Chapter Five Hundred

“Guys?” I asked the darkness.

I turned, nearly stumbling over ... nothing?

Even with my eyes wide open, all I could see was utter blackness.

“Amaryllis? Awen?” I called out, a little louder this time.

Raising a hand, I created a lightball... or I tried to. Instead, no light appeared, but I felt an unnerving tugging sensation, like pulling at a hangnail across my entire body. Not quite as painful, but it wasn’t nice.

“Calamity? Desiree?” I shouted.

The next thing I tried was Cleaning magic. A wave of it, flaring out in every direction. But instead, nothing happened.

Frowning, I focused on my magic and pushed . It felt like I was pressing both hands against a solid wall and pushing against it with all of my might. All I did was kind of push myself back, only it wasn’t physical, it was my magic.

I blinked, looked down, and tried to see my own hands in the absolute dark. Of course, there was nothing to see. I might as well have had my eyes closed. Reaching up, I touched my face, but there was no blindfold there.

Which left... I called on Mister Menu and he showed up. My menu screen floated there, all my stats and skills in order. But Mister Menu didn’t cast any light. Wait, did that mean that Mister Menu was in my imagination? Bringing my hand closer didn’t illuminate it. I turned, and the menu followed, but I’d never really experimented to see if Mister Menu would bump into things.

Stepping towards where I thought one of the tunnel walls was, I stretched out a hand with Mister Menu on the end, and the menu shifted inwards just a smidge before my hand touched cold stone.

Well, that was something, at least.

I decided not to panic. I really, really wanted to. The panic twisted inside of me like... like a very full bladder after drinking a whole pitcher of lemonade. It was there, and impossible not to notice, and really wanted out.

I giggled. Amaryllis would hate that analogy. She’d huff, and call me an idiot for even thinking it up. The giggled faded quickly enough, especially when the sound they made was strangely muted.

Snapping my fingers, I moved my hand around and made some noise at different distances. The noise was swallowed more the further from me it was.

I swung my arms out towards where my friends had been and encountered nothing. I didn’t feel like I was in the same space. No one would be able to hear me in this darkness.

I had to think. Was this like a dungeon boss? But... no, dungeon bosses lived in dungeons, and we’d never entered one. If we had, there would have been that pop-up, right? And dungeons felt... dungeon-y. The mines here hadn’t felt that way. No simple monsters, no sense of progression, no magical feel in the air.

So, I was probably not in a dungeon. “Miss Laine? Sir Aberrforth?” I called out, just in case. Of course, there was nothing.

Swallowing past a dry throat, I continued to look around, seeing nothing but Mister Menu floating nearby. That churning feeling continued to rise in me, but I kept it squished down.

I could really use a hug.

Or at least a friend.

Reaching up, I touched the small collar around my neck. Orange’s collar... Now that was an idea.But if this was a dangerous place, should I really call Orange over?

On the other hand, if Orange went missing, maybe that would clue in the crew of the Beaver  that something went wrong? It was a thin hope, but a hope nonetheless. So I pumped mana and will into the collar... and felt like I was trying to push water through a brick.

I huffed out a breath. That was... a lot. But... but you could  push water through a brick. I’d seen videos of that once upon a time. Big machines shooting water in a jet so tight and with such high pressure that they could cut through nearly anything.

I pushed more mana, then more and more. It was still like pushing against something, but as I pressed harder and harder, a vein almost popping in my forehead and sweat collecting on my back, I could feel the barrier against my magic bend  just a tiny smidge.

That was all the sign I needed to pressed even harder.

And just like that, my magic touched the collar, summoning Orange to me.

The spirit cat--no longer a spirit kitten-appeared in mid-air, a glowing orange ball of smug and fur that I caught with a sweeping hug. “Orange!” I cheered.

The cat blinked at me, then looked around, or tried to. Orange’s glow helped push the darkness back, but only so much. It was as if she had the same illumination as a single candle as opposed to... well, a whole glowing cat’s worth of glowiness.

“Hi,” I said as I cradled her close. “I’m sorry to pull you from... naptime?”

Orange nodded, then yawned, showing off all of her pretty little cat teeth.

“Sorry,” I said again. “But, uh, I’m in a bit of trouble, I think.”

Orange looked up at me curiously.

“I don’t know where my friends are, and I’m kinda stuck in... uh, an ancient mine which might hold some huge, scary monster. Also, it’s dark, and magic doesn’t seem to be working very well in here . Do you mind if I use you as a flashlight?”

