Aellyss trudged wearily toward Omill, each step a conscious effort.
Their grand "tour" of the Mainland's cities had exhausted their body to the point of numbness, but the constant, chaotic chatter of the internal entities housed within this underdeveloped half-ljus was a far greater strain. The travelling micro-community of hyperactive "voices" was thoroughly delighted by the journey itself, their immaterial legs and tongues never tiring, making their shared existence intolerably, downright merrily chaotic.
At least their numbers had decreased significantly in recent times.
The sub-personality Rhea had left them cycles ago, but the collective had been excited to see her home city, revelling in a bittersweet déjà vu and tying up loose ends. They had gazed at her beloved Omill from the lakeshore, just as she once did, admiring the lagoon settlement she'd helped found. They spoke with those who still remembered her, stroked the leaves of her favourite plants brought from Youlle generations ago, and pocketed a few exquisite, fresh illidia—those fragrant, rosy-purple delicacies.
Robin had left them after visiting his home city, Prime. It was his last wish, his finished business.
Opheletta, another Prime-born soul, had also been eager to visit the "City." Like most Primers, she reserved the title "City" for Prime alone, dismissing other settlements as unworthy "lowlands". A young, successful official, a daredevil, and a socialite who'd died too young, she had stayed behind to make up for lost time. Aellyss had watched these escapades with benign detachment, never allowing anything that might seriously harm their shared body. The primary instrument had to remain functional.
To everyone's relief, the self-pitying Zethian entity Tili had dissolved shortly after, seemingly fed up with the exhausting debates within Aellyss. In that sense, the residents of this half-wooden body had become an unwilling therapeutic group for one another.
Aellyss shuddered at the memory. Tili's dissolution had been… pyrotechnic. Any profound epiphany in their shared space resembled a small internal explosion. This one, with its sudden, silent flash, had left all internal witnesses speechless for a long while.
Another Zethian —Esme, still a Selva at heart, had chosen to stay to quietly admire mountain streams, smell damp herbs after the rain, and watch the sunsets paint the sky. A welcome, serene presence.
Esmi was nice and quiet, but the Omillian Sylvia was quieter still. So quiet that the others often forgot her entirely, only consulting her to settle disputes or occasionally asking her opinion. This particular Selva adored nature, coffee, travel, and research, making her a desirable, if passive, part of the otherwise merry company.
Two other entities, the Yullians Ellena and Ruthy, within this mobile half-elven abode also yearned to travel, each for their own vastly different reasons.
Ellena wished to see how her hometown had fared. To see if it had improved, what new innovations had bloomed, and what recent discoveries had been made. The mysterious, long-closed Youlle was famous for its technological prowess. And chatting with the ancient Ellen, Aellyss saw how obsessively its residents pursued progress.
Ruthy, the oldest and near-legendary figure who'd joined the First Exodus, having fled the advanced northern city with other disgruntled growers at the dawn of time, dreamed vindictively of witnessing Youlle's ruin. Preferably a total, satisfying collapse.
One of the first Kantinians, she wanted to check if the fields there were still tended properly, the harvests bountiful, and if their wretched sour stew still tasted exactly the same.
The born Kantinian, the latest and youngest soul, Amelia, had the strongest objections. She hated her hometown with a passion and declared they'd definitely avoid lingering in Kantine, if only to dodge the inevitable indigestion and depression.
As the chronologically latest soul, she argued her "fresh", higher-priority affairs took precedence. If only because something could still be done about them.
Amelia's investigation—the mysterious symbols, the disappearances—deserved a detective novel. Aellyss found them fascinating.
So fascinating that this collective consciousness had stuck in mid-leap from *vallo* to full *ljus*, "choosing" to continue a half-human existence as Omill Witchium employee Amelia.
Officially, they were still her. Only their agile, inhumanly strong half-wooden body and faint, unnerving elven abilities might betray them.
And, just like the original, they had profound trouble making decisions.
Because a part of Aellyss insisted they bypass the "wretched settlement" altogether and head straight to Prime. Or Kantine. Another part worried if they would ever reach the remote, closed, and protected Yulle. Yet another part was desperately pushing forward the sub-hive of consciousness, which was dragging its shared body along with its last strength toward the Omill already visible on the horizon.
