Max stabbed his fork into a piece of pancake. He was uncaring of the sweet syrup dripping from his bite of food, as his attention was on the slightly shimmering cube of manipulated space in front of him. After removing the hot cake with his mouth, he slowly pushed his fork into the odd space. The fork was halfway into the cube before it suddenly vanished, leaving Max’s watery arm empty handed. He waited a moment, confirming the space held before pushing his fingers through the barrier. His hand emerged perfectly fine, fork in hand. Around Max, the faces of his friends relaxed, and with a shrug he stabbed and ate another piece of pancake.

“Well, it works.” Max said.

“Can I see the box? I’ve always wondered about this spell.” Said Bishop.

Max willed the system box to Bishop.

Pocket Dimension (Mythic):

Create a three-dimensional space of augmented reality anchored to the caster.

Size and volume depend on initial cast.

Terraforming inside the Pocket is possible.

Creation mana cost is variable. No maintenance cost. Cost to destroy the Pocket depends on weight of the items inside.

“You’re telling me you achieved this spell, and your arm spell last night?” Bishop asked.

“The arm, yes. But I succeeded with the Pocket Dimension maybe an hour ago? You and Belopi weren’t down yet.”

Celenia nodded, “How could you not hear the mini explosions? Every time the spell failed; it would explode. Did it not wake you?”

“Hmm, no. Couldn’t hear it.” Bishop said, and Belopi nodded. “Are you going to be making inventory rings soon?”

“I hope so. I tried to look at some in Salae, but I was turned away. They thought I was a spy for a competitor or something.”

“You want to look at mine?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got about three pages of notes from Vel’s.” Max said.

“Always about notes with you.” Clammy said. “Do you not ever feel out a spell?”

“With water, yes. But space spells can be rather harmful if done incorrectly.”

Clammy grumbled something inaudible before saying, “I did some thinking last night… Most of my nightmares are of me as Queen. I do terrible things to my subjects and often wake from seeing the faces of people I know. I want to remain asleep.”

“Remain asleep?” Reep asked.

“Yes… In my dreams I cannot remember anyone, but as I torture them or behead them, I start to remember. Last night… I… I saw the real Clammy. She was my [Royal Attendant], the closest thing to a friend as I had and I… I slowly pulled chunks of hair out of her skull… But just before she was fully bald, I remembered who she was… I felt disgusted, I felt guilty… I woke up not long after. I want to remain asleep; I want to remember longer.”

Everyone looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Belopi spoke first, and very softly. “Clammy, I do not know the full story behind you or the problems you face but let me be the first to say; I do not like this idea. I spent countless nights plagued by nightmares. I used to dream about Celenia and the horrible things I thought were happening to her. I do not think remaining in those dreams will be good for you long term.”

Clammy nodded, understanding the motherly Elf’s words. “Thank you Belopi, but my dreams are magical in nature… At least I think so. I didn’t have nightmares like this until I got my second class.”

“What about a burial?” Reep offered. “For those that died for you.”

“Yeah… We should…” Tears formed in Clammy’s eyes. “I should have done that a long time ago…”

“They would understand. You were quite literally fighting for your life, or a city’s life, for that matter.” Bishop said.

Clammy rubbed her flowing tears away, only for them to be replaced. She couldn’t speak, guilt flooded her throat. I wouldn’t have forgiven me! She screamed in her head, not listening to the words meant to be soothing. Images of the scalped [Royal Attendant] flooded her mind. The entire time the Queen ripped out strands of hair, the tortured woman never once lost her smile. The smile was haunting, like she was proud of the mad Queen. Like this was what she expected to have happened if Bella assumed the throne.

Max and Emi sat together in a small room in city hall. Before her departure, Vel had set up a meet and greet with Lesterwood’s resident Stalker extermination and reconnaissance team. The team consisted of three members, each from different backgrounds and each with different skills. Stalkers were rare in Lesterwood, but each winter usually brought one or two. But, since the events at Esmel, Vel had reorganized and updated many of the protocols the team went through. Stalkers used to hold a certain level of horror in their movements, devouring souls was something of myth and legend. But Esmel confirmed that they are being used as spies, rather than independent monsters.

