that her garment shifted to something more respectable the moment I had enough of it. How had I missed that...?

Aina, who must've read my thoughts (perhaps literally, for all I knew), started to move closer, but I crossed my legs and gave her a flat look, silently telling her to put a leash on any impulses she might have.

Aina pouted so adorably I wanted nothing more than to kiss her until she smiled, a thought that nearly made me slap myself. Was this to be my undoing? A thought-eater stitching together my dreams and memories to make marionettes?

Having returned to her prior position, Aina extended a hand towards me. 'You misunderstand the island, Ryz. It is not a monster, but a saviour.'

'I'm sure it looks that way from there.' I knew all about "saviours". The Free Fleet saved people from the burden of choice, much like the moon saved one from having to think too much. There were as many things in Midworld that could make it so you'd never be hurt again as there were ways to die, if not more.

Aina's slim fingers beat an unsteady rhythm on the ground as I kept staring at her, but definitely not the way she'd hoped for. Lips parting just enough to let me see her running her tongue over her teeth (small and pink, no fangs. But that would have been too obvious), her mouth quirked into a derisive smile. 'The truth, then. If that is what you crave.'

Speaking as an inveterate liar, I doubted this thing would know truth if it smacked her between the eyes. But I might as well let her talk.

She did not do so right away, instead looking at me consideringly. Expecting me to look at her? Likely. But I steadfastly refused to look anywhere lower than her chin. Trying to figure out what was wrong with her eyes helped me concentrate.

Clearing her throat in a way that barely sounded disappointed, Aina adopted a position similar to mine. She did not try to move closer, thank Vhaarn. Mirroring my posture was bad enough. Clasping her hands in her lap, a gesture so prim it had no place on this floating nightmare, she began her explanation.

"As the name has doubtlessly helped you realise, Serene Rest is a place of leisure, where a Midworlder can stop, not having to worry about their destination, or supplies, or the tides and what dwells beneath them."

"I am sure having your mind hollowed out helps you not worry." I spun my arm in a circle, to encompass the island as a whole. "Who hated people enough to build this place?"

"There was no builder, Ryzhan. Serene Rest arose on its own."

"Did it?" I did not doubt it was possible, for many strange lands had risen from Midworld's sea over the ages. But the description...a place of leisure? Something didn't make sense. "If this is all natural, and there are no inhabitants who act as heralds - I have seen nothing to suggest there are - then how can this be meant as a place of leisure? How do people know to find it? I never heard of it until shortly before I was advised to sail here."

Aina expression was mischievous. "Now, now. Serene is not greedy. It needn't have people bringing others to it. That you used to be cursed with ignorance of it is truly saddening, Ryz, but merely coincidence. You happened not to sail close enough to notice it, until now."

I relaxed, hopefully imperceptibly. That meant the island's influence had a range limit. That seemed obvious, of course, else it would have raped all but the strongest minds in Midworld to thought-death millennia ago, but it was good to have implicit confirmation. And, in my defence, I hadn't been in the right mind for pondering such facts since my arrival.

"So, those unlucky souls who happen across Serene Rest are enough for its...appetites? That seems hard to believe, if you do not mind me saying."

Aina's brows arched slightly, her lips parting. "And why is that, my friend?'

She-had blue eyes, a blue so deep like ink. Was that intentional, I wondered? A visual reminder that the island had "drawn" this fake Aina?

It didn't matter, of course, but I was prepared to focus on whatever nonsense it took to distract me. On that note...my friend? The not quite formal wording reminded me of Ib, and my focus shifted as the nameless feeling I'd had to confront for a while resurfaced.

I knew Ib said it didn't always have a choice when it came to who it freed. I knew it had saved me - us, really. But it had also let us end up in that situation in the first place, and...it did seem awfully convenient that Ib was forced to do things that coincided with its aims. Part of my mind,, which resonated most with the miserable bastard I'd been most of my life, wanted to believe the worst.

'Because,' I answered, choosing to bury my suspicions towards the giant, for now, 'ever since I rebuffed its advances, it hasn't stopped trying to get into my head.'

I was thinking it had certainly managed to get under my skin (though, thankfully, not in a literal sense, though I was sure it could have) when Aina said, 'Liar. And here you were practically snarling about my dishonesty, Ryz...'