Their collective innards tore them apart, pulling them in all directions at once, and internal conflicts whipped them across the Mainland. That's why the full Ellogos jokingly referred to them as "Chorus in miniature".
As an underdeveloped Ellogos entity, Aellyss couldn't communicate remotely with the original Chorus like mature beings. Proximity was essential.
And it was so annoying. Well… at least boredom was an impossible luxury.
"To Omill! Quickly!"
Amelia. Stop it. Before your rushing kills us.
"Don't you want to be in the best, cosiest, most astonishing city in the entire Universe? It's just ahead!"
"Hey! Per Amelia."
I want to be there *alive*. Opheletta objects.
"She always does. Don't mind her… Finnian! I haven't seen my superior in ages. And I've neglected my duties for that long too. Dismal."
Dismal indeed. You chose my form, my life, for our body. So, you have to justify it.
Excuse… Me?!
"Yes. How do we explain to our Chief that this multitude-housed body did its multitasking without telling him? Because *you* insist on keeping it a secret? Our work has been… sidelined."
I insist on hiding it from Kyle and the other agents. I believe Finnian might be trustworthy. Don't ask me why. And as for us being busy… Well. We're students, we "studied".
"But we didn't. Not really."
He'll never know. We passed the exams. And don't forget we were also searching for that missing OSD agent. And for any traces of this… malignancy in cities where no prior investigations occurred.
"But… they failed. We found nothing substantial. Everything is peaceful, beautiful… and delicious there."
Yes, nothing to boast about to Finian… Unless he'd find Lim's edible moss varieties or Zeth's charming Knapps' gem-lore scientifically intriguing.
"But none of this advances the Alliance's investigation."
Let's… hear the news from *him*, then?
"An interesting turn. Let's make *him* report to *us*. Yeah. I'm eager for fresh gossip."
Something on the road ahead suddenly interrupted the inner dialogue and made Aellyss focus.
Ah. I think we'll get our gossip. From another source. Thank you, Universe.
"What are you talking about?"
Look. There. On the road.
"What? Sky. Forest. Field. Woods... Ah! There. People. A dozen of them. They look… odd. And dangerous."
"They seem… off, Aellyss. We should hide in the woods before they spot us."
"Their drapes look very wrong."
"It's not wrong. It's… ancient. For you, I mean."
"Torn, bloody, and dirty. That's what I'm talking about. It's… not right?"
Something's amiss, at the very least. Untrustworthy.
"Agreed. Hide!"
"Will somebody listen to me?! Or to them?"
"Pfeh! They speak… that preposterous pre-reform dialect."
"Yes, Ruthy. They speak *Youllish*, people."
"Pray we shouldn't need to rescue ourselves. See how many they are? Ill tidings. Digging out again for Aeons? This time… we might not bother."
"We tried not to bother last time too… But Finnian pulled us out from underground by force and sent us back to work."
The grim crowd neared. Close enough now for Aellyss to eavesdrop.
"Don't be ridiculous, people! I'm so happy! I can't reach my city, but my city has found me! My kin! They are here! With us. But… why? An expedition? Or… what? Let's approach them! The language is slightly different, but it's fine. We can still talk."
About… what?
"Their weird appearance, for a start."
Right. Ask where they're going. Why they look… so terrified.
"Got thrashed by Kantinians en route and kicked out, I'd wager."
Here we go again… Ruthy, don't start…
"As if a dozen Kantinian bumpkins could thrash one northerner."
Ellena, stop it… Fine. We'll talk.
"Thank you. Finally."
"Honestly, I'm curious too. Youlle is a notorious source of all the strange stuff lately."
Curiosity killed you once already, Amelia.
"But now it's Ellena initiating the risk. And her death was different from mine. I mean, it could be part of the investigation. So… maybe Finnian won't smash or freeze us. Or freeze and *then* smash."
Sounds bad either way. They're coming from Omill's side. They could have already been there, so your genius plan is flawed. But let's talk to them. Let the puzzle speak for itself.
Aellyss waited for the group to come closer and made a gesture, meticulously mimicking Ellen's memory of a regional Yullian greeting.
