After an eternity of panic and despair, Ami, numb to the point of indifference, finally walked toward Milo's office, clutching a pile of cases she'd managed to gather.
She owed these small victories to the friendly locals whose kindness had been a lightsource in her darkness, a fragile encouragement.
It wasn't enough to erase the stress of failing her new duties, but it was more than nothing.
Those people had been kind to her. She needed to apologise to those she'd already failed, at least. To find those fortunate enough to have documents processed by her in this dim light. And to meet the new faces she'd inevitably disappoint soon.
The thought terrified her. It felt like facing a hostile crowd—a sea of disdainful, unfamiliar faces she couldn't even memorise. Yet somehow, it hadn't been that bad.
The Secretary paused at the boss's curtained entrance, frozen. Another obstacle.
As a Kantinian outsider, she had no idea how to handle a witch-sealed doorway.
Knocking on… the wall? Like usual?
Pointless. At least not with her fist.
The protective clay-reinforced walls were thick for security. The curtains served the same purpose, barring unwanted visitors while absorbing smells, sounds—and who knew what else? She was, after all, a non-witch outsider here.
But one thing she knew from her past visits was that one shouldn't underestimate or be too unceremonious with those witch "blankets". One of them had thrown her a decent distance away then, disturbing everyone in the vicinity. Everyone has to remember how to enter the sealed room properly, no matter their origins.
She made some kind of an uncertain silly gesture over the top of the curtains, clasping her eyes and inwardly preparing to be violently thrown across the room once more.
One could never be prepared for something like this.
She gently touched the entry cloth, closing her eyes with fear…
Nothing terrible happened next.
The entrance fabric rippled slightly, gently returning to her hand only the sensation of air resistance.
That was it? Is that an ask-for-permission sign? Or… is it not?
She must have swung her hand the wrong way. Ami ran her palm over the surface of the fabric again. It rippled again. No effect.
It's so… bloody stupid! Everything is so stupid here!!! She, first of all. She is stupid! In many, many…
Milo's curly head appeared from behind the curtain.
…ways.
— Who's so modest and intrusive? — the Boss addressed the question to the void of the hall, shaking his head irritably, because Ami instinctively jumped aside to avoid the collision.
— Us. Tablets with legs. — she croaked, voice frayed. — Milo... I really need help.
His expression softened.
— I can see that. You look… terribly confused. What's wrong?
— Everything. But… One thing at a time. First things first. — Amelia started quietly, ignoring the teasing. — There was no light. I can't do it myself. Could you light it every time you unseal the room?
— Why didn't you… Oh. I see. You just can't…
Ami's disapproving glare confirmed it. Milo let out an irritated breath.
— …Look. I'm busy. I can't keep everything in mind. But I will. Starting tomorrow. If I remember.
"Veeery promising."
Better than nothing. Ami was not feeling funny at all. Quite the opposite. It came dangerously near to breaking down.
— Right… — She then made an effort to prevent panicking by shifting to step-by-step instructions. - Everyone is returning tablets to me, but I'm not sure where to put them…
— Well…
— …and. I've got what I've requested for the last half of the light. But I don't know who to give it to.
— But you…
— …can't remember faces. And names. - reminded the Archivist.
— I see... - drawled the Station Chief. — Come on, then. I'll do what I should have done from the start: show you the Station.
— With all of the highlights? — Amelia grinned incredulously.
— No. Your access does not extend to every area here. So we'll stick to the key ones.
— I'm fine with it. It's more than none.
The Omillian extended an inviting gesture, signifying the beginning of the tour.
— Most of the offices are on the second level. Moki and I sit downstairs.
— The most down-to-earth individuals.
— Including you.
— Yeah. This part of the documents are for Moki. I really don't think he'll be pleased.
— Why?
— As many times as I've seen him, he doesn't look pleased at all. I can relate to him. People are a burden. Though maybe it's hard to say something about his state of mind, because he expresses a limited variety of emotions. Maybe what we see is a good mood.
Milo chuckled sarcastically.
