No, Finn thought firmly. It felt too real. That was definitely sothing that happened at so point in history...
But he couldn’t prove that. Not without accessing more mories to establish context.
Suddenly, an idea ford in his mind. This was his chance to table his original request. The whole reason he’d revealed he glimpsed into a mory.
"Then let confirm it," Finn said boldly. "If I go through the Mind-Cephalon dream state again, I can verify whether these are real mories or just fantasies."
Osmund’s eyebrow raised slightly.
"And instead of bothering you every ti I need to access them," Finn continued, trying to make it sound like a practical solution rather than a desperate request, "I could just get my own Mind-Cephalon. Kill one, turn it into a soul mass I control. Then I can delve into these mories whenever necessary to understand my fragnt better."
Osmund paused, that blank expression cracking slightly as his eyes went distant for a mont. His lips moved soundlessly, and Finn caught another fragnt of muttered words:
"...no wonder he didn’t react, he truly saw this coming..."
What the hell is that supposed to an?
But before Finn could ask, Osmund refocused on him with a shake of his head.
"First," the short man said, "mories don’t work like that. The Mind-Cephalon doesn’t cause these fragnt mories, it just influences your ntal barriers enough that they can surface. What happened yesterday was a fluke, a confluence of circumstances."
"The next ti you use a Mind-Cephalon soul mass, you’ll almost certainly experience what you were supposed to experience in the first place: A normal, emotionally charged scenario designed to train your ntal discipline. The fragnt mory surfacing was a one-ti occurrence triggered by... sothing. I’m not sure what. But I am sure it won’t reliably repeat."
Finn’s hope began to deflate, but Osmund wasn’t finished.
"And second," the short man continued, "While Mind-Cephalons should still exist sowhere in this lost world, they are essentially extinct on this island. They’re swamp-dwelling creatures, and the island’s swampy regions have been shrinking rapidly for decades. Their population was already ager, and..."
He sighed.
"We haven’t seen a living Mind-Cephalon in over twenty years. The one I have is the last I managed to kill and assimilate before they disappeared entirely."
The disappointnt must have shown clearly on Finn’s face, because Osmund’s expression softened slightly — though the underlying grimness from before still remained, like his mind lingered on Finn’s earlier revelation.
"However," Osmund said after a pause, looking distinctly reluctant, "if it’s the mories you’re after, there is soone better equipped to help you with that..."
The ominous tone with which he said it made Finn imdiately wary.
"Who?"
Osmund took a slow breath, as if steeling himself.
"One of the other fragnt bearers on the island."
Finn stared at him blankly, but held his tongue, waiting for a proper explanation. Because there was no way Osmund was suggesting he walk into another fragnt bearer’s territory after everything he’d emphasized about the danger. Especially not after the contract specifically included protection from hostile fragnt bearers.
Seeing Finn’s expectant silence, Osmund continued with visible conflict in his expression.
"Of the remaining two Space fragnt bearers here, one is absolutely antagonistic toward your existence as the Pioneer." His voice took on a harder edge. "That one wants you dead for reasons I’ve never fully understood. Ideological differences about what the prophecy ans, perhaps. Or maybe it is simply a fear of change..."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"But the other... I know him. To an extent, at least. We’re not friends or allies by any standard, but we’ve had dealings over the years. Exchanges of information, occasional cooperation when threats arise that endanger the island itself..."
Osmund t Finn’s eyes directly.
"He’s also antagonistic toward the Pioneer’s existence. Don’t mistake that. He doesn’t want you here any more than the first one does. But unlike the first, he’s... honorable. He’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. See and observe you for himself before making final judgnts."
"And you think he’ll help access fragnt mories?" Finn asked skeptically with a frown. "For what reason? Out of the goodness of his heart?"
"No," Osmund admitted. "But he might help you because he’s curious. Because understanding your fragnt and its mories could give him insight into the prophecy, into what your presence here actually ans."
The short man’s expression grew more serious.
"And more relevantly for your imdiate purposes, he’s the most knowledgeable of all three of us... By far. He has access to texts and resources that didn’t make it to my territory when we were initially divided. His understanding of fragnts, consciousness-transfer, mories, and even magic itself, exceeds both mine and the third bearer’s," Osmund admitted reluctantly.
"If anyone on this island can help you distinguish between real mories and dream-mories, help you access more of them reliably... it’s him."
He glanced at Finn.
"But understand that going to his territory ans leaving my protection. The contract’s terms about your safety only extend to my domain. Once you cross that boundary, you’re on your own."
Finn processed this, weighing options. It was a risk. A significant one. But the alternative was continuing blind, trying to develop his fragnt abilities through pure trial-and-error with no guidance from the original bearer’s experiences.
"What’s his na?" Finn asked.
"Madoc," Osmund replied. "Sage Madoc, though he dislikes the title. And before you ask — the other one, the one that won’t hesitate to kill you, would be Sage Hagen, who controls the northern territory."
He turned fully to face Finn again.
"Madoc’s domain is to the east. You’d need to travel through the forest for about half a day, then you’d reach the boundary markers. From there..." Osmund shrugged slightly. "From there, you’d be announcing your presence and hoping he decides to et with you rather than attack on sight."
"You said he’s honorable," Finn pointed out.
"I said he’d give you the benefit of the doubt," Osmund corrected. "That doesn’t an he won’t test you first. Evaluate whether you’re worthy of his ti."
Finn nodded slowly as his mind turned over the implications, weighing risks against potential rewards.
"I’ll think about it," he said finally.
"You don’t need to. I’ll directly follow you to the border. He’ll sense you the mont you cross into his territory and show up imdiately. From his deanor I’ll know how he’s going to proceed," Osmund explained with a shake of his head, causing Finn to frown slightly.
Is he actually pushing towards this Madoc fellow right now...? Finn hesitantly thought, trying to analyze the motive behind Osmund’s new direction. And his mind couldn’t help but move to the man’s earlier mutterings after he spoke of the Husk leader.
Was there any correlation between this and that? Was this Madoc person the one he was referring to while muttering to himself? The one that had seen this coming—? Seen Finn coming?
"Alright." Finn said decisively, making Osmund’s brow shoot up in surprise.
"Are you ready to go now?" He asked Osmund.
What else was his option? Stay here and do what? Create little spells that would take him so long to keep refining? Beating around the bush blindly when an opportunity to learn directly from the original source — to live through Arros and gain insight directly into core Error spells — had presented itself in front of him?
Nah... I’m tired of being cautious. It’s ti I take bold steps.
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