Though her tone was bland, I felt a certain archness. Was there something funny? 'You will have to be clearer.'

'How can you say your mind is still under assault - not that it was in the first place, but I will get to that - when it stopped as soon as you entered the headspace necessary to bring me to you?'

I forced myself to laugh. 'Oh, the overt attacks stopped, true enough. But the island has scarcely slowed down its attempts to subvert me. 'Tis as you said: as soon as I sought another path to my goal, you appeared.'

Aina leaned forward, which I was sure did extremely interesting things for her cleavage, but I refused to look. Instead, I focused on her neck, trying to see if she had veins like a human. 'I am not sure what you are trying to imply, Ryzhan.'

Discarding my curiosity about what colours her veins were, if she had any (was there even any blood for them to carry? Would this thing bleed, if I cut her?), I glared at her forehead. 'You are some mockup put together by this foul rock, in the mage of my first friend. What is your presence but an attempt to make me lower my guard by appealing to sentiment?' I closed my eyes, wishing my weapons hand't been so damned far. 'It will not work. I know you are not Aina. You can only make me angry.'

Not entirely true. She might very well end up making me feel guilty for not getting back to the true Aina faster. But there was no need to share that with anyone, let alone the lure of the anglerfish that was Serene Rest.

When I reopened my eyes, I saw Aina's were full of a pitying sort of compassion. My pride, usually a fickle companion at the best of times, flared, and it was a welcome sensation. How dare this creature presume to pity me?

'Serene Rest is shrouded in an aura of welcome, Ryzhan,' Aina said in a velvety voice that made me shudder. In disgust, I told myself. 'You see malice where there is only instinct, and not a cruel one, at that.'

'No? Please, do tell how something that tried to make a mindless slave of me is not cruel,' I snapped.

'You will not be surprised to learn that those who have found themselves sailing near this island over the years were harried, following long journeys. Years - decades, in some cases - of sailing tire the mind, even if they can happen to strengthen the body.'

She hardly needed to tell me that. However, she got the idea from my expression, so I didn't need to say anything or gesture for her to skip this bleating.

'They could not have resisted Serene Rest's call even if they had been willing to - and why would they have been? Why struggle when one could unburden themselves of every fear?'

'So, someone with a strong enough will, be they humans with no powers, wouldn't be affected by the island's call, as you name it?' Aina dipped her chin, but I only smirked derisively. 'Maybe. I believe I could have stood up to it even without my magic, though I am happy there was no need to test that.' I clenched my hands around my knees. 'I would have even been willing to believe that, if the island had stopped there. Maybe I am indeed seeing wickedness where there is none. But I know how to recognise purpose, and this place wasn't scrabbling at the door to my mind out of altruism; if there was no evil there, there certainly wasn't any good, either. Nor did it make you to sate my nostalgia.'

The woman plopped her delicate, narrow chin in one hand, releasing a light sigh. 'What ddo you actually think Serene Rest is, Ryzhan? You are on edge. What do you believe it wants from you?'

I all but growled. 'Are you deaf? I doubt you have a brain between your ears, but how stupid are you? I just told y-'

'You think Serene Rest is some slaving abomination of a living land,' she said in a level voice, not sounding offended. 'That it wants to turn you into an unthinking husk, and that I am its latest weapon in this...alleged endeavour. Yes?'

I spread my arms, laughing drily. 'What? Are you going to tell me it's worse?'

She tittered, and I looked up, masking it as an eyeroll. She had sobered up by the time I looked back at her. 'You are looking at this from the wrong perspective, Ryz...despite my efforts to enlighten you.' Uncrossing her legs, she quickly rose to her feet. 'Worry not: I forgive you.'

She forgave me! This twisted little quim? 'That is a relief,' I hissed, springing to my feet, unwilling to sit when she stood. I was sure it would've looked quite courteous, in a vacuum, but the truth was that I didn't want to let her be the first to strike, whatever form hat took. 'I don't think I could've ever slept, without your acceptance.'

Aina turned in a fluid movement, and I shifted my eyes, burning a hole into her-back. Between the shoulder blades. 'Walk with me, Ryzhan. I will take you to the people you seek, though I must beg you not to disturb them, once you are there.'

I'd have her begging for death soon enough. How dare she remind me of who I'd lost? 'Wait here,' I said stiffly. 'I will retrieve my weapons, then you will lead me where I must go.'

