System Lost: My Own Best Friend

"Here, you can use Kiera's tent," Talla says, ushering me inside.

The inside of the large canvas tent is...maybe not quite luxurious, but it's clearly making an effort to be. A plush futon in the center is surrounded by colorful pillows, cushions, and silk sheets. It's also got a lived-in quality, with bits of discarded clothing littering the floor around open packs.

"She was a bit of a slob, huh?" Allison remarks.

"I don't think it's appropriate to insult the dead," I reply.

"Especially when we're the ones who killed her," Maggie adds.

I wince. "I was trying to avoid that part."

Suddenly, it's like I'm right there again, straddling her chest, my hands slipping on the handle of my knife even as I drive it into her heart. I shudder and clutch my arms.

"Sorry..." Maggie mutters quietly.

Talla gently puts a hand on my shoulder and sighs. "You were just defending yourselves. If half of what you've told me is true, they were way out of line anyway. If they hadn't insisted on leaving us behind, things might have turned out differently."

"Yeah," Maggie replies sardonically. "Maybe Saban would have killed us instead of the other way around."

"Don't blame yourself for that, Mags," Allie says.

Between the lingering malaise from magical strain, the sunburn, and probably at least a mild case of heat stroke, I'm too exhausted to deal with any of this. I crawl weakly into the dead woman's bedding and try my hardest not to hate myself for enjoying how soft the sheets are against my sunburnt skin.

I almost succeed.

"I'll stay here with you to make sure you're alright and heal that sunburn," Talla offers. "You get some sleep. It's probably going to take at least a few days, maybe even weeks to fully recover from sleep deprivation."

I nod silently and close my eyes, letting the exhaustion carry me away into unconsciousness.

* * *

Once again, my dream is a chaotic jumble. But this time, instead of nightmarish visions I find myself floating in an endless expanse of shifting color and light. I can't make sense of any of it, as though each swirling shape has a meaning that it's trying to convey that simply washes over me like waves in an ocean.

I try to navigate that ocean, but I don't know how to move in this place. The waves crash over me, carrying my helpless form away. At the edge of my senses, some great leviathan passes by, so huge that I'm utterly beneath its notice, but even the wake of its passing sends me tumbling through the chaos, buffeted on the waves like a scrap of driftwood.

For what feels like an eternity I'm stuck here, swept up in currents beyond my comprehension until at last I find something solid enough to hold on to. It's not ground, but something like it. The idea of it. I cling to it for dear life, terrified of drowning in that endless expanse.

Something like a hand takes something like my wrist and pulls me to something like a shore. It's all still so jumbled and confusing, but now the shapes approach familiarity. They are still beyond me, but they begrudgingly conform to my basic understanding.

A beach on the shore of eternity, with a castle stronghold overlooking the waves. A person—who I couldn't possibly describe in further detail—regards me curiously.

What a strange thing to wash up on my shore, it seems to say, though they have no voice. You're a long way from home, aren't you?

I don't know how they know that, or who they are. But the voice without a voice feels masculine, somehow. As though that's almost as deeply important to its meaning as the words themselves.

Ah, forgive me, it says with the idea of a smile. That's a simple force of habit. I've done it for so long that I'd have to concentrate to stop. I hope you don't mind.

No, it doesn't bother me. But wait—is he reading my mind?

You're reading mine as well, he responds. I'm simply better at keeping my thoughts to myself when I don't want to share them.

What is this? What's happening to me? Is this really a dream?

A dream? No, this is quite real, he says with concern. If you ended up here by accident, then you're quite lucky it was my shore that you washed up on. There are far more dangerous things out here.

I don't even know where or what here is. Or who I am. I reflexively try to check, but the World Engine's words don't appear in my mind.

Well, they do, but you're looking at them from the wrong angle, I'm afraid, the man says. It's a bit like trying to read a clock by looking at its gears. Not impossible, but quite challenging without a lot of practice.

Are we...inside the World Engine?

That's a difficult question to answer and the wrong one to ask, the man replies. Let's just say "yes" for the moment. How did you get here?

I don't know. We were just taking a nap, then suddenly I was stuck in this dream. I can't wake up.

You're already awake, he comments absently. So your consciousness was swept here in your sleep. I suppose it has something to do with that module of yours.

The what?

Hm, if you don't know then I probably shouldn't tell you, he mutters. Forbidden knowledge is occasionally forbidden for a reason. In the rarest cases, it's even a good reason. It seems that whoever did this to you was careless or hasty.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

I really don't understand what he's talking about, and he's frustratingly talking past me instead of to me.

My apologies. I'm not trying to be rude, but I can't stay here for long and neither can you, he explains. To put my observations in a way that fits your understanding of this place, something was added to your soul. It was quite sophisticated, but a few pieces didn't manage to fully integrate with this place. Those pieces acted like a sail that caught the currents of this ocean and brought you to my doorstep. A happy coincidence.

A coincidence?

Or perhaps not. He shrugs. But if you were brought to me intentionally, it was by a design far beyond my comprehension.

What happens now, then?

I send you back, safe and sound, he answers simply. With the assurance that this will not happen again.

That's it? Some mysterious force sends us...wherever this is, straight to whoever you are, and you just toss us back like a beached dolphin?

Not satisfied with the coincidence explanation? He chuckles. I suppose I'm not either. There's nothing else I can do. I know that you exist now, and that will have to suffice. Let's meet again, if you survive, and I can explain more then.

