The Pilgrims carry my cage while chanting,

“To the Tower!”

“To the Tower!”

“To the Tower!”

A Pilgrim points toward a heliotrope cloud ahead of us. “Shouldn’t we avoid that purple fog?” they ask.

“That stuff came from trees and it’s killing the fungus! Just look up!” another Pilgrim answers.

Overhead wisps of heliotrope tangle with clusters of yellow spores. The heliotrope overwhelms the spores in almost every instance.

“Hey, wait, is all of this the awakening gas I heard about!?”

“Honestly, I have no idea! It’s a different color than what we were given.”

A breeze sweeps the cloud of heliotrope over us.

As it did previously, the world turns distant and the apparitions reappear. This time the apparitions are not far away but are all around me.

In my peripheral, I see a girl with vermillion haze swirling in her chest. The same thought as before pervades my mind: all of these apparitions are off-kilter; all of them are unfinished.

Someone pushes through the crowd and asks the girl, “Ayameko, have you seen Scarlett!?”

“No! Sorry, Preacher Wainwright, we’ve been a little busy!” Ayameko shouts back. “But I’m sure she’s someplace safe!”

“T-thanks anyway!” Preacher Wainwright responds, shouldering his way deeper into the mob.

My eyes continue to prick at Ayameko. The compulsion that struck me earlier returns. As it did before, the heliotrope responds to my will, and a violet flame reaches out to Ayameko. It burns within her, urging the vermillion haze toward the edges of her body.

Ayameko reaches for her chest.

I watch as the vermillion amasses near where Ayameko’s vital organs would be. The haze begins to circulate.

“Hey, are you okay?” someone asks her.

I look away as Ayameko collapses.

The Pilgrims carry my cage past a glass tree. Above me, I see a girl with a lantern and the vague outline of a boy.

The boy waves. “Hello, Fairy!” I hear Nick’s distant voice shout.

Earl vanishes and reappears atop my cage. “Suggestion: Since the Mistress may regret any actions taken in the Mistress’s present, incomplete state of mind, this one recommends the Mistress discontinue their actions.”

A growl comes from Earl’s throat as she slices a gash into her palm. “Statement: This one is appalled by the heretical attack that has taken place upon the Mistress!’” Her blue blood drips down the sides of the lantern and ignites with violet fire. The fire forms into a hilt, turning the lantern into something akin to a mace. “This one shall teach the fleshie Jessica what it’s like to be devoured by a maw.”

Unable to see anything but the violet flames, a Pilgrim points, shouting, “F-fireball; floating above the cage!”

Summer and Noah both look up and shout in tandem, “Lower the cage!”

My cage hits the snow with a thump.

Earl slams the mace upon the cage’s bars. The cage squirms.

Needles shoot from the cage’s eyes—the flame withers them.

Earl scoffs; her mace smashes upon the cage a second time. A crack forms. Flames use the crack as a means of invasion.

The Pilgrim’s glance at one another.

“I-I think this might be the Mistress helping us! This is our chance!” someone shouts.

The Pilgrims charge. They cleave at the cage while avoiding the violet fire.

The cage’s eyes dart left to right. Forth oozes from the cage as cracks become rifts. Its eyes burst.

A blue wall appears.

A Malison has been undone.

No lingering effects.

A Malison has been undone.

No lingering effects.

A Malison has been undone.

No lingering effects.

The crowd stumbles away as the cage splinters.

My knees hit the snow.

Earl’s canvas-wrapped feet appear in front of me. She lays her palm over the hole at the back of my helmet.

{I thank thee, Earl.} Earl’s Blood drains toward my kiln. {I hope I did not worry thee.}

The arc suit ignites in violet.

“Admission: This one was scar— ...Alarmed. This one was alarmed,” Earl whispers. “But this one hasn’t felt it so heavily in a very long time, and so this one no longer understands the feeling.“

Violet flames curl off my body, drifting back into Earl’s lantern.

“Statement: ...This one does understand that the Mistress’s praises are overdue!” She laughs. “Demand: So this one asks the Mistress to praise this one.”

{I… I wish I were more like thee. Then this would have never happened, and the Maw would not be here burning the camps.}

Scoffing, she says, “Remark: If the Mistress were more like this one, then there would be nothing for the Maw to burn.”

{Then together, we strike a perfect balance.} I gaze into Earl’s white eyes. {Besides, thou art the best Interface.}

Earl grins as the residual flames die.

The crowd roars.

“We’ll mobilize around the Fairy!”

“We’re gonna fight back!”

“Spread the word!”

Summer and Noah step between me and the passionate masses.

“Back up!” Summer shouts.

