The journey passes in a very long instant and I wake to someone jostling me. I push my hair out of the way and see Marcis beaming down at me. "'We're here, Miss Nyssa."

  "Ah…thanks, Marcis. Didn't mean to fall asleep quite that hard." I look around and see May and the others have already gotten out — just Marcis and I remain in the cabin. Which shows exactly how upset with me May is.

  I've spent the last few years trying to distance myself from her, so I really have no right to feel how I do about this.

  I steel myself and take Marcis's offered hand to get out of the chair. Feeling much colder and angrier than I have in a while. Once I'm up, I push past him and hop out of the skyglide as I don my helmet. Ensuring my helmets Sonos emitters are active, “See ya around.” I wave over my shoulder at him and set off walking.

  I just need to get to my room without running into anything else that will require I talk. I feel like if I open my mouth I'm going to scream or cry. Maybe both. Probably both. My helmet will go a long way to disincentivizing anyone talking to me. My horns, tail, and legs are pretty identifiable, but I'm counting on a closed-off posture, a fast stride, and an aggressive stance to discourage anyone.

  And I make it most of the way there before the inevitable happens.

  "Hey, uh, Nyssa? That you?"

  My steps on the marble floors clack a final time as I draw to a halt. My helmets sensory enhancements allow me to see who's jogging up behind me without visibly turning my head, but when I see Nimael I resign myself to an explanation for my behavior. If I owe anyone anything, it's him an explanation.

  I unseal and unlatch my helmet and turn in place, trying to keep my angry frown from my face. I don't know if I really manage, though. "Sure is. I was planning to hunt you down to apologize."

  He holds up a hand to forestall me, so I back down from my planned apology to wait. His face lingers tired for a few seconds before swapping over to a more comforting and soft smile. "Don't. You're whole and well. You, uh, got me good, though. Remember when I said that you, ah, reminded me of my younger sister?"

  I nod, trying to let down my walls to be a bit more genial, but again, am not really sure I succeed. "Well, she got me with that once upon a time, too." He lets out a guffaw of laughter and puts a hand on my upper arm that I fight to not flinch from while trying to put on a smile. "I'm just glad you're alright. After May came into the wards earlier looking how she did, I was worried she was carrying bad news."

  "I—Thanks Nim, it's…nice to hear. I am just coming off of a long journey though so…"

  Realization dawns and he hastens an apology, "Oh, yes, uh, right. Sorry. I just wanted to be sure. Rest well. You know where to, ah, find us if you need anything." He gives me a small wave and turns to leave. It leaves me standing there for a few moments processing,

  So, May showed up back in the wards looking distressed enough that Nimael thought someone might have died. Or at least came back terribly wounded.

  I wanted to end my involvement with May — not hurt her. I need to talk to her. I can't leave that lie as is. But… It's a fresh wound right now, so I'll give it a while.

  Decided, I turn to head the rest of the way to my room. Arriving, I bring the lights up with a few essence pulses, lock the door, and start the process of doffing my armor and equipment. It's a lengthy ordeal, but I have a mannequin in the corner of my room that will serve to store it all until I can return it all to Theron.

  I'll probably need to look into getting a custom set made soon. A Sojourner set does just fine for day-to-day use, but every suit devotes fully half of its enchantments to magic amplification — that way anyone can use any set without concern — and since I'm a hermetic caster, I could be better served using that space for more physical enhancement or magic storage…

  I finish and collapse back on my bed, starting to daydream about what my exact, ideal suit of mail would look like in terms of its enchantments. Sojourner is pretty much perfect for protection, so it'll serve as the baseline…

  It distracts me long enough for my heart to settle down and for fatigue to replace the stress enough to consider sleep. I remove the rest of my undersuit and just flop onto my bed again, face down. Idly, I consider that my sheets feel very similar to the ones from the bed in Burrowvale.

  That leads me down a spiral of positive thoughts, even if some of them are confusing because I'm really still not certain how I feel about those…feelings and who they're about.

  But it calms me down the rest of the way as I crawl up to the pillows and settle into my far-too-large bed. The room is a perfect temperature — just a little cool, so I can rationalize having extra blankets. My sheets feel fantastic against my skin — even the coarse, scarred parts that aren't as sensitive. And finally, I can just sleep. Nobody should come looking for me for at least a day or two after such a long expedition.

  The last thought I have that sends me off into the land of dreams is about Serafina and it winds up coloring my entire night of dreams and embarrassing fantasies.

  I wake to no alarm. Not being attacked. Not late for something. And not abruptly from a terrible dream. Not even in pain.

  And I feel at peace. I, frankly, am not even sure how to react to that. This last month has felt like half a novel all by itself, and reaching this midpoint feels good. Like I'm finally going to be able to get things back under control for a while.