To Max’s right, was the leader and eldest of the team, Miev. Vel explained to Max that she and Miev had known each other for centuries. Miev was an old and frail Human, her flesh looked grey, matching her calloused eyes. She was sickly thin, but her oversized frilly dress made up for the loss in mass. Her fingers were crooked and boney, a testament to suffering arthritis. She sat with perfect posture, hand kept in front and crossed. Like a Lady, but one from a creepy horror movie.

To his left, Beolen. A muscled Devil with arms thick as tree trunks. His shirt was ripped and torn, showing his hairless chest and shoulders. He sat cross armed; murmuring prayers to the wolf pelt he wore on his head. Jagged teeth and solid black eyes gave the dead wolf a feral stare, one that warded off unwanted conversation. Beolen lived in the forest of Lesterwood as an evolved [Spirt Hunter]. On cloudless nights, his wolf sang territorial howls into the open air, protecting the nearby plots of land.

Lastly sitting directly across from Max, was Clair. Clair was, oddly, the odd one out of the group. Clair was seven, a child, and one with an early class. Most achieved a class at the age of thirteen to fifteen, but Clair’s circumstances allowed her an advantage. Clair was a bloodline Spirit Caller. Her great-great-great grandfather was the court Caller for the Legion Dynasty during the Age of Magic. She was also the most powerful and renowned for her work finding Stalkers. Clair hummed a joyous tune while motioning the arms of a stuffed teddy bear-thing. She rocked back and forth in rhythm of her song, while swinging her dangling feet. Her tune ended with three long and low hums before she leaned back with a great smile.

“He’s here!” She squealed with excitement. Out of the corner of his eye, Max saw Miev roll her eyes, and Beolen straighten his posture slightly.

The teddy bear-thing, which Clair had stopped controlling, shuddered. It seized and contorted, trying to grip the table with its rounded stuffed paws. The bear slammed its arm down and used it as a support to stand. It looked around, first to Clair, then Beolen and Miev. It lingered on Max and Emi for a moment before turning back to Clair.

“I asked you not to call me into this thing.” The bear said. “It’s demeaning.”

“But! You are soooooo cute and soft!” Clair retorted with a pout.

The bear sighed. “For what reason have you called? I do not sense any Stalkers… Please don’t tell me this is another ‘tea party’. I think you traumatized those children…”

“No, silly Unlotous. You are here to meet Max and Emi! Aunty Vel said he can help us find Stalkers!”

“Aunty?” Max asked.

“Everyone is an aunt or uncle to her.” Miev said with a prude wit.

The bear walked over the table to Max and Emi. “Nice arm. I’m Unlotous, Clair’s contracted Spirit.”

“Thanks, I’m Max, this is my bond, Emi.”

“Hello!” Emi said.

“Oh, you can speak. Well met, Emi, Max. Might I query how you will be of service to our small little team?”

“Sure, I can feel space.”

“Feel space?” Beolen asked.

Max nodded. “I’m a [Space Mage], and I can tell if an area of space is occupied.”

“Even if the space is occupied by a being not of this world?”.

“Yes, tried and tested. Stalkers are almost like big centipedes, long and with many legs.”

“Interesting…” Unlotous said through a stitched face. “And here I thought I was the only one who could see Stalkers. Veline brought us an interesting one as it seems…”

“How do you all see Stalkers, if you don’t mind me asking.” Max asked.

“I commune with the dead, rather than spot them. If the dead start panicking, then I alert the team. They find them from there.” Miev said.

“A [Necromancer] evolution then?”

“[Soul Shepard], yes.”

“I talk to wolf. He kill Stalker.” Beolen huffed.

“Do you kill the Stalkers in anyway, or is it only your wolf?”

“Cannot see. Only wolf.”

“I see, thank you. What about you and Clair?” Max asked Unlotous.

“We have various means, but usually I see them pierce the veil, and I alert Clair to call me. We go from there.” Unlotous said.

“The veil? Can I ask where you are from?”

The stuffed bear seemed to smile, “No, you may not.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.” Max quickly added.

“No offence taken, but my home is not somewhere I wish to speak of. Especially to those who are not allowed entry.”

Max… Emi said through their bond.

