Meditating in her workshop and home, Heidie worked hard to suppress her emotions. Maintaining a stable state of mind during mana circulation was becoming an issue. This was simply another challenge to overcome. I am now an achiever, Heidie told herself, An Overcomer, even. Old habits of sitting around and doing nothing productive for days on end were now dead and buried by necessity. Her schedule was hell; a nightmare not sane for human implementation. Fortunately Heidie was dealing with it with grace and dignity. Mental faculties unimpaired and better than ever.

Ultimately the goal was pretty simple: Heidie wanted to survive and maintain some semblance of free will to make her own decisions. Limited information was an issue, but even so a certain conclusion was inescapable: this world was a hostile place for a defenseless, nieve interdimensional traveler. Horrors for the defenseless dwelled in this world. Despite those that Heidie had seen with her own eyes, the dangers she had not seen worried her more. Giant sapient spiders and magical beasts were frightening, but knowing for a certainty that humanoids capable of magic made civilizations here? That was the real horror. Both giant spiders and Heidie’s own species were scary, but she didn’t know what sapient spiders were really like. Humans though, Heidie knew what humans could be like. Even without magic in Heidie’s own world, the depths of cruelty that human beings were capable of to one another were terrible to consider. With magic involved all bets were off. Where death might be a release on earth may only be the beginning of suffering here. Even vague ideas of what could be done to people with magic chilled Heidie to her core. Power, knowledge, and skill to protect herself were desperately needed.

Less than two months had passed since she had been stranded here. Stress and anxiety had reached a breaking point weeks ago but Heidie was an expert in avoidance. She ignored the chills throughout her body and the involuntary tightness of muscles in her chest and instead tried to focus on meditation. Heidie thought calming thoughts to herself, No panic attacks. I’m not having a panic attack. I’m fine, Heidie repeated to herself over and over, Everything’s fine. Don’t think about the demon or your bargain with it. Don’t think about the spiders. Paralyzed. Bundled in silk. Flesh melting into soup. Don’t think about war, or possibly genocidal kingdoms that might kill you on sight, Kill them first!, or brutal exercise that would cripple someone without regeneration, Need to be strong. Have to be strong, or how much fucking information about this world you don’t have but need in order to make informed decicions. Running blind with a demon guiding the way. It’s okay. I’m fine. Nothing is fine!! Everything’s fine.

Slowly, very slowly, the biting edge of panic and terror in her gut faded into something more manageable. Heidie kept her eyes closed and simply breathed as she circulated mana, very deliberately not thinking about the existential dread that threatened to overwhelm the calm, determined facade she had built up. Bitter emotions about her position swelled below the surface of Heidie’s mind. Magic was bullshit. This world was bullshit. Thinking about magic too much made Heidie angry. Angry was good. Angry was reliable. Better than curling up on the floor in the fetal position anyway.

Having difficulty clearing her mind, the fledgling necromancer and almost-college student decided to think about her minions a little. Heidie knew her minions were absurdly intelligent, even as limited as they were. They could understand complex, abstract, verbal orders and carry them out more or less correctly, understand and infer rather than mindlessly, stupidly obey to the absolute letter and no more. Flexibility to correctly intuit orders to something close to the manner in which they were intended without lengthy, perfectly precise direction was better than any computer program Heidie had ever heard of. All of that was even before their ability to process new information and communicate things they had learned. All of this, and it took her only a few moments and barely any effort to raise a corpse. Sure there was a limit to how many she could control before they started doing their own thing, but come on! It was absurd! Such absurdity abounded that it boggled the mind, really. Magic was bullshit. Emotions backed off as Heidie stopped focusing so hard on suppressing a breakdown, Heidie’s mana circulation smoothed out a little. How did the spell that raised minions function, technically speaking? Or achieve anything that it did? Where the energy called mana come from? How did a human or whatever thing was using mana actually interface with that energy on a technical level? Heidie's musings took an accusitory tone, What the fuck, universe!? Get your shit together! Total bullshit. Ultimately the train of thought was irrelevant: if it was bullshit that would keep her alive and free, Heidie would take it regardless.

