Chapter 56 - 1-5 Glass Kanin: Reborn as a Bottle of In

Chapter 1 - Liminal Space

"Kanin! You're on set in ten."

Shit. I scarf down the last lump of half-frozen burrito, and it slides down my throat in a spiteful ball of cold rice and processed cheese. At least the next scene involves a lot of grimacing. I toss the wrapper away, and it bounces off the rim of the trashcan.

So, it's going to be one of those days, huh?

I make the basket on my second shot, then snatch my script from atop the microwave and jog toward the main set. As I go, I flip through the pages to double-check my lines, but I'm pretty sure I've got it all down. It's not exactly prime-time television. That said, I absolutely intend to bawl at all the emotional bits and flex my delts in every shirtless shot.

Don't judge me. It's my first lead role, and everyone's gotta start somewhere.

The set is a bustle of pre-filming action as I stop by the producer. "I thought I wasn't up until this afternoon."

Patricia doesn't even look at me as her fingers dart across her phone. "Larry can't make it."

I raise an eyebrow. "Got somewhere more important to be?"

"Got the flu," she says. "Been shitting his brains out all morning."

That explains my abbreviated lunch break. "Then we're skipping to one of my scenes?"

"Nope." She drops her phone into her purse and gestures sharply for me to follow. "You'll be standing in for Larry."

I blink, and Patricia is halfway across the room before I think to catch up. "Uh, but he's my stunt double. He's supposed to stand in for me."

She waves me off. "If you're able to drag him off the toilet, be my guest."

"We can wait until he's back," I suggest. "Shoot my scenes in the meantime."

Patricia holds out her hand, and someone deposits a coffee into it like magic. "You already know the scene. The lines. And you can do a breakfall, right?"

"Well—"

"We're on a deadline, Kanin," she interrupts with a flat look. "And the network won't be waiting for us. If you're passionate about employment, then the show must go on."

"We really don't have backups or anything?" I know I'm grasping at straws.

Patricia snorts. "Who do you think we are, Disney? Look, it's very simple, Kanin. This is a tiny-ass show with a tiny-ass crew, and you're going to play your own character in an extremely simple stunt scene, or we're fucked."

I rake my fingers through my hair, and one of the stylists gasps. I can't let my show die before it's even had a chance for the critics to tear it apart—not to mention my career!

"Alright," I say with a sigh. "What do I need to do?"

Patricia smiles like an eel. "That's just what I wanted to hear."

She beckons me over to the set, where the final touches are still being added to the scene.

"The choreography is pretty basic," Patricia says. "Most actors don't even use doubles for stuff like this."

Feeling a little judged, I puff myself up. "Can't risk damaging the face of the show, right?"

Patricia snorts, as if I'd made some kind of joke. Before I can clarify my sincerity, she hands me the prop gun I'll need for the scene, and then moves onto laying out all the rolls and breakfalls I'll need to do. And honestly, she's right—it does seem pretty basic. Probably a minimal risk of messing up my hair. Hey, if I pull this off, maybe I can become one of those actors who do their own stunts. Fans love that stuff.

"Alright, that's enough stage direction. You get the pic." Patricia claps her hands and raises her voice. "Let's go, people! Time is money."

The stage lights beat down with a stifling and familiar heat as I find my mark and wait for everyone else to file into place. My feet are only inches away from the Cliffs of Despair—which is to say, a two-foot drop onto a padded blue mat. Beyond that the illusion of the set dissolves into the dimly lit studio, where a flurry of human noise and motion wisps through the dark.

"Hey Kanin," Doug says, finding his mark as well. He's all decked out in his extremely villainous vampiric makeup, causing his eyebrows to arc dramatically. "Wasn't this scene supposed to be with Larry?"

I shrug. "He's sick, so I'm filling in. But don't count on me sticking around for the explosion scene," I add as a joke.

"Oh yeah," Doug agrees, straight-faced. "Wouldn't play to your strengths."

I tip my head. "Acting?"

"Being a pretty face." Doug winks. "Careful not to singe that perm."

"Hilarious." Your stand-up career will never pan out, Doug. "But I'm pretty sure they cast me for my acting."

Although, being hot certainly doesn't hurt.

Doug is saved from conceding defeat when Patricia claps her hands and everyone rushes to find their spots. She folds her arms.

"Let's shoot the rehearsal."

Ah, fuck. Probably wants to use the practice take as a substitute for more film time. Can't really blame her, given the time crunch, but I'd rather not have my first attempt at breakfalls and pretending to wield a gun immortalized.

Hollywood, for ya.

"Final touches," Patricia calls as she settles into her chair.

"Finals done."

I turn my back to Doug, focusing on the scene. My lines. I soothe all Kanin thoughts away and become Jack Stone: Cryptid Hunter.

"Camera ready?" Patricia asks.

"Ready."

"Quiet on set." She waits for the last rustle of papers to die away. "Roll sound."

"Sound speed."

"Scene 4, rehearsal."

There's a snap as the clapperboard clacks shut.

Silence. The gun feels heavy in my grasp. Dozens of lights blink in my peripheral. The set and everyone backstage are equally frozen, like some kind of liminal space, the moment between inhale and exhale.

And then Patricia calls, "Action!"

I spin and point the gun at Doug (or Count Fang) and he smacks it away with a defiant laugh.

"You think such primitive weapons would work against a being like me?" the vampire snarls. "You're out of your depth, Hunter."

I grimace, throwing a fake punch at the Count, who blocks it with ease. He delivers a return blow, and I dive to the side in an exaggerated roll. My shoulder hits first with a stabbing pain, but I roll to my knees to strike a defiant pose. Ow! This is why Larry gets paid for this shit.

"You won't get away with this," I say, tossing my hair out of my eyes so the camera gets the money shot. "I'm going to free that fairy orphanage from your tyranny. Do you know why?"

Count Fang sneers. "Do enlighten me."

I glance to the fallen gun, just inches from the cliff, and Count Fang looks, too. I look back up at him and smile, withdrawing a silver bullet from my pocket to display for vampire and viewer alike. "Because you don't know Jack."

I dive for the gun. Doug hisses in fury (a bit much, in my opinion) and jumps for the weapon as well. Our hands close over it at the same time, dramatically wrestling for control. I appear to win for just a moment, pulling the gun away, but Count Fang knocks it from my grasp, where it falls back to the ground.

Count Fang sneers, placing a hand on my chest. "It appears you didn't understand the gravity of our situation." And with one final, fake shove, I go stumbling back.

This is the moment—just got to tuck my chin in and fall into the waiting arms of a slightly uncomfortable drop pad. I plaster on my most surprised face—then let out a gasp as my foot comes down on something unexpected that slips beneath my shoe, turning my fake stumble into a real one. The prop gun skids away as I take another step back—and this time, there's nothing beneath me. My stomach lurches as I fall from the Cliffs an unexpected step too soon. I've rolled too far back. No time to brace myself. Impact—

Darkness.

I blink against the sudden black. Shit. Had the stage lights gone out? Did I trip over an extension cord in my failed attempt of a stunt? Patricia is not going to like this. We'll have to reset everything and start from the top. Assuming Electric can fix it. If this delays the schedule even further, a sick stunt double will be the least of my worries. Crap, I hope this won't be a problem with the network…

I pause. Why is everyone being so quiet? We aren't still rolling, are we?

Guys? I call. Or, I try to. My mouth doesn't open. I try again, but my attempt is met with silence. Confused, I blindly try to climb to my feet. But my legs won't move, and neither will my arms. And my body—

Oh god, my body. Where is my body?

Static numbness permeates my mind. There's nothing. No sight, no sound, no sensation—just unending black.

What the fuck. What the fuck is this?

Fear bubbles up in an unrealized scream. Horror and disorientation wash over me in waves. Everything is numb, and there's nothing—nothing—I can do—

"...help! Somebody help!"

…Doug? The sound is so faint. Where is it coming from? Which direction? Does this place even have directions?

The voices seem to get a little closer.

"Call an ambulance! Shit—"

Patricia. What happened? Where are we? But if I can hear them, then maybe they can hear me.

Guys, I try again, but I can feel my thoughts swallowed up by the dark. I'm here! I'm right here.

"…Oh my god, Kanin…" Patricia cries.

What? I ask. What is it?

"It wasn't my fault," Doug says. "He just tripped—I can't lose my job over this!"

Fucking Doug.

Something flickers past me. I snatch at the scrap of sensation, and my coworkers' voices vanish even as the light sharpens into focus. It's a… shooting star? That doesn't seem quite right. There's something more to it—something deeper—like shapes beneath the surface of moving water, their meaning just out of reach.

Oh, hey! the star says, and I jump. I thought I was alone in here.

Hello? I ask. Can you hear me?

Of course! the star says. Well, as much as anything can really hear in this place, I suppose.

Relief sweeps through me. Someone else to talk to. I'm not alone. Or maybe I am alone and just going insane, but if that's the case, at least this is a more comforting delusion.

Where are we? I ask.

Well, I'm not really sure how, but it sure seems like Between to me, the star says.

Between? I repeat. Between what?

Everything, I think. The star sounds thoughtful. The space between worlds. Between dimensions, maybe even between time. Between states of matter, life and death. At any rate, it's not a place you're supposed to linger. I mean, that's what they say, anyway. I'm no wizard!

Alarm bells start going off in my head. The star's ramblings shouldn't be making any sense, but…

Between life and death? I repeat. No. No, that can't be right.