She didn’t look very impressed with me, but she snuggled into my hug all the same and gave me a small bump with her head, almost as if to say that it was fine... as long as I gave her scritches. She liked them best around her ears and under her chin, of course, so I carefully shuffled her around in my grasp so that I could hug her close and give her the best scritches I could.

With Orange’s light to guide me, or at least banish the nearest edges of the darkness, I started through the tunnel.

Jagged rocks loomed out of the blackness, casting long shadows back into the gloom, many of them just a bit taller than my ankles, some as big around as I was, but the tunnel was... actually, this didn't feel like the mine tunnel anymore. Hadn't there been less rocks on the floor?

The mine had rocky walls, chopped into by pickaxes but still covered in scars and breaks.

This place? The walls had been smooth, once. Tremendous effort had been invested into carving the stone into flat planes and a gently curving vaulted ceiling.

And then someone had desecrated all that effort, cutting and slashing and tearing and ripping into the stone. The rocks on the floor had all been torn out of the walls; most of them had one side which was still perfectly smooth.

I felt myself shying away from the wounds gouged into the walls. Everything about them felt like rage.

Or maybe it had been many someones, over a long time. I slowed as I saw the tip of a sword jammed into a crack in the wall. It was broken, as if snapped after chopping into the stone. The sword was mostly rust now, dry rust that crumbled when I touched it.

I rubbed my fingers together, and tried to Clean them but... there was still that resistance.

Would it extend to my other abilities? Would I be able to make myself bigger or smaller, or jump higher? I was kind of afraid to test it.

With Orange's light guiding me, I continued through the tunnel, my steps cautious and my heart pounding in the stillness. The walls around me seemed to close in, the still-smooth parts of the stone feeling more like a prison than a pathway. Could that be it? Was this a prison?

A faint sound echoed through the tunnel and I paused. My ears all twitched, and I tried to pinpoint the source of the sound, but it was hard when all I had were echoes.

"H-hello?" I called out, my trembling voice was swallowed up by the darkness, but a shiver ran down my spine. The air had shifted a little, and Orange’s fur started to stand on end even as her little kitty ears folded back.

As I moved deeper, the air grew colder, the oppressive darkness pressing in more heavily. Orange’s glow shrank until I couldn’t see my feet anymore. I hugged Orange tighter, her warmth a small comfort. The faint sounds grew louder, until I could start to make out individual sounds and I realized they were whispers.

My feet stopped moving without me telling them to. My heart hammered away in my ribcage as Orange tried to hide herself in my arms.

The whispers rose in intensity, even as I stood rooted to the spot. Insistent sounds became insistent words:

“Who... comes... here?”

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The voice was ancient, weary, tired. “My name is...” I hesitated. “My name is Broccoli.”

“Broccoli...” The voice seemed to taste the word, as if trying to remember what it meant. “Why... are you here... Broccoli?”

“I'm lost, and I can't find my friends. Who are you?”

“Someone forgotten, I suppose,” the darkness said. Slowly, a vague figure appeared ahead of me. I could barely see it as anything more than a thin shadow, with limbs like sticks arranged in the shape of an emaciated man. He didn’t come close at all, staying out in the dark and away from Orange’s light.

She growled at him, then hissed.

I tried to use Insight on him, but nothing happened. “Do you--do you have a name?” I asked.

“I had one, once. It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, I think it might?” I tried. “I’ve never had a friend without a name before. It would be hard for us to be friends without that, right?”

The World Has No Answer

Desired Quality: None.

Dream: None.

I swallowed, then stepped forwards with a sniff. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“Sorry?” he asked.

“I’ve... I’ve never met someone who didn’t think they deserved a friend before,” I said. What other explanation could there be? Someone who had no dreams was someone who had no hope. Someone who didn’t want something in a friend was someone who didn’t want a friend.

But everyone had to want a friend, right? So, if he didn't want a friend ... there had to be a reason, right?

If it was me... well, the only reason I could think of in that moment was that maybe this person without a name didn’t think they deserved a friend so much that they believed it with every bit of themselves.

“Who are you to look down on me, Riftwalker?” He asked from right behind me.

I gasped, spinning around to see the shadowy figure of a man sitting not too far away behind me. He was stepping back, into the darker shadows where I couldn’t make out more than an outline, but he must have been right up close to me.

“You, uh, you know that I’m a Riftwalker?” I asked.