Noah nods. “Keep giving the Fairy room until she’s ready, people!”

‘I am the worst person to lead.’ Explosions echo from Sheep Meadow. ‘...but I appear to be the only one left who can, so I shall.’

I reach back to yank at the remnants of bone lodged in the back of my helmet. Yet my arms are too stiff to bend; some bone slivers still run through my joints.

Earl vanishes as Owl and Rabbit rush over.

“Miss Nightingale, don’t tug at it,” Owl says, kneeling next to me. “Just ignore everything for a moment and compose yourself.”

Rabbit removes a long pair of gloves and a carrot-shaped piece of rubber. “We’ll pluck out any leftover trash and give your suit a quick patch!”

I nod.

Even without me, the Pilgrims begin to rush to and fro. Watching them, I remember something I did while in the cage. {Earl… I think I may have done something to some of the Pilgrims.}

Earl reappears on a glass tree branch. “Response: The Mistress acted on a natural Kiln impulse to expand. It’s no surprise since the Mistress’s judgments were restrained by malisons.”

Before I may probe further, someone yells, “Hey, something is happening on the blow-up screen!”

“Oh, the camera is still streaming to the projectors,” Owl says, tossing shriveled bones into the snow. “I thought they’d have found it by now.”

Looking up, I see a large wall displaying an image of the stage’s debris. The picture shows four people: Nyle, Ethan, and two huge men in full armor. Ethan’s ears, nose, and eyes bleed while Nyle’s knuckles and biceps ooze blood.

The two men are the pair sent by Jessica to apprehend the person who threw the javelin earlier. I cannot see their faces, but I can see that they have what resembles a horned bear etched onto their chest plates. The only difference is that the bear on the right man’s chest has a broken horn.

“Give up, and we’ll only break one of your arms before dragging you off,” the one-horned man says.

“If you don’t, we’ll blow off both your arms and legs.” The two-horned man says, brandishing a firearm. “Then I guess we’ll take you anyway.”

Ethan wipes blood from his face with his shirt. I notice a purplish glass glimmer underneath the blood.

“C-can’t we just go?” Ethan mumbles.

Nyle shakes out his arms, spattering the ground in blood. Underneath, I see black glass on his arms. “Fita!” he shouts at them. “You threaten us with arm breaking like you’re both big men, but you’re pointing guns at us? We’d rather die than have cowards like you shoot us and drag us off!”

“You want to fight us?” the one-horned man asks, moving his finger between him and his comrade.

The two-horned man raises a fist. “Like you want to fight us hand to hand?”

Nyle nods.

Ethan gawks at Nyle in disbelief. “They’re like seven-foot-tall and at least four hundred pounds!”

“Yeah, but we’re some of the highest-level people in the camp!” Nyle says.

“I’m only level five,” Ethan whispers.

Watching for the two men’s reactions, Nyle replies, “I’m already level six.”

The two men glance at one another. “S-six!” they shout, roaring with laughter.

Nyle’s face turns pale. He glances at Ethan. “...They’re bluffing.”

Lowering their firearms, the two men slap one another on the back. “We accept!” they exclaim in tandem, doing their best not to chuckle.

“I’m Warrick,” the one-horned man says.

The two-horned man yanks the javelin from a Pit ruffian’s throat. “And I’m Ryker.”

Veins near Ethan’s eyes flash purple. Ethan jerks his foot back as the javelin stabs deep into his footprint.

Warrick snickers. “Either Ryker is showing his age, or you’ve got some decent Perception and Acuity, son.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryker says, waving Warrick’s remark away. “Just use the javelin so we can maybe enjoy ourselves!”

The wall goes black as Nyle is about to react.

“Camera died,” Owl whispers.

A Pilgrim glances around. “Maybe we should go back ‘em up?”

“If we go, they’ll just shoot them and then us,” a Pilgrim answers. “Besides, I’m not even level three, and those guys were laughing at Nyle.”

“...Yeah, I’m still level one.”

Someone screams for a doctor. I look over to where Pilgrims are encircling Ayameko’s convulsing body. Seeing blood a Pilgrim draws back her coat, exposing smooth red glass near her hips.

I look away. {Doth thou knowest what I did to the Pilgrims, Earl?}

Pursing her lips, she responds, “Statement: Compared to insects, humans have more complex souls and genuine spirits but aren’t special otherwise.”

{That does not explain anything!}

Her legs begin to kick back and forth. “Answer: This one suspects that the fleshies’ bodies had essentially segregated the haze originally used to awaken them to prevent any mutations. Since the haze was still there, the Mistress could perceive it while in the heliotrope cloud. The Mistress then manifested a natural yearning to desegregate and temper the haze into the Pilgrim’s flesh.”

