"I think this is the place." Ayre offers , gesturing at the…interesting building. For once, my collected memories that so plague my every waking moment seem utterly stumped. I, and everyone else whose memories I share, are all at a total loss. It's part castle keep, part observatory, and part workshop.

  From the outside, the biggest features of note at an absurdly large telescope that appears to be able to bend — currently sitting limp drooping from its housing with some metal scaffolding around it. It looks badly out of repair, suffering in disuse. All over the building, I see kinetic machinery, all seemingly powered by a single large, clearly essence-imbued, windmill. Its mechanical power is distributed by long ropes, pulleys, and gears, all reinforced with, I think, brass. But, much like the telescope, it all looks to be in disrepair, with many ropes hanging free, clutches disengaged to prevent parts moving, and other more obviously and simply broken things.

  Things that I haven't the foggiest idea of what they would do. It needles me to no end to consider that fact.

  But, the windmill at least answers why this person lives on the extreme edge of the city, up on the raised lip of the city in the bowl between the mountains, sitting high above the rest of the city where the mill would see far more wind.

  "Maybe… This is the address that Mereia gave me. But it's been a month and a half since I saw her and she said he was in bad health. Maybe we're too late?" The thought clearly deeply unsettles Lilly, but I can see where she's coming from. The person we're supposed to be meeting is some renowned scholar and nothing about this place looks like it's been used in years, let alone months.

  "I doubt it, Lilly. If he was that bad off, I imagine she would have told you to hurry. You said she was traveling to Meadowfields to speak to an alchemist, right? If she was traveling that far it couldn't have been imminent." Ayre's counterpoint makes perfect sense, so Lilly nods, still obviously morose.

  "I'll go knock. I need to know what the inside looks like." I step ahead and rap on the door hard a few times with an even cadence — trying to be loud since the place is so large.

  A feminine voice comes from a balcony about twenty feet above the door. "We're not taking any solicitors or visitors. Be on your way." No person presents themselves, though.

  It seems to incense Lilly, and she shouts back up at the disembodied voice. "We were sent here by a Mereia Dawnstar. We're not solicitors, but she did ask me to come meet a Wystan Dawnstar. I'm not leaving until I have. She made it abundantly clear to me that it was important and I'm not abandoning that promise."

  The most put-on sigh I've ever heard is the only answer I hear, but after a few minutes, the front doors open, splitting the crest blazoned on them — a rising and highly stylized sun — to reveal a tall feminine figure in what I could best describe as "treasure hunter's" clothes. She's got deep-sea blue hair that hangs down around her person to nearly her waist and she has a generally lithe figure and sharply pointed ears. A classical example of an elf, based on the few I've seen or read about.

  She also looks exhausted, with bags under her eyes, and a drawn, almost haunted, expression that only tires further as she looks at the three of us standing on her doorstep.

  "And why, exactly, did Mereia send the three of you here? Some dancer, the up-and-coming arena fighter, and their…what, bodyguard? Shared boyfriend?" Her gaze notably lingers on Lilly for a long time as she makes the dismissive sentiment.

  Lilly, already miffed at the first interaction, visibly gets more mad at the implication and the overt rudeness. To try to deescalate the situation, I step forward, bowing politely. "I think it would be better if we talked in private about it. It's something sensitive."

  When I glance back, I see that Lilly is staring daggers at the much taller elf — an action that's returned in kind for a few moments until Lilly adds. "I promise it will be worth Mr. Dawnstar's time." She puts every ounce of weight on the word that she can, which seems odd given how cautious she normally is about promises.

  "In that case, why don't you all come inside and we can have a conversation? Please follow me and I'll take you to see Wystan. I will ask, however, that we keep this brief if at all possible. I assume Mereia will have told you about my husband's condition, so do keep it in mind."

  When we're ushered inside, the opening room looks like several artificers and tinkerers exploded inside. I'm immediately drawn to everything, everywhere, all at once. So many strange devices that I've never seen in any capacity, machines whirring, and mechanical parts clattering. I want to know what all of them do.

  But I'm distracted by Ayre whispering behind me, "What's your problem, Lilly? Lay off, she's clearly exhausted."

  Lilly merely "Hmph's" in response, leaving Ayre looking at me, exasperated. All I can add is a shrug. It seems uncharacteristic, but it's not like there's anything to be done about it right now.