“I do,” he said. “Hundreds of years of Inspecting each and every rock and stone and bone in this place has paid off. There’s little you can hide from me.”

“Okay,” I said. “But I’m not really trying to hide anything.”

He scoffed, the sound echoing eerily through the darkness. “Not trying to hide anything, huh? Then why are you here, really? No one just stumbles into this place by... accident.”

I hesitated, feeling a tight knot of uncertainty in my chest. “I'm not lying. We were exploring the mines and got separated. I ended up here. I'm just trying to find my friends and get out.”

The shadowy figure seemed to consider my words, his form flickering like a dying flame. “Exploring, you say? Seeking adventure, perhaps? Or something more?”

I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. “Adventure, yes. But also to help. There's something wrong in these mines, and we need to figure out what it is. There are some explorers that came in here, and they’re missing. We’re... just trying to help?”

“Riftwalkers aren’t here to help,” he spat. “They’re here to pillage and destroy and bring ruin upon this entire world.”

“What?” I asked. “I mean, that can’t be right.”

The figure’s form flickered. Orange’s light was almost enough to see his face. It was thin, bony, almost skeletal, but what I could see of his expression was... anger. Brows drawn together, a mouth set in a growl. “You’re naive if you think otherwise. This world has seen enough of your kind to know better.”

“I’m not like that,” I insisted. “We’re not like that. Please, just let me find my friends, and we’ll prove it.”

He laughed. It was a harsh, mirthless sound that echoed through the darkness. “Prove it? You think your empty promises hold any weight? I’ve seen Riftwalkers like you come and go, leaving nothing but devastation in their wake.”

I hugged Orange closer. “I'm not lying. We were exploring the mines and got separated. I ended up here. I’m just trying to find my friends and get out.”

The shadowy figure sneered, his form flickering like a dying flame. “Exploring, you say? Seeking adventure, perhaps? Or something more? Maybe power? Riches? You Riftwalkers are all the same, driven by greed and ambition.”

I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. This man was angry, yeah, but he was talking, and talking was good. It meant that there was a chance, a small one, that we could be on the same page. “Adventure, yes. But also to help. There’s something wrong in these mines, and we need to figure out what it is. There are some explorers that came in here, and they’re missing. We’re... just trying to help?”

“Help?” He spat the word like it was poison. “Riftwalkers don’t help. They take and take until there’s nothing left. I should know—I was one of the worst.”

I blinked, taken aback. “You were a Riftwalker? Are?” Was being a Riftwalker something that someone could stop being? I was one because I’d come to Dirt from Earth. Had this man been from Earth too? Another world? The only other Riftwalker I knew was Rainnewt, and he... okay, he didn't exactly give us a good name. He was ... pretty much exactly like the riftwalkers this shadowy guy was describing.

“I was a Riftwalker, yes. What does it matter?

“I... well, I wouldn’t mind learning about what you did?” I tried.

The silence stretched, and I realized that the spot where the man had been was empty. All I was seeing was a faint afterimage seared into my eyes. When I blinked and searched for him, he was gone.

I turned this way and that, looking for him, but nothing.

Not until I almost stumbled on a stool. It was a small metal thing, looking entirely misplaced in these tunnels. Too new. All the metal I’d seen was rusty, and this stool was one of those fold-out camping sorts that had a tough cloth seat atop it.

Was this from the explorers that had just gone missing?

“Sit.”

I jumped, the voice having come from the dark again. He was there, barely visible.

I carefully sat.

The darkened figure was quiet for some time. Then he spoke. He sounded less angry now, more tired. “I came to this world of Dirt with dreams of conquest and glory. I was consumed by my desire for power, levelling up, becoming stronger. I didn’t care who I hurt or what I destroyed. Eventually, I was cursed and locked into this mine. My reach was limited, but I still managed to ruin some things.”

“That must have been awful,” I said, feeling a pang of sympathy despite his harshness.

“It was,” he admitted, though his tone remained bitter. “But it was also necessary. I needed to be stopped. I met people and saw them as living sacks of experience. I gained power, obscene power, and all I could think to do with it was gather more. I’ve had hundreds of years to think and reflect on my actions. Time to cool off, as it were. But don’t mistake my reflection for forgiveness. I despise what I was and what Riftwalkers represent.”

I nodded slowly. “I... I think you’re not the only person who’s done that kind of thing,” I said. “But I also think that not all Riftwalkers need to be that way.”

“It’s strange, meeting  another Riftwalker after all this time. I can see the same potential for power in you, but I also see something different. A weakness, perhaps. A desire to help.”

