“I guess not,” Palan said and frowned. He didn’t mind if his tails had their own thoughts. He didn’t even care that Danger Noodle could speak. He never had a tail before; it was fine if something occupied that niche. But his stomach? That was different. His stomach had belonged to him, and now a foreign being inhabited it. The torso-mouth’s tongue began licking its lips. Palan’s hand flashed and seized the pink rope-like structure. “Listen here, you damn freeloader. Never act without my permission, understood? I don’t mind ripping your tongue and teeth out—I have other ways to eat.”

“Your master’s crazy,” Cory whispered to Justitia while Palan wrestled with the tongue, tying it into a knot and preventing it from wrapping around his neck. Despite the knot on its body, the tongue continued to lash Palan. “I’ve never seen someone fight with themself before.”

“Is everything alright, Palan?” Raea asked, biting her lower lip. She rolled up the moldy parchment in her hand and placed it into a metallic cylinder which was holding sundries. “You seem to be struggling a bit.”

“You … need help?” Danger Noodle asked, raising its head. Before, it was resting on the ground, entangled with its red and purple partners. A screech escaped from Palan’s stomach as a fountain of blood spurted out of his torso-mouth. A long, pink and red tongue flailed in Palan’s grasp, spewing blood out of one end. His tails exchanged glances and shut their mouths.

“Bastard wouldn’t listen,” Palan said as he dropped the tongue and stomped on it. His face was pale, and rivulets of blood ran down his legs, starting from his stomach. He snorted as his torso-mouth began opening and shutting itself, trying to bite anything it could. An oily sheen covered Palan’s hand as he pierced his own torso with his fingers, gripping the mouth shut. He groaned as sweat beaded on his forehead. “Why do I suffer the same pain as him?”

Raea’s face blanched at the sight of blood pouring out of Palan’s body. The mouth kept trying to open despite Palan’s grip, tearing itself apart. “Why are you mutilating yourself like this?” she asked as she reached into her bag. A white orb appeared in her grasp. She had taken it from a dwarf in the prison when it tried to heal someone she set on fire.

“Wouldn’t you be ashamed if your body acted on its own volition?” Palan asked as he began prying the teeth out of his stomach, tearing out chunks of flesh with the roots. Lacerations appeared on his hands and wrists as the teeth tore his skin.

“But isn’t that still you?” Raea asked and furrowed her brow. Her hand squeezed the orb, but no light came out. She’d heal him after he finished dismantling himself. “It’s just a different part, right?”

“Imagine if Cleo could control your right hand whenever she wanted to,” Palan said to Raea as he gritted his teeth. His torso-mouth was still struggling, but its motions were slowing.

“She’d still act in my best interest to preserve my arm,” Raea said.

“She’d use you to rob everything in sight,” Palan said and rolled his eyes. Flaps of flesh dangled from his body. The rivulets of blood had become a steady stream. “You think I wanted to eat a sword?”

“I guess,” Raea said and pursed her lips. She stepped forward with the orb in her hands.

“You going to listen now?” Palan asked, staring at his wheezing stomach. Mists of blood spurt out with every exhale. It didn’t respond, but Raea wasn’t sure if it even could.

“Should I heal you?” she asked.

Palan grunted and exhaled, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. Sweat rolled down his back, staining his bloody, torn clothes. A white light wrapped around his body, causing his flesh to wriggle and reconnect itself. The skin stitched together, and the tips of teeth began to appear. The rope-like tongue regrew and curled itself up, hiding inside of his stomach. When the light disappeared, his torso-mouth clamped itself shut—only a thin line could be seen. “What’s that?” Palan asked and pointed at the ceiling.

Raea, Cory, and Justitia raised their heads. The ceiling was flat. An image was painted on the molding rocks, but it was faded and covered by green slime. “It looks like a star map,” Raea said as she squinted at the visible bits. She pointed at a cluster of gray dots. “That constellation is Uriel, the twin horns. Maybe it’s a picture of the sky from the harpies’ original territory.” Her brow furrowed. “It changes with every season though. It’ll be difficult to find the right place if we get the time wrong.”

“Definitely the summer,” Cory said and nodded. “It’s a picture of the sky in the summer. If my ancestors were anything like me, they’d never go outside at night in any season except the summer. It’s too damn cold any other time.” Her body shuddered as her wings pressed against her sides. “I wonder how they painted it though.” She blinked as she pantomimed drawing directly above herself with her talons, bending her waist so her head was pointing at the floor. She muttered as she righted herself, “Must be some form of sorcery.”

“I should be able to find the general region they lived in then,” Raea said as she rubbed her chin. “Hailing Academy’s library should have detailed information about star maps and regions. I wonder if they put out the fire yet….” She shook her head, dismissing the memories of her setting the first sector on fire. “It’s also possible that this is just a drawing of the sky taken from a random region that has nothing to do with your ancestral territory.”

Cory shrugged. “That doesn’t matter,” she said. “As long as we see the sky, have a place to live, and have males to hunt, we don’t have to return to our homeland. There’s nothing wrong with making a new one.” She made a face. “You don’t know how it feels like to live underground when we’re made to fly in the skies. We’re bird people, not mole people.” A sigh escaped from her lips as her gaze shifted towards Palan. Her eyes widened. “Hey! What are you doing!?”

Palan turned his head and stared at Cory as he stuffed yellow crystals into a nearby bag. “Collecting protection fees,” he said with a straight face. The seams of the bag began to widen as more and more crystals were stacked inside. It was times like these where Palan missed his magical lizard. The harpies really had a lot of stones—enough to buy a small army in Eljiam. Cory chewed on her lip as Palan hung the bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the exit. As he passed by the mountain of swords and armor, the line on his torso quivered but remained shut.