Between everything, the star says. I was on my way to Miasmere, myself. Never used a telepad before, but Rezira assured me they were safe. So much for that, ha ha! The star seems to sober a little.Although I do hope I'm not stuck here forever. When I get back, that orc will never live it down…

I'm hardly listening. Snippets of my coworkers' conversations float through my head, and they're starting to make terrifying sense. Patricia was calling an ambulance. Doug didn't want to be blamed. I try to think back to the last thing I can recall before the darkness: I was falling.

Head-first. I remember the ground rushing up to meet me, and then—

Even though temperature doesn't seem to be a thing in this place, I suddenly feel very, very cold.

I'm dead, I say quietly, and the star stops its rambling.

Sorry?

I'm dead, I repeat, and this time the sadness hits me.

Because I know it's true. Because even if I hadn't felt the impact, even though I can't remember any pain, somehow, some part of me just intrinsically understands the tragic reality of it:

I'm dead as a doorknob, and my last meal was a frozen cheese burrito.

Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Dark

Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck!

You sure like that word, the star observes.

This isn't real. Those voices weren't actually my coworkers. This has got to be some kind of dream. Some drug-induced delusion. The pressure—that's it! The pressure from starring in my first gig got to me, and I snapped.

Because I can't actually be dead. I'm not even thirty. I never found my soulmate. I never got to see India or the Eiffel Tower or the inside of the Playboy Mansion! And my show—

My show is as dead as me. Dead as my career. Dead dead dead.

It's not fair, I moan. I'd barely started living!

Oh, don't be like that, the star says. I'm sure it's not as bad as you think!

What do you know? I sulk. You're just a star.

The star laughs. What are you talking about? I'm not a star, I'm an elf. 

An elf? The unexpected comment briefly derails me from my misery, but I don't let it distract me long.

Sure, I say, sinking back into my despair. And I'm a dwarf. 

Are you? The star sounds curious. Where abouts? My neighbors are dwarves—the Brookbanks. Heard they come from quite an extended family. Always talking about their cousin's kid's husband's sister's cooking. Maybe that's why they moved out into the country. Can be a bit grouchy, but they mean well. 

The conversation is so absurd it almost helps me forget about my own untimely demise. You're serious?

Of course I am, the star says. Sorry, am I rambling? Rezira always tells me I ramble, but given our circumstances I don't suppose there's much else to do. 

If I had a head, I would shake it. Nothing makes any sense. None of this feels real. Maybe I'm still on the floor of the studio, experiencing some final fit of delusion as my neurons fritz out, firing their last desperate signals into oblivion.

You know I'm not actually a dwarf, right? I ask.

All I really know about you is that you seem extremely confused, the star says.

I suppose that's fair. I'm a human, I say. I don't know why I'm even bothering to explain. I just feel like crawling in a hole and never coming out again. My name's Kanin. Kanin Reed. 

Nice to meet you, Kanin! The star is far more chipper than any disembodied maybe-dead entity has any right to be. I'm Noli Nettlebane.

Noli the elf, who looks very much like a star. Sure. Why not?

So how'd you die? I ask glumly.

Noli chuckles. Now that I'm focusing, Noli's voice seems to take on a feminine tone. I sure hopethat telepad didn't kill me. I'm just stuck between two places. You really think you're dead?

I try to summon up the last sights I can recall: Doug pushing me toward the edge, me tripping over the gun. The fall was all wrong. My head wasn't tucked. And was I even still aiming for the padding? I can't remember. God, it had happened so fast.

But really? Tripping on a prop? I'd be embarrassed if it weren't so sad.

Yeah, I sigh. Pretty sure.

I'm sorry, she says, and I feel a wave of sympathy emanate from her. Well, at least you've got me to keep you company before you pass on to the afterlife. Right?

I pause. You mean this isn't the afterlife?

Gods no! Noli laughs. I mean, it's not what I think the afterlife is supposed to look like. Is this what you were expecting?

I guess not, I agree. But I'd never really known what to expect—not completely. Heaven? Hell? Something else entirely? I had sort of figured no religion got it 100%, but most had gotten it at least a little right. This, though. This seems like oblivion.

I nervously edge closer to Noli. You don't really seem too bothered by any of this.

I get the impression of a mental shrug from her. It's then I realize I'm not even hearing her words, exactly, so much as understanding her intent. It's impressions more than sounds; like her thoughts are getting beamed straight into my head. I try to wrap my mind around how exactly we're communicating, but the more I try to focus, the more dizzying the idea becomes.

Maybe best to just roll with punches for now.

I'm not too worried, she says. I know we'll find a way out of this trap some way or another!

Trap? I repeat. I thought you said this was, uh, Between? And even if that's true, why am I here instead of… Dead. I shiver, shaking the word off. …Wherever I'm supposed to be?

Great questions! Her words spark with delight. And you're right. Normally, if you really did die, you shouldn't be able to remain here. Well, technically I shouldn't either. The point is, this place is supposed to be a transitory state.

Noli drifts away. Instinctively, I reach to follow, and surprisingly, I do. It's hard to say how I can tell I'm moving without any reference points—like trying to distinguish shadows in the dark—but somehow I can tell there's motion, movement, and it's propelled by my will.

Here, she says. Can you feel it? 

Feel what? But even as I ask, I can sense something manifest in the black. A tingling sensation, a numbness. And as I drift closer, the feeling amplifies into discomfort, and then into—Ah!

Careful! Noli cries. Don't go poking your fingers in the flame, now.

Thanks for the heads up, I grumble.

But the jolt of pain vanishes as quickly as it came, and I tentatively try to examine it once more. It's like a wall of electricity. Crackling nothingness. I follow it in one direction, keeping carefully away from its burning touch, but it doesn't seem to end.

What is it?

What indeed? Noli muses. Some kind of planar magic, that's for sure. 

Magic, I repeat with a laugh. But Noli isn't joking. Of course she's not. She's an elf. From a world with dwarfs and teleportation pads. Yeah. Okay.

Realizing the futility of remaining skeptical, I decide to lean into the absurdity. Magic created this… barrier?

Seems like, Noli says, either unaware of my bafflement or choosing to ignore it. It must be incredibly powerful to reach Between. Not to mention, to be able to last here for any amount of time.

Well, we haven't been here that long, I say. It's been… Wait. How long has it been? We can't have been talking for more than a handful of minutes. But how much time passed before I found Noli? Seconds? No, that doesn't feel right. Hours? Just like trying to understand how Noli and I can talk, the more I try to focus on how long I've been in this place, the more the very concept of time seems to slip away.

No sense in trying to make sense of time outside of time, Noli says. But that's beside the point. Here, it'll be easier for you to understand if you experience it yourself. Take a spin about the place. 

The idea of striking out into the void by myself sets all kinds of alarm bells ringing in my head. What if I can't find you again? 

You will, she says, and there's a tinge of resignation to her assurance. Trust me.

I'm not entirely sure I do, but on the other hand, what is there to lose? I'm already dead. Hesitantly, I move along the wall of magic, and Noli's presence grows distant. But it doesn't vanish. In fact, as I move, I notice a peculiar development taking place. First she's behind me, then to my side, then, eventually, in front of me once more. I pause, then strike out in a different direction. But the barrier inevitably takes me circling back to where I started. And it's like this in every direction.

We're trapped, I realize. Stuck inside some kind of sphere.

I feel Noli's agreement. This spell's keeping us stuck Between. Tucked away in a little pocket of nothingness. And as long the spell keeps going, we'll be kept from where we should be going. 

How'd we even get in here? I wonder. Why just us?

I'm not sure, Noli says, but I can speculate.

The gravity of her tone is not filling me with much confidence that her speculation will be to our benefit.

My hometown was on the coast, she says. Fishermen abound. Visitors would come and fish with hooks, but all us locals—we used nets. Hooks just catch one fish at a time. You have to lure them in. But nets could be used on a whole school. You'd cast them out and draw them up as fast as you could. Most of the fish would dart away, but you'd always manage to snag a few unlucky ones. 

I don't like where this metaphor is headed. You think someone cast their net Between to catch us?

Maybe not to catch us, specifically, Noli says. But they happened to cast their net at the exact moment we were moving Between. A moment earlier or later, and it might have been someone else. We're the unlucky fish.

The wide, open dark suddenly seems a lot more close and claustrophobic. And what'll happen when the fisherman pulls in their net?

For the first time Noli feels serious, and I don't like it one bit. Guess we'll be learning that together.

Oh, hell no. We have to get out of here! I race back along the invisible wall of static. There's got to be some way out. If someone can make it, then someone can break it, right? 

Noli doesn't try to stop me. I've already looked, I'm afraid. There's no way out. But hey! Her enthusiasm bubbles back up once more. Maybe someone from the outside will help us? 

Well we can't just sit around and wait for that, I say. If this is a trap, then the person who made it wouldn't have anything good planned for us, would they?

Maybe, Noli says. Or maybe I have this all wrong! No sense in assuming the worst, right? But… are you sure you want out? she asks. Even if we could escape, it's the only thing keeping us Between. Without it, I'll be back on my way to Miasmere. And you…

…I'll be dead. For real dead. On my way to… whatever happens after this. And maybe if I had any idea what that entailed, it would seem less scary. Paradise, if I'm lucky. If I'm not…

Right at this moment, I don't particularly feel like much of a gambling man.

Anyway, Noli says, no sense in panicking over something we can't control. Unless you've got some very interesting spells tucked up your sleeve, we're stuck.

Spells. Magic. The words don't seem as absurd as they should. I guess once you've faced your own death, everything else becomes easier to swallow.

Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire. Or maybe this is the frying pan, and out there is all the fire, just waiting for me to slip out.

On the bright side, I don't see how anything could get any worse.

Tremors echo through the darkness.

Some… thing… ripples through the black. Distant, outside of our little bubble, but I can still sense it clearly. Instead of Noli's curiosity and friendliness, however, it radiates only hunger. It's so intense, I feel it as if it's my own.

What is that? I ask, hushed. As far as I can tell, it hasn't noticed us yet, and I intend to keep it that way.

Noli doesn't reply. When I turn my attention back to her, she seems smaller. Less noticeable. Like she's no longer broadcasting her thoughts.

Noli? I drift closer.

Hush. Her thoughts are barely a whisper. But even muted, I can sense her fear, and that scares me more than the creature in the dark. Being stuck in this infinite black without a body or any control over the situation hadn't even fazed her, but this creature has her scared stiff. Rein it in. 

I'm not sure I really know how to do that, but the creature in the dark doesn't make it hard to shrink back. What is it? I ask again.

I don't know, she admits. There shouldn't be anything out there. Nothing should be able to live Between. 

Maybe it's stuck, like us? I suggest. But that doesn't feel right. It's drifting silently through the black, without fear or restraint. It's searching. Hungry.

A predator.

Claustrophobia is replaced by vertigo as my perspective of this place abruptly shifts. We're not just stuck in some tiny trap: We're a fishbowl cast into the ocean. Surrounded by unfathomable depths. And though dark, the surrounding waters aren't nearly as empty as they first appeared.

Another tinge of motion radiates through the dark, this time much closer. I don't quite understand what it is until I feel Noli's sliver of apprehension. It slips from her like a crack in a mask.

Time's up, she says.

The space around us shivers, and I realize this new sensation isn't due to the predator; our line's being reeled back in.

Think there's any possibility I'll go back? I ask, nervously edging away from our constricting net. Instead of… you know. Moving on? 

I don't know, Noli says, but there's doubt in her tone.

Waking up on the studio floor with a broken neck doesn't seem terribly enticing. But my other options are the afterlife, an encounter with that predator, or wherever this fishing net is taking me. I'm not terribly stoked about any of these options.

Our cage draws tighter. There's a sensation of motion now, of some inevitable outcome fast approaching.

Do you believe in an afterlife? I ask Noli. I don't give her a chance to say no. What's yours like? 

It'll be alright, Kanin, she says, which I think is about the worst possible thing she could have chosen to say. When is it ever alright when someone says that?

Maybe we could pull back against the net. Find some way to stay here a bit longer. I try to ground myself in place, but as our magical enclosure pulls closer around me, I chicken out and shy away from the encroaching pain at the last second. Sweeping my awareness around our prison, I desperately search for some hole I'd missed before. I mean, we've been alright this long, haven't we? What's a few more hours spent in an infinite abyss? 

Kanin—

It's not like time really passes here, right? I continue to ramble. I'm not ready. I need more time. A minute. A day. All the same, here. I couldn't even tell you how long it's been since—

Kanin! Watch out!

The wall of our prison slams into me in an electrifying jolt. I jerk away, but the net is thrashing about, making it almost impossible to avoid. Hunger presses in at me from all sides—excitement—anticipation—malice. The predator clamps down around us, and I can feel the walls of our prison creaking beneath its will.

Suddenly, getting the fuck out of here seems like a great idea.

Never mind! I press toward the other end of the net, as far away from the creature in the dark as I can manage. Reel, fisherman, reel! 

We're almost there, Noli says.

Our cage cracks, and eager hunger spills in.

At the same time, I can feel we're on the brink of something real—on the brink of space, and time, and light.

Shadows tear through our enclosure. They crash into the walls and ricochet about, greedily snatching for anything they can sink their claws into.

Warmth. For the first time in what seems like an eternity, sensations begin to flood into me. The Between stretches away—I'm falling back into reality. In just another moment, we'll have escaped the predator.

A spear of darkness stabs into me. And it's not like getting stabbed in the flesh; it's nothing as insignificant as physical pain. It stabs into my soul—into the very core of who I am—and every inch of me screams.

The darkness evaporates away, but a cold agony stays with me. I'm enveloped by sights and sounds and a gentle softness, but I can only concentrate on that sharp pain in my mind, a tension in my soul, of a retreating hunger, growing more distant—

The agony dulls to an ache. Slowly, I'm able to register my surroundings. Colors swim around me, out of focus. Sounds seem to echo down a distant hall. Warmth spills over me. It's physical. It's real. The darkness is gone.

I would sigh with relief if I weren't so exhausted. I feel like I've been shredded apart and stuck back together again, one atom at a time.

[New presence recognized. System Compatibility: Accepted.]

Noli? I groggily call. The voice is feminine, yet stiff and artificial—nothing like Noli's bubbliness. And I don't sense her mind anywhere anymore. Then again, I no longer sense the predator either. I'm back in my own solitary head. Alone.

[Processing role.]

Or maybe not. Hello? I try to call. But the voice doesn't seem to be listening. I can't even tell where it's coming from. Summoning all of my strength, I try to bring my surroundings into focus, and my efforts are rewarded as shapes and sounds begin to take meaning.

Hah! I'm alive again! Not whisked off to the afterlife after all. Take that, Noli. I will myself to move, and I'm rewarded with a small rocking motion. That's okay. Baby steps.

[Designation acquired.]

Abruptly, words spill out over my vision, imprinting on my mind.

[Name: Kanin Reed]

[Gender: Male]

[Age: 28]

[Weight—]

What the fuck is this? What is happening? There's dozens of lines, filling my vision and mind with strange words and lists of numbers until I can't see or think or hear anything else. It's too much—too much to understand—

[Abbreviating stats,] the voice says. Most of the words vanish, and the list repopulates, much shorter this time.

[Name: Kanin]

[Species: N/A]

[Class: None]

[Level: 1]

[HP: 10/10]

[Mana: 10/10]

[Void: 1%]

What the hell? What is all this? I try to blink the words away, but I discover two things at once.

First, I don't have eyes, and therefore cannot blink. Second, no one is actually speaking to me: The words are all in my head.

But the weird mind-voice isn't done with me yet.

[Role: Homunculus]

Chapter 3 - Homunculus

Level? Hit points? What is all this—some kind of video game? And what the fuck is a homunculus?

A shadow looms over me, and my vision swims as the shapes curve across my field of view in a disorienting manner. I feel nauseous, but I can't blink, or turn away, or even shut my vision off. A tawny face, bearded and gnarled, stretches before me—but behind me I can see the contents of a wooden work bench, and above me arcs the thatched roof of a cottage, while below is a distinct grainy pattern of wood, crossed with white stripes.

It's like I can see in every direction, all at once.

I want to be sick.

The giant face moves closer, peering at me with one gray eye which stretches around my view like a fisheye lens. He grins, and says something in a deep, wispy voice.

What did he say? I can hear—or at least I think I can hear—but it's nothing more than a string of nonsensical sounds.

[Foreign language detected. Activate translation?]

Uh. I still don't understand who the voice belongs to—if it belongs to anyone at all. But at the very least, it seems to be friendly. Yes?

[Activating.]

Like a switch has been flipped in my brain, the old man's words suddenly snap into focus.

"...more than anticipated. Two for one! How fascinating. I've never had this happen before."

Who is this guy?

The mind-voice takes that as an invitation.

[Name: Trenevalt]

[Species: Halfling]

[Class: Null Summoner]

[Level: 40]

[HP: 20/50]

[Mana: 28/800]

Summoner? Halfling? As if this all couldn't get any weirder. But after my conversation with Noli and everything that happened Between, I'm starting to develop an immunity to disbelief.

Where is Noli, anyway?

"It's lucky another vessel was nearby for the excess magic to spill over into," Trenevalt says, reaching out a hand. It hovers just above me, dwarfing my field of view. Halfling? This guy is huge!

"That could have been trouble." He chuckles. "Never thought my tinkering with such trinkets would end up being so useful." Trenevalt's hand continues to move over me and reach for an object to my right.

It's some sort of clockwork toy. Springs and gears decorate its copper shell, intricately integrated into all six of its spindly limbs. Some kind of octopus. Hexapus?

It begins squirming when Trenevalt tries to pick it up. At the same time, the mind-voice speaks up once more.

[Name: Noli]

[Species: N/A]

[Class: Woodland Ranger]

[Level: 25]

[HP: 30/30 (reduced)]

[Mana: 20/20]

Wait. That toy is Noli?

Trenevalt chuckles as the clockwork octopus swipes at one of his fingers. "Spirited core, I see. Though your form is a bit unorthodox. It will be difficult to figure out how to fix you to a more proper shell. Well, I'm sure I'll find some use for you yet."

The toy—Noli—gestures in a way I choose to assume means something rude as Trenevalt turns back to me. I squirm under his gaze and am rewarded with a small rocking motion.

"Careful there," he warns, steadying me with a finger. The finger is enormous, covering up most of my view of the ceiling. Next to me, Noli is struggling to get her many toy limbs under her. But if I'm about her size, that means this Trenevalt fellow isn't huge at all, is he? We've just become very, very small.

I must be stuck in some kind of toy, too. But what shape? I can't see any limbs, despite somehow being able to see in every direction at once, and trying to move doesn't provide me with any mobility either.

I may as well be Between all over again.

But at least here I can see. And I can hear. And a warm beam of sunlight is trickling through a crack in the wall. It's something, at least.