“I’m just trying to do what’s right,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. And I don’t think helping is a weakness.”

He nodded slowly. “I... wouldn’t have agreed, once. Anything that stood in the way of more was wrong. Remember, the path to power is filled with temptations. It’s easy to lose sight of what’s important.” He gestured, a hand appearing out of the dark then disappearing again. “You say you want to help, but what will you do when helping means sacrificing your own goals? When it means giving up power?”

“I…” I hesitated, thinking about his words. “I don’t know. But I’ll try to do what’s right, even if it’s hard. I know that you can’t always help, because there are always more people that need help than there is help you can give, but my mom used to tell me that that kind of thinking was no excuse not to be friends with the people you met. If I can only give so much help, then at least I can do that much.”

The figure scoffed, but there was a hint of something softer in his voice. “You are naive.”

That stung a little. I knew that I wasn’t the wisest but... “How many friends do you have?” I asked.

He was silent for a very long time.

“Maybe I should have been more naive myself,” he muttered.

We sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of his words settling over me. Finally, I spoke. “Can you help me find my friends? Please?”

Again, the silence stretched on, and I could feel his eyes on me, weighing my worth. “Very well,” he said at last. “I will help you. But understand this: the darkness in these tunnels is not just a lack of light. It is the embodiment of all the despair and corruption I wrought. It will test you, push you to your limits. If you can withstand it, you might just find your friends.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice sincere. “I’ll do my best.”

With a nod, the figure began to move, his form almost blending into the shadows as he led the way deeper into the tunnels. Orange’s light flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls, but I clung to the small comfort it provided.

As we walked, the figure spoke again. “Tell me about your friends. Why do you care so much about finding them?”

“Because they’re my friends,” I replied simply. “They mean everything to me. Amaryllis is smart and clever, and Awen is kind and braver than she knows. Calamity is funny, and Desiree is so, so curious. We’ve been through so much together. I can’t imagine leaving them behind.”

The figure made a sound that might have been a chuckle. “Friendship. Another thing I sacrificed for power. It’s a powerful force, but also a fragile one. Hold onto it tightly, Riftwalker, for it can be your greatest strength.”

I smiled. “I know.”

***

Chapter Five Hundred and One

I was expecting my new... not-a-friend-yet to lead me to my friends. I didn’t expect it to take as long as it did.

Orange’s light lit up more of the tunnels as we dove deeper in. There was a set of stairs leading down way more than one floor, thin, narrow steps, the middle of which were grooved down by time and constant steps.

I followed the shadow of the figure ahead of me until we came to a small landing. There was a door here, thick wooden beams held together by cold iron straps as thick as my handspan. They were dark, unrusted. The wood seemed intact too, which was a little strange when everything else down here was rotted away.

“Here,” he said simply as he passed the door which had been left open.

I paused, looking for a moment at the space in the wall where the door’s latch would be. It was carved out and destroyed.

“Is this where my friends are?” I asked as I followed.

“In a way,” he said.

“What way?” I asked.

Instead of answering, the figure disappeared. I felt a chill from behind me and spn around. He was by the door now, and I saw its shadow shift as the door slammed closed. “This is why I’m trapped here. Why I became  trapped,” he said.

“This room?” I asked. Had he only been pretending to be friendly? I didn’t want to think that about someone, but... well, this guy wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy.

“Behind you,” he said.

I carefully turned. I didn’t want to. It made so much more sense to keep an eye on him, but he was also so much stronger than me that having my back turned wasn’t that much more of a problem, was it?

I turned.

There was something in the centre of the room. Something still shrouded by the dark until I took a step closer to it. Then I recognized it.

Or I recognized similar things because I’d seen well over a dozen by then. A large, perfect sphere on a plinth. The pillar holding it up was covered in thin, careful carvings, each one precise and meaningless to me, but they thrummed with magic, and the ball... the dungeon core, was the same. I could feel the hairs on my arm and the back of my next rise as I looked at it.

“A dungeon core,” I said.

“I think I first came here to destroy it,” he said. “To gain that much more power.”

“You didn’t,” I said.

“It enticed me instead. The secret of a tiny, forgotten nation’s power. Sitting out of the way, in a mine that no one cared for, a temple hidden from the World itself.”

I felt him come closer behind me, Orange’s light dimmed.

“Touch it,” he ordered.