  I content myself to just resting under my soft sheets for a while, just moving a little bit every now and again to enjoy the sensory reward against my skin as I come the rest of the way to wakefulness. Once I get there, though, I lose the ability to stay in bed. Being awake, but resting in bed has always made me feel anxious. It's one thing to wake up and enjoy it, but I can't stand lounging around in bed.

  So, I sit up and swing my legs off the side of the bed and just sit for a few minutes twisting and stretching in place to loosen up in preparation for the day. Every pop, crack, and stretch feels fantastic, but also reminds me that I haven't done my exercise routine in full in more than a month as certain angles and movements feel far tighter than they should.

  So I decide to start off this…vacation…off right by getting back into good habits. In short order, I've put on my workout clothes — a set of form fitting — maybe a little too form-fitting, since they're tugging at my hips now — full body sweats. All black, as is most common for most Vigil garb. They're a little bit worn, since I've been wearing this set for upwards of two years. I should replace them, but it's a hassle while they still fit and work well enough.

  I pull on my lighter shoes. I can do it all in boots…but that doesn't feel appropriately vacation-ey. They're also feeling a little tight and uncomfortable. I bought this pair before my legs started to change into the more standard layout for my kyn as we age. A slight lengthening of the bones of my foot, a tiny lift in my heel. Just enough to make the shoes feel a little bit awkward but not render them unwearable. The effect is going to get more pronounced in the coming years now that my horns have full settled in and my body finishes developing, so I've been putting off replacing everything as long as possible since the next five or ten years will require me to change foot and legwear pretty regularly.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Most children are born looking relatively "neutral" as far as kyn go. Beastkyn will still have their more animalistic features, but they don't develop an altered facial structure as is more common until later in life — assuming they do at all. Anyone's form and body will change and shift as the years wear on in accordance with your identity and personal image in your mind. It's why you can find example of beastkyn who look almost entirely human or elven with barely any animalistic features just as well as you will someone who has what one might expect to be the face of their associated bloodline animal. May is an example of the former, while someone like Rae — who has a sharply angular face and exaggerated eyes common in foxes — is an example of someone who sees those features as their true self.

  It can change over the years for people, though it starts to solidify as you age and you come into your own, but the demonkyn have more pronounced and more universal changes that happen with a good bit less variation than the other kyn of the world. Most of our expressive identity comes from our horns and skin tone, rather than variable features like the elves or beastkyn.

  After ensuring my skin is as covered as it can be, I leave out of my room and head for the training building off the rear of the keep. Going there will make me pass by the medical wards, so I opt to take the long way and jog to make up the difference and to stretch in preparation for my more demanding strain I'm going to put on my body.

  As I push out into the frigid morning air, it all but steals my breath, so I begin one part of my training regimen early by drawing Ignia from within to push it into my body evenly to heat myself and otherwise prepare for the physical activity. Each mote of heat coalesces into my body, called from the layer spirit to fill the my body. The Ignia courses through the ley equivalent of my veins, and in short order, alongside my higher-than-average Ignia baseline, I begin to warm to my comfortable norm.

  In short order, I start to see steam wisping off of any exposed skin and watch nearby snow beginning to melt as I rely on my internal essence to perform the imbuement. It's more demanding to draw from within than to call from without, but that just means it's better for training essence capacity since I'm working out my body's own essence instead of relying on external power.

  I bounce into a jog and after about a quarter of the distance I nearly slip and fall on some ice, so I quickly incant [Skystride] in its weakest form to hold myself a spare fraction of an inch off the ground to prevent the terrain getting in the way. More valuable practice.

  This feels good. This is how things are supposed to be. Controlled growth, predictable outcomes. Do I really even need a vacation? Or do I just need a break to straighten out my head?

  I suppose there really isn't much difference, practically speaking.

  I hesitate, slowing as I come upon the large brickwork building containing the training facilities.

  It's roundish, with several offshoots, all looking about as sturdy and practical as the rest of the keep. It, by itself, is about a third of the size of the main body of the keep in terms of footprint, with each of the many offshoots being heavily reinforced practice areas for practicing spellwork and high-impact physical training where both participants can truly let loose for a while. The training rooms even have some enchantments woven into them that are similar to the Kharbon Colosseum. Things that are designed to let people really lay into one another without meaningfully hurting each other. Impact dispersal akin to my armor, but for the entire room.

  I step into the central rotunda, pushing open the heavy, full-metal, doors and see the interior. Within is a short, circular, track. It is too small for the sort of running I do, but it's good for training in the winter for people with more mundane physiques. Demonkyn are natural-born runners like lapin are, so I need room to stretch my legs when I get into it. Having to turn constantly going around a track feels awful.

  Within the track is a lot of various kinds of workout machines, both essence-based, and weight-based.