What she was capable of now was ridiculous to her, to any standard she could provide with the common sense of her world. Magic from a video game or shitty webnovel. Some ridiculous garbage that blatantly ignored the laws of physics and reason. Heidie’s worldview had some difficulty in attaching this all to reality as she knew it. She’d loved fiction and magic in books, all media, really, but seeing in action was different: She was a combination of terrified at its existence and ecstatic over it all at the same time. What were the mechanics behind magic? Alien supercomputers? God-like beings trapped in a dyson-sphere-thing to siphon energy from them? Cthulhu? a memetic parasite? At this point Heidie could only accept that conjecture of its nature wasn't helpful right now. Magic existed, she was capable of it. Heidie decided she should simply avoid getting drawn into false assumptions and worry about the nitty-gritty details when she had the luxury.

Barely a month and she had learned spells, built a small militia of monsters, each stronger than a baseline human, faster, more durable, yet Heidie knew as a chilling certainty it wasn’t enough. Itching disquiet had sunk its roots into her guts. Between stories the dwarves had told of local geography--legends of horrors in the so called ‘desolate south’, of the wars raging across the continent, of Lome’Matar’s lectures and hints at what a truly powerful individual could do with magic; Something would pop up that she couldn’t deal with sooner or later, it was only a matter of time.

The main lesson Heidie had taken from the dwarves and the demon was that she was lucky; incredibly, win the goddamn four-hundred million dollar lottery thrice lucky. Without the demon head there would have been only death, or worse, for her. Threats to life and limb so far were, for lack of better terms, singularly unimpressive. Sapient spiders that had almost certainly allowed her to leave their territory of their own volition, a monstrous lighting tiger that, for its species, was effectively a kitten with half-open eyes, and bottom feeding predator species in the plains. The desolate south, where Heidie now knew she was located in, wasn’t called that for its lack of nature or greenery, though some parts were indeed pretty desolate, but for its lack of civilization. Monsters deserving of the name lived, grew, and hibernated here. Army killers. City Killers. Maybe worse.

Heidie felt muscle spasms in her face twitch uncontrollably as she thought of the dwarves, And the dwarves are trying to build a village here instead of getting the fuck out as soon as possible? Goddamn it. Assuming they aren’t simply insane, how bad must the war be that they’d see this as the better alternative? I hate this, Heidie thought, Not knowing anything. Operating on assumption and hoping everything works out for the best. Fuck. Sighing, Heidie started losing focus on her meditation. Taking a deep breath she thought more calming thoughts, It’s all good. I’ll get stronger. Strong enough to protect myself. Figure all this out.

Feeling moisture in her eyes, Heidie ignored the half-formed tears. Her home, her real home, was lost to her for now. Unless something new dropped out of the sky onto her lap, years and years would pass before Heidie could find out if returning to her own world was even possible to begin with. Then the consideration that Lome'Matar probably have to be the one to return her. Did Heidie really want Lome'Matar to have access to her world? to know where, whatever where meant, it was? Nothing about that sounded great to Heidie. This village was a poor replacement for home, but better than any alternative Heidie could think of. Primitive and under reconstruction it may be, but it represented an abundance of food, shelter, and tentative illusion of safety. That the safety was definitely an illusion was the problem here. Relying on her alone for protection was a major mistake by the dwarves, in Heidie’s opinion. They were overestimating her. How I can protect this village and the people here when I can’t even protect myself?

Suddenly, Heidie shuddered where she sat. Something was wrong: where a vestigial connection had been was now suddenly nothing; It had winked out of her consciousness in an instant. Another connection felt affected as well, becoming damaged and weak in the same moment the other snuffed out. My Minions! Eyes snapping open Heidie’s thoughts raced. Something had eliminating one of her creations with no fight, no struggle that she could sense, and damaged another near destruction in the same instant.

The scouts to the wetlands. Heidie felt sure the two affected undead had been the scouts she’d sent to investigate. That was bad; They’d only left a short while ago and if whatever they ran into had been coming from the wetlands they might find their way to the village. If the enemy was observant, they would have to be blind to fail to notice the smoke from the various projects the dwarves were working on.

Heidie frantically brushed against her connection to the damaged, nearly destroyed minion. Straining against the incomplete connection, Heidie threw herself into it, trying to sense something, anything from the damaged creation. Nothing worked. Cursing her current limitations for commanding and gathering information from her minions Heidie wanted to scream in frustration. Line of sight and verbal orders only was a terrible limitation.