"Can you understand me, core?" Trenevalt asks me.

Can I speak? I think very hard about doing so, but nothing happens. With nothing else to do, I try wiggling once more. Only now that I'm thinking about it, it's more like sloshing. 

How extremely unsettling.

"Excellent," Trenevalt says, apparently taking my movement as some sort of confirmation. "That should be sufficient until I've enough mana to move you to your more permanent form. Now, stay put." A strange tingling sensation passes through me. "I'll be just a moment." The halfling turns away and hobbles out of the room.

Stay put? And wait for the fisherman to come back so he can start cleaning his fish? I don't think so. The second Trenevalt is gone, I give it my best wiggle.

A buzzing sensation erupts through my mind.

[Role requirement engaged,] the mind voice says. [Order received: Stay put. Sanity Level: 99%]

What the hell? Role requirement? What did any of that mean?

[Role: Homunculus. Condition: A homunculus must obey the commands of its creator.]

She keeps using that word. What even is a homunculus? It sounds ridiculous.

The mind-voice is happy to fill me in. [Homunculus: Animated by an arcanum-infused core, a homunculus is a creature of artificial origins designed to simulate life and serve its spell caster.]

Artificial my ass! I lived a whole life before ending up here! Or half of a life. A quarter. Regardless, mind-voice must have it all wrong.

I'm so distracted by this infuriating revelation, I almost don't register the clockwork octopus crawling over to me. It's a little hard to miss, however, since I can't seem to turn my omni-vision off.

Noli taps me with a copper tentacle, producing a ringing clink. I try to wiggle in acknowledgement, and that same buzzing sensation creeps into my mind, but I guess since I'm not technically trying to go anywhere, the "Stay put" order remains satisfied.

Noli wiggles her arms nonsensically, but it doesn't mean anything to me. I wish we could communicate again like we could Between.

[Foreign language detected,] the mind voice says. [Activate translation?]

Are they talking about Noli? But she isn't saying anything. She continues to wave two of her octopi limbs around, making strange swirling and jabbing motions. They seem sharp—intentional.

[Activate translation?]

Wait, she is speaking, isn't she? Just not with spoken words—it's some kind of sign language.

Yes! I cry. Activate translation.

The random motions abruptly gain meaning, the concepts appearing in my mind like they had when we were Between.

"...that really you?" Noli signs. It's crude, as if the signs she's producing with tentacle limbs are only a rough approximation of a much more nuanced language, but the translator in my mind seems to be working overtime to fill in the gaps. "We're in quite a pinch, huh. Can you see me from in there?"

In where? Not that I have any way of asking her to elaborate. Could I?

Hey robot person, I call. Can I, uh, I don't know. Broadcast or something?

[Command unrecognized,] she says.

Didn't think so. Well, thanks anyway, um… I pause. Do you have a name? 

[This interface is not a living entity and as such does not have a name.]

How enlightening. So, what, you're like a computer program?

[The existence of this interface is your primitive interpretation of the neuro-magical readjustment that was formed to bridge the divergences between extraplanar dimensions.]

Uh… sure. Clear as mud. But referring to it as the robot mind-voice isn't doing either of us any good. I'm going to call you Echo, I decide, since you seem to have a response to whatever I say.

The voice pauses as if performing a calculation. [Designation accepted.]

The tinking rings through me again, and I flinch away from Noli's increasingly annoying taps.

"Can you feel this? I suppose even if you could, you wouldn't be able to say. Quite a pinch indeed!"

How can she possibly sound so upbeat after having her mind stuffed into a toy octopus? It just isn't normal. I try to lean away from her taps, and she pauses.

"Aha! That got a reaction." Her arms wiggle in excitement. "Alright, how about this—slosh around if you can understand me."

There doesn't seem to be many other options. I try rocking back and forth again.

"That's it! You can see me! Okay, so… let's try, sloshing means yes, no sloshing means no."

Psh. I could have thought of that. But it doesn't seem like 'yes' and 'no' are going to lead to many rich and meaningful conversations.

Noli clumsily skitters around me, looking for who knows what, and her image warps around my gaze. Ugh. This contorted vision is going to give me a headache.

"Okay," Noli signs. "I think I can roll you off that stand before our wizarding friend gets back. Er. You don't think you'd break if I dropped you on the floor, do you?"

I sure hope not. But her line of questioning is not instilling an abundance of confidence in me.

"You didn't wiggle," she notices. "So, 'no, you don't think you'll break'. Or is that 'no, don't drop me'? Or maybe 'no, you don't want to go'. Or maybe…"

I mentally facepalm. At this rate, nothing is going to get accomplished. One thing I do agree with her on, though, is getting out of here before Trenevalt gets back. I try to rock a little more forcefully, and immediately my mind is filled with uncomfortable static and alarm bells.

[Role requirement active,] Echo stoically reports. [Order: Stay put. Sanity Level: 98%]

Oh, right. I'd nearly forgotten about that bullshit. Can't talk. Can't move. What's next?

"Here we are."

My heart sinks and Noli freezes as Trenevalt meanders back into the room. That must have been the shortest-lived escape attempt in history. What does he want? Why did he do this to us?

Trenevalt sinks into a chair, reclining with a content sigh. Between his hands is a steaming cup of liquid. He smiles faintly, turning his face to a sunny window, and sips idly at his drink. A solid minute passes in silence.

Um. What? Is this some kind of trick?

Noli is just as baffled. "I… think he forgot about us."

Holy shit, she's right. Not a trick, then, just a joke. A very bad joke.

"Come on." Noli crawls around behind my back. "I think we can still sneak out of here."

But her squeaky gears and the scraping of her metal limbs against wood are anything but sneaky. Trenevalt cocks his head, then turns to look. Noli stops as the wizard stares at us for a long, unblinking moment.

Then he passes a hand over his face and chuckles. "Oh my. I really am getting old, aren't I? Can't forget about you two." He sets the drink down and stands, sweeping me up in his grasp.

The world spins around me—too fast—too disorienting—but at least his hand is covering half my vision, which helps with some of the vertigo. As I'm lifted from where I was stuck, I can finally get a good glimpse of my surroundings.

We appear to be in some kind of wooden shed. Strange tools and jars decorate the shelves on two of the walls. On the third wall is a window, where a line of clockwork toys similar to Noli are sitting all in a row, with one gap in their ranks. Beneath that is the table I had been sitting on, which has white circles and lines drawn all over it. At the center of the design is some sort of small metal stand—that must have been what I'd just been sitting in. Trenevalt places a cloth lining in the stand, picks it up and rolls me back into the padded frame, then gingerly grabs Noli with his other hand. He carries both of us out the door at the back of the room. So much for his tea.

Outside is almost sensory overload. There are pine trees—which I can't smell—and sunshine—which fills me with warmth—and chirping birds—which I can hear. So I've still got at least sight, sound, and touch. But smell, taste, and speech seem to be off the table. Not terrible, I guess. But what I really want is mobility, and it's all I can do to just watch and see where Trenevalt takes us next.

"That was my workshop," he helpfully supplies as we circle around the small shed. "You won't have to worry about that place much. It's just where I practice any new spells, and aside from you two, I'm not practicing much arcana these days."

Noli is wiggling her octopus limbs at him frantically, but he doesn't pay her any mind.

"The wood pile is just behind," he continues, pausing to show us his astonishingly mundane stack of logs. "They can be chopped in the spring and summer, so there's time for them to dry before winter."

Fascinating. What mysterious wonders will the wizard show us next?

"The grounds become quite overgrown in warmer months," he says, continuing on the apparent tour. "They will certainly need tending. And these are the laundry lines." A pair of pink flannel trousers flap in the breeze. "They can be taken down in harsh winds, if need be. Up ahead is the main house…"

Noli continues to fruitlessly attempt communication with the wizard. "It's all lovely, it really is, but we would seriously appreciate being put down now—or, even better, returned to our actual bodies."

He doesn't even glance her way. It's like being held captive to an old person's mind-numbing narration, but in a much more literal and dire sense.

"...And this is my home."

The cabin is half-built into the hill it's on, which in turn looks down over a valley dotted with lakes and wildflowers. Snow-capped mountains frame the picturesque vista, and there's no sign of any other homes or villages in sight. I suppose I can't blame the guy; if I were a hermit, this would certainly be a stunning location to choose to spend the rest of my days without the risk of any wayward salesmen or nosey neighbors.

Which of course means there's no one else around to save Noli and I.

Inside, his house is cozy, if not a bit messy, every surface covered with teacups and every wall packed with books. He shows us to the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom, and finally stops in some sort of study.

"Here we are," he says, setting me down on a desk. "It will be nice to have help again. Though I suppose that'll have to wait a few more days, until my mana stores have recovered. I'm afraid I used a bit too much summoning you both here—won't have nearly enough to complete the binding. Not to mention twice over!" He places Noli next to me. "Sorry, little one, but I don't have a body prepared for you, yet."

A body? Like, our real bodies? Thank god, then this is just temporary. Maybe this is all just some misunderstanding. Maybe he's here to help after all. I mean, he doesn't seem all that bad. A bit messy and more than a little forgetful, but I'm starting to have my doubts about his supposed wizardly talents.

Trenevalt turns his back to us as he busies himself with something behind the desk.

"Oh, gods," Noli signs.

I turn my attention back to her. She must see something I can't.

Noli isn't trying to escape this time, however. She just watches Trenevalt, quietly, unmoving. Echo's translations may be able to figure out her signs, but it provides me no insight on her body language. Is she frozen in fear? Awe? Something else?