— However, he works very well. I'm just happy he's very good at his job. Took most of the load off me.
Ami sighed.
— I wish I could say the same about myself. It was the worst idea ever to stay here. You will regret it too. If not already…
— Don't judge so soon. Let it ripen.
— It's rotten before it's ripe. The climate is good, but the soil isn't.
— Mmm… maybe.
Milo ran his palm across the surface of the curtain of Moki's office.
It rippled a little, indicating that they may enter. The Chief did so at once, pulling a reluctant Ami along with him.
Alrighty! "Memorise them all." The game has just started. And failed, not even started.
But this one's easy. He is the darkest-skinned Selva man. Like Lavy, he is grim and dismal, but instead of growling, he speaks.
What would happen if he suddenly became a happier person? Would he still be recognised? Ami doubted.
"Focus."
Violet eyes, shoulder-length hair that is somewhat short by Selva norms and typically bundled tightly.
— Moki. — began the Secretary, slightly embarrassed under the truthman's frown. — I… I found something that looks similar to your request, but I'm not sure if this is the one... Have a look.
The Selvian's countenance remained stony as he accepted the plaque.
Monumental. You could make clay statues of it. It'll be impressive.
Ami gazed fixedly at the papers in Selva's grasp.
— What did you ask for? - Milo enquired.
— A list of the Main Warehouse. - responded the officer without taking his devastatingly gloomy gaze off the document.
— Why?
— Raelyn was conversing with a smith. And she laments that it's nearly impossible to purchase Dwarven Firestone these days. Their supply is nearly depleted. It indicates that we will soon run out of tools.
— That sounds rather bleak.
Apparently everything sounds bleak when Moki says it.
Probably his "Don't worry, it'll get better" sounds the same as "We're doomed and we're all going to die soon."
— Exactly. — Moki agreed. — Raelyn asks to check supplies and talk to the warehouse and caravan bosses if necessary.
— What a nice addition to our lovely smugglers.
— Yep.
The usually smiley Milo frowned as well now.
"Looks like it's going to rain in this room."
— Keep me updated.
With a nod from Moki, the gloomy-cloud-mood staff members departed the office, walked through the Hall and slowly began to ascend to the next level.
— What's this trouble team he spoke about? - queried Ami.
— It's the same one that VST and I have been attempting to locate for nearly a cycle! Blimey.
He winced at this terrible knowledge.
— And. What do they do?
— Attempting—likely with success—to smuggle goods via Omill. Naturally, without registering it. Buying up… some stuff.
— Kind of weird stuff?
— Yeah. Really weird.
— What are they up to?
— I'm not sure… One can presume that it's to fabricate a shortage. In order for them to trade it in for something of more value. Although it is uncommon, it does occur occasionally… We are here for that reason. The city of Omill is a trading hub.
— And there's a lot of work to do now.
— It is. Here. It's Donny and Calvin's office.
The curtain manipulation was repeated. And soon they were in the abode of the servicemen working on the second level of the building.
— Amiiii! - Donny smiled broadly. — Long time no see. Take that tablet back from me, please…
The Secretary recoiled in feigned horror.
— No! — her nasty grimace was sincere. — Donny, have mercy, I have no idea where I'm going to put it there! I'm drowning!
The officer chuckled.
— Poor Ami. Not that I'm trying to say anything… But why do you think we have Milo here?
He asked innocently and slyly squinted.
— To… wear the hat stylishly. And… to show me who's who where?
— Well, he can also show you where some tablets lie. For a start. — Donny added in an amicable voice. — Assisting a new employee in adjusting to their new environment. Like a good Chief does.
Milo swiftly changed the subject and shook his head disapprovingly, not wanting to take part in the conversation about how to use him in ways that were not desired at the time.
— Ami. This is Calvin. — he gestured to the second truth officer present.
Calvin. Well, Calvin doesn't stand out.
It really can be an issue… Ordinary height, ordinary appearance. Except for the curtains running behind the officer's cape. It's quite colourful. Even dapper.
Does he always act like this, or is it just this light?