The damaged, weak connection winked out of Heidie’s mind. The shock as the connection vanished into nothingness shocked Heidie into action. Existential crisis later, Heidie told herself, preparing to try and push her feelings out of mind. Let it all out and then deal with this. Just a short little moment of letting it out then back to work. Heidie took a deep breath and shot up, composure fading into incontenent fury. As loud as she could Heidie screamed at the wall, “Shitfuck! Fuck this world’s festering asswaffle!! I'll kill you!! DON'T FUCK WITH ME!” The wall seemed unimpressed. Heidie continued screaming threats in a viscious tirade for a few moments before pausing, finding catharsis in her reasonable expression of emotion, such as any composed individual leaving meditation might indulge in, and prepared for her plan to deal with the situation. Eyes darting to the corner where a demon head in a backpack lay on an undead soldier’s lap, the soldier holding an only slightly damaged economics textbook at the proper height and angle for the demon to read. Heidie wasted no further time and executed phase one: ask the demon what to do. “Two of my minions just died and I think they’re the scouts I sent earlier to look at the fire and that means there’s danger close to the village and maybe it’s also what set fire to the wetlands! What do I do?” Heidie asked in a single breathless statement,

The backpack shifted on the soldier’s lap, horns sticking awkwardly out of the main compartment. Green eyes glowed from within the canvas container.

“My dear student,” the demon drawled, clearing smiling smugly underneath the canvas of it’s backpack, “There is only one thing to do against an unknown enemy for a small, delicate, delicious acolyte such as yourself: prepare to retreat and to leave behind all that would slow you down.”

Heidie chafed at the idea of abandoning the village, but agreed in concept. She liked the dwarves but wasn’t prepared to die for them. Still, running before even knowing what it was she was running from sounded like a shitty plan to her. Heidie decided to hold that thought for a moment and executed phase two: do what the demon said if it was reasonable.

“Right. Prepare to run,” Heidie agreed, springing into action. First, directing a soldier to get the rest of his comrades and start gathering her salvaged backpacks and some supplies of water and food, another soldier was excluded from this to go and find Dharun and bring him back to the workshop, then dashing outside to an idle bison and ordering it to bring all of the patrolling minions and worker minions back to the village ASAP.

Entering her home/workshop again Heidie addressed Lome’Matar, “There has to be something I can do to learn about the threat while I get ready to run, right? Don’t fight against the unknown if you have other options: that makes sense. But if it is something I can deal with I want to know.”

Lome’Matar’s voice practically dripped patient condescension, “Oh, you dear child, you want to save the village? Your new pets? Then try, but do so correctly. Your minions are weak. Acceptable only against the most mundane threats. Worthless against anything truly dangerous. Even if you could potentially combat the threat you lack even the most basic foundation to utilize your minions in real combat. A necromancer does not lead from the front unless they are desperate, exceptionally powerful, or foolish. Send more scouts if you wish, but be prepared for the worst. Perhaps you’ll learn it’s something you can deal with. Perhaps not. Either way you should not expose yourself to an unknown if it can be prevented.

“More pressing than the state of your minions is you, my precious student,” Lome’Matar drawled, “You are weak. Know this. Accept it. A single month is barely enough in order to begin overcoming your most extreme physical deficiencies. Lack of experience and lack of a true foundation in magic and sorcery are critical failures even more dangerous than your frail physicality and progress in such fields will be measured in years, even for one who has your unique advantages.”

Heidie felt like she’d taken a blow to the gut. Knowing the words to be true didn’t lessen the blow to hear her weakness spoken so bluntly. The words held nothing Heidie could refute. Try to scout out the threat again, but be ready to retreat. Heidie didn’t like it but it made too much sense to ignore the demon’s advice. Picking up Lome’Matar’s backpack and striding over to her magnificent undead tiger, Heidie stowed the demon’s head in a fleshy pocket of the mount’s organic saddle, focused a moment to secure it with shaped tendrils of flesh “Don’t forget to bring my books, dear student.” Lome’Matar’s voice echoed from the saddle. Heidie forced herself not to retort in anger and calmed herself a little by running her hands through the tiger minion’s cold, matted hair.