  Only a few people are here working out, all pretty green recruits — one I recognize as Marcis's other half — I'm pretty sure their name is Jes. Their jade green hair is unmistakable at any distance — If I recall correctly, they're actually serpentkyn, but just haven't grown to demonstrate very many traits common with them. I figure it's probably because they've grown up here in Eldara and hang around almost exclusively humans as far as my knowledge of their social circle goes. The only notable traits are some slight scale-patterning around their eyes and a distinctly snake-like tongue. They seem to be working through a calisthenics routine that has them concentrating Terra essence as part of every movement to add resistance. I've seen Garrick do similar, with the distinction that he has to go far enough as to induce actual poisoning to overcome his baseline strength.

  But that's not what I'm here for. In the far distant side of the room is a desk with one of the few conjurers that the Order has on hand.

  The ability to manifest essence into physical, semi-live, forms is one of the most uncommon talents in the world alongside shifters. Even if technically anyone can do it, it requires you to be able to conceptualize essence interactions in far, far, more complex ways than most people can manage without years and years, usually decades, of training.

  The one on duty here, manning the training rooms, handles making training opponents. They're someone who I've interacted with a fair bit. Whenever I'm not out on expeditions like the one May and them were coming back from yesterday I'm usually here, or running laps around the keep.

  They're a tall and lanky human with fairly masculine features, and a somewhat pouty-by-default resting facial expression. They're dressed in the most casual garb I can ever really imagine seeing around the keep — simply wearing shorts and a t-shirt depicting a local event from Kharbon I remember hearing about a few years ago. Mid-back length blonde hair that looks like it's never once been combed in their entire life.

  Scruffy is a good word to describe Gail. Scruffy, but kind. But definitely scruffy.

  "Aya, Nyssa, haven't seen ya in a while. Heard some things went south but ya got better, ya?" Their voice drawls at length, carrying some syllables just a little too long for comfortable conversation. But they wear an easy smile that offsets it. I don't think I've ever seen anyone get mad with them — it's just a knack they have.

  "Yeah, you heard right. The last month has been a drek of a year, ya know?" I shrug as noncomittally as possible.

  "I get that, I get that. Comin' in to train? Got anythin' in specific you're wantin' to do?" They rise from their leaned-back chair, coming up to stand just slightly taller than me.

  "Honestly, I just need a wall to hit for a while. Punching bag. Maybe I'll move onto something more involved after, but I just need to work some things out."

  "Aaah, relationship trouble — gotcha gotcha." They chuckle warmly as they move to walk from behind the desk, moving with a limp that they've had as long as I've known them. Something they got in a monster attack that they broke the worst of when they were younger — they just weren't able to get to a healer to fix their leg before the wound had become permanent. "Jus' kiddin', course course. Don't gotta make that face. Last person 'came in here was lookin for that, so it was on my mind."

  I freeze at the sentiment, but try to compose myself with a smile. "You're not entirely wrong, but this is mostly just for getting back up on the horse. Been in the field for a few weeks and need to get back into my routine."

  "'Course, 'course. I'm only proddin' ya no worries."

  I just nod an assent as we move to the first unoccupied training chamber. The entryway is a heavily reinforced white nullstone door on brass hinges. There's no meaningful etching, as that would weaken the surface. But it slides open very easily, allowing us to step inside.

  The room beyond smells…like nothing. Where everything else in the world gives off the scent of its constituent essence, this room is utterly devoid of it in a way that I've always struggled to get used to. Since the walls are huge sheets of essence-devoid nullstone, the room is nonreactive to almost everything. Sound, smell, to a lesser extent impacts. Air and gravity even feel strange here. It's are very hard to describe, but nothing in a nullstone room ever feels quite like how you would expect it to and always in small and unintuitive ways. Falling ever so slightly too slow, impacts not having as much energy as you'd expect, the air feeling thinner and less... less.

  It's just a round, fifty-foot-diameter, off-white space with a ton of almost nothing inside of it. The only real color in the space comes from a few large essence batteries in the wall at about waist height next to the door. One for each of the six primal essences — to be used by the conjurers to craft whatever is needed in this space At least until Gail has their way with it. There's a reason the Vigil keeps them and their apprentices on the payroll. If I'm jealous of hecatic casters like Serafina, then people like Gail who can make things with magic are in a whole different category of jealousy.

  Gail turns and looks me up and down. "No mail today? Do you want a softer target to start? Any environment preferences?"

  "Monstrous carapace will do. Doesn't need to fight back or anything. Environment? Anything but sheer white walls."

  I have a good buddy who has his story hitting RoyalRoad right now and I would deeply, deeply appreciate if folks could go give him some love.

  The Shadow Swarm Summoner and follows a sort of a magic the gathering esque journey through worlds that are underpinned by deckbuilder mechanics! I think the stuff in here is a pretty solid take on the genre. And, that even aside, Satyr just does characters and interactions really well. Some of my favorites, really. Got me to read through the whole thing despite my not really liking litrpg, deckbuilders, or planehopping!

  I can't recommend it enough.

  Also, the art is pretty fantastic. Look at that little imp bastard in the corner