What else? Nothing special again. His hair is the colour of orphan stalks, just like Milo's.
— Have you seen Reece, Calvin? — Milo enquired.
— Yes, — said the subject of Ami's examination.
— And? — Nothing.
— Nothing at all?
— Yeah. He's got nothing.
— I see… Calvin, this is Ami, the Secretary, Lucy's replacement.
The serviceman glanced at the Kantinian and made a joking comment.
— Ruler of the Archives.
— An impostor. — He was corrected by Ami. — Until the real one shows up or until I'm chased away by the people, I'll sit here.
— Your people are your tablets now. They'll get over it. Let's keep moving. — Milo called out. — Next on the agenda is Rayleen and Elsu's office. You already know Elsu.
— I do.
If you ever encounter Elsu, you won't be able to forget her, she is rather hard not to remember. The brightest, the largest, the most muscular, and the lightest—lighter than the others in terms of skin and hair colour. Gorgeous blue eyes that sparkle.
So magnificent.
She might be used by artists as a dashing representation of Xeva the Clayhands. Canonically, however, Xeva was portrayed as a brunette.
When they entered her office, the amazing blonde who appeared to be from the era of legends standing at the desk nodded amiably.
— Milo! — the stunning hulk said, turning to face the boss. — I'll go about my business while I have little work to do, so don't lose me this light.
— Got it, Elsu. — He smiled.
He directed Ami's gaze to the second amazing blonde, who was examining a document with a stern, focused gaze.
What a location. So far, there are two amazing blondes.
Fortunately for Ami, this one was not mistaken for Elsu; she was subtle and, thus far, the most beautiful blonde Ami has ever seen. Ami's initial impression from her partially darkened cave was flawless.
— Rayleen. — the Archivist began with a guilty tone. — I've been overflowing with requests, and I don't remember what you were looking for…
— …Finnian's losses.
— Yeah! — Ami gave herself a forehead slap. — How could I forget something like that!
— There's too much for you.
— Yes, yes, but everyone's looking for these this light.
— Not only this light. Finnian has a dramatically efficient methods of drawing attention to the problems of the Witchium community. — Rayleen grinned wryly. — And turning it into a common problem. But it's not yours anymore. I've already located tablets.
— Really?! Happy to hear it.
— Yeah, Davin gave me a hint, and it was on Talla's desk indeed.
— Ahh. Good. — Ami breathed a sigh of relief. — I won't have to go through the whole Archive again. I already got nauseous during it. Milo. Shall we move on?
The Station Chief agreed and they headed towards the semi-dark corridor under a brown clay ceiling, which was a passageway to the next room.
— This is where Irji and Kimi dwell. — Milo commented. — Kimi is busy in the city right now.
Kimi. The darkest-skinned Selva ever seen by Ami, not just in this Station, but ever, small in stature, the same height as Ami herself. You don't see such miniatureness often.
This officer is easy to remember, as is Elsu. These two were, come to think of it, opposites in height, hair and skin colour, and personality.
Phlegmatically slow Elsu and fussy cheerful Kimi.
Good news. The fact that they are so unique and genuine here helps those who have trouble remembering faces. Given that Ami had not encountered many different kinds throughout her life, she additionally has a strong cognitive interest.
And Irji?..
— Irji, this is Ami. The one sent from Kantine and taking Lucy's place now.
— "Taking a place" is a key word. It sounds almost rude, you know.
The tall, densely built, red-haired truthful one, who sprawled in a relaxed pose on a chair, laughed. The only one with that hair colour here.
Unless you counted Ami herself. But she certainly wouldn't mistake herself for Irji.
— Ami. Stop it. — the boss abruptly and irritably interrupted Ami.
— Sorry. Redheads shall… prevail? — Amelia greeted the colleague.
— Yes! Everyone else will sing and dance for us soon. — willingly agreed Irji.
— It's unfortunate that neither my arrangement nor our coalition will endure for very long. I'm here for the half-cycle.
— Well, better than nothing.
— True!