I know, I know. I have entry to the Astral…

The next few hours equated to Unlotous and Miev explaining protocols and their safety systems while Beolen and Clair quietly sat. At one point Clair stood and pet the wolf pelt draped across Beolen. He made no move to stop her, but from his posture and hesitant facial expression, it was obvious he did not enjoy what was happening. Clair seemed to scare the poor muscley Devil, something that made Max smile even though he knew he shouldn’t.

“Vel left me with a note saying that you will probably be fighting on the front lines in case of a war or terroristic event. So, I will not bore you with the details of those protocols.” Miev said.

“Looks like we are done then!” Unlotous said. “Any last questions, Max, Emi?”

“Yes… Do you know of the Astral?”

The bear’s head tilted down slightly. “Do you?”

“I have access, yes…”

“Have you been?”

“Not yet…”

“Have you seen any eyes?”

“Not directly.”

Unlotous leaned back, spun on its heels, and spoke to Clair. “Invite Max and Emi to a tea party, we have a lot to discuss.” As soon as his words finished, the spirit left the stuffed bear, causing it to softly fall to the wooden table.

“Yay! Tea party!” Clair shouted.

A small wooden fisherman’s cabin at the snaking of a long river. A place of rest for some, safety for others, or even a landmark to help those lost. All three members of the Humble Titans remembered the cabin, but only two had been inside. It was nothing special, only a support beams and splintery wooden planks made up the peaceful building. Evidence of a small cot, along with an iron furnace were scratched deep into the foundation. To Max, the cabin was a starting point. The first place of refuge and the place of resolve. To Clammy, the cabin was a painful reminder of who she once was. Weak, selfish, arrogant and, worst of all, someone to die for.

They both traced the once bloodstained floor with their footsteps, walking in circles around the support beam. Max remembered it to be bigger, which made him smile as he knew he was far beyond this place. Back then he was weak, but now? Now he could handle himself and protect those he needed to. Clammy remembered it to be colder. She remembered bleeding out, death on the horizon and guilt mixed regret in the air. She stifled her tears, as she looked around, hoping the others wouldn’t notice.

Reep stood next to Bishop, looking bitter and annoyed. She didn’t want to be out here; she didn’t want to be back here. The cabin was a reminder of what she once was. She remembered standing outside, waiting for Max and Clammy’s exit. She knew they were going to die, and yet she could not do anything. To her, the cabin was slavery, her past life, and her inner greed. She had told no one this, but when Clammy first walked out of the cabin following Max, Reep envied her. A young girl with her whole life ahead of her. A young girl without the scars and a slave’s past. And most of all, a young girl that was free. Reep knew that Denny and Tyr were going to take her, to use her, but in that single moment, Reep wanted to be Clammy.

The cabin was a memory, one with different means to each of them. But that was not their reason for being out there. They moved to the forest, Clammy taking lead. She fought through the tears and pain of remembering, retracing her steps, and finding the spot where her life crashed and burned. On the main road connecting to Lesterwood’s southern entrance, about a day’s journey away, was the skeleton of a wooden wagon. The wheels were stripped, along with any fabric and metal castings. A few pieces were held together with nails, but most were dismantled and scattered.

Clammy peered through the scrap with defenseless eyes. The last place Clammy, Josie, Buck, and Mitchi were seen alive. Goblins were the cause. They had set up an ambush and attacked the defenseless travelers. They raped, pillaged, and murdered, only allowing for Bella’s escape into the forest. Goblins deserved whatever was coming to them during the raid. They were a plague, a scourge, an illness to civilization. They had to die; they must be-

A leathery green tinted hand landed on Clammy’s shoulder, removing her from her thoughts. “What do you want to do?” Asked Bishop in a tender voice.

“Burn it.” Clammy of Lesterwood said. “Burn it all.”

Dried and ice frosted wood burned rather well when magic was involved. A pyre of cracking flame warmed up the cold air, melting the snow and ice, and repelling anything that looked in from the trees.

“Would you like to say some words?” Max asked Clammy.