Curse this lipless form.

Then Trenevalt steps aside, and I notice several things.

First, he's standing in front of something glassy and reflective. The structure isn't a mirror, but it's enough to provide me with a first very warped reflection of myself.

I'm a flask. Seated on the cushioned stand Trenevalt had placed me on before, I can make out a tear-drop shaped vial, about three inches across. Like one of those round chemistry flasks, but instead of an opening, the top part is hooked and sealed as if designed to be strung up like a pendant on a necklace. And inside that glass vessel is something dark—a thimbleful of black ink. That… that isn't really me, is it?

[Check,] Echo chimes in, my thoughts clearly having triggered one of her commands. [Kanin, a Level 1 homunculus, summoned by the null-arcanum wizard Trenevalt.]

Okay, so that's definitely me, then. I'm a tiny glass vial with a teaspoon of ink. Man, why couldn't I have gotten Noli's body instead?

But I'm not given much time to dwell in self-pity as my attention is drawn to the thing that's providing me with my reflection.

"You won't be much use now," Trenevalt says, setting something down on the table next to me. "But once I've got you properly bonded, you should be a big help around the house."

What he's stepped away from is a body—sort of. There are two legs, two arms, something that resembles a torso, and even the impression of a head—but it's all made out of glass. And there's a hole in its chest that's suspiciously tear-drop shaped.

I look at the thing Trenevalt put on the table, and it's like looking into a mirror. Another tear-drop vial, but this one is cracked and empty.

Um. Check?

[Check: Expired homunculus core,] Echo says. [This is the inactive core that once was used to power the homunculus shell owned by the null-arcanum wizard Trenevalt.]

Oh, crap.

"It will be nice to have someone to talk to again," Trenevalt happily hums to himself. "Even if you won't be able to talk back. Gets lonely out here sometimes… But nothing a bit of magic can't fix!"

"Gods," Noli signs, her limbs limp and defeated. She seems to be piecing it together as well. "He wanted to create a new core to power his homunculus—but instead, he got us. He doesn't even know two souls got stuck in his spell."

If I had a heart, it would be sinking into my stomach. I might not understand magic, but our circumstances are clear enough. Our minds have been stuffed into tumblers and toys, and the only chance of freedom rests in the hands of a senile wizard who summoned us to do his yard work.

Chapter 4 - This is How I Roll

Moonlight spills from a frosted window, providing the only light Noli and I have to work by, as Trenevalt sleeps in the next room over. I imagine him explaining all the tasks he expects us to perform once we have proper bodies is extremely exhausting for someone who typically only concerns himself with how his eggs are prepared on any given day: soft boiled, if you were wondering.

"There's got to be a way to make him understand us," Noli signs, despite having already proven herself wrong dozens of times this afternoon.

Even so, I give an affirmative "Yes" jiggle just so she knows I'm listening.

"Or maybe we'd stand a better chance finding someone else to listen," she suggests. "There must be a town nearby. That tea he drinks is the same kind Rezira buys, I'm sure of it. We could try walking there."

We can't do anything. Noli is the only one with any mobility between the two of us, and her tiny toy tentacles don't strike me as something that would weather miles of wilderness and potentially wild animals in one piece—assuming she's right that there is in fact a town nearby, and that she even knows which way to go.

Not for the first time, a wave of depression washes over me. I miss my body. I miss being able to walk and talk, and I'd sell my soul just to be able to cry or complain. God, what I'd give to have my glutes back. I had amazing glutes.

And what's going to happen to my TV show now? My heart sinks. Without its star, it'll probably be dead in the water. Somehow, that hurts almost as much as losing my body. I spent my whole life trying to break out. All those years of acting classes, voice training, community theater, working out, strict diets, and countless auditions—just for it to be thrown away, the moment I finally got my shot. What was the point of all that struggle? It's not fair!

A cloud passes overhead, and light catches in the creature-shaped glass husk that sits silently in the corner. Noli seems to notice it too.

"Well one thing's for sure," she signs. "We can't let you get bonded to that thing."

Oh? I mean, I'm not thrilled about being stuck in a squatty glass body—he could have at least made it athletic looking—but having arms and legs again sure would be nice. Maybe then I could at least write something and clue Trenevalt into what's happening with us.

"Homunculi are mindless, soulless, magic-less constructs, right?" Noli signs. "So what happens when a soul gets stuck to something that's designed only to obey its creator's commands? I mean, I don't know for sure it will be bad." She wrings her octopus arms. "But I also can't imagine it would mean anything good."

I suppress a shiver. I've already run into a few of these "Role requirements," as Echo calls them, forcing me to obey Trenevalt's simple command to stay put. If I get bound to that glass body, and Noli's right, then what will happen to the remainder of the small scrap of autonomy I still have left?

Trenevalt mentioned he needs to wait a few days for his mana stores to recover first (whatever that means). A few days doesn't feel like much to work with. But if my freedom is on the line, then we need to figure out a solution—quick.

"Anyway," Noli signs, clapping her limbs together. "I could probably carry you, if it comes down to it. Although I'm still figuring out these wobbly arms." She attempts to pick up a feather quill and immediately drops it, not filling me with an abundance of confidence. "Well, practice makes improvement, as they say! Unless you think you can roll around on your own?"

That idea sounds significantly preferable to the alternative. This stand is preventing me from doing any rolling, but if Noli could help me out, then maybe I'd have some options.

But just as soon as my hopes are stoked, I remember that annoying buzzing sensation and Trenevalt's command: Stay put.

Hey Echo, I ask. Do I still have to stay put? Do these commands, I don't know, have any kind of expiration date?

[Negative,] Echo says. [An expiration timer must be established by the summoner in order to apply to a command. However, in this instance the command to "Stay put" has become rendered null due to the summoner actively changing your location.]

Perfect! I stash that bit of loophole knowledge away for future use, then answer Noli with a rock of excited agreement.

"Great!" Noli skitters over to me, tapping her limbs at my small metal stand. "Now, let's see what I can do about all this…"

I am starting to have regrets. Unlike a real octopus, she lacks any kind of suction cups or grip, and her metal tentacles produce a faint yet painful screeching sound when she runs them over my flask. I internally cringe, but I don't see any alternative; if she drops me, at least I'm only an inch off the desk.

Noli grounds herself on four of her limbs and uses the other two to wrap around me and squeeze. I can't say how, exactly, but the sensation makes me uneasy.

[Crush status in effect,] Echo pipes up. [1 point of Crushing damage is sustained every second. HP: 9/10]

Well that doesn't sound good. Noli tips back, and I come halfway out of the stand.

[HP: 8/10]

Hurry the fuck up, Noli! She leans further back, and I slip free from the stand. She's still holding me, though. Shit, we really should have fleshed out more methods of communication than just 'yes' and 'no.'

[HP: 7/10]

Noli leans forward to set me down, but I slip from her arms and drop to the table with a jolting crack.

"Oops!" Noli cringes. "Sorry."

[2 points of Fall damage sustained. Total HP: 5/10]

Sheesh! That much damage from such a little fall? I'm more fragile than I thought. But at least that ordeal is over. And I wasn't forced to find out what happens when my HP falls to zero—an ignorance I'd love to maintain.

Without the stand to keep me still, I roll halfway over, my vision rotating disorientingly around me. I attempt to roll in the opposite direction, and succeed! A bit too well, however, as I continue to roll backward.

I'm barely able to catch Noli's "Careful!" before she pounces on me, and I feel my HP drop another point.

The world stops spinning, two of Noli's limbs keeping me secured in place, and it's only then I can see where I've rolled; the edge of the table is inches away.

I don't need to consult Echo to know that fall would cost me the last four points of my HP.

"Whew." Noli carefully lets me go. "Well, at least we know you can move around like this."

Mobility, yes, precision, no. The hook shape at the back of my glass is throwing off my balance. And if I'm going to have to roll everywhere, I wouldn't be able to see much of anything while in motion. This body just keeps getting better and better.

"Should I put you back on the stand?"

I don't bother moving—to indicate a 'No'—as I take stock of my surroundings. No way down from the table that doesn't involve falling and shattering into countless glassy bits.

I lean away from the edge of the table and begin to roll again—slower, this time. Noli scurries after me like a mother hen, but I think I'm getting the hang of it. It's like trying to balance on a see-saw; I have to keep shifting my weight from side to side if I want to stay put, and leaning one way or the other just a little bit is enough to break the balance and start rolling again. Awkwardly, I inch my way across the desk, pausing occasionally to gather my bearings.

Noli skitters after me as I practice. "There you go, you're getting it!"

Thanks for the patronization. I bump into something and roll to an abrupt stop—a messy stack of books. For a moment the words on the spine seem nonsensical, then just as quickly they snap into focus.

Advanced Summoning Arcana. Planar Theories. Vessel Construction and Binding. Birds of Valenia North.

Ah, a powerful wizard and a bird watcher. This Trenevalt is one multifaceted halfling.

I pick a candlestick as my next checkpoint to travel toward and start rolling once again.

"Good, good!" Noli signs. "Now if we can just get down from this table, we should be able to make a break for it. I'm pretty sure I'd be okay if I fell, but…"

My glass is anything but durable. And even if we do make it down, I'm not sure running is the best idea. I mean, I definitely don't want to get stuck in that glass shell and become a mindless magical maid, but if Trenevalt got us stuck in these bodies, he's still the best bet to get us unstuck, right?