— How do you like it here? — The truthful one raised his eyebrows questioningly.
— It's still a bit creepy. — Ami admitted. — But it's fine.
— Yes, these are troubled times.
— It's less about the times and more about living means troubles in general for me. I knew that working with documents would be so mentally undermining. But I underestimated it.
— Don't give up. Take your mind off it more often, go out, go for a coffee.
— Great advice. Coffee's the best remedy for anything.
— Absolutely. You sound like a real Omillian. After all, you're in Omill. And you're in Omill after all. Don't waste your time.
— I won't! I swear. Time is short for me.
He smiled encouragingly.
— We'll all be down to the coffee pot soon. Come and join us.
— I definitely will!
Awww. This inner warmth! Long-forgotten feelings, bringing the tears close to her eyes.
Ami nodded quickly and rushed out of the room, nearly oblivious to the curtain threat. Fortunately, it has a protected exterior side. Hi there, dim hallway. I'm greeting you again and glad to be here, because you're the best place to hide my pain.
It's odd that positive emotions may sometimes cause suffering. It's strange that communication, whether it be evil or good, hurts.
Amelia quickly and discreetly wiped away a tear as she rushed to the final three offices on the floor. The final two offices. The third door was marked "Archive". Apparently, this was a technical room, the one containing some incomprehensible mechanism that allowed documents with later dates to be transported higher.
— There are two doors, but you can go in either one, — Milo explained. — This is one big room for Davin, Talla, Faella and Kele.
Four all at once. Oh, the nightmare goes on... So many people.
"Ami, pull yourself together. Four more to meet and four to remember, you can do it."
Totally… Especially if one of them looks remarkably well.
Ami knew it was rude to stare at others, but once she was in the final workroom for this light, she was powerless to stop herself.
She remembers him, yeah… It's easy. The cutest one. The harder thing would be to forget him later.
Kele, standing at the table next to the other seated Selva, graciously waved hello.
"Another dose of attention from the Selves. You can get used to it. Or even get conceited."
It might be painful to read the negligence in the deadpan expression of almond-shaped, chrystal-green eyes. However, as was already mentioned, who was she to pay attention to?
...One dead fallen leaf in the cold forest.
"Let's not get too distracted."
The Kantinian brought her gaze back to Selva, who looked familiar. She's definitely seen this one. This is… Faella?
If you can't see much of the outside world from the small window… you can't be sure. It's the perfect place to delve into one's dark, crumpled inner world, but it's not so perfect for studying the outer world.
— Here's the data on disappearances... and a survey of witches. — Ami began, addressing Faella.
— The ones I asked for. — came the answer from the next room. — Thank you, Ami.
Wwww… What?!
Another... Faella appeared in the opening of the interior archway.
Ami stared bewildered at the exact dark-haired counterpart, with Kele standing beside the other. She really should stop staring at Selvas like that, but… Did she lose her mind here or?..
Or.
— Twins! — The Kantinian stated the fact with relief.
— Exactly! For our benefit. — Talla smiled broadly. — Lots of fun. And it even helped us solve some non-trivial cases. Once or twice.
— And deceive the local authorities?
— Ami. There's no need for it. They are quite reasonable, you can always negotiate.
— Right. I'm still living in Kantine realities. — Ami shook her head sadly and continued. — And you two make my already challenging case much tougher. I'm attempting to keep you all in mind. If a person doesn't have any distinguishing characteristics, I usually can't tell them apart. And you're… twins! Finding the documentation is my first issue. The second issue is if I gave them to the right person.
— It's not going to be a big deal. — Talla reassured her. — We'll sort it out amongst ourselves.
She winked at Faella, who nodded in agreement.
— Where's Davin, Faella? — Milo enquired.
Davin. Aha. The nicest person in whose coffee Ami had stewed the papers and seemingly was the oldest of the bunch. Dark eyes, long black hair, a sly smile, wisdom, maturity, and tranquillity. An iconic figure from detective fiction.
He is the only one who's not of the Omillian Natives in this room, though it's hard to say anything for sure here. Not with Ami's more book knowledge than real experience.