She nodded, gathering the courage. “Clammy, Josie, Buck, and Mitchi… I was spoiled, was I not? I got anything and everything I wanted… I got candies, toys, jewelry, clothes… But I was alone, I wanted something I was never going to have… A family. You four gave me that. You gave me the one thing I truly desired, and you all died because of it. For that, I am sorry. I should never have run away; I should never have had you four come with me. But I did…”

Clammy pushed away a tear. “Josie? Do you remember that time where you found me trying to sneak past the guard into the kitchen for a late-night snack? Heh, you were so pissed, telling me ‘A princess should not be sneaking around!’ You were always the prudent one, correcting my dress or hat, adjusting my posture… I used to hate you… You were the only one to ever boss me around. Childish, I know, but it’s true. After all of the shit I gave you, you would still smile and cheer me on. You had faith in me, you saw something in me. Only Now I realize that.”

A smile overcame Clammy’s face. “Buck, Buck, Buck… I remember trying to coerce you into spying on my father. I’m glad you said no, it would not have ended well. Sorry about punishing you for disobedience… But hey, my sheets were softer than ever. You were always good to me. I can’t remember a time you raised your voice or tried to reprimand me… I guess you left all of that to Josie, huh?”

“Mitchi Mitchalti, I was always jealous of your name.” Clammy continued. “It had a flow to it, one I never thought Bella Salae had. I was jealous of you in my early teens, and I think I took it out on you. Sorry for that, I could tell you despised me. But you never treated me differently. Sure, I would see the glares or an occasional roll of the eyes, but you never changed how you talked with me. Others did, which I always felt was an abuse of power on my part.”

Clammy hesitated with what to say next. “Clammy, sorry I took your name… I watched you die. The others? I only heard them scream, but you, I watched the knife stab into your back. You pushed me away, you used your last moments in this world to shove me away from the goblin. I… I think that is why I took your name. I felt I needed to honor you somehow. I thought that the others may be alive, that their screams were exaggerated, that they escaped. But you, I saw you die… You know, I used to think your name was stupid. ‘Who is named Clammy?’ I would ask myself… But now I know. Clammy is a name of bravery, of loyalty, of selflessness. Anyone named Clammy should be proud of their name. I know I am. So, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue to use it. It’s done me well…”

“Well said, Clammy, well said.” Bishop quietly said.

They remained watching the wood burn for some time before nothing was left. Only charred remains mixed with slush and soot left evidence of a structure. But using her magic, Clammy dispersed the remains high into the air, and over the treetops. The wagon was gone, and along with it; the tears the survivor shed. The group left back to Lesterwood. Behind them were memories, some good, some telling, and some horrors they would never forget.

Max and Emi stood high in the air, above the clouds and cold front. The air was thin, but they were not staying up there for long. The bonded pair were conditioning themselves. They were getting used to free falling. Moving in the air was unnatural to both of them and being able to function after a teleport into the sky would only prove beneficial. The first and oddly most difficult aspect of free falling was orientating to the ground. If they weren’t careful, they would flip over and over, losing the ground in the process. But as they practiced, the rushing winds seemed to speak to them, and they were able to fall correctly. Next, was finding a new point to teleport to. Everything that high in the air is small. A single building could be the size of a quarter, making identifying where to go difficult. But Max had a trick, his minimap. If he knew he wanted to go in a direction, the minimap would alert him when he was looking for the correct direction. ‘Field of vision’, he called it. From there, it was getting used to spotting from the air.

Once they went through a free fall a few times, the two called it. They had one last thing to do before dinner. They teleported into Lesterwood, a few streets from their target. They walked through the area, passing a small school for young children. The kids played on something akin to a playground, while adults watched and talked on the sidelines. Max glanced past, looking for a mother and son, confirming they were packing up for the evening.

“Go time.” Max whispered, teleporting onto a nearby roof. He and Emi watched the mother and son walk home, following from above.

The family duo entered their small home, unaware of being followed. Before the mother could start making dinner, aloud and hasty knock sounded from the door. The mother put down the pot and side of beef she held and opened the door. No one was there, but a small, brown, and lumpy burlap sack sat unattended. The mother picked up the item, bringing it inside. It was heavy, and the jostling sound of coin made guess work easy. But the color of the coin surprised her. She expected bronze-red with streaks of silver, as other guards and family friends had dropped off similar gifts. It was something her late husband always talked about.

“If something ever happens to me, the other guards will make sure you live happily.” He told her the day they married. She always wanted to slap him when he talked about things like this. She thought it was a jinx, but he thought himself to be invincible. As golden coins spilled out of the sack and hot tears shed down her face, she found herself unable to stand. But her son was there to catch her.