I swallowed. I was very worried that the order was absolute. There wouldn’t be any refusing it. Not easily. So I shuffled Orange in my grip a little, then carefully reached a hand out towards the dungeon core. It didn’t feel as alive, as powerful, as a real core. Or maybe it was not so much a ‘real’ core as an active one?

My fingertip brushed the core and--

...

...

It’s hard to explain what I saw, but I’m going to do my best. In the moment where my finger touched that core, I felt a jolt run up my arm and down my spine, then up into my head until my ears tingled all the way to their tips.

It stung, a little, but no more than touching a metal doorknob after walking on a carpet with socks on.

What happened next... I’m not sure was real. My eyes fluttered close, then I was seeing me.

Not the me in this not-dungeon, but me of a while ago. Me standing next to a great tree, and I knew two things right away.

The first, was that I wasn’t the only one seeing this. The man was there too.

He was standing off to the side. An older man, the age I could last remember my grandfather being before he passed away. Leathery skin, lots of wrinkles, a slightly stooped back, and too-thin... everything.

He was standing next to this tree as well, watching it.

The other think I knew right away was that the tree was more than just a tree. It was a display of branching paths. Every path that wasn’t taken, every missed opportunity.

The me next to the tree opened her eyes, and our gazes met.

I, and I think the old man too, saw it all unfold all at once.

I can’t explain all of them, there were too many, but I can explain some of them.

Imagine me, Broccoli Bunch, newly arrived on Dirt. I woke up in a tower in a mysterious town filled with ghosts. I met Bonesy... only I didn’t.

Instead this me went on to not make that first friend. I was harassed by ghosts and hurt by them. I ran. Not west towards the Deepmarsh, but west, deeper into the Dark woods.

I met pixies, and with nothing to offer them, was rebuffed. I met dryads, but they didn’t care for my sort.

Deeper and deeper into the woods. Hungrier by the day.

Lonelier.

So I made connections in the wild. Somehow, I lived long enough to turn Cinnamon Bun into Wild Hair Hare. A class that used my now very long hair as a weapon and as protection. I explored the Dark woods with two folds of hair sticking out of the top of my head like bunny ears. I made  the woods home. And when I saw what the people to the west were doing, Mattergove and its tree cutters, I led a rebellion against them.

Needleford fell to a tide of friendly woodland creatures led by a bare-footed me, with support from dryads and bees and all sorts of monsters that called the Dark woods their home.

...

Another me, another situation that felt surreal. This one split elsewhere, further into my adventure. I never became an explorer. Instead, I discovered Port Royal and made it home. The big city wasn’t a place for a bun with no money, but there were opportunities there still.

I met Booksie, and decided that I could still be a good person even if it meant doing things that were maybe not as legal.

When I hit my class evolution, I did so to become a Cinnamon Bundit, a thief and highwaybun that stuck up nobles for their money, who fought the gangs of Port Royal by night, and who sank all of her time and resources into making the uglier parts of Port Royal a little nicer.

Eventually, I was kicked out of the city, but I didn’t take my exile alone. The slums left with me, a great exodus that had the city crumbling without us there. It was okay, we were the biggest, happiest of families, and all we needed was a place to call home.

...

Another.

Instead of picking Wonderlander, I took up the mantle of a Puppeteer, just like Amaryllis picked for her second class, but instead of only using it tangentially, and to empower her magic and tricks, I went hard into the hobby.

We stayed in Rosenbell for a few weeks more so that I could learn from puppetmakers there and train a little more.

When we restarted our journey, I was a little more reclusive. I’d found a new passion, one that I really wanted to master.

Then Amaryllis and Awen both died.

It happened suddenly. A monster on the route that I only barely survived.

But I could help, I could bring them back. Bodies were like puppets, weren’t they? So I raised them up, and we kept on going, kept adventuring and being the very best of best friends who never argued unless it was in jest.

I spent more and more time fixing my friends and replacing parts until I needed a small carriage to travel with. When war broke out in the east, I was somehow there.

There were so many parts for my friends on a battlefield...

...

Another...

Then another, then another.

I gasped as I stumbled back and away form the orb. “No!” I said before shaking my head. There were tears in my eyes, and I only realized then how much my head was splitting.

“Incredible,” the old man whispered. Now that I’d seen him, sorta, I could better fit what I was seeing in the shadows to reality. “A thousand possibilities, and yet you so often remain impossibly naive and pure.”

“What, what was that?” I asked.

“A test. One that I and so many others failed,” he said. “Sit. I will explain.”

***