— He was here... And now he's not. That's all I know. — Double Selva shrugged.
— What's he doing now?
— Requested the Royal Laboratories' blood test results. — Ami snitched. — If it can be interpreted as the reason for another strange disappearance.
— These days, so many odd things are happening that nothing seems odd anymore. Particularly disappearances. — Milo sighed and scratched his hat in annoyance. — But as for Davin, he wouldn't be so impolite as to add it to our workload... Come on, Ami, let's get back to work. That's all, folks. Enjoy yourself here.
— The same for you!
And the roaming couple left the double office.
— Well, you know pretty much everyone now.
— Yes. Thank you. And Milo, why must the doors… clothes to all the offices be sealed? Even temporary? Well, like mine, for example.
— To make a mockery of the Kantinians.
— That's what I thought.
— In order to avoid interfering with the work. Such as stealing documents, etc.
— Is that a common occurrence here?
— Not until recently. It's a new Temple Safety Reglament. We're just doing it. We mustn't let our guard down. Even in this mess. Or especially in this mess.
— True. The mess is all over the place... Can we fight it? Would you kindly assist me in locating a location for these tablets? Please-please?
With a heavy sigh, Milo gazed at Ami reproachfully and rather helplessly.
— Let's do it.
To the double relief of the social phobic and lost-in-documents Ami, they returned to their level and entered the Archive, and the tension inside her began to soothe.
— The lamp. It's working, — Milo noticed. — And you said…
— Donny helped with it.
— Аh.
— And more of that: he found the tablets he requested by himself. He's really good at handling the documents. And lights. I've got a feeling it would be a lot easier for him without me here.
— Well, no matter how capable Donny is, he can't do everything at once. And this man wouldn't agree to do even a small amount of overwork anyway.
The Chief officer started to lay out tablets unwillingly and leisurely. To Secretary's relief, he did plenty of her job before he looked at the witch's glistening scroll with the odd symbols.
— Oh. It must be returned to my office.
He swiftly and confidently reached for the scroll.
— No! — Ami stopped him. — Don't!..
— Why? — he raised an eyebrow in surprise.
— This is… interesting.
Ami, who had gone cold with terror, tried to think of an excuse on the spot.
— Is it?
The Chief gave the employee a half-inquisitive glance.
— Yes. — vigorously shook her red head Secretary. — By the way, can I find more information on these signs?
— Practically… Nowhere. We've tried, I assure you. Perhaps, but... within the appendix of one of Prime's reports.
— Can you find it for me? Please!
— Why do you?.. Ami. This is… Tell me. What piques your interest?
— Well… This is… interesting. As I said. That's all I can say. Due to my limited Omill vocabulary. My interest won't hurt my primary job, I swear.
Milo shrugged disapprovingly and reached for a high shelf, revealing his slim, white-skinned back as the upper draperies lifted.
"It's a top-shelf thingy. So… the request was submitted some time ago."
The asked plate ended up on Ami's desk to her total satisfaction.
The Chief snorted disapprovingly again.
Doesn't matter. Winners are not judged.
The Archivist couldn't take her admiring sight from the new materials on the case.
— Thank you! For everything.
— Ami. Don't get distracted too much. You have a duty here. Remember?
— Yesssss… I know, I know. I'm not doing great already, but I'm doing my best! Believe me. I don't want to get back to Kantine *that* soon.
— Can you recall how the documents were organised? Correspondence here, reports there, cases here..
The servicewoman nodded guiltily and uncertainly.
— I tried to remember… Unsuccessfully. I'd better write it down. I still don't quite understand the nuances. Is there sorting by place of occurrence or addressee of correspondence?
— It's just document type and time. I think… If it's not, we'll never survive Lucy's return. Mind it, all the blame will be on you.
— As expected… I'll do my best to think of the excuses instead of working, since I'm inefficient anyway.
— Go on, try.
The boss's voice seemed almost menacing and belligerent.