I felt her playful eyes slide over me as I made my way to my sword and staff, which I put back together. 'Do you not feel good around me without your cane in hand?'

'Subtle,' I deadpanned, returning to her. 'Get to it.'

This time, the island's layout did not seem to shift or grow, but that made sense. It was moving a part of itself, or something close to that. Why hinder itself?

Soon enough, though, we were walking under a canopy, streaks of sunlight making their way through clumps of purple leaves. I grit my teeth at the change of geography. There had been no forest in the distance. It had just appeared around us when we'd been halfway through a plain, and stretched behind us like we'd been walking for minutes, at least.

Though picturesque, I'd have sooner lit myself on fire than spent a moment in this eerily-silent forest. There were no beasts howling and hunting and fighting and rutting, no birds chirping, not even any insects buzzing. And, while I'd been on quiet, uninhabited islands, they had merely been strange. Knowing what I walked on, I could not have relaxed here if my life had depended on it.

Aina's patient mask cracked a little after a half hour of walking, betraying some irritation. 'Will you stop that?' she asked tiredly. 'We're never going to get anywhere at this rate.'

Instead of slapping her teeth out of her mouth, or just cutting her head off, as I truly wished, I pulled my cane apart, ready to finish a fight, but not starting one. I wasn't sure what this Aina lookalike could do, but I didn't want the island to come up with an Ib imitation next, even if it was only a thousandth as bad as the real thing. 'What's that supposed to mean? I am merely following you.'

'You are trudging along like a whipped mule,' she grumbled, looking away from me in a huff. 'You think ou will get anywhere on Serene Rest without letting go of what weighs you down?'

I almost told her that it would've been nice to know that before we'd started walking, but then, I couldn't have fulfilled that condition anyway. 'What do you mean? Are we strolling through the woods until we find my peace of mind? I am afraid we don't have forever.' I didn't, anyway. I neither knew nor cared if she did.

Aina spun to face me, and I expected a hit, but she just looked dismayed. My knees almost buckled when I saw the tears welling up in her sapphire eyes, but I grit my teeth and tried to hold my ground. She walked closer, stopping when I raised my blade, whose point almost brushed her slim neck, looking devastated. 'Please,' I drawled, 'I can tell you're about to say it's devastating to see me this tightly wound, and that it is a shame I can't let unwind and frolic through the forests with you. Save your breath.'

'You're never a bigger fool than when you think you're right, Ryzhan,' she ground out. 'Were you able to stop seeing monsters in every shadow, you would have found the audience the giant sent you after long ago, even without my help.'

'I wonder if they'd be able to perceive anything, much less react...'

Aina did not take kindly to my idle musing, judging by her wrinkled nose. That was what I deserved for thinking out loud, honestly. 'You think those who have been put to rest lose who they used to be, but their pasts are laid around them, like coats being taken off and hung up. They could take everything back, if they wished to, but they have no desire to do something that stupid.'

That sounded like they were being threatened, or addled. Both, mayhap. Though my blade didn't waver, I lowered my staff, dispelling the mana I'd gathered around it. 'Answer me, and speak true,' I commanded in a dark voice, 'if I unburden myself, as you say, will I be able to reach those the island has claimed? And will they be thinking people, staying here out of their own will?'

Aina nodded, which resulted in my sword's tip parting just enough skin for a drop of blood, looking just like a human's, to roll down the edge. 'What you mistook for an attack on the mind was an invitation, Ryzhan. Serene Rest may seem rough, to the broken, but it does nothing more than clean souls bowed under the weight of the world.'

I wanted to dismiss that, but where would it have gotten me? I was wasting time whenever I argued, I could tell. 'Do you expect me to believe that, if I'd...done nothing, this island would have simply let me be, after cleansing my spirit?'

Aina moved back, nodding again. Her throat remained red where it had split, not healing, but not bleeding, either. More proof of her inhumanity, if any had been needed. 'As it does for everyone,' she said, in an almost reverent voice. 'The moment you opened yourself up to it, Serene Rest understood you, and stopped trying to enter the palace of your mind, for it knew its halls.'

My skin crawled at the idea of this blasted place knowing that much about me, but there was nothing to do now. I noticed I was panting, that my limbs felt oddly heavy, though I wasn't sweating. My hair had fallen over my eyes, and I breathed harshly as I looked down at my sword. The blood was still there. I hadn't...I wasn't hallucinating, or being made to.