I bump into the candlestick and pause to take stock once more. There are some ink and papers nearby, which I decide to aim for next, keenly aware my vision will start swirling into a nonsensical blur the second I move. There has to be a better way to get around.

"Maybe we can find a different way to communicate," Noli continues. "Like rolling in a circle versus a straight line, or left or right could mean something, or up and…"

I lose track of what she's saying as I roll. But she's right; we really need to work on making our conversations more than one-sided. Now that I'm starting to get the hang of moving, that should come next. Maybe if I tipped that inkwell over and rolled through the ink, I could write something in cursive.

I try and fail to recall the cursive alphabet. I'd only ever practiced my name for signing autographs.

Well, it was a good idea, anyway.

I roll to a stop before running into the stack of papers. The inkwell is only a few inches away. Would bumping into it knock it over? Or would it crack me apart?

That's not a gamble I'm really wild about taking. But maybe Noli could help.

I roll over to the inkwell and make a slow circle around it. There's a cork in the top, which proves an additional obstacle. Apart from the ink, only that cracked homunculus flask is nearby. I try to ignore the latter; something about that dead core gives me the heebee jeebies.

"What're you up to?" Noli asks, following me over. "The ink?"

I rock an affirmative "Yes."

She takes a lap around it as well. "You want to use this?"

Yes! She's getting it.

"Great idea!" Noli wraps two limbs around the base, and works at the cork with two more. I roll back an inch to give her room, but her metal tentacles slip useless around the stopper.

"Hmm," she considers after a minute of futile effort. "We'll have to get it open some other way. Think we can break it?"

Noli doesn't wait for me to answer. She knocks the well on its side, which clatters loudly, but does not crack.

"Maybe more height?" she suggests.

I decide it's prudent not to stick around to find out. Rolling back, I'm only a few inches away when Noli throws the inkwell at the table. The bottle skips and comes crashing back down onto the old homunculus flask, which shatters on impact.

I cringe.

"Oops," Noli signs.

A grumble and rustling of blankets comes from Trenevalt's bedroom. Busted. What will he do when he finds us? He doesn't strike me as the quick-to-anger type, but given he sees us as something like Roombas and not actual people, my faith in his understanding is slim. Will he lock us up somewhere we'll have no chance of causing more trouble—or escaping? I look desperately around for somewhere to hide—myself or the evidence, I can't even say—but short of risking a jump off the desk, my options are limited.

"Shoot!" Noli skitters to the left, then the right. "What do we do?" She hesitates at the edge of the desk, and for a second, I think she's about to abandon me. It stings, but I can't blame her, really. We've only known each other for a day, and we've been able to communicate for even less. Then she hurries back over. "Sorry about this, Kanin, but better to ask for forgiveness than permission!"

Before I have a chance to figure out what she means, she scoops me up and rushes across the desk. Trenevalt's footsteps thump across creaky floorboards and a light turns on from in his room. Noli bumps into my stand, and I feel a stomach-lurching bout of weightlessness as she nearly drops me, juggling from arm to arm, as she tries to set me back in place.

She's protecting me. If Trenevalt finds me securely in my stand while Noli's freely skittering about, then she'll take the blame for the broken flask. Guilt washes over me. I'd tell her to stop if I could! It's my fault she was trying to open that stupid ink bottle in the first place.

But there's nothing I can do. Since the moment I was dragged into this shitty fantasyland, I've been completely useless.

And I'm fucking sick of it.

"What's going on out here?" Trenevalt grumbles, a ball of light floating over his shoulder and spilling color onto our surroundings as he limps into the room. The light glimmers off the shards of broken glass.

"Ah." Trenevalt bends over his desk as Noli sits carefully still near the stack of books. "I see some of us have been creating more messes than they've been cleaning up."

His gaze lands on me for a moment before shifting over to Noli. Her limbs twitch. He reaches toward her.

"Hey!" he says as Noli jumps from the desk, landing on the floor with a thunk.

She pauses to look back up at me. "I promise I'll be back. Sit tight, Kanin!"

As if I could do anything else.

"Get back here," Trenevalt orders, but Noli skitters around the corner and out of view.

Interesting. If Trenevalt had said that to me I would have had that annoying buzzing in my mind, and Echo saying [Order received] or [Role requirement engaged.] Did Noli not have an Echo rattling around in her head, too?

She also seems to understand Trenevalt perfectly fine. If she doesn't have a mental translator, does that mean she can just speak his language? Are we in her world? And even if we are, why do each of us appear to be operating under a different set of rules?

Either way, she's gone now, and Trenevalt is in a foul mood.

"What a mess," he grumbles, peering down at the broken flask. He points a finger at the shards, mumbling something under his breath. A purplish glow appears at his fingertip, and he begins to sketch a symbol into the air above the glass. Then he hesitates. With a shake of his head, he withdraws his hand, and the light vanishes.

"Suppose I'll clean it up the old-fashioned way in the morning," he sighs. "Need to save all the magic I can afford for your spell. Then I won't have to clean up anything myself."

And I'm so happy for him. But it's curious he seems so conservative about his magic. Like flexing an invisible muscle, I Check Trenevalt.

[Trenevalt, a Level 40 halfling null wizard,] Echo says. [He specializes in summoning magic and null arcanum and is exceptionally tired.]

Thanks for that, Echo. Exactly the information I care about.

What about his magic? I ask. Um. Mana?

[Mana: 50/800]

Well that might be useful info if I remembered how much he'd had before. Still, it seems low. I guess casting that net Between and yanking Noli and I back out costs a pretty penny. So how much mana does it cost to animate a homunculus? And how much time is left before I'm doomed to senile-wizard servitude? He'd mentioned a couple days, but did that include yesterday? How many is a couple? The uncertainty stirs anxiously in my chest.

Or, glass, I guess. Whatever.

Anything else you can tell me? I ask Echo. Anything else I can Check?

[Check: broken flask,] Echo says.

That's not exactly what I meant.

[The broken remnants of an expired homunculus core. Attunement available.]

What? What's that mean?

[Broken: adjective. Fractured or damaged. Homunculus: noun. A creature of artificial—]

No, no, no, I interrupt. Echo must think I'm stupid. Attunement. What's that?

[Attunement,] Echo says. [A spell which allows the caster to form a magical bond with an object.]

Magic? That's something I can do? I thought only wizards could do the glowy finger tricks. I suppose it's possible; there's a lot about this world I still don't understand. But even if I do, what would forming a magical bond with a broken pile of glass even accomplish?

Trenevalt raises his glowing ball of light higher in the air, sweeping his gaze around the room. I don't see Noli anywhere, and I guess he doesn't either, because he gives another rumbling sigh and shakes his head.

"A problem for the morning, I think." Lowering the light, he straightens up the bottle of ink, gives me an affectionate pat (ew, please don't,) and then lumbers back to his bedroom. The light snuffs out a moment later.

So we're back here again. Stuck on a stand in magic-Frodo's house, abandoned by my clockwork friend. Really, who hasn't been there?

I glance at the pile of glass. That Attunement thing still has me curious. Performing magic was never on any of my forecasted career paths—at least, not since I gave up prestidigitation in 5th grade—and it's not terribly appealing to me now that I know it's real, either. I just wish I had two heels I could tap together to send me back home, somewhere familiar and comfortable, where my biggest worries are forgetting my lines and trying to decide what I want to order for dinner. (Delivery is its own kind of magic, really.)

But all of that is just fantasy now—and yes, I'm well aware of the irony. Currently, a wizard holds my fate in his hands, and my only ally is missing. If I want to get back to any sort of normalcy, I'll need to take things into my own—metaphorical—hands.

So what's involved with this Attunement process? I ask.

[Attunement Requirements,] Echo says. [Mana: Variable. Time: Variable. Proximity: Must be in physical contact with the Attuned target object.]

I Check my stats.

[Name: Kanin]

[Species: N/A]

[Class: None]

[Level: 1]

[HP: 5/10]

[Mana: 10/10]

[Void: 1%]

[Role: Homunculus]

That's one more Hit Point than I had earlier, I'm pretty sure. Which means the damage isn't permanent. Well in that case…

I begin rocking back and forth, and I can feel the dark whatever inside me sloshing from side to side. Eventually the stand starts to wobble as well, and I give the next rock a little extra umph: I teeter, hanging at the edge of balance, and then fall in a gut-wrenching lurch.

It's only an inch or two, about the height Noli dropped me from before, but I still wince when I hit the table.

[2 points of Fall damage sustained. Total HP: 3/10]

As expected. At least now I—

[Skill Obtained: Fall Damage Resistance.]

Oh. That's new. Echo, what's Fall Damage Resistance do? Besides the obvious, I guess.

[Skill: Fall Damage Resistance Level 1. When a user would sustain damage from falling, they sustain 10% less fall damage than the default.]

Call me ungrateful but a 10% discount hardly seems like grounds for celebration, especially given a max HP of 10. Maybe the skill can level up at some point? But if that requires more falling, I'd frankly rather focus my efforts elsewhere. Thanks anyway, I guess.

I roll cautiously over to the pile of broken glass. The corpse of another homunculus, I suppose. Grim, but it only makes me more determined to not end up the same way. I'm going to be fleshy and shredded again one day, no matter what it takes.

Edging a little closer, my glass tinks softly as I bump into the closest shard.

[Target Attunement acquired. Mana Cost: 2]

And I have 10, right? Seems like a fair trade.

[Time requirement: 2 hours]

For a shard of glass barely an inch long? Okay well that's just excessive. What am I supposed to do for two hours while this thing is chugging away?