— Don't press me, there's no real need for it. I'm interested in doing my job well, so I don't have to go back to Kantine, as I said. The price of a mistake would be too high.
— Glad to hear it. Well. I'm going to clean up my office next. But first, let's go get some coffee. I believe we deserve some rest before the hard work starts.
"It never ended, in fact."
— Good rest never hurts.
But it did. Coffee break is really the nicest thing. Particularly when it's around friendly folks.
And it could be even better if she could do without self-blaming after this. Without all of those "Why did I say it?" and "I should have said more nice things because they are so nice," and so on.
There was a serious reason for this anxiety. If not in her life, then certainly in the last few major cycles, she had not experienced so many acts of kindness and words of encouragement. But for someone who most certainly didn't deserve it, it's an awful weight. She wasn't worthy of being notified. And the next question is how would she ever repay it?
"It doesn't matter."
Right. They will stop it once they get to know her better and realise that an embittered grump like her isn't really worthy of such treatment.
"Focus on your job."
Right. There's still some work to be done. Mysterious signs look very attractive, but Milo asked to find something for him. We shouldn't let the curious Ami take over the responsible one…
…but I'm afraid it already happened. Look, she put her primary job aside again.
"It can't be helped."
"She's already failing."
"She could try more."
"She did. Get off now. There's already too much stress. We don't need to kill her, just because she's not perfect."
Milo didn't help much, but he did some work so she would rest a little.
Oh, how she wishes she could get official authorisation to investigate and study this manuscript! It would be a dream when your passion is your work! But such a lucky fate is for better people. And she would have to do it surreptitiously and covertly.
She doesn't have much time.
Wouldn't it be easier to bring here her mother's tattered diary and compare it here without wasting time copying the document? Yes.
But life is so unpredictable, and who knows what will happen tomorrow? Scroll can be taken by Milo. Or… someone else. Copies are always a good idea.
The Archivist put her enticing document on the top of the cloth with her "debt" records and began to copy the glowing signs that shone a little bit brighter in the light of the witch's lamp. It's beautiful... but there's still not enough illumination here!
With a grating snort, the Secretary glanced up at the little, dim window.
Lucy has a rather uncomfortable desk. How does she see what she reads and writes?
"She's a witch. They have a better vision. And she could even burn texts without looking at them."
Right! Curse my unlucky fate... Even with the light... It's still dark in here.
Maybe Ami doesn't have witch abilities… but she certainly has an ability to move the table closer to the window.
She's a notoriously stubborn Kantinian.
And no matter who you are. If you're truly motivated to do anything, you will find a way.
So, after a while, Ami was struggling to recover her breath when the heavy clay table finally stood by the small window. At least she can change something to her benefit.
It's fine. But by the time Lucy returned back, she would have the table set up. Although the desk wall nearly blocks some of the shelves, it was still preferable to being in the dark.
Alright, let's return to our mysterious scroll. The time is short.
Curious Ami exhaled, returning to the witchcraft, not so diligently being smothered by responsible Ami, who was attacking her with pricks of conscience all light. She squinted, trying to memorise the symbols she was copying. They are… so hypnotising. Flickering. Is it a reflection, or do they glow by themselves? What kind of witchcraft is it?
— Ami.
Whoooooaaaa!
The Secretary jumped, and the document almost slipped out of her hands.
Ouch! It would be a shame to damage one of the main clues.
With a sigh, the servicewoman set it down and moved towards the lobby window, where the frowning visage awaited her.
Oh. The documents!.. Damn it…
— Milo. I haven't...
— Never mind, — he waved off. — Go home, have some rest. Dismissed. Come to my office when you are ready. The room must be sealed.
"Pfft... Lucky us."
Really lucky indeed.
"Better not risk doing it during work hours."
Then, when?...
— Copy that. Going immediately. — exhaled with a sigh of relief the Archivist.
The light was really disastrous.
"Copy. That. Ami."
Get off. Just give me some time… Almost done…
…The copies did not shine, but at least she has them. Done!