The group eyed it and halted. Their expressions were a mix of approval and deep perplexity.
– Thou… art another fugitive? – one asked in a version of modern Yullian that sounded comical to all but Ellen. – Thou seemest… suspiciously calm. And clean. Thy drape isn't Yullian… yet thy old-fashioned greeting speaks otherwise.
"Aaargh… boggy hell, this reminds me of my death!"
Wait, Ami.
– I… am not quite from Yulle, – Aellyss lied smoothly, glossing over the knowledge's source. – Not at all, actually. Merely studied traditions from old books. Glad my gesture sufficed. Good practice.
– Aye. Thou'rt clever, – the woman confirmed, some tension leaving her shoulders.
– And now it's clear, – another chuckled, a hint of kindness returning to his weary face. – Why thou speakest like mine grandmother!
– Tis heartening the south preserves our tongue, – the first chided softly. – Vital, when we forget ourselves. Especially now… when Yulle has met its end.
"Whhaaat?!"
A wave of bitter, choking disbelief—undeniable, sincere—erupted from Ellena. Not a metaphor, for sure. Given the Yullians' state, it was horrifyingly literal.
"No-no-no! Surely not literally! It can't be!"
Ellen shuddered violently inside, jolting the half-elven body. Aellyss sent a wave of warm, stabilising sympathy.
Aye. Calm down. We'll hear the details.
"Knew it! Arrogance bears ill fruit. At last…"
Ruthy. Don't worsen it. I told you.
"Aye, Ruthy. Silence. Ask what happened!"
– What befell thee? – Aellyss obeyed. – Thou lookest… Provocative. Provoking questions.
The Yullians exchanged grim glances.
– Tis… aye, a long, ghastly tale… – a ragged man rasped, studying Aellyss with a queer intensity. – Hast time to hear?
– All thee need! – Aellyss voiced Ellena's desperate urge. – Pray, tell thy story. I see the gravity.
– We've scant time. – He nodded briskly.
– Walk with us! – suggested another. – We'll recount en route. Forgive our haste. Thee'll understand why shortly. We tarried overlong in Omill… and wish… to flee our horror. To reach Lim swiftly. Some northern kin dwell there.
– Thou might shorten thy path through yon woods, – Aellyss suggested, channelling Amelia's knowledge. – If thou dost not lose thyself… with an old map.
– We've a new one! – a younger Yullian replied, patting a pouch. – Sought Zeth first. To replenish what Omill couldn't provide… Though little left to trade, we'll improvise… We're northerners.
They smiled wearily—a phrase that visibly bolstered their spirits.
"Familiar plight."
– Walk and speak, then. – Aellyss urged, falling into step beside them.
The Yullians trudged on, the first northerner continuing—gallantly using simpler, more bookish phrases for the stranger's clarity.
How kind… No. Heroic, for someone so exhausted and terrified.
– Where to begin… – He scratched his stubbled chin. – We lived quietly… worked, ate, slept… cycles passed alike. "Dull", some thought. Now they'd welcome that dullness. Not flee, mad ones. Or madness itself…
He paused, struggling to order exhausted, traumatised thoughts.
– …All seemed normal… peaceful… till… – He shuddered. – Mid-cycle… 'tis strange to say… Unbelievable… still… Picture… Something smashes the Benefactorate to shards!
"Whhaaat?! "Smashes"?! The *Benefactorate*?! I… don't understand. Ask again! Impossible!"
– Whhaaat?! – Aellyss echoed the internal scream. – "Smashes"?!
– Aye… Picture—a building blown apart, replaced by vast flames…
"Instead of the Benefactorate?! By the Lands! What?! How?!"
Ellen's consciousness wavered. She might faint and take them all with her.
– Instead of the Benefactorate?! – Aellyss mirrored the shock.
– Aye! Thee sees—even thou art stunned. Imagine *our* terror!
– I… do! I'm shocked.
– Aye.
The other northerners nodded grimly.
"Ah… Ellen. What is the Benefactorate?"
