The air quality was deceitfully pleasant. A light breeze tousled Caen's hair even though they flew over leafless trees on Hakohnzo at impossible speeds.

  It was obviously a magical effect of some kind. A pocket of air, maybe? But how was it filtering air in here as well? Caen was fascinated.

  He connected to Hakohnzo, glad to now be able to do so without needing to look at the creature. And once again, he was shocked. Its soul structure, too, was imperceptible to him.

  Exhaustion weighed down on his entire being, and the fear of falling was enough to keep him awake. Due to their speed, he couldn't connect to any trees long enough to cast the sleep abeyance spell on himself.

  The flight took them almost an hour, sending a chill down Caen's spine. How far into the Plane had they travelled using the root-portals? He'd initially been fairly obsessed with finding a tunnel exit. Would that have led him and the others out to the middle of nowhere? There were no stars in the sky here to navigate by; no discernible means of making his way back to the front zone. Even now, he couldn't even see the said front zone.

  Caen glanced behind him and saw something truly bizarre.

  Beyond the tree line, a whisper of what seemed like… 'sunrise' shone frailly. It was so far off that he could barely make it out. He'd thought this was a night Plane, but perhaps there was a day cycle.

  Or maybe I'm just tired and seeing things.

  No one spoke for the duration of the trip. Not even over Guinevere's telepathic link.

  Hakohnzo slowed as they reached the front zone. People lounging there had begun scattering away from the Aperture, granting them more than ample room. People were staring and whispering, and several Cutter and Attacker teams had stopped their work to look over at them.

  They all alighted and walked out of the Plane into Odaton.

  Even though it was twilight, he was relieved to finally experience sunlight again.

  His parents and Aunt Grena were waiting for them outside the fence surrounding the Courtyard. His mother, much to his surprise, had not cried her eyes out. Aunt Grena, though, had wept profusely as she held him and Zeris in a suffocating embrace. Caen's parents joined in on the hug, looking like they'd done all their crying elsewhere.

  Caen felt truly bad for them. Being unable to do anything about a hopeless situation was something he could relate to all too well.

  Vensha had needed to peel her siblings and in-laws away from Caen and Zeris so they could get some rest, and then she’d needed to peel them away from expressing teary gratitude to Albion, Nimue, Hshnol, and Antoine. Ergen left to go find healers to look over their wounds. Caen had patched himself and the others up a little, but it wasn't his best work by a mile, and without access to the awakened trees, he was back to being a lowly abject.

  Nimue had set up a tent some yards away from the sawmill. It stunk of opulence, this tent, and Caen, in turn, stunk from going long days without a bath while in gear that was glued to his body by grime, sweat, blood, and acidic ejecta.

  “Yeah, I love you, Guin-Guin, but I'm not letting you three get into my tent smelling like that. Hakohnzo?”

  The serpent seemed to give Nimue a look before breathing out a thick plume of hazy air at the three of them.

  It prickled Caen's skin, crawling over every inch of it and making him feel better somehow, cleaner. Even beneath the armor, his clothes felt drier than they'd been after walking out of the Plane. Caen was both amazed and miffed. On one hand, this was spectacular. On the other hand, he couldn't observe Hakohnzo's soul structure to determine what discipline of magic might have produced such an effect. It was clearly a manifold working of some kind. A mixture of the Saffronan discipline of Wind magic and… what? Liquid? Blood-healing?

  Antoine had left at some point. Hshnol stood now by the tent entrance.

  “I'll be departing for Drenlin now,” he said. “Master Vai is still… unreachable. But I will relay everything that happened here to him. He will be pleased to know that your safety was prioritized.”

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  Caen gave him a very respectful nod. This wasn't the first time Uncle Vai had spent weeks stuck doing tasks for Lattice: the organization behind Grat-line.

  “Thank you, Hshnol, for coming to get us,” Caen said seriously. Zeris echoed him.

  “Be well, Ar’Caen. Zeris.” The Vedul man nodded at Guinevere's older siblings and then walked away.

