I squeeze the rest of my body out and roll over onto my back, resting under the cold gaze of the void. My mind blazes alongside my racing, shallow breathing. What happened? They didn’t kill me? Does that mean that they’ve accepted me again? It was really dicey there for a moment. I’d have done anything to please that smooth, silky song. Maybe even taken my own life? All my brothers mindlessly marched to it too. Many nobly sacrificed themselves to remove my terrible captor and pursuer while I was denied vengeance. Why?
Absently lying there idle and lost in thought, the harsh scratching sounds of tiny legs rushing across the mud catches my attention. Rolling my head to look, I see one of my brethren struggling awkwardly towards me with his arms full. Once standing beside my prone body, he unceremoniously kicks me.
“Gok?” he snorts in annoyance.
“Ow!” I shout back at his painful question. “Dum agob. Wat wan?”
The awful, choking limitation on my spoken word still borderline enrages me. However, at least there’s someone here now that can provide actual connection. Surely this is where I’m truly meant to be. Surely this place best represents who and what I am?
The brethren looks confused by my response, and peeks around his burden to take a better look.
“Wat wan?” he briefly puzzles at my question before repeating himself. “Gok?”
“Yas! Wat wan?” I grumpily confirm, still upset about the kick.
Without any warning, the little man drops his cargo on top of me and then scurries off back towards the pit’s edge to join others waiting there. Flabbergasted by his rude manners, I struggle out from underneath to take a look at what he left behind. A moment later it registers. These are my leathers. The big one imitation outfit that I used to hide from them. Looking down, I only now realize that I’m no longer wearing anything. Did someone take them off before reburying me in the mud? Was that one safely holding them for me until I dug back out? Maybe I was too harsh on him.
There’s more too. My belt and a few empty pouches that the partner hadn’t managed to rip off when searching me back in Tranas. My hooded cloak. Sadly, my last free dagger is gone, lost somewhere in the mud when the strong one dragged me. However, I should have plenty more in a pocket somewhere. Do I dare open them here?
Evaluating my surroundings, I see brothers meandering around the pit’s edge. Some of them angrily glare at me for reasons that I don’t understand. Is it jealousy of this treasure? After all, they’re all naked out here. At least as far as I’ve seen. Only when they rush the big ones do they ever brandish anything like a weapon. Otherwise, their hands only grasp the minimum necessary for their current job. How does one get anything done like that? What if they wished to squash a rat or dig up treasure?
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No, it doesn’t feel safe to open any pockets here. However, maybe these things should at least get stored away so I don’t end up recklessly taunting the others with my wealth. Lifting my right hand in the now familiar sequence of gestures, I try to wrap space around the pile of my things but nothing happens. Shocked, I try again and again. Still nothing. What happened? Have I been cursed? My precious stolen songs! My treasures! Are they stuck? What’s wrong?
Frantically, I keep fruitlessly reattempting the same movements until the goblins at the edge begin laughing at my theatric antics. Gracelessly imitating my silly dancing, they hop and cheer in joy at the easy entertainment.
“Mad mud! Mad mud! Mad mud!” they all chant in unison, unsympathetic to my situation.
Slumping over in defeat, I smack the precariously stacked pile of my only remaining possessions in anger. Tumbling over and scattering into the mud, a tiny item rolls out and distinguishes itself from the rest. A little, dark blue ball completely covered in a rough, dusty chalk. That wasn’t mine, was it?
Taking it into my hands, I turn it around several times to inspect it. As the dust lightly comes off against my skin, I’m distracted by the observation that I’ve completely healed. All the cracks and breaks are gone. Come to think of it, a large weight of restlessness on my mind has also cleared. The precious mud must have restored me! Oh, holy day. Leaning over, I take a giant clump of mud up in my arms so as to embrace it and properly show my reverence. In doing so, the little ball in my hand scrapes and scratches against the abrasive dirt, exposing more and more of the surface beneath the dust.
An incredibly intense light flashes from where I unintentionally held the ball close to my face. My eyes burn in pain from the sudden radiance, and I hear several screams of terror as some of the brothers on the edge topple over in surprise. What have I done?
Scrambling for action, I execute the only conceivable plan, smashing fist after fist of mud into my painfully throbbing eyes. The cool sludge immediately calms the pain, and soon my hazy vision returns. Most of my brothers are already gone. Those left are all still scrambling towards the gangway and away from the pit.
Slowly, a new light starts forming a short distance out from my eyes. A status panel? It hadn’t even occurred to me to try. Would that have failed too? After completing the formation, the light rests there holding a long message.
It is the Will’s decision to embrace you as you are. Revel or cower, it matters not. However, no more unsanctioned manipulations of the fabrique of the beyond will be permitted. Your ignorance shall otherwise only squander that which is not yours to spend.
Is that why the pocket failed? They’ve blocked me? On a whim, I channel energy to my eyes and search around me. The extremely quiet, tiny wisps of my anchored, existing pockets barely stand out from the completely empty background above me. It calms me to see that they live, but I doubt that I’ll be able to open any of them. The twists look so tired and sick. Trying once again, a new pocket still refuses to even begin forming. The space around me is completely silent and sad.
Resolved to my fate, I readorn all my belongings. It’s time to leave along the gangway like the others and out to the greater void. After all, I’m alone here, save for those still unready deep below my feet. I yearn to truly rejoin the mob. I yearn to be one with my people once again.