How am I supposed to find someone I don't know anything about? Literally the only thing you've revealed is that you're a man—or want to be perceived as one.

He frowns slightly at that, but shakes his head and sighs. I've said all I can here, and more than I should. If this encounter truly was by design, then I expect our paths will cross again. Until then, good luck Miss Violet.

Before I can say anything else, the ground disappears beneath my feet, and I'm sent tumbling into a bottomless abyss, screaming. Why did it have to be a fall?!

I land with a gasp and shoot upright, only for Talla to push me back down onto the futon by the shoulders.

"Shh, relax, breathe," she hushes me gently. "You were just dreaming. It's okay."

While I struggle to stop hyperventilating, Talla wipes the sweat from my face and neck with a damp cloth. What was that?!

"Finally back?" Maggie asks, a slight tremor betraying the sarcastic tone in her voice.

"What happened?" Allison adds. "We were all awake, but none of us were in front. It was like sleep paralysis."

They didn't see any of that? Was it really just me?

"How awful," Evelyn deadpans. "I can't imagine what that must have been like."

Somehow her presence is what brings me back into the moment, the tension draining from my body as I sink back into the uncomfortably plush futon. How did they even carry this thing?

"Oh, you're back," I sigh. "You've experienced that before?"

"Every time you slept," Evelyn confirms. "In the moments between sleep and wakefulness. I'd be there, unable to do anything but reflect on the nightmare you dragged me through."

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely. "When we first escaped the stalker—it was you who saved us, wasn't it?"

She hesitates to answer, but eventually responds with a begrudging, "Yes. Goddess forgive me."

"Thank you."

"It's a known phenomenon," Talla interjects. "Sometimes the body wakes before the mind does. Especially under severe physical or mental stress. Though I've never been able to have a conversation with someone while they experienced it before."

I blink up at her. "You were still able to talk to us?"

"All of us but you," Allison confirms. "What were you dreaming about?"

That dream. I don't normally have dreams—at least not ones that I remember. Even Allison tends to forget hers soon after waking up. But I can remember every single moment of this one, even if I struggle to make sense of it.

"I don't know," I lie. Some of the things that strange man said concern me, and I'm not ready to share them with Talla, no matter how much trust we've placed in her.

"Well, you're awake now," Talla assures me. "And...!" She holds up a hand mirror. "Look! No more sunburn!"

I stare at the blurry blob for a moment, then smile apologetically. "I'll have to take your word for it, Talla. I can't see without our glasses."

"Oh, oops!" She chuckles nervously, then hands them over. "I forgot."

Replacing our glasses, I hesitate for a moment, then nervously inspect our face in the mirror. It's the first time we've seen ourselves since arriving in this world. We look...bad. There are dark circles under our eyes, and our already pale skin—while free of any sunburns—is pallid and sickly. Our hair is a mess, and it's painfully obvious that I cut it myself. The poor hair clips are desperately struggling to keep what's left of the rat's nest out of our eyes—a war they are mere moments from losing.

Our clothes are filthy and visibly bloodstained, despite Allie's best efforts, and our glasses are scratched and dirty. Just seeing how bad we look also brings to mind all the little hygiene habits we've been forced to neglect. Our teeth feel like there's a layer of fuzz on them, and we've got hair growing in places that I know Allison would rather we didn't.

Oh no, Fa'aun aren't going to have shaving implements, are they? No, Talla's hair is styled—I can't lose hope just yet.

In a roundabout way, it makes me feel better. We're sick, we're exhausted, we're malnourished, but we're safe enough at last to start worrying about things like brushing our teeth and shaving our armpits. It's a relief I didn't even know I needed.

"Thank you, Talla," I say, wiping my watering eyes and sniffling. "For everything."

"Huh?" she exclaims, waving her arms urgently. "What? No, I didn't do anything!"

"I'd cry too, if I saw that looking back at me in the mirror," Evelyn grumbles.

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" Maggie admonishes her. "Let us have this!"

"I'm with Maggie, Evie," Allison agrees. "You can grump all you want later."

My tears continue flowing, heedless of their banter. Talla awkwardly leans in to offer me a hug, which I accept.

"Hey, it's okay," she reassures me. "Everything's gonna be okay. You're safe now—I'll make sure of it."

I stay in her embrace for a moment, crying into her shoulder as she tries to comfort me despite being out of her element.

"Lucky bitch," Maggie mutters quietly.

"Huh? What was that?" Talla asks.

Maggie's silence is deafening, and I can't help but giggle, breaking the moment. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure Maggie will tell you herself later."

"Okay?" Talla says, confused, sitting back on her hooves. She clears her throat. "Um, but if you're feeling better, Draga would like to get moving again as soon as we can. Maybe consider getting your species evolution over with so we can start packing?"

I nod. "Alright. Thanks again."

"Don't mention it."

Without further ado, I inspect the species listing on my status. It really is odd that species evolution is even a thing for people if there's only one option. What's the point? Bracing myself for what happened last time, despite Talla's reassurances, I bring up the options.

Evolutions available for [Tier 1 Human]:

[Tier 2 Human]

An animal species. Individual specimens are almost always [Sapient].

[Tier 2 Demi-Human (Fa'aun)]

A human which has adapted physical traits resembling a fa'aun.

[Tier 2 Demi-Fa'aun (Human)]

A fa'aun which has adapted physical traits resembling a human.

Ah. Well I suppose that answers that question. I guess we've got more complications to sort out.