  We're led up several flights of stairs that have shallow ramps running alongside them that have sturdy looking railings and pulse with Mineralis essence aspected for magnetism. If I had to guess, they're meant for a wheelchair, or moving around heavier equipment on wheels? The front door didn't have a ramp, though…

  We arrive at an interior door and I can taste Puritas and Victus essence on the air as we get to it. "This is a clean room, and I would ask that you each avoid casting any sort of spells while within. Wystan's condition is aggravated by essence exposure and I would rather your being here not increase his discomfort if at all possible." All three of us agree and she pushes the door open with a rush of air — clearly the room has positive air pressure inside, probably for keeping random bits of essence from getting inside. It would explain the Puritas.

  "Dear, you have some visitors. They were sent by Mereia." Her voice softens, losing every bit of sharpened edge it had earlier. Along with the vocal change, her posture and stance becomes notably more open as she makes her way over to an oversized bed with a…very bad-off-looking human man laying under a pile of blankets with 10 essence emitters placed at even intervals around him.

  He looks old. Really old. Possibly the oldest person I think I've ever seen with my own eyes or anyone elses. But beyond age, he looks gaunt and shriveled, like a long-forgotten rind left in the sun. He still has a full head of brown hair and somewhat cloudy blue eyes that look about, clearly not comprehending his surroundings. "Alya?"

  "Yes, dear. I'm right here. Just hold on for a moment and I'll give you clarity." She steps closer, leaning over the bed to take his hands in hers as he grasps around, trembling. Calm whispering exchanges happen between the two while we wait — Ayre closing the door behind us and letting the room pressurize again.

  The scene…hurts. I've never seen this before, but something somewhere deep in my past recognizes the energy in the room as something somber and final. Gratefully, no memories accost me here. A small blessing that somehow makes it feel more tragic because it implies that this is a singular example. Not replicated in any of my stolen memories. Something private and intimate that I shouldn't be privy to.

  As their conversation goes on, I feel an energy building in the room, centered on the wife, Alya. As I focus, though, I struggle to parse it. So I call upon the essence sight of the calamity and look over at them and see something familiar and bizarre. Essence is apparating around her and Lilly, and seems to be being drawn over and into the man in the bed.

  After about thirty seconds of the spellcasting, the pressure in the room snaps and she stands up and back and starts to tend to various bits and bobs around the bed while he sits up and turns to face us, his eyes looking notably sharper and more focused.

  "Apologies for not greeting you properly before. Things are getting…worse…in recent months. I understand my daughter sent you to speak to me? It's not something she would do unless you had something important. I'm not fool enough to think you come bearing a cure, so what can this old scholar do for such an interesting group of young people?"

  Lilly steps forward, it is her quest, after all.

  "I…am coming to pay a debt." She sounds incredibly fragile. Lilly being the empathetic person that she is, I imagine she has to be feeling this far more acutely than me. "Your daughter saved my life, and bade me come here to meet you, as she said I could fulfill a dream of yours." She hesitates, then. Seemingly uncertain. "May I cast a small incantation? My essence won't interfere with your condition — of that I'm certain. But I want to ask first."

  Alya stands up straighter, stepping slightly in front of the man in the best and between him and Lilly defensively. "I did ask you specifically to no—"

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "Dear, it's fine. We have no reason to distrust her. I've already undergone the infusion, so I might as well take full advantage of the time. Especially given that Mereia apparently saved her life." She bows, grimacing and stepping backwards.

  "Right, give me just a moment."

  [Stretch and shift, my shape, my size, let me see through fairer eyes]

  Lilly says an incantation that I've grown familiar with by now and in a flash of pearlescent golden essence she shifts her size and form to her most comfortable one. That of a five-inch-tall, winged, fairy.

  The room goes dead silent in the aftermath as both Wystan and Ayla's eyes open wide with shock. Her's however, also immediately narrow in suspicion that she only barely restrains. I don't think anyone else noticed…

  "She led me to understand that you had researched our kind your entire life, but never managed to meet any fae properly. She was ardent that my being here would bring you some degree of peace. She was a delightful person for the short time I dealt with her after she saved me from a monster.

  But for a proper introduction… I am Lilidh O'Ceilidh, heir of the Court of Tale and Song, Daughter of The Traveller, and I am thrilled to meet someone who is enamored with the fae in the way I know we fae are with the mortal kyn of the world.”

  The silence floods in after her explanation — carried with every bit of pomp and gravitas that Lilly has within her.

  "You'll have to forgive me, I'm…" The elder man's voice cracks as he trails off, wiping at his face carefully with the back of his hand.

  This is going to be a long conversation, I think.

  Lilly and I come back the next week by ourselves, having to leave Ayre to go participate in a planned tourney for the week. Much as I really wanted to come back immediately, Alya was adamant that we not come back more than once a week, citing Wystan's health.

  Which, intellectually, I understand.

  But in terms of practicality? I have mixed feelings.