{Art thou implying I have set them on a path to becoming monsters!?}

Earl shakes her head. “Extrapolation: This one speculates that the Pilgrim’s flesh will continue its incorporation of a particular haze variant into its biology. This might have been erratic initially, but the Mistress has added touches of refinement and structure to the process. This one thinks what the Mistress has done is place these ‘Tempered’ Pilgrims on a path of development separate from the rest of the human race.”

{I…} A shrill shriek causes me to lose my thoughts. {I will think about it more later.}

A gust of heliotrope washes over a patch of mushrooms, withering them. I see the mushroom-covered body of the colossus in the distance. Drones, clickers, and clouds of heliotrope are delaying its entrance into the park.

{Earl, how much heliotrope do we have to spare?}

“Answer: This one was forced to use much of it to dissipate the spores and hinder the colossus. This one estimates there is enough stored for one more cloud.”

{...Doth thou know what the heliotrope does?}

“Observation: The Mistress’s consciousness appeared to use the clouds of heliotrope as both a channel of interaction with the other haze types and as a medium of perception. It’s comparable to how a fleshie’s brain processes sensory information in a way, only less primitive.”

“I’ve finished sowing the carrot patch!” Rabbit says with a giggle.

Summer steps in front of me. “Miss Nightingale, I’m thrilled you’re alright, but we need to rendezvous with Miss Galtry and then find a secure place to bed down.”

I nod while forcing myself to my feet as the ground rumbles and snow slides from tree branches.

Two red-faced soldiers wearing gas masks shove their way through the crowd. I recognize them as Sergeant Kendale Saxe and Specialist Emma Brooks.

Sergeant Saxe marches forward. “Fairy, we saw what happened.” Sergeant Saxe glances at the heliotrope vapors. “We’re relieved to see you managed to escape, but General Riddick requires a supply of the purple gas ASAP!”

“The General is angry that we weren’t notified of the gas’s ability to kill the fungus. If we don’t receive enough, we’ll be forced to initiate a full retreat,” Specialist Brooks adds with an anxious expression.

A green-faced man pushes through the crowd; it’s King Zero. “Fairy, hey! Listen, there are like twenty Glass Quandry guys holding out at the Amusement Park to the South with five thousand people stuck inside. They can’t keep going.” He points to several dozen Pilgrims that wave at me with pleading eyes. “A lot of us want to try to hit the attackers from the back, but most of us don’t have anything better than a pistol to do it with!”

The escorts, the soldiers, and King Zero begin to argue over who requires the most assistance.

Earl scoffs. “Recommendation: The Mistress should abstain from assisting anyone and take shelter within the safety of the Tower.” Tilting her head, she looks around and then asks, “Query: Where is the beast spirit?”

{I sent Sir Mouser to find Terra. Sir Mouser has never failed a mission, so I am confident he is with her.}

Her eyes narrow. “Statement: Then there is no choice; the beast spirits safety must be secured. Recommendation: Find the Acolyte and beast spirit, abstain from all other tasks.”

{Thou may have absorbed more of my younger self than I realized.}

I wave at the five to draw their attention. When they all look at me, I signal for them to follow and then run toward the Tower.

Everyone, including the masses that carried me here, follows me.

We rush by several Pit ruffian corpses that burn in violet flames along the way.

When we arrive at the Terrace, Earl and Nick are sitting on the fountain’s edge.

I stop.

Near the Tower’s archway, I see a dozen burning bodies. {Thou hast been busy Earl.}

She hugs her lantern with a giggle. “Response: This one defends what belongs to the Mistress.”

“Fairy, Miss Earl was a little scary,” I hear Nick’s faint voice say.

With a nod, I ask, {Is the Tower’s interior safe?}

“Answer: This one sealed the door when the heretics first arrived.”

The Tower’s entrance slides open.

Kenneth, Mrs. Jäger, alongside dozens of men, women, and children, stare back at us with looks of horror. They breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Kenneth hurries over. “Miss Nightingale, I gathered what people I could, but purple fire appeared and started to… I-I don’t know, beating people to death!? I mean, at one point, the fire hit a person, and they j-just soared through the air!” He points at a glass tree. A body is skewered against one of its branches. “Please, tell me you know what’s happening!?”

Removing a pen from my pouch, I take Kenneth’s hand, writing on his palm, “The violet fire is friendly, do not worry. Gather any Paradox-Arcadic grenades we have and give it to the Pilgrims.”

I turn, take Summer’s hand, and write, “Tell anyone who cannot fight to remain here. Anyone who will fight should accompany me.”