She joyfully leapt upon the groaning chair. Not from a jumpscare this time, which is nice for a change.
She quickly stashed the coveted cloth in a small bag, not waiting for the writing juice to dry. Wow. Ami's got a secret! It's not so dull now.
She jumped out of the chair excitedly and headed for Milo's office.
Now she knows not how to defeat the willed entrance curtain but at least how to negotiate.
— Milo. Would you seal my office? Please.
The Station Chief put away the documents he studied and gave a rookie a trying look.
— I will. So. How's your first working light? In general.
— Dreadful… But I will survive. I hope so. In a sense, I picked a smaller issue.
— Good. This is life, one damn thing after another. And don't even expect them to stop until you're alive. Old ones go, new ones come. I've been running this place for quite some time, so I know it.
— Yes, thank you for reminding me. Though, I've never had as much stress in my operational work in the worst cases as I'm getting here… And this light was almost infinitely long, if it wasn't for the coffee. So endlessly happy to be dismissed.
Milo grinned mischievously.
— Alright. Go then. There's another troubled light tomorrow. And… more coffee, of course.
— Yeah. Cup by cup.
— Cup by cup.
Milo nodded and returned his attention to the documents.
There was a clay mountain of reports and cases on his desk. It was almost painful to see it, and Ami hoped that the chief would put them back in their places himself.
"Alrighty. Time to head out."
The Kantinian left the office, and Kantinian walked by the coffee table and enjoyed the scents that had not yet faded, stepped outside the Station and, after drawing back the entrance curtain, found herself almost blinded...
...by a bright world outside after the dark cabin.
She could see the second sunset staring down at her from the tops of the woodland. In Omill, where everything is so amazing, even the lights are brighter and the smells are sweeter.
...So brilliant...
And you forget everything for a moment.
She'll never get used to it.
Now, it's hard to believe.
She's in Omill, however.
She is welcome to remain here.
She has a copy of the shiny writings, shining suns tenderly touch her skin.
She adores shinies.
Will she ever stop caring about shinies and all that? Most unlikely when she's not in Kantine, where you're forced to be a wretch.
Even if she's exhausted, she ought to go for a walk. Without the exhausting vagabond enthusiasm of the last few lights, which arose from despair and fear. It is the best way to calm down.
To walk yourself to death and wake up the next light as a new creature. With aching feet but a clear head.
And there's only one rule to follow—while your legs work, your head rests.
"Let's depart. We have plenty of things to dive into."
Tastes. Views. Foods. Smells. Beverages. Interiors. Architecture. Paintings on the walls. The native language. Nature. Impressions.
That's quite a list… Enough to take a long time to study. Even if it's not this light, we're too tired to be interested. It will pass. Even if it feels like it's not. Nothing lasts forever, not even happiness or suffering.
And we have time. It's short, but we're lucky to have it at all.
The houses here are still delightfully semi-circular. The azure mountains and imposing mushroom landmarks are in their places. Coffee shops still had the aroma of freshly made food and beverages. The world is fine. Even if Ami's not.
An exhausted servicewoman measured the surface of the lovely city with her heavy, weary steps as she wandered through the marvels lost in her thoughts.
A soulless body was moving. It's all in vain. She wants to spend some time at home.
"Then let's return home for a reunion of the body and the mind."
"But we can have "fun" like that in our hometown. Was it worth it? Coming to another town to continue the same old meaningless life."
"One meaningless light doesn't mean a meaningless life. Don't extrapolate."
"She will rest, process lots of new information, and the meaning will return."
Thanks. Going home doesn't seem very appealing to me either.
"Why?"
The unpleasant temporary residence needed some cleaning.
"Then no cleaning this light."
So. We do nothing.
"Yes."
Neat.
When she ended up at her kotti, she went to her bed, lay down, and pulled her legs in to avoid tipping over the stack of her belongings and lay down, staring at one point.
"Sleep?"
No. Too anxious. Poppy. Heavy. Dreary. It won't go away on its own. I have to… clean up a little bit… No. I can't.
"Lazy pants."