"The de facto city rulers, Esmi. We have… We *had* when I was alive. So. They seemingly still had a Royal Palace, but all knew who truly governed. The Benefactorate and its witch graduates. So it's been since ancient times, when the Benefactors brought elven tech that saved Yulle. It became our paramount institution… Aellyss, I can't believe… Not that I doubt them, but— What next?!"
– And… then?!
– Well… All were shocked. Barely noticed when… the maniacs appeared citywide.
He spoke haltingly, still testing the reality of the words. While Aelliss' internal team was getting used to the language, starting to perceive it almost as native.
– Strange wretches attacked folk… Many sought the Temples with bites and wounds.
– Some fought them off magically and fled! – a templewoman added, her voice hollow. – We treated the wounds. Routine… save for the numbers! And the wounds were… *bites*! Imagine!
– I cannot!
– Aye… What swamp filth, we thought.
The priestess gloomily averted her eyes.
– Folk filed reports, — a woman with a guard's bearing added. – One… another… each wilder than the last. We panicked, advised folk stay home… hunted the scum. But they found *us* first.
She grinned darkly, but her eyes flashed with remembered horror.
– Soon… our bandaged victims began biting too, – the healer resumed, her voice thick. – Many trapped indoors with the threats… couldn't escape… The biters multiplied. I'm a Temple healer, you know… I hear many weird things. But one escapee told an unforgettable tale… She was bitten by her lover… thought it marital play… in the intimate dark. Till he tore the flesh. Lucky—it wasn't the neck. No, not so lucky… better dead, in fact. I barely escaped. She chased me, inhumanly fast. Without my witchery, healing arts, sharp tools… we'd not be speaking now.
She shuddered violently.
The entire group convulsed and instinctively walked faster. The memory had reignited their terror.
– I saw naught of the start… – another man joined in; his voice was intermittent from fatigue and distant. – Lived on the city's edge… Only warnings reached us… then… a vast, devouring horde. How we survived—it still baffles... I recall running madly… then nothing… Perhaps for the best… one could snap from the fear. Woke in the Wastes… Sank down. Thought I'd faint… till I heard… their roars, shrieks… Jumped! Ran! Fled that ghastly overgrown tract till I found… these.
He nodded at the group, who were now accelerating their pace frightfully.
"Words fail…"
"Yeah! Even *I* lack words! Imagine. I suspected strangeness in Youlle... But not *this* kind of strange. I thought they'd isolated themselves for some grand scheme… To dominate the Mainland in the end or something. But this… fits no theory."
"Surely they schemed to carve up half the Mainland. Good enough for a theory. But it was overcomplicated with their swamp witchery and splashed up in the end."
Ruthy. That's enough.
– Are there… other survivors? – The half-ljus switched the topic, averting an internal fight.
"Thanks, Aellyss. Precisely my question."
– We… know not. Outskirts folk may have escaped… passed here earlier, straight to Lim… – The healer shook her head, defeated. – From the witnesses we met… just us. Overall… Sadly… Few escaped Yulle.
"Horror!!!"
""Natural selection" still works. Youlle was doomed long ago."
Enough. I said silence.
"Yes. Someone. Silence this madwoman! People died. Many. A whole vast city!"
Aellyss retargeted their attention by nodding solemnly to the storytellers.
– We are fleeing our homeland, – the second Youllian continued dazedly. – To Lim… Passed Kantine, tried warning them… But those hot-but-empty heads drove us off unheard. Fine. Let them be devoured.
He snorted angrily.
"Natural selection works there too."
"Exactly my thought."
"Unwise to agree with the enemy, Amelia."
"Our "compatriots" like you have always been my worst enemies, Ruthy… Ellen, you have my condolences."
"Thanks!"
– …Then Omill. – The Yullian gasped, breathless from the pace and pallid from memory. – And they *listened*! Finally… Someone… They took us to a high-ranked woman… She found… a Liman translator… Our tale impressed them.
– Omillians are nice, – agreed another woman, a hint of warmth in her voice. – A pity our isolation barred us from such worthy people. They gave us food and medicine... Offered rest… but we thanked them and declined.
– …to flee faster, – her neighbour added mournfully. – Perhaps all in vain…
– …Why? – Aellyss asked.
