The air around the tiny creature constantly vibrates and distorts as it awkwardly wobbles towards me. Far more face than body, it wears an enormous, forced, bleached, toothy smile below sad, anxious, strained eyes. Its face bears no nose, no hair, nor any other traditionally expected feature. Not that it would matter, given the overbearing demand for attention from the loudly presenting attributes definitively present. The bizarre, little thing wobbles on two barely visible legs that poke out from beneath its face. They’re somewhat effective at propelling it forward. However, they also constantly struggle to save its face from the perpetual threat of toppling over and plastering into the ground.

  “Does he have a core? Or is it another fluke?” the bright white teeth of the gigantic mouth clatter, somehow playing the words out between the rapid, vibrating collisions.

  “The first mud contains a dead core,” another voice echoes ambiently from nowhere in particular, its originator only hinted at by the coordinated jiggling of the eyes bouncing with every word.

  Frozen to the spot in terror, I try taking a step back from the tiny creature. However, to my horror, somehow the rhythmic emanations from the pulsing teeth hold me firmly in place.

  “An accident then? The stomach fails at its task. Must the unclaimed remnant be expelled?”

  “The dead core is stolen, not undigested.”

  “Stolen? Such a thing is possible?”

  “Two have been taken. Two have been repurposed as one.”

  “Once is a mistake, but twice is law. To what end does the Will wear its own collar?”

  “Although broken by death, many functions still remain. The first mud has climbed.”

  “Climbed?” the clattering teeth harshly chimes before the vibrations abruptly stop altogether.

  All the eyes and teeth having ceased their movements to stare fixedly at my cowering figure, I’m trapped at the center of this awful, judgemental huddle. Are these friends or foe? They live amongst my brothers, but could they be our predators? In the same way as the oddities within the guild staff, I don’t feel the mind mud’s demand for violence. It does still scream at the big one trapped in the twisted, muddy pillar towering above us, so it definitely isn’t broken.

  “Climbed,” the teeth whistle in repetition, emphasizing the point. “What does it mean?”

  Near silence answers, save for the squirming, grunting rebellion of the strong one stuck in the tower. On a few occasions, he breaks a hand or leg free from the hardened mud. However, the tower forever grows more layers over the escaped appendages, instantly and effortlessly sabotaging his efforts.

  “A man must not see past the veil and live,” the teeth, having grown impatient or bored with the previous philosophical dilemma, declares up at the tower’s prisoner.

  “Death outside the net does not serve the Will,” the jiggling eyes retort.

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  “Foot, reach into the appropriate net. The hand will crush him there. The mouth will cover any other details.”

  With those words, the tower unexpectedly frees its prisoner, dropping him hard onto the ground. With an unnatural speed, it then reforms into a circular shape, sparking a bright, shining light at the center. It’s exactly like the ball of light down in the depths of the caves after my arrival here. The pictures on its surface animate a living forest, perhaps the same I’ve seen outside Tranas.

  Next the eternally smiling teeth smoothly transition into a complex performance, harmoniously shaking and quivering. Out flows a precious, wonderful music. It calls directly and personally to me. Calls me to action. It’s beautiful! I must move, and so too must all the others. What are we waiting for? The muddy ground beneath us bubbles and throbs as countless little hands pierce through the surface of the pit.

  My brothers dig themselves up from the dark depths, immediately setting upon the strong one. He fights valiantly, but there’s simply too many. Every time one falls, another immediately rises from the mud at his feet and gnaws at his legs. Realizing his predicament, he squats down again, urgently readying to jump back towards the dangerous, ripped hole and back to the guild office as he previously planned.

  “Foot, seal the rift and send off all travellers,” the chattering teeth order in between sonorous chants.

  A muddy offshoot fires from the tower, terminating at my clumsy, life saving creation. The space there is instantly pulverized, violently shuddering at the monstrous force thrust upon it. Scattering and then recollecting, it takes only a brief moment for the area to return to normal, as if my struggle had never meant anything at all. I wonder what happened on the other side?

  Looking back down, I see that more towers have risen from the mud, wrapping themselves around both the strong one and the surrounding, angry goblins. With a dreadful seriousness, I realize that I’m being left behind. Mindlessly, I somehow break free of my ocular prison to rush towards them. I can’t be left behind again!

  “The first mud joins the anthem.”

  “Not you,” the teeth command outside its song, stopping me short.

  The song. I can’t join it? But, I live for songs. This one isn’t even meant to be stolen, it’s already ours. You would leave me out of my birthright? Perplexed at the living contradiction, I stop just outside the curtain of eyes.

  Much like my very first journey, the towers pull slightly back before launching their payloads into the light. Soon the scene on its surface shares all of their arrivals, and the battle continues anew. The strong one, already tired and reddened, quickly falls to his knees and is torn apart by the frenzied pack. My greatest existential threat since birth, effortlessly expunged by such a brief, insignificant set of actions.

  The teeth’s song suddenly ends, its purpose completed. Again, it turns back to me as the only remaining oddity.

  “This dead core climbs by the Will’s hand. We must witness it,” it declares, now mechanistically chattering like the internals of a turning lock. “Foot.”

  The circle of mud slowly unwinds, the contained light disappearing. A moment later, a new, sharp tower shoots up from the ground beneath my feet and pierces my chest. Gasping, I grab hold of it, struggling to support myself against the pain of gravity. However, just as quickly it recedes, somehow leaving no wound at all. My skin is intact. I don’t bleed. However, an enormous sense of mourning loss cries out from the depths beneath the mind mud.

  The tower reappears between us as a pedestal holding a familiar little ball of brightly shining light. I’m barely able to control myself, wishing for nothing more than to lunge after it. To grasp it in my hands again and take it back into myself. That’s where it belongs!

  “The core is not strong, but also not weak.”

  “Which would have been better? What do we do?” the teeth absent mindedly chatter. “Do we bear faith in the unseen and reinforce it? Or is this an abomination to be purged? We must call for council.”

  Before I can act, a soft song calmly lulls me to sleep as the duo continues the fading discussion about my fate.