Off you go. I just can't. I worked a lot this light.
Amelia sighed as she sat in bed.
She shifted her gaze to the pile of stuff and her camping bag. She could put everything in duffel bags. But where to put the bags themselves? The dirty floor was unsuitable for putting anything on, and it was now impossible to clean.
Dirty, dusty, and so cold after all suns set. Soooo uncomfortable...
The light had gone down, and the inner darkness went outside too. The inner darkness had moved outward as the light had dimmed. The glimmer of hope vanished, and the future didn't seem so promising. It was just her and her bleak thoughts in the darkening room.
"It wouldn't hurt to bring some light in here. Just saying."
But where to find it?
The Kantinian raised her eyes to the lifeless flask hanging in the middle of the kotti.
Witchcraft.
The Kantinian looked up at the lifeless flask that hung in the centre of the kotti.
Witchcraft again.
All her life, she had been missing that. To create an exterior light, use an inner light. She is such an unenlightened individual.
The alien let out another deep sigh.
Once more, she was unable to drag the light from outside. Or enlist the aid of others. She has to deal with it. Make it through whatever happens. It's something Kantinians excel at. Or, given their circumstances, they will be dead. Let's take advantage of our resources.
Additionally, we still have the slight ability to see objects in the semi-darkness that we acquired when walking in the forest.
She carefully pulled the duffle bags out of the pile, trying not to scatter the rest of the contents on the dusty floor. She can make herself feel better without standing on her feet for it.
Amelia roughly sorted the items into three categories by bag and set them on the wiped spot on the nightstand.
Already a great start. And they can do one more great thing.
She slid down on the dusty floor next to the washbasin, struggling to drag herself to it. I also did a little wiping here. Nice.
After rinsing her hands and brushing her teeth and having a while of staring dumbly into the water, she forced herself to close the basin plate, get up, and go to bed.
A nomad pulled herself into bed. Warm and cosy.
But she couldn't sleep since her legs and shoulders became cold. It appeared that she would have a difficult time falling asleep, even though she was clearly relieved to be horizontal and felt somewhat protected from the harsh outside world by the plaid.
The heavy eyelids refused to shut.
It seems to exacerbate the situation. As long as there was even the slightest chance of escaping into her own thoughts and memories, into a series of pointless internal discussions, she didn't want to remain in the dark with herself.
And the never-ending, insomniac torment started.
The alien had no idea how long it took before her eyes were closed, and the images that showed up in front of them were yet another reason why she might not want to enter the dark recesses of her dreams and unconscious.
…Was it darkness? No.
Now, diffused light filled the entire area surrounding her.
Ami glanced around.
She was sitting at the table for a family get-together. She turned nervously when she felt a shift in the air and noticed a shadow fall on the table, not realising that her mother was approaching from behind.
Yvette stood motionless and looked at her daughter with a heavy, probing gaze. Creepy. As always.
— Do you know what I realised just now? — she finally asked, after a dramatic, tense pause.
— What? — Amelia averted her gaze, indifferent, used to her mother's arrogant demeanour, but nonetheless annoyed by her unexpected attention.
She made an effort to ignore the unpleasant tension in the setting by focussing on the drink pitchers.
— I kept my notes for the glory of my ancestors... And you? Do you do anything for the glory of the ancients?
— Nn-no. — Ami shrugged her shoulders after a moment's thought. — Definitely no.
Unless... Hm.
Ami, humming thoughtfully and drawing a symbol on the table with her finger, started to recall whether she had ever done anything while under the influence of the dead. The disembodied. Always invisibly present...
...A whisper in her ear. No.
The chill slipping down her arm's flesh. Don't!..
No!.. She named them… But why? Leave!
No-no-no… They're… here.
She knows, she just knows it… They're seeing her now…
Stop, stop the singing, Ami… Please stop.
She stopped singing abruptly and froze in terror.
…What?!..
Then she turned around quietly, opened her mouth and... began devouring her mother. They started merging into a single mass, from which the sound eventually came:
"Hey. I'm not an empty spot."