Then again, I have no better ideas on how to spend my time.

Anything else? I ask.

[Attunement spell ready to be cast.]

I guess that's a 'no.'

Alright then, I sigh with just a twinge of nervousness. Let's do this. I will this 'Attunement' thing to start working, and I feel something in my essence—my soul?—react to the thought.

[Attunement activated,] Echo reports.

I wonder if it'll look like those wisps of light Trenevalt was drawing in the air. Would my magic be similar? A different color? Did I need to sketch out some pattern to…

My thoughts stutter, growing sluggish and disjointed.

Oooh… I groan, reaching for Echo. What is happen…

My consciousness spirals away from me as Echo says something from a vast distance, and I'm dragged down into a dreamless black.

Chapter 5 - Attunement

[Attunement complete.]

I jolt awake. It's night, but nothing around me feels familiar. There're books along the wall, and wood beams in the ceiling, and I'm on a desk filled with candles and ink and broken glass, and—

—And I'm seeing all these things at once.

Oh.

Yeah.

The events of the last day come crashing back into me, punctuated with a distinct sting of homesickness. It all feels like a waking dream. Wild events that are happening to a different Kanin. Real Kanin is back in his bed, lulled to sleep by midnight traffic instead of crickets and owls, headlights streaking by outside the window instead of stars. The smell of dust and fast-food wafting through the apartment instead of, well, nothing.

God, what I'd give for a cheeseburger.

"Kanin?"

I jump at movement in the dark.

"You did move. You're alive!" Noli skitters across the desk to wrap me in an uncomfortable metal-on-glass hug. "Thank the gods, I thought you were dead. Like, again. But for real this time."

No, no. That's not still a sore subject or anything. Please, go on.

"I came back after the wizard was asleep but you weren't moving at all," Noli continues. "And you were touching this piece of broken flask that was glowing all strange like. It looked like it was sucking the magic right out of you."

Oh! The Attunement. I'd nearly forgotten. But it wasn't really sucking magic out of me… right?

[Attunement cost: 2 mana,] Echo says. [Injecting your magic into the target object results in said object being bound to your soul and will.]

So it wasn't the shard taking magic from me, but rather me putting magic in the shard. I wonder what I could do now that I'd "Magically bonded" to a piece of glass. It still looks like any other bit of broken bottle. And I suppose it is a bit of broken bottle, isn't it?

Good god, I've just bonded my soul to a piece of trash.

But somehow, I can sense it sitting there. I can feel the faint texture of woodgrain beneath it. Like it's an extension of myself. Curious, I mentally reach into the shard. And it moves.

Ahhh! The shard rattles across the table. Holy shit! I mentally instruct the glass to leap into the air, and it responds to my intent, hovering next to me like a mouse-sized sword.

Oh my god. I can control it with my mind.

I'm a mother-fucking Jedi.

"Woah!" Noli has apparently noticed as well. "Kanin, watch out!" She swats at the glass.

Ah, crap. I swing the shard behind me and out of her reach. Come on, I just got this thing!

"Careful," she signs with snappy kung-fu-like movements. "It's trying to attack you!"

This is not the shit I need to be dealing with right now. I push the shard further away, and at the same time I feel my hold on it waver.

[Range limit,] Echo warns.

Of course. Of course there's a range limit.

I reel the shard back in, not about to lose the only crumb of control I've managed to scrape together so far in this world, and I use it to give Noli a gentle—and disciplinary—bop on the head.

[0 points of Bludgeoning damage dealt,] Echo happily reports.

Oops. Well, zero damage is good, right? I hadn't meant to attack her.

But wow, my strength is shit.

Regardless, it seems to do the trick. Noli pauses, one tentacle frozen mid-swipe. I retract the glass shard. Neither of us move.

"Oh!" she signs abruptly, and I flinch. "Are you doing that, Kanin?"

Oh thank god—and all Noli's gods—and whatever else they worship here. I swivel the shard back and forth in a poor attempt to wave.

"Wow! That's amazing," Noli cheers. "Sorry about all that. But hey, now we have an even better way to communicate! Let's see; if you can point that thing up, down, left and right, then that's at least four different things you can say! The possibilities are limitless!"

No, the possibilities are four. And while that does double my vocabulary—look at me doing math—it's still a far cry from full sentences.

Luckily, this tool now makes my writing idea possible.

I decide to forgo another attempt at the inkwell and head straight for the stack of empty parchment sitting on Trenevalt's desk. Sorry, dude. Hope these aren't worth much.

Noli follows and watches closely as I position a jagged point of the glass over the paper. Even if it doesn't cut all the way through, I should at least be able to leave enough of an impression to get the message across—not just to Noli, but hopefully to our halfling friend as well. I decide on something simple to start; then, once Trenevalt realizes we're actual sentient (and upset) people, we can work up to more complex messages. Once he knows we need help, would he be able to send me back to Earth? Maybe heal my body while he's at it? Hell, anything's possible with magic, right?

Excited, I focus on painstakingly scratching the glass across the paper. It catches every once in a while, causing a letter to skew or skip, but the message is clear enough:

HELP

I proudly roll back as Noli leans over to read. She traces the letters with one of her tentacles, then turns back to me.

"Are these chicken-scratches supposed to mean something?"

What? I check my writing. I mean, sure, they aren't perfect, but they're totally legible! The P might look a bit more like a D, but the first three letters are easy enough to read.

"Are you trying to communicate?" she goes on. "Because this isn't any language I've ever seen."

Oh. Oh no. She's right—it's English. I'd just forgotten everything I'm seeing and reading and hearing is being translated for me. But that confirms she must not have an Echo in her mind translating everything for her as well—and that means Trenevalt might not, either.

Can you show me what to write in their language? I ask Echo. Can you… er… reverse-translate for me?

[Negative,] Echo says. [Translation may only occur to the user's language, not from.]

Which means I'm back to square one. Forget cursive; as long as Noli and Trenevalt can't understand English, I have no way to communicate with either of them.

I stab my glass utensil into the paper in frustration, and it sticks in the pages with vindictive satisfaction.

"Hmm." Noli prods at the glass shard. "Not to your liking, huh? Well, don't give up yet. Keep trying! I'm sure you'll get the hang of it and be able to write something legible in no time."

If only that were the issue. If only I could explain my dilemma! Every time I think I've taken one step forward, it turns out it's two steps back. Now what am I supposed to do with this glass toothpick?

[Sculpt spell available,] Echo says.

Sculpt? Elaborate, I demand.

Echo eagerly obliges. [Sculpt: Change the shape or function of an Attuned item. Duration: 2 minutes. Mana: variable.]

Two minutes is certainly better than two hours.What can I Sculpt it into? I ask.

[Maintaining mass, the target may be changed into any shape the caster desires before the time limit expires,] Echo says.

Seems pretty straightforward. But what to make? I'm not sure how changing the shape of a shard of glass will help me. Then again, this is the first thing I've really been able to control in this world, and if I want any chance of fixing this mess I've found myself in, I'll need to master every tool at my disposal. Okay, Echo. How much mana to sculpt this piece of glass? 

[Mana cost: 2.]

Sounds reasonable to me. Like before, I mentally try to will this Sculpt thing to happen, and I'm rewarded with a strange tingling sensation spreading through the Attuned glass.

This time, I see what I'd apparently slept through before. The glass shimmers with an unreal light—a light not of any color I've ever seen. It almost appears to be lit with a black glow, though even as I witness it, I can't understand how that can be.

"Oh!" Noli signs. "It's doing that thing again. That's you, right? You're doing that?"

I give her a little affirmative wobble—geez, I guess we're back to this again—but continue to concentrate on the glass. When I'd controlled it with my mind before, it felt like grasping a solid blade. Now it feels like putty softening in my hands. But no time to waste marveling at the sensation now. I mentally press at it, and gradually the glass begins to meld into a new form.

It's slow going, but I get a kind of elation out of seeing something I want to happen take shape. Damn, it feels good to have control over something again, even if it's weird magic shit. In a way, it's the same kind of satisfaction I get over nailing my lines. Nothing beats manifesting something into the world you worked hard on creating.

Before the two minutes is even up, I've finished my design: All the jagged edges have smoothed out, and all the sharp angles have straightened into one long rod. Like an exaggerated needle, one end is wide and round, while the other end tapers down to a sharp point. This should be easier to control, and it gives me two different tools to work with depending on which end I need to use. I'm already getting new ideas about what I'll be doing with the next few shards of glass I get my hands on.

"Fascinating," Noli signs, examining the rod. "I didn't know you were a wizard, Kanin!"

I'm not a wizard. I mean, am I? I could have sworn it said Noli had some mana as well when I'd Checked her before. Can't everyone here do magic?

Mysteries upon mysteries. And somehow, the more I learn, the longer that list seems to grow.

"So what's it for?" Noli asks.

What, my glass? I don't know, Noli, what are hands for?

She has a point though. With writing off the table, I'll need a new plan if I want to save my free will from a death by octogenarian. I tap the pointed end of the glass on the table. I could scratch the surface, if I wanted to, but it could also work as a pen tip, if I got some of that ink and wanted to draw pictures. That might be my best bet at communicating ideas for now, however artistically-inept I may be.

"Um. You want to use it to write?"

Obviously not, given how well the first attempt went. I wave it in a way that I hope looks like a head-shake.

"Oh. Then… It's a tool?" She guesses.

Yes!

"For the wizard's yard work?"

No!