This goddamn demon... If I just didn't need its help so badly...At least Gracey Charlston the Fourth is on my side. Heidie spent a moment hugging the undead tiger, Gracey needs a good brushing too: her fur is getting nasty, Heidie thought to herself numbly, I’ll learn anything I need to learn. Make better minions. Get more versatility. More options. I just need time to make myself strong enough.

Bursting through the entrance of Heidie’s workshop with a storm of dwarvish profanity came Dharun, an undead soldier following uncomfortably close in the elder’s footsteps, a hair's breadth from the cursing dwarf.

“He’s upset at the means of which he was brought here. Your minion was very insistent,” Lome Matar's muffled voice echoed from Gracey’s saddle. Heidie grimaced at the translation. Right. Of course that would happen. Whatever. Dharun was fine.

“Tell him that there’s something dangerous near to, possibly approaching, the village that may be related to the fire in the wetlands. Two of my scouts were destroyed. I’m trying to scout it out, but his people need to prepare to run if it’s too much for me.” Heidie instructed. Hesitating for a moment, she thought about the number of potential mounts that she had left. Ten Bison left now. She wanted to send another two to scout. One to look for what killed the last two, one to follow the first from afar and bring back information if something disintegrated it. I'll be damned before I do nothing at all to help when I have something to offer, Heidie told herself, deciding to just go for it, “I can offer eight bison as mounts and beasts of burden. I hope that they are not needed, but whatever’s out there killed two of their kind in an instant. If it's not something I can drive off we may need to run. They’ll gather outside my building. Talk to me if you need them elsewhere”

Lome’Matar translated and Dharun’s face puckered like he’d swallowed something bitter. Heidie couldn’t blame him; all the work that had gone into the reconstruction, all the passion, now maybe for nothing. Fortunately, Dharun was a rational sort: the lives of his people were more important than pride or obstinate stubbornness. Nodding in acceptance the dwarven elder left quickly and broke into a run, shouting to his people as he moved. Familiar sounds of approaching hooves thundered through the walls and Heidie left her workshop again to send out a final effort to scout the threat. I’m making some minions that can fly to be my scouts as soon as I know how, Heidie resolved.

Anxious minutes passed as Heidie and her minions packed up as quickly as possible. Books, food preserved by the dwarves, clean water. Everything Heidie needed to keep Lome'Matar entertained and keep herself alive on the run was gathered. Dwarves were doing the same and Heidie felt badly for them: the refugees had been through enough trauma without the sort of fear Heidie could see in them now. Running around in panic, the dwarves were hitching one of Heidie’s bison to a wagon and filling it full of tools and supplies. The rest of the bison were already hastily outfitted; the most vulnerable of the dwarves would ride on them to escape if the worst case came to pass. Feeling her gut sink, Heidie did her best to deal with the truth: the dwarves overestimated her. She couldn’t protect them if they had to run, might not even be able to protect herself. What could be done to help was done and Heidie knew she’d have to make peace with it, whatever happened; the fledgling necromancer knew she wouldn't sacrifice herself for these people.. Fully resolved to do whatever it took to survive, Heidie felt sick at her own weakness. Heidie muttered to herself, “Please let this all be an overreaction,”

Inside a fleshy compartment on Heidie’s own mount, Lome’Matar chose to remain silent. Giggling in anticipation wouldn’t help him with his student in the future. Smiling to himself in anticipation, the demon waited to see what would happen next. Taking a mortal as a student was simply too much fun. The old demon hoped that their time together would last a little while longer before she died or ended up broken into something useless or uninteresting. At least long enough for Lome’Matar to study his student’s irregularities in greater depth, but however it turned out, his limited ability to control the situation was turning out to make his little vacation more enjoyable than he anticipated. Stimulation was so much more interesting when you weren’t in control of what happened next, all true assets safeguarded against the unexpected. Teeth peeled in a ghoulish smile, Lome’Matar watched and waited. Whatever would happen would happen soon. He couldn’t wait. Certainty that he could keep his student's mind from fracturing in unconstructive ways during his training filled the demon. Surviving the rest? That was up to her.