'Then why?' I asked roughly, eyes darting to the woman whose existence was a taunt aimed at my memories. 'Why did it make you?'

Aina bit her lip, but what I at first took as a cheap ploy to seduce me seemed more a way to prevent herself from crying. My shoulders almost slumped, before I reminded myself that she had no feelings to hurt. Not truly. 'Serene Rest wishes nothing more than for you to be at ease,' she promised fervently, though her voice barely rose above a whisper. 'It knows what you want, Ryzhan.' Her hands hovered over mine, but she dared not touch me. 'I can show you...bring you there. You needn't ever leave, love.'

...I did not, no. I understood now.

Were I to take Aina's offer, I would find myself, after a brief detour at my intended destination, in some idyllic wonderland. A nonsensical realm, where all was good despite what reason dictated. There, I would be a beloved mage, with no need to hide or fight again. I would have Aina as my wife, like Mharra would have Three as his husband. Ib would be there, too, boisterous and honest, with nothing to fray our bonds. I could even have my parents back. Our people, Aina's and mine, would...

...not be them.

I straightened as I steeled my resolve. It would be a beautiful lie, one I would grow to believe. I knew this, and more, for the island' intent painted a grand image in my mind's eye. There would be nothing false, if one was loose with the definition. I did not know whether Serene Rest had been crafted as the capstone of some mad plan to forcibly make Midworlders let go of their dark thoughts, but it didn't matter. I knew this was what it wanted to do for those who found themselves sailing near it.

But it wouldn't be true. There would be no dignity in this end of the spirit, only a living death, worse than oblivion. My captain...Mharra would never recover from my departure, and something deep in my bones and water told me Ib would never come to free me. Unable or unwilling, the giant would never shatter these chains if I put them on.

I tasted bile at that certainty, and with it, came worse: if those two made their way to Three, what would Mharra tell the ghost? That I had given up the quest to rescue him for a pretty illusion? Even if he - they - forgave me, I never would.

I took in the broken look on Aina's face, and the unending whispers at the edge of my hearing, and told her, 'Very well, then. Take me to those who have been put to rest.'

* * *

A host of emotions passed over Aina's face as she watched her doppelganger guide Ryzhan through the depths of that damnable island. The Clockwork King's devices could not show her what her old friend thought, not without some recalibrations,but she believed she could tell easily enough.

The Clockwork Court swayed around her as tentacles, ribbed and covered in suckers, grey as ash or white as the moon, flowed out from under the hem of her shirt, to prod aimlessly at the surrounding machinery. The moon madness she'd received all those years ago was a knot of alien emotions and appetites, but something within it called out to her jealousy and anger - that she wasn't there with Ryzhan, that the dreaming island would use her image to torment him like this.

The grinding of gears, followed by the clearing of a throat, drew her attention. Eyes formed on what had been Aina's back, before she resumed her humanlike form with some effort, turning to look. 'Yes?'

'Moon-touched one,' the emissary, an insectoid collection of jagged cables, droned. 'My King wishes to inform you that your friend's crewmates have yet to reach, ah...analogous points in their journeys.' It fidgeted, the wirelike tips of its two front limbs pressing together. 'While our findings suggest they are going to put on the same show, the King desires to know if you want to observe them in real time, or watch the recordings.'

'I thought you couldn't follow Libertas with any accuracy,' Aina said, returning her attention to the viewscreens. 'What has changed?'

The emissary's round, shell-like shoulders rolled. 'Perhaps it is cooperating. Enabling us.'

Aina did not know about that. Still, it only helped her.

'Pause the longview following Ryzhan, please,' she said. 'Record from all angles. Do the same for the captain and the giant. I will watch this spectacle in one go.' That was how it would go in real life, no?

'As you wish,' the emissary replied. Then, after a short silence, it added, 'my King and his Queen are pleased you have allowed them to study you. Do not hesitate to ask for anything else, dear guest.'

She would be indulged as long as she stayed interesting, yes. But becoming an observer, for now, had already felt like too much of a risk. She wouldn't overreach herself. 'No, thank you.'

After all, the Clockwork King had all but told her that, if Ryzhan did not manage to overcome this challenge, then she was waiting for a wastrel, and might as well find something else to do.