  Every time I think about it, I'm caught between two main ideas. One: I could just take the information, and be able to do more with it than he could anyways, even without his mental degradation coming into play. Two: I want to give him the time he needs to recover since he's doing this to help me.

  So, it's left me thinking on if there might be some sort of middle ground to be found. I'm working on a few theories, but I need to ask the man himself about them first. If I'm right, he might be able to provide me with the tools I need to get what I want and help him…but I need to be sure of my motivations for it, and if I can even hope to do it in a controlled way.

  That's for later, though, after I've spent more time learning from him.

  "Alya, can you and I talk privately and leave the boys to their business?" Lilly had warned me about her wanting to do this, but wouldn't tell me why. I've been operating under the assumption that the woman wound up being familiar to Lilly in some way, if only because I've never seen her resort to making promises as quickly as she has around Alya. She's also just been giving off some discomfited visual tells whenever we talk about her.

  She wears it on her sleeve like she does most things, but I'm missing some annoyingly crucial context to make the rest of the connection I need. Context that I don't have a clear route to acquire until Lilly deigns to reveal it to me.

  Annoying.

  Alya looks over at her husband, having finished the infusion, for his thoughts and he shrugs with a smile at her. The act makes him look about three hundred years younger and has her smile brightly in response. "Fine, dear. You two play nice. Remember, no magic in here, please."

  The two of them leave with Lilly wearing a mien that leads me to believe that she's about to bring up something terribly uncomfortable to the woman. I could follow…

  "Olly, we had to cut short our discussion the other day, correct?" He looks tired, physically and spiritually, in a way that I can deeply understand for probably very similar reasons.

  "We did. I wanted to bring up my condition and ask if you might have any insights. I didn't want to get in the way of you meeting Lilly, though — what's happening to me probably isn't time critical." I step to the side of the room and grab a chair awkwardly with my left hand, drag it over and twist it around to sit on.

  "Please don't mince words with me, Olly. My time is limited, so we're better off cutting to the quick."

  "By all means. I'm not usually one for small talk myself. Cutting to the quick, then." I reach up and undo some of the clasps holding Lilly's sleeve in place and slide it down. In response, the mans eyes go wide, working through a wide range of emotions for a few moments, mostly seeming to fight back against fear before settling on curiosity as I hold it up. "This is, indeed, 'the quick'." I add flatly, hoping my nonchalance will help settle his concerns.

  "That's…the calamity, isn't it?" He sounds awed as he looks me over, going from arm to arm before settling on my face and eyes. "Fascinating. And yet you retain your sense of self?"

  "You jumped to about the most complicated question you could have asked." I chuckle. I've been thinking about the questions that might come from this, and am more or less prepared, regardless. "Do I still possess a sense of self? Yes. I'm Allanius Parchess. Probably. It's a name that applies to me, at least, so it's as good as any other. But the kink in the situation is that I have a lot of senses of self, and sometimes the ones in the background like to assert themselves…myself?" I explain the situation more clearly over the next few minutes. The specters of memories, the situation where I lost myself after absorbing the crystal lizard, and the near-total override of my ego after experiencing Valynn Dakris's death.

  "And as far as you know, these memories all stem from people who have been consumed by the calamity?"

  "With certainty. The memories are always from people who have been killed by one, or from one itself."

  "And…they aren't people that you, personally, have…?" He trails off, clearly not wanting to say the words and make the implication.

  I save him from it, though. "To my knowledge — no. I can say that I've not consumed any mortal kyn since I came to. Maybe it happened beforehand, but I don't think it's the case. All of the memories from the perspective of something that actually underwent the full change had them becoming exponentially more potent with every person they consumed. I woke up feeling the equivalent of starved and haven't really been truly sated even once since." There, my voice falters. I've been maintaining objectivity up till now, but on thinking how unsatisfied I've been up until I started working around the collectors?They've been taking the edge off…but…

  I clear my throat and mind, "Anyways, sorry for the delay. Sometimes it's hard to focus. The other couple pieces of information I wanted to share are that anything I do consume, I gain what I believe is objective information about it. Who made it, the essential composition of the material, its name and most likely use-case. Things like that. That and the fact that it's all tied to some essence that nobody we've spoken to has ever heard of: Akasha." I leave off the Infernos. It might give a more full picture, but I don't want to go back on Lilly's request unless I have to.

  Wystan sits up straighter, bearing down on me abruptly with an intensity that makes me wince even at this distance. "You have access to Akashic essence?"

  I nod, clarifying. "I have near total affinity to it, though no ability to call it. I believe the arm makes it when I absorb things."