I flip the glass around and thump the blunt end on the table in exasperation.

"Pounding?" She tries again. "Is it a pestle so you can grind up herbs and spices?"

This has become the most depressing game of charades in existence.

"Tapping… Oh!" she exclaims. "Growing up, sometimes our village used smoke signals to send messages to our sister town. You could use that glass the same way. Tap the table with pauses in between to send a message."

Like Morse code. That's actually brilliant—if I knew how to tap out anything other than S.O.S. 

Fuck, being a human has really not prepared me for this.

Noli must have noticed my lack of reaction. "Is that a no? Well, we can use this to replace our previous 'yes' and 'no' at least. How about, two taps for yes, one tap for no?"

Finally, we're getting somewhere. I tap out a "Yes." Better than the rocking, at least. But it's still not good enough. I need to be able to communicate, not just agree and disagree with Noli's ramblings. And if speaking and writing are off the table, then I'll need to take a page out of Noli's book.

I roll back over to the pile of broken glass.

"Oh," Noli signs as I go. "Are we done? Okay well… good work, team!"

Hey Echo, I say. Can I Attune multiple things at once? 

[Affirmative,] she replies. [Given mana requirements are met; Attunement duration will likewise compound depending on the number of simultaneous Attunements.]

Fair enough.

And is it going to knock me out again? I ask.

[Attunement requires complete attention,] Echo says. [During the duration of the spell, the caster enters a trance-like state wherein they are able to achieve resonance with the target object.]

That sure would have been a nice thing to know before it knocked me out the first time.

I use my newly forged tool to nudge the pile of glass apart, shuffling a few of the largest pieces to the front. The shards tinkle quietly as I'm rooting around.

Sorry about this, I think toward the dead homunculus shell. I don't expect anything is listening, but it feels right to at least pay a bit of respect. I'll be needing to borrow some more of your glass. Hope you don't mind. I mean, you're dead, so it's probably all the same to you. But if it's any consolation, I'm counting on you to help me avoid the same fate.

The broken flask opts not to respond, so I roll forward and touch three shards of glass.

[Attunement targets acquired,] Echo says. [Mana cost: 6]

Let's do it, I say. This time the trance-like state doesn't catch me off guard. In fact, losing consciousness is almost a relief. In the day or so I've been in this place, I haven't slept at all. Actually, I'm beginning to wonder if sleep is something this body is even capable of…

[Attunement complete,] Echo says. [Attunement spell level up!]

"...hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!"

Noli is leaning over me, worrying two of her tentacles against each other as she shifts impatiently from leg to leg… to leg to leg.

What is it now? I stir, mentally reaching for the newly acquired pieces of glass I've added to my arsenal.

"Oh thank goodness," Noli signs. "You have to get back on your stand! I didn't want to disrupt you when you were doing all that magic—Pa always said never to interrupt magic unless you wanted to get turned into a chicken—which I guess considering the circumstances isn't the worst option at this moment—but now you're awake! Quick—the wizard's getting up. I'll need to hide again, and you need to get on that stand!"

In the midst of all of Noli's rambling, I take in a distinct change in our surroundings; sunlight's glowing in through the window, filling the room with a faint, orange warmth.

And Trenevalt's moving around in the room next door.

Shoot. No time to Sculpt my glass now or ask about that level up—and hardly any time to hide them, either. I don't want Trenevalt to sweep them in the bin along with the rest of the trash; as soon as they're out of range, I won't be able to control them any longer. But that's the least of my worries. If he finds me outside of my stand, would he stick me somewhere more secure? If he sees me wielding the glass, would he think he did the spell wrong and decide a scrap and reshoot is in order? The dead homunculus core is enough evidence to know he sees us as expendable.

Can't take any chances until I know more.

But where can I hide my shards in the meantime? Under the books? No, my cracked slivers of glass wouldn't be strong enough to lift them. Between the pages of the loose papers? That could maybe work, if Trenevalt isn't looking closely. What else do I have to work with?

[Inventory space free,] Echo offers.

Sure, more things that haven't been explained. So do you come with like a manual or something, or am I just going to have to stumble my way into every new helpful tidbit you're keeping from me?

Echo doesn't reply. Rather smugly, in my opinion.

Okay, fine, the inventory, I relent. What is it? How do I use it?

[Inventory space: 0/50. Add items to inventory?]

Well that doesn't really explain anything. But sure, I say. Yes. Why not? Just assume I'll say 'yes' to any useful suggestion you throw my way in the future.

[4 glass shards added to inventory,] Echo says. And the shards vanish.

"Woah!" Noli jumps. "Did you see that?"

Hot damn I did. That's useful. How do I take them back out again? I ask.

[The user may manifest items that have been placed in their inventory at will. Remove items from inventory?] Echo asks.

No, no. Not yet. But if it's that easy, then I've just gained an incredible asset.

An asset I'll have to experiment with later.

I roll back over to my stand, and Noli hurries after. This time she doesn't ask if I want help. Before I've even stopped rolling, she roughly juggles me between two limbs—dropping my HP a point—and pushes me back into the padded stand, where I settle down into familiar immobility. But this time, I haven't returned empty handed.

"I won't be far," Noli promises. "Good luck!" And with a final wave of one of her octopus limbs, she jumps off the desk and scampers away.

It's another few minutes before Trenevalt emerges, yawning.

"What a day," the wizard grumbles, his gaze falling on me before moving to the glass homunculus shell still sitting menacingly in the corner of the room. He examines two of his fingers, rubbing them against one another and producing a wisp of magical light. "Hmm."

I ask Echo for a Check.

[Name: Trenevalt]

[Species: Halfling]

[Class: Null Summoner]

[Level: 40]

[HP: 20/50]

[Mana: 70/800]

His HP looks the same, I think, and the Mana has definitely increased. But it's not even a tenth of its full amount—and if it's been about a day since we were first spirited away to this world, then that means it'll be another 9 days or so before his tank's back to full. That's comforting. We should have over a week to figure out how to communicate our circumstances to him.

Unless, of course, he doesn't need a full tank to bond me to that homunculus shell.

I try not to think about that possibility.

Trenevalt scratches his back as he hobbles into the kitchen. Soon I hear the hiss of something cooking on the stove, and a distant warmth follows. Ahhh. At least I can still feel things. Not going to lie, though. Kind of miss eating.

The old wizard reappears a few minutes later with a plate full of eggs, a thick slice of toast, and… some sort of spiky purple fruit, I think. Looks like I'm going to be here a while.

Echo, can I Sculpt those other pieces of glass while they're still in my inventory? I ask.

[Negative,] Echo replies, which I was kind of expecting. But then she continues, [Mana: 0/10].

Oh shit, I totally forgot about that. Can I get it back? Do I need to, like, recharge or something? I'm reminded of the video games I played when I was a teen, and the floating blue orbs of energy that would restore health or energy. I somehow doubt I'll find any of those bobbing around here.

[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Your Mana and Health will regenerate passively at a rate of one point every ten minutes.]

Not the fastest regeneration, but I guess I'll take it. What's my health at again? Check.

[Name: Kanin]

[Species: N/A]

[Class: None]

[Level: 1]

[HP: 2/10]

[Mana: 0/10]

[Void: 14%]

[Role: Homunculus]

Holy crap. I'm almost dead! Again. Or at least, I assume I'll die if my HP hits zero. Certainly not a theory I'm willing to test. I need to start paying better attention to these stats.

My HP is almost out, my Mana is at zero, and… Void? Wait, what's that? I don't remember seeing anyone else with that status. For that matter, neither Trenevalt or Noli seem to have a Role either.

Hey Echo, what was that about a level up earlier? I ask.

[Attunement: Level 2,] she says. [Attunement costs and duration are reduced by 10%.]

Well that's handy—assuming I can even get my non-existent hands on any more glass. I don't imagine a 10% discount applied to 2 mana will do anything, but if I Attune several things at once maybe it'll start to add up. And a 2 hour Attunement duration reduced by 10% is… uhhh. Shit.

I struggle for a moment with the mental math. Ten minutes? I think it's about a ten minute discount. Okay, well, that's also not stellar, but if I keep leveling it up maybe I can get its duration to start trending down.

Trenevalt reaches a hand over my head, and my attention snaps back to him. I tense, ready for him to pick me up, but his hand moves past me, touching a spot on the table instead. The broken homunculus remains.

"How did…" He frowns. "Oh… Oh yes. That aberrant vessel broke it last night."

I'd feel bad for the dude if he didn't pose such an existential threat to my existence.

"I suppose I should clean this up." He grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, then hobbles over to collect a dust pan. I guess he's really serious about saving up his magic. But if I were in his shoes, I'd have brooms and dusters dancing around my house like it's some kind of Disney princess castle.

Wait. Would I be doing to those cleaning supplies what Trenevalt is doing to me?

The glass chimes sadly as he sweeps it off the table and into a bin. I watch it depart with regret, wishing I'd had more time—or mana—to Attune more of it. A trek to and from the contents of the trash can seems unlikely.

"I will be happy to never clean up another mess again," Trenevalt says. I think he's talking to himself until he looks at me and gives a wink. "It will be nice to have an extra set of hands around the house again. As soon as you're able, your first task will be to tidy up this room."

A familiar static creeps through my mind, and Echo says, [Order received.]

Oh, no.

Trenevalt hums an absent tune to himself as he carries the trash away, but I can already feel his Command taking effect.

Growing more insistent every second, a prickly pressure in my head is urging me to get up, start moving, and get to work on that wizard's chores.