Both girls screamed as they suddenly began to fall from several feet high in the air. The pain of Alma’s butt hitting the ground hard caused her to moan in pain, just as Qu'l-Nia came crashing down on top of her. A certain tint of color caught the ex-soldier's squinting eyes. They were surrounded by the familiar red and golden trees of home. It seemed they had made it back home.

"We… did it?" questioned Alma through the groans. "We're back? We're back! We made it!" She placed her hand on the previously displaced Qu’l-Nia's back, who was sprawled across Alma's legs and currently had her face buried in the ground. "Q! Holy shit, you called it. I teleported our asses to safety. I… teleported! I'm a GOD!"

Qu'l-Nia raised her head that was now covered in dirt and tilted it towards Alma. "I never lost faith in you, Alma. I just wish I could say the same for myself."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

Qu'l-Nia lifted herself off of Alma’s lap and meticulously dusted herself off. "I am not worthy of being this world's guardian. Nor of any world for that matter. I have fumbled, I have botched, I have mishandled many things since I have arrived here. My myopic view of the mission and the unessential need to prove to myself that I was worthy of this role endangered your life as well as mine. I am not a perfect being, Alma. And this is further proven by the recent feelings of inadequacy that have been plaguing my mind more and more—boring into my mind as of late due to an errant single-mindedness that has driven me to despicable lengths to abate it. It all came to a head when I arrived to rescue you. I did not realize it then, but as I traveled between worlds, having finally regained my true form, I had not considered that because I was also outside of time that the memories of my entire existence would come flooding back to me. I remembered something that had left me distraught. I pushed it to the back of my mind realizing that the fragmented memories would only push to confuse me, but the nagging feeling never left. I knew that whatever it was, I was to blame. That I was not good enough to guide us through. The anamnesis is all but a blur now but I still recall things now and then. Like a sense of déjà vu. I had already lived this adventure with you. I had already had this conversation. I cannot imagine this will be permanent. It is all in patches now, seeing as how this limited form could not possibly contain eons of memory. However, I carry this distinct feeling that as things continue at this pace, the path—our path—will lead only to tragedy."

Alma was taken aback for a moment. She never believed Qu'l-Nia of all people to be able to fall into self-pity or despair. She wasn't sure whether to yell at her or attempt a half-hearted cheering up.

"Tragedy, huh?" reiterated Alma, leaning back in her sitting position on the ground. "I don't buy it. You make it sound like it's all fated. I didn't take you for a believer in that sort of thing. What with your oozing of logic and all. But maybe it's just a quirk of being omnipotent.” Alma shrugged with a single arm.

“We do not call it fate or destiny. But everyone and everything is governed by a predetermined inevitability. The future is not malleable. It cannot be…”

“Really? So, you knew I would save us back there?”

“I had a… feeling. The memory was not there, but something told me that if I encouraged you, it would steer us on the right path.”

“Aha!” Alma yelled, pointing a finger at the eldritch woman. “A feeling is not an acceptable enough answer for someone who believes time is like a river!”

“I do not believe you quite understood that phrase’s meaning.”

“You know, it’s funny. It seems like hooey to me now, but I actually did use to believe in destiny. But as I got older, I’ve found my life and my beliefs steering itself more towards chaos. I’m not even exactly sure why. It just feels right.” Alma sneered then laughed. “You would know something about certain feelings, right?”

“Alma, please. Do not make light of my feelings.”

“Regardless. I still think there’s a bit of leeway in deciding our futures and I for one am not just gonna sit around and let things take their course. I know Heli would laugh at me if I did.” The markswoman stood up and surveyed the area they had fallen in. “We definitely would’ve died back there if not for the divine intervention of my powers and I sure as shit plan to continue using these powers to set my own course. The future may be inevitable, but I have to believe that how I get there is my choice.”

“Very well, Alma. If that is what you choose to believe.” Qu’l-Nia’s iridescent eyes twinkled with a sense of something enigmatic. “Let us set forth. I do not know how long we have been gone, but we left a certain third member of our group behind when we decided to pursue this dimension-hopping adventure.”

“Oh fuck! I completely forgot about Hwalín! Do you remember where you left her?”

“I am perhaps less familiar with this area than you are. Were you not once a reputable tracker and huntress? Where do you believe we are?”

Alma hesitated for a moment before looking around once more. “O-Of course I know where we are. But I don’t know from where you guys left!”

“It was not far from the spot where you left us. Only some ways away from the witch’s house.”

“Well, yeah. I know, but…” Alma scratched her head in frustration when suddenly a rough sound reached her ears. It was someone snoring. “You hear that? I think we found her.”

As the two followed the increasingly loud call of sonorous sleep, Alma finally began to make out the bright orange color of Hwalín’s tent that blended almost perfectly into the surrounding forest. Alma immediately ran up to it, flipped open the front flap and yelled “Surprise!”

But to the young girl’s horror, she found that not only was Hwalín not exactly alone, she was also visibly nude as well—the interesting bits covered barely by a brave blanket. Lying next to Hwalín was a man she didn’t recognize. He had long black hair accompanied by a very attractive slender face with a ghostly pale complexion. At Alma’s exclamation, both parties screamed in unison.

“A-Alma!” noted the nude gentleman. “Shit! Uh… Welcome back!”

“Oy, Alms,” called the Hecatian. ”Don’t you ever knock?”

“Hwal! Who the fuck is this?!”

Before Hwalín could answer, the strange man jumped up—covering his delicates with her delicates—and hopped out of the tent.

“What? Don’t you recognize your old pal?” asked Hwalín.

“Huh?” Alma, with a look of disbelief on her face, turned to look at the man, his ass to the wind. He slowly turned his head back and smiled nervously at her before disappearing into the woods, followed by the sound of flapping wings and rustling tree tops.

“Huh—?!” she exclaimed even louder.