  "Well that makes perfect sense, then and…frankly, would be among the most important discoveries of the century if it could be deliberately used. My understanding is that Akasha is the essence of invention, knowledge, desire, and effort. My wife found a text regarding it. Despite my knowledge on such things, I wasn't able to decipher the book except in the most broad strokes. It was too mutable for such efforts."

  "What do you mean? How can a book be mutable?" The oddity stands out and makes my hair stand on end as I think about the implications.

  "It was actively resisting efforts to be deciphered. Pages would change their order in successive viewings, letters would jumble as if under a magical cipher, and just in general it was very hard to retain information about anything I gleaned from it." He goes very quiet all of the sudden and seems, after about a minute, like he might not speak again.

  But, I wait all the same. The way he's describing it makes it sound like how Lilly's magic parses to me, but the connection may be superficial — there would be many ways using magic to accomplish such an effect, after all.

  "And…what's more, I've been broadly convinced that that tome is responsible for my current state to some greater or lesser degree. I began experiencing bouts of forgetfulness shortly after studying it the first time. But…the funny thing about losing some memories is that sometimes you lose the memories of what caused those memories to go away in the first place, so you dive right back in." His voice turns bitter as he gets quieter.

  "I'm more sympathetic to that than you know. Maybe among the only people in the world who could be." I flex my right arm and hand, working the "muscles" with my left to feel the knowledge that comes with it. Force vectors, how much pressure I apply, which parts of the arm are most effected in a primary, secondary, and tertiary way. "You said you gave the book away?"

  It pulls him out of his stupor long enough for him to nod. "Yes. Someone Alya met on her travels was a magic researcher. An eccentric type, even by my standards. We never personally met, but Alya spirited the tome away when she realized the effect it was having on me — something I failed to recognize.

  "I think she feels responsible for my condition in that way. I…wish she wouldn't. She's given up her entire lifestyle of traveling and exploring to dote upon me…"

  His voice starts to trail after every other word or so, his eyes looking glassy as things start to defocus for him.

  Idly, I stand and make my way over as he looks through me before starting to drift his eyes around. "Wystan? You alright?" In response he just mumbles, settling back into his bed.

  The speed that his awareness fled makes me think that maybe Alya methods are deliberately short-lived? She said he's getting worse, so maybe it's the case that she's biding her time? Will talking to me about the book and memories of it exacerbate that problem? Maybe she can ramp up how much power she uses to get me more time with him? Too many questions.

  "Are you there, Alya?" He asks in a stilted cadence, reaching out without opening his eyes.

  I take his hand into my own, my left, and he squeezes down while murmuring quietly. Taking on an affectation of the memory of her voice, I respond, "Yes, dear, don't worry. Just relax."

  I just need a little bit of information to make a decision. Just a bit.

  [Wystan Archibald Dawnstar]

  [Species: Human, Fourth Generation Child of Creation]

  [Originated In City of Kharbon, Country of Eldara]

  [Geas]

  [Soul Vessel — Intact]

  [Aetheric Essence Connection — Disrupted]

  [Basal Essence Affinity — Disrupted]

  [No basal affinities.]

  [Akasha Gate Formation — Incomplete, 1%]

  [Extreme Akasha-favored imbalance.]

  So, this story has been going on for a little over a year now, and I think it's about time I kinda air some things because what I've been doing doesn't seem to be working.

  I hope people are enjoying this. The 40~ people who read each chapter on average I assume keep doing so because they are. But there's been a thing nibbling at me. I started posted on RR because of a hope to get some interactivity instead of just going straight to Kindle or similar because I knew my story would be a little bit off-market for RR's norms. Multi-POV, a focus on emotional growth, etc.

  But the crux is this — this story has done really well in terms of numbers(especially for my first published story!) but it hasn't gotten me any sort of interaction so it's left me feeling generally *worse*. The numbers don't really matter to me all that much. But for the now 80~ chapters posted for this story, there's not been a single comment on the story that wasn't a friend messing around or someone thanking me for doing a shoutout. So in effect, it's left me with all of the effort of posting my stories, but with no real emotional payoff since I'm not terribly numbers motivated.

  So it's left me here, considering taking this story down and just moving onto the "fiscally responsible" choice of trying to make actual money with my story by moving to Kindle or something similar.

  So what I'd ask for anyone who is reading along here still is to share some of like...anything you've got going on in your thinking about the story. It would genuinely mean the world to me and help me through deciding if what I'm doing here is actually worth the time and effort compared to just moving on.

  Maybe as an incentive -- if someone is particularly enjoying this and wants to read more, or get the chance to help the story along in some way, I'll gladly send them a copy of this second book in full.

  So...yeah. Chest bared. I'm no good at this stuff. Chapters will continue as scheduled.