– If the horde grows… Kantine for sure. Then Omill. Zeth. Lim… Even Liman power won't withstand the numbers. As our magic failed us… The horde was vast as… our city. I saw it. There will be… nowhere to hide. Soon.
They grimly fell silent again, unconsciously slowing their frantic pace.
"It sounds terrifyingly reasonable… Even if I still refuse to believe it… My beloved city… And these poor souls are so terrified! We should protect them. Considering, according to them, there are so few northerners left on the Mainland…"
"If they're heading to Lim… They will be safe, I suppose. Unless the horde simply circles the Mainland… As the Limans once did themselves."
"We can't escort them. But we'll protect them by learning how to counter this! And by finishing our investigation."
Amelia's resourcefulness and optimism are inexhaustible... I fear for the Ellogos, people. We've met none in the woods lately... That comes to me now and troubles me. Our Forest is the closest to Youlle. Our kin is immortal and utterly capable… but "the horde". It sounds concerning. We must find and warn them swiftly.
"Agreed. The question is vital."
"And… help for these people?"
Will be offered. Immediately.
The half-ljus addressed the refugees.
– It's time for me to return to my city. Thank you for sharing your time and your story. Let me share some resources with you. I think you'll find them useful along the way.
Aellyss rummaged in its pouch, retrieving a handful of high-value Omillian seeds and a few small, tradable gemstones. It would be enough for food and supplies for days.
The group halted, smiling wearily. The healer nodded approvingly, gratefully accepting the gifts.
– Thank thee profoundly! We never learned your origin… Is it Omill?
They stared curiously at the traveller.
– Partly… The whole Mainland is my home.
– As well as ours now, it seems, – the healer sighed. – I always dreamed of seeing the Mainland. Never thought it would be this way.
– I'll carry your story across the Mainland. And let none rest until we end this. Or it ends us.
The Yullian exhaled softly, a flicker of something like hope in her eyes.
– This… comforts me. Maybe we didn't run for nothing in the end. Ran to save a part of our culture. And a part of the Mainland… Good luck to you.
– And fair winds to you! – Aellyss made Ellen's traditional farewell gesture.
The groups parted. Aellyss turned its steps with renewed purpose toward Omill, and the Yullians continued their desperate flight away from it.
Leaving Ellena to grieve in silent, shocked disbelief within.
"Remind me, please — why did Yulle isolate? I never grasped the reason fully."
"Even we who lived there never fully understood, Esmi, believe me. Some… official nonsense about aggressive elves or something. Preventing Kantinian theft of our tech… We were so absorbed with our own interests and trusted the Benefactorate so completely. So we didn't question. "They know best". They had, after all, saved us from famine cycles ago. With… the elven technologies… Yes. The 'aggressive elves' was pure absurdity… All knew it. But the Kantinians? That seemed plausible to many. So we grumbled a little… and complied. Some left the city, though."
"So stupid of you to believe in this rot. As if we need your foolish attempts to replace true skill with some boggy witchery tricks."
"You don't have the ability to use those bog-witchery tricks, Ruthy. Even if you could have it. Somehow. I wish we could."
"No oose-brained tricks on our Land, Amelia. It's a Kantinian unbroken law."
"It could be broken. If it weren't for our stupidity, because there are witches in this 'totally non-witch' city, and I'm the very example."
"And what did it give you? Death? Witchcraft never leads to anything good. That's just folk wisdom. Look what happened to the whole of Youlle too."
"This discussion is… pointless. My investigative mood is still alive. And I really want to know what suspicious business is going on with and around Youlle. The smuggling is first. Some 'courier' crossing the Wastes on a flyer is the second. The amnesic stuff and this archaic chthonic Haze are above all because of the unlikelihood of the coincidence. And something else was brewing long before this, I'm sure… Including some plans targeting the Benefactorate particularly. And a whole city. I need an in-depth analysis."
Later. My head is bursting because of you all. Something like processing doesn't seem possible.
"You can't solve this without us. You wouldn't even try. Just flee back to dancing in the woods, and that's all the story."
Sounds appealing. Who says this can or should be solved? Unless it solves itself.
"You wanted to warn the Ellogoss. That suggests you don't think it's a self-solving problem."
Alright. We'll investigate. But first, we walk. To Omill. In silence.