While Kenneth hands out items and Summer spreads the word, I resume running west. {Earl, continue guarding the Domain. Prepare the Domain for the colossi if anything can be done; I shall return shortly!}

We arrive at Cherry Hill.

The bodies of Pit ruffians and Galtry Syndicate guards dot the area around Terra’s encampment. Black smoke billows from within. Supplies that Terra had collected here lie scattered about.

“It’s the Fairy!” Hoarse shouts from within the encampment. “Let ‘em through!”

A bloody man slides open the front gate. Hundreds of us pour into the small encampment.

“Thank god, please tell me you’re here to say we can leave!”

Hoarse flinches as I seize his palm, writing, “Give the soldier Consortium purple canisters. Give King Zero bigger weapons. Prepare escort and thy men to fight. I must retrieve something!”

I run toward one of the RVs, leaving Hoarse staring at his palm. Throwing open the door, I move through a room filled with Byron’s insects.

+1 Endurance

8 Stat Points Remaining

My eyes scour the bugs until I find an enclosure on the table all alone. Inside are glass wings butterflies. ‘Earl, I am going to acquire that adaptation we discussed. These glasswing butterflies will meet the requirements, will they not?’

A purple wall appears.

Earl Interface:

Particulate Form Sprout Tier Adaptations

Available Crown Adaptations

Twofold Living Pupils

(Requirements: Pair of Living Insects, Negating Membrane Adaptation;

Recent Meal: Kiln Mithridates)

Gain dual-purpose pupils that will provide tremendous utility both in the spirit and material realms. Its first purpose is to enable the sharing of senses with the Mistress’s Kiln Satellite or the Satellite’s feline cabal. Its auxiliary purpose is to allow the Mistress to use two separate haze perception types simultaneously.

Note: Living pupils will require acclimation time when swapped to a new haze and perception type.

[Cost: 280 Essence + 1.1 Refined Nebula + 4.2 Refined Vitrum + 0.5 Acerb]

Essence Available: 289 [R = 18%]

Refined Nebula Available: 2.0 [4.4]

Refined Vitrum Available: 5.7 [5.0]

Refined Acerb: 0.8 (0.0)

Response: All requirements fulfilled.

Opening the glasswing butterfly enclosure, I take two butterflies that look to have only left their cocoon mere minutes ago. I stand in front of a mirror and nod. ‘Aye, prithee, I shall take this adaptation! One eye hoary and the other heliotrope, if that is possible.’

Haze slips out from a crack in my helmet. It envelops the pair of butterflies. A glass shell forms around them, one with hoary inside and another with heliotrope. There’s a spark within the glass sphere—the butterflies are set alight. Their bodies alongside the glass sphere burn away.

The vapors enter my arc suit; half my vision keeps its usual purple hue while the other half turns black and white. I can see two blazing lights through the arc suit’s window, one gray and one dark purple. They float at the core of the two violet orbs that made up my eyes before now. ‘Earl, prithee, I would like to see through Sir Mouser’s eyes.’

The blazing lights become long. I stumble backward, collapsing into a chair as my vision wanes.

When it reappears, I am no longer in control. ‘Sir Mouser, I require a view of thy situation.’

Sir Mouser responds immediately. With all the power his four hazy legs can muster, he sprints—the world seems so huge from his perspective.

Sir Mouser dashes between the legs of distraught people and toward a pair of shredded tents. I recognize the tents as the Awakening Tents.

Hazy claws dig into the side of the tent. Sir Mouser shreds his way to the tent’s roof.

As he crests the tent’s summit, I see a mushroom field of smoldering tents. The only other tents that still stand are the ones belonging to the Consortium and Kirk of the Robin’s Egg.

Bullet-riddled trucks have been built into a shoddy bulwark around the three tents. Pitt ruffians have encircled the bulwark. They fire upon the tents.

At the back, a group of Pit ruffians uses a special cannon to hurl canisters of spores into the camp.

Two people I recognize as Gregor Damascus and Guillermo Rivera sprint from canister to canister, flinging them back at the Pit Ruffians. Their bodies are capped in mushroom growths.

‘Sir Mouser, where is Terra?’

He runs toward a small hole in the tent’s roof. With a wiggle, he slips into the tent and onto a shelf.

Bishop Manhattan, Bishop Bronx, Terra, and several of Terra’s men stand in a room.

“Miss Galtry, I think this is a very reasonable request.” Bishop Bronx slides a yellowed sheet of paper toward Terra. “With your signature, promising mutual amity, we’ll feel comfortable working more closely with you.”

Terra slides the paper back across the table. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” Her eyes glance toward Sir Mouser. “I won’t be signing anything.”