  Inside the tent, the temperature was cool, cooler even than the Odaton Plane. The floor was made of very plush carpeting that brought to mind a waiting room on Ser-gwu Island that he and his parents had frequented very often. Nimue had asked them to take their shoes off. There were several large and rounded cushions with pillows on them.

  “I don't want to sleep,” Caen said through a yawn as he picked a cushion to sit on. “Not until I get my injuries checked at least.”

  “You're literally dead on your feet,” Guinevere quipped, taking off her armor.

  “Not really on my feet, am I?”

  Zeris was already out of her gear and dozing off.

  “Here,” Albion said, handing Guinevere a glass bottle with a bright blue tincture sloshing within. He handed one to Caen and Zeris each. “Provides nourishment for just long enough for you to sleep and heal. You'll need it. Some Blood-healers will be coming by to fix you up.”

  Caen took off his armor after thanking the likely-Percipient and downing the tincture. After drinking theirs, Zeris and Guiniverere passed out in minutes, but Caen intended to stay up much longer. Once the Blood-healers arrived, he would cast the sleep abeyance spell on himself.

  The cushion was very soft. Very comfortable. He would try to stay awake nonetheless. He yawned again. His eyes felt very heavy, but that was fine. He could… he could see through his speculon.

  * * *

  Caen woke up ravenous. Bleary-eyed, he sat up, remembering the events of the past few days with vivid detail.

  He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn on the day he'd entered the tunnel with Major Hulte. The clothes felt crisp against his skin, clean even in spite of the stains. They also seemed a little roomier; he'd lost a bit of muscle mass and body fat. His body felt great, though. Hakohnzo must have used that cleansing effect on Caen once more. The Healers, too, had clearly worked on him while he slept. There were a few scars on his body, which was interesting. Growing up around Healer naMoon and his grandfather had made those very rare for Caen.

  The tent was empty, and a lone lamp sat at its center, but the tent flap was wide open, and beyond it came the muted sounds of wood softly tapping against metal. The strong scent of something very delicious was in the air. It was night.

  He found Albion stirring a cauldron with a spoon, no doubt the source of that wonderful smell. Everyone else was reclining on low wooden chairs—each one looking suspiciously hewn from the awakened trees in the Odaton Plane. They all sat, quiet, but smiling and chuckling sometimes.

  “Hey!” Zeris called from where she sat beside Guinevere. “You're awake!”

  There was a gentle pressure on Caen's mind, followed by that vague feeling of not quite a connection. He accepted it.

  [Caen!] Guinevere greeted in his mind. [We've been chatting.]

  [Hello. How many hours were we asleep for?]

  [Four days for Guin-Guin and Zeris,] Nimue said. Hakohnzo was partially wrapped around her torso and trailing around them. Its head was in her lap, and its eyes were closed. [You've been asleep for nearly a week now. Hours shy.]

  He blinked. That was far longer than he'd thought. [Thank you for hosting us,] Caen said to her and Albion as he picked a chair beside Zeris, who patted his arm.

  [It's no problem,] Nimue replied, fishing out something from a sack by her feet. [You worry your parents a lot, don't you? They've been coming by every day.]

  Zeris chuckled.

  [Well, I—]

  Nimue threw something at him underarm. Caen caught the orange fruit. It was nearly as large as his head.

  [You must be hungry. Eat up. Albi's almost done making supper.]

  [Thank you,] Caen said, eyeing the fruit. He looked at Zeris. [Don't these remind you of Farmer Brah'm's?]

  [Oh yeah. They do, actually.]

  [Farmer what?] Albion asked, from where he was steering the cauldron.

  Guinevere put her face into her hands and let out a groan as Nimue laughed.

  [Farmer… Brah'm. He sells large and high-quality fruits at the Southway market in Drenlin.]

  [Oh god!] Albion said.

  [I can't believe he's introducing himself as a ‘farmer’ to people now,] Guinevere said.

  Several things clicked into place in Caen's mind.

  Zeris looked between the siblings. [Can someone tell me what's going on?]

  [He's our dad,] Nimue said, still laughing. [And he's definitely not a farmer.]

  